The Decline and Fall of House Meorrrei

[Taataani Meorrrei]

OOC Note:

Shamelessly aping a good idea from Vince and using this thread as a dumping ground for assorted House Meorrrei vignettes. These may be used later on or drawn on for reference, or they may be apocrypha and have no continuity to the story I want to tell. They're non-sequential and this is more or less just a breeder reactor for any potential stories I feel worth telling in the epic family tragedy.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Fai'sha, would jyou sstop pacjing about ljike a caged thjimjiarr alrreadjy!"

Taataani Meorrrei turned at that, glaring back at her mother.

"Arren't jI?"

Sirraaithi Meorrrei was a rock on the edge of the sea, buffeted by the waves of her daughter's anger and unmoved through the violence. She'd survived every wave, and remained.

"jYou'rre mjy daughterr. Act ljike jit."

Taataani's jawline set, her lips pressed thin as if waiting for the best outburst to overcome her mother's insistence. A flick of ears was all it took to see that such a response wasn't found. The younger Meorrrei smoothed down her dress with a nervous motion of her hands.

"jI thought that wass what jI've been dojing all along."

She'd put in the work and effort. The unceasing hours at uni to climb to the top of her graduating class. Her splash into professional life by turning around one of her mother's unprofitable side businesses. That had been a proving ground, but it proved that Taataani had the ambition of her namesake. And now that it felt like she was ready to truly accelerate on her path to success, she was asked to be bogged down by...

"Marrrjiage." Taataani dripped the evil word off her tongue like poison. "jI don't have tjime to dote afterr ssome usselesss male whosse ssole rredeemjing qualjitjy wass to be borrn jin a housse wjith a name! When jI fjind a man jI want, jI won't need ssome pojintlesss alljiance forr a rreasson. jI wjill ssnap mjy fjingerrss, and he wjill come."

Sirraaithi let her heiress speak. She remained silent and regal, with only a phantom of a smile betraying that somewhere, she had heard these words before. Taataani continued, heedless of that betrayal of her mother's own feelings which were normally well hidden.

"Can't jI sstand on mjy own two feet? jYou've sseen what jI'm capable of. The morre ssuccesss jI prrove the morre jI can feel the wallss clossjing jin arround me. jI don't need help, jI don't need alljiancess, and jI don't need..."

"...me?"

That stopped Taataani cold. She stammered, averting her eyes as she attempted to chew out her thoughts in a form less wicked. A look of shame crossed her expression, and it was then that her mother afforded the rare gift of mercy. Sirraaithi placed a thin hand on her daughter's shoulder. Taataani looked up to see her rrou'fai, the unquestioned mistress of the house, as a mortal creature, unshrouded by her auras.

"Fai'sha, jyou've grrown up sso fasst. Don't hassten jyourr sstepss to the top of the mountajin jyou jintend on cljimbjing. The vjiew jiss beautjiful, but sso too jiss the jourrnejy."

Taa remained in silence. Only the sound of her breathing and the rise and fall of her passioned shoulders broke the still. Sirraaithi continued.

"Get drresssed forr the ball. Meet hjim. That jiss all that jI assk."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Those eyes.

Those perfect eyes.

Before, Taataani had been stubborn, retaining her petulance. She showed off the array of jewelry on her neck and ears, the impossible finery of her custom-embroidered dress, and did so with a face of aristocratic indifference. The party was a hurricane of fawning sycophants, bothersome well-wishers, and the well-to-do useless. Everyone wore their best, and it seemed as if this social engagement alone would be sufficient to deprive Ithor of it's last thread of silk. Wine was opened, to which Taataani availed herself as she pretended to care about the gossip of her friends - which seemed to be orbiting around what lewd manner she might choose to consummate her introduction to him. Sajoi were offered, which she refused. Nothing about this farce seemed appetizing.

Until those eyes

She didn't need to see his beautiful white suit to know it was him. She didn't care that his mother's honorifics had been called out in advance of their entrance to the ball. She ignored his invisible sisters. The dresses and the powerful women who wore them passed through the threshold, until at last she saw him. And against her power, against her will, against her thirsty ambition and restless rebellions, Taataani Meorrrei failed. The eye of the hurricane became a stillness that swept over the tempest completely. Every single useless person around her vanished into ephemera. That way he looked at her. He wasn't frightened. He wasn't intimidated. There was nothing of hesitation to his perfect orbs that betrayed that he was being given to her.

She'd once hunted a wild kaatho in the forest that didn't flee. The beast didn't feel it necessary to do so. It stood majestic as none of it's kind ever did. For a few eternal seconds, it stared at her across the short distance. Perhaps it was overactive personification that drew Taataani to feel the mutual respect. A moment later it could escape her or be slaughtered. But in that moment, prey transcended its nature to be something that could never be hunted or killed or destroyed. So moved by that moment of impasse was Taataani that she walked away. It was a strange and beautiful moment, and she'd never told a soul about it.

Taataani took a step forward, brushing past one of her friends with a deferment of a lace-gloved hand. She passed her glass of wine to someone, as she barely registered anyone else in the room. Ahead, he stood like the great unconquered challenge of her youth, unafraid and expecting. His beautiful eyes never left her.

"Taurrifar Diirranaalo?"

His hand was in hers, and she brought it up to her suddenly understanding lips.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Life had been so simple until that moment. Taataani knew what she wanted, and chased the sun like a zealous comet burning the heavens in her wake. It took a moment's glance into his perfect blue eyes to make the comet of her desire lament the sun's splendor for want of the moon.


* * *

The music struck at their introduction, and Taurrifar's hands held hers as if Nomaani had made them just so. It took a few chords for Taataani's heart to remember how to beat and for her feet to remember how to lead. The floor was theirs, and every invisible face and set of eyes melted into the adornment. They were alone together in their perfect introduction, with the only words between them being their exchange of names. That was all that was needed. The rest was serendipity that defied reason and ambition. Her mother had known. Somehow, she could see the piece inside her daughter that was missing, and Taurrifar fit within the void leaving no seam.


* * *

The banquet was set, and the wedding party arrayed on dining couches. A feast was brought to the fore and slaughtered, amid toasts and prayers and well-wishes. And for all the opulence of the spectacle, Taataani's infatuated myopia scarcely could see beyond the only part that mattered. He reclined on his dais and supped as she did, arrayed opposite her so that each held the other's full attention in nude repose. Through the affair Taataani said little. Her patrician affinity for conversation had been robbed from her, and in it's place came the language of the hidden unsaid. Words without sound spoken and heard with eyes. He too spoke the language, and though they supped, it was a poor substitute for the nourishment only lovers hungered for.


* * *

The feast at last ended, the betrothal party retired to the inner chambers. Everything had been arranged for this moment. The alcoves in the walls were arrayed with candles, their dancing lights casting the mood in fragile yearning flame and whispering shadow.

The necklace in Taataani's hands felt so heavy, despite it's delicate chain. She clasped both hands around it, fearful that she might let it fall away and break the spell over them both. Taurrifar watched her wait for him as the flower boys arrayed him with a laurel. His chest rose and fell with all the tremor that Taataani shared. When the music began - a single bow-strung kiisau playing the Serenade of the Sky, it was time. Taataani approached her mate, willing her hands to conquer their trembling as she drew the kaa'rri around his neck. It took a moment of effort for her fingers to align the clasp - a moment of embrace around his neck inviting lips too close to dare separate. She tasted him on the tip of her tongue, and he was still the unconquered mythical creature.

"Sa e'drra nau'aani Taurrifar, nai'vaallaai arr'fai si gaallo tuura."

Taurrifarr closed his eyes, girding himself with a deep breath as his cerulean gaze returned. He carefully removed the flower-laden laurel from his own head, positioning it onto Taataani's crown. It hung low, buoyed by her ears, and Taurrifar's hands drew down to hold those of his mate's as he spoke

"Sa e'drra nau'aani Taataani, nai'vaallaai rrou'fai na deilla ka'anthee."

The string music of the kiisau sang into a high and delicate crescendo as the consummation attendees worked to unfurl a large embroidered silk curtain. The crowd held it as one, pulling the beautiful red shroud around their circular congregation until the silk separated the eyes of the guests from the honored union. The light of the candles pierced the tapestry, bathing Rrou'fai and Arr'fai in matrimonial hue. As one, the couple kneeled to the array of furs and pillows that awaited them on the floor.

Beyond the veil, two distinct silhouettes became one.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

What was he supposed to do with his hands?

Of all the things going through Cirrsseeto's mind, this was the nattering fixation, the fly buzzing around his face, the nit of disturbed thread on his shirt that he couldn't ignore, but could only pick at and make it worse. He clasped them together in his lap, but it felt wrong. He placed them on his knees. He tried to twiddle thumbs, which seemed the most absurd of all options. So much pent up potential energy bleeding kinetic at the edges.

"Aaahh!! Huhnn...aaaahh!!"

The sick bay on Novgorod was small. Too small for this. That Quarren doctor had probably done the right thing by keeping everyone out, but right now, the most comfortable place Cirrsseeto could imagine his hands were around that squid-head's neck.

"Aaaa...AAAH!!"

Seated in the hallway next to the sick bay in a chair he'd stolen from the adjacent room, Captain Quez felt so useless. Sitting. Waiting. His left leg bounced with restless energy, and for once, he envied the steadiness of his prosthetic right leg.

"Saanjarra..."

Cirrsseeto propped his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together as he leaned in towards them. His voice was a low, emotional croak, spoken through unsure lips.

"...watch overr herr. Make thjis pajin pass. Please don't judge herr forr the sjins jI've done to you."

Beyond his clasped hands, Cirr's blue eyes looked to the closed door, hearing another crescendo of screams beyond from Lyanie.

"Saanjarra, jI beg you forr a healthy daughterr. Gjive herr a betterr ljife than thjis. Let herr be exactly who she wants to be, and let herr have a long ljife."

For want of the two most important people in his life, Cirrsseeto kissed the closed fist in front of him, closing his eyes. A moment later, quiet. His eyes cracked open towards the door.

Then more crying. Someone else's.

Cirrsseeto slowly rose to his feet, taking tentative steps toward the sick bay door. He stood at the threshold for an agonizing amount of time before the door parted to reveal Doctor Oodenplatz.

"Doctorr, jis she? Arre they?"

The Quarren placed a hand on the Captain's shoulder. Cirr couldn't read tentacles well, but he guessed Oodenplatz was putting on a smile.

"Mother and child are both healthy. A perfect birth."

He glanced back, allowing Cirr enough clearance to see as well. Lyanie lay on the bed, exhausted and elated. A sheen of sweat and flush wore on her Dantooine face, and the only thing keeping her from falling out from exhaustion was the smile buoyed on her dimpled face. Oodenplatz knew well enough when to make a stage exit.

"The doctor's job is over, I think. This is where a father comes in."

Cirr was rooted where he stood, awestruck. It took a polite prod from the doctor for him to find his feet, and he slowly moved to the side of the bed. Tucked in Lyanie's arms was a swaddled figure, but from within, he could see a cherubic face that had less difficulty sleeping than her mother. With a tender touch, the Captain ran a hand over the infant, who reached a tiny hand out to barely grasp around one of her father's big fingers. Tiny little claws extended as she explored her new world.

"Lyanjie..."

The Captain was dumbstruck. An awed smile as wide as his ship planted on his face as he looked from his baby to his wife.

"Cirr, meet your daughter Amarra."

Lyanie's smile began to wane slowly as she slowly let sleep overtake her. Cirr took the seat next to the bed, keeping watch over his family. So much of his life had been destruction. This moment heralded creation at its most pure, and Cirrsseeto realized that from this moment on, he could see the future. The future that she deserved.




* * *


Admiral Tyree,

Thank you for your card. I appreciate the trouble of sending hand-written well wishes. Lyanie and Amarra are both doing fine, and getting plenty of rest. Their father isn't getting much of that, I'm afraid.

I suppose this letter is inevitable. I've been deeply honored to serve under your command in service to the Alliance during its time of need. I hope that I have left some part of this galaxy in a better place than when I found it. The price was high enough. Now that I have a daughter, I want to make sure that it's a price she doesn't have to pay when she is older. She's given me a new duty, and a decision to make.

With this letter, I tender my resignation from the Alliance Navy. Enclosed is my letter of recommendation for Commander Luka to succeed my post as Captain of the Novgorod. I can't think of a better man to succeed him.

Thank you for your leadership, and your time in mentoring me. As my commanding officer and as my father alike.

Ja irra korra'nai,
Cirrsseeto Quez, Captain
ANS Novgorod