This post is part of Linda G.Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday meme -an unedited stream of consciousness piece that ties into the weekly prompt: ‘to/too/two’ – one, two, or all…
I didn’t intend to write this piece as my SoCS post for this week. I’d toyed with doing a Trip and T’Pol story, because those two get pretty antsy when I work on other projects, and I have been rather immersed in Sea Changes, which is a very different type of story…now that’s all drafted, and I’m rereading my fantasy-in-progress, Foul Deeds Will Rise, because it’s next on my completion agenda.
And, somehow, although I crept in sideways just to do some freewriting for next April’s Enterprise A-Z posts (work smart, not hard, y’know?), they figured out that there was a hole in my schedule, and decided they’d just take over…I was writing along, and suddenly realized I’d used all three prompt words when I actually followed ‘too’ with ‘Two’. If you want a bit of extra fun, see if you can spot that one! =)
Maybe that makes this the very best kind of Stream of Consciousness Saturday post, because I wasn’t even trying to write one, and did anyway?
I don’t know. I also don’t know exactly how this ends, as of yet. It’s not really a story, just yet – more like the fragment of a story that might eventually exist…
Standard Disclaimer Applies: I don’t own these two; I don’t want to make any money from writing their stories.
This excerpt is rated PG-13 for adult themes and suggestiveness. You’ve been warned. =)
Not Only Metaphor
“Moremoremore….please….” The words seemed to pour out, the first she’d managed since the ecstasy had wrapped them in waves of sensation –
Am I now to start thinking in terms of human metaphor? Will I lose everything of precision, along with my control?
“T’Pol – if this thing – whatever it is – “
“It’s an exploration of inter-species sexuality,” she replied, in part to prove to herself that she could still name it that. It did nothing to prove that she believed it, however.
“Whatever.” He gestured dismissively; he had other names for the sharing they had been engaged in. He also had little need for either control or precision, here in her bed, beyond that which would produce the – desired – results. “Anyway, whatever we call it, it’s only going to work if we face certain immutable facts that have become apparent over the course of our – explorations.”
Strange, how, when she seemed to be most incapable of logic and control, he was the one who could employ them…”What immutable facts, Trip?”
“One, that I’m human, and my endurance and physiology are, too. Two, that you’re a wanton, wanton woman. Three, I’m never going to be able to keep up with you unless we make some kind of – well, adaptations, I suppose.”
When had her hand risen to stroke his shoulder, toy with his ear? T’Pol frowned; a human expression she’d never made before joining this Terran crew. One she could no longer wholly control, with the icefires of trellium coursing through her veins, carried all the more swiftly, like a river of frozen lava, by the exertions just past.
Frozen lava? Not only metaphor, apparently, but the type of paradox humans so frequently indulged in…