Prompt Table

[with_discipline]

Prompt table #1:

01.	Hot.	02.	Cold.	03.	Day.	04.	Night.	05.	Sun.
06.	Moon.	07.	Stars.	08.	Light.	09.	Dark.	10.	Quiet.
11.	Loud.	12.	Hate.	13.	Love.	14.	Dream.	15.	Nightmare.
16.	Daydream.	17.	Past.	18.	Present.	19.	Future.	20.	Awake.
21.	Sleep.	22.	Brief.	23.	Forever.	24.	Emotional.	25.	Blank.
26.	Life.	27.	Death.	28.	Win.	29.	Draw.	30.	Lose.
31.	Friends.	32.	Enemies.	33.	Black.	34.	White.	35.	Embrace.
36.	Strangers.	37.	Colour.	38.	Colourless.	39.	Poor.	40.	Rich.
41.	Truth.	42.	Lies.	43.	Clean.	44.	Dirty.	45.	Alone.
46.	Remember.	47.	Forget.	48.	Writer's Choice.	49.	Writer's Choice.	50.	Writer's Choice.

Comments

02. Cold

[with_discipline]

They were stranded. Enterprise had been forced to leave orbit, pursued by the inhabitants of the planet she know found herself stranded on. To avoid the people that had driven their ship away, they had retreated - they had fled - judging survival more likely in the wilds of the countryside than the 'civilization' of the towns they'd first arrived in.

She counted every mistake, every flouted step in how they had conducted themselves. Every misconception that led to this moment. She wanted to blame someone, but could not; logic had been tossed aside by all parties involved. Perhaps even by herself.

They found a cave system to spend the night hiding in, hoping that Enterprise would be back in that time. And if it was not - he said they would figure that out when the time came. She was already formulating plans, trying not to resent his untouchable faith - something she could not reproduce. The rain had started an hour ago, light, with rolling fog and wind. It brought strange, conflicting memories of the night she'd left the Vulcan Compound in San Francisco to explore, with the fog from the bay, and the first planet she had explored with Enterprise, with its natural hallucinogens.

Soaked half through, they huddled deep in the cave, far from its mouth in case they had been followed. She carefully gathered wood near the entrance of the gave, finding enough that wasn't too damp to ignite a flame; he made the fire. It was small, and smelled strange, but neither complained. They were quite silent, in fact.

T'Pol wrapped her arms around her middle, focusing her warmth on the center of her body, keeping herself as warm as she could. The planet's usual temperature was lower than Earth's, a good deal lower than she was used to - and she had not planned on spending this long here. She sat close to the fire, carefully controlling her shiver until it ceased, exerting her control. There had been a time when she'd thought she would undertake kohlinar; the thought would be laughable now, if she were human.

She closed her eyes, trying to meditate, but there was suddenly a presence next to her, warm and solid. A hand settled on the center of her back, and she finally opened her eyes, head tilting upward slightly to study his face. "You're goina freeze," was all he said, voice quiet, twang distinct. He waited, letting her move first, and it was a smart decision. Had he pressed, she would have pulled back.

But he did not press, and she did not pull back. Shifting on the dirty, cold stone they both sat on, T'Pol moved closer. It was only logical; their body heat would double together, and though he could weather the chill much better than she, they would both benefit from proximity. There was a certain comfort in it that she wasn't willing to admit to. Soon her head slipped to his shoulder, and she found herself recalling Soval: "Do you realize you've picked up a slight human accent?" She had not, and was particularly aware of it on several occasions after. Her habit of thanking people, her attempts to mimic phrases and sayings without fully succeeding. This action of - affection. It was not natural for a Vulcan, but it was not uncomfortable.

Trip's arm slid around her. Damp wood crackled under the small far. "It's goina be fine," he said softly. "The cap'n'll fix this all up soon, an' the Enterprise'll be back lickity-split." She could only guess at the phrase, but it didn't change the fact that she didn't believe him. T'Pol said nothing, knowing she had nothing particularly positive to offer. They had nothing more than the clothes they wore, her PADD, and his phaser. Better than nothing, certainly, but she could have asked for better. Trip leaned in, settling his chin on her head. Despite herself, she didn't mind. "You'll see."

[with_discipline]

She still didn't believe him, and his platitudes bothered her. The fastest way to silence him, when she heard him draw in his next deep breath, was to lift her head and kiss him, hand settling on his cheek. It lasted, neither willing or ready to let go of that small comfort. When they did part, T'Pol remained close, allowed her fingers to trial along his skin. "We will survive." It wasn't a platitude. It wasn't empty. Whether the Enterprise returned or not, they would live. It was not in their natures to give up. She leaned into him again, and they slept like that, around the fire, pressed close to share body warmth. They'd survive.

Re: 02. Cold

[entallat.livejournal.com]

And I love this one too. :-)

Re: 02. Cold

[with_discipline]

Thanks. :D