Chapter 13
Lissiel Shran leant over Archer and nipped his lips rather hard, an alluring smile on her beautiful face. Archer’s lips felt extremely tender, as if they’d been subjected to many bites. His whole body was aching now that he thought about it and glancing down at himself, he found a good deal of bruises and little scratches on his torso. Glancing at Lissiel, he saw similar bruises on her cerulean skin.
Archer couldn’t deny that the woman was gorgeous, her long blond hair in waves around her shoulders, allowing her blue skin to peek through the white. Her face was flushed lightly and she smelled of something that made his primal side growl with eagerness. The dark brown eyes were twinkling like stars, and Archer had a sudden image in his head of melted chocolate trickling over blue flesh. He shook his head to banish the idea. Already he’d seen too much as one curve led to another…
‘Oh God!’
Shran would probably kill him… or maybe he’d make fun of him. What about his senior staff? How bad would this look to them, their captain getting locked and having a one-night stand he couldn’t even remember?
“Something wrong Archer?” Lissiel’s long fingers were tracing over his skin, making goosebumps rise.
“This uh… well… it’s just… this was a mistake.” Archer had no idea what kind of reaction he was going to get, Lissiel might punch him or cry… he had no way of knowing.
“What was?”
“Last night?”
“You mean the sex?” Lissiel looked very confused.
“Um… yeah.” Archer was crimson.
“Why was it a mistake? You're not married are you?”
“No.”
“Not with someone?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“This shouldn’t have happened.” Archer tried to sit up but Lissiel, with one hand, pushed him back down onto his back. Her brow was drawn into a frown.
“And why shouldn’t it have happened? What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing!”
‘Absolutely nothing!’ His libido agreed whole-heartedly.
“Then why shouldn’t it have happened? Is this some human thing where if you have sex with someone while you're drunk you spend the rest of the day trying to punish yourself and getting all embarrassed and feeling guilty for giving into your primal urges?”
“Um… look, Lissiel, it’s just… you're Shran’s sister.”
“So?”
“Among humans, most men don’t like the idea of their friends sleeping with their sister.”
“Neither Thy'lek or I are human. He won't care. Granted he’s going to make fun of you, but he won't really care.”
“Ok, but still…” Archer was having a really hard time explaining why this was a mistake.
“You're not like the Vulcans and consider sex for fun disgraceful?”
“No. No we’re not that bad.”
“But you don’t approve of sex.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is it? We had a great roll over the ice fields, you surprised me by being so satisfying and you're calling this a mistake?” Lissiel’s cheeks were colouring with anger, although that may have been because she didn’t like being confused. On top of her head, her antennas were squirming furiously. Archer had a sinking feeling that if he didn’t make sense of this fast he was going to end up with a broken jaw.
“Um…”
Trip groaned as he woke up, his head pounding like crazy. As he covered his eyes with his hand he heard a distinctly British moan. Although how a groan could sound British was beyond him.
“Bloody hell!” Malcolm cursed nursing his head. “That is the last time I go out to party with a load of Andorians.”
“I think that’s the last time I go out partying period.” whimpered Hoshi. Trip still hadn’t opened his eyes but, through the fog and the pain, he began to wonder where they were considering it was freezing and he was lying on a hard floor with a pillow and blanket and his friends were all nearby.
Slowly he opened his eyes and was both pleased and surprised that it was comfortably dark in the room they were in. Someone had been kind enough to darken it by closing curtains and dimming the lights so they could see, but not be blinded. Looking around as he sat up (with great caution) he saw Travis, Malcolm and Hoshi were all sprawled out on the floor with pillows and blankets. Captain Archer was nowhere to be seen. That concerned Trip, but, he reasoned, the captain was most likely awake and worshiping the porcelain god. It wouldn’t be long before he was.
“Where are we?” asked Travis, sounding hoarse.
“Not sure… maybe Shran’s house.” It was the only place that made sense.
“Where’s the captain?” Malcolm sounded both urgent and very hungover.
“No idea.” Trip sighed as he got to his feet and he staggered to the door of the room. Very slowly, so as to avoid any sudden noise or pain, he opened the door. A little more light filtered in and Hoshi groaned. “Sorry.” Trip continued to open the door at the ridiculous pace, until he was able to look into the next room and recognised Shran’s living room.
In the kitchen, looking a hell of a lot better than Trip felt, was Shran, making up some food and drinks.
“Shran?” Trip called in a soft voice. Shran looked up and grinned at the appearance of the engineer.
“Morning Trip. Sleep well.”
“I don’t remember.” Trip admitted. Staggering, Trip walked over to Shran and leaned heavily on the breakfast bar. Shran chuckled, amused by his behaviour. “What happened?”
“Well, it got to the stage that all of you were completely drunk, and so I rounded you all up and brought you back here. Gral’s wife picked him up and pink-skin and Lissiel went into her room to finish what they started.”
“Whaaaat?”
“What?” Shran looked confused, although he may have been pretending.
“Did you just say that your sister and the cap’n went into her room to…”
“Mate?”
Trip winced. “Yeah.”
“Yes, I did. Why? Jealous of my sister?”
“Erm no…” Trip didn’t know what to say, so he settled for changing the subject. “Where’s Telev?”
“Snoring in my bed.” Shran rolled his eyes, “When we got here he staggered into my room and fell asleep while I was getting you and your crewmates into the training room to sleep.”
“Thanks for the pillow and blankets by the way.”
“Well I figured you’d be very sore in the morning so I might as well try and do something to help. Here.” Shran set a drink in front of him, “Drink that. It’ll help with the hangover.”
Trip’s stomach churned as he regarded the drink. It was golden brown, a bit like tea, but Trip had learned over the years in space not to trust appearances when it came to alien food. Shran rolled his eyes, “Trip, if I wanted to kill you I would have cut your throat while you slept. Now drink the stuff.”
Trip didn’t feel any better about it but he did as he was told, drinking the brown stuff, which had an awful sour aftertaste. Still… even as he set the glass down his headache was beginning to fade a little.
“What is that stuff?”
“It’s a drink made from a plant that we discovered a few years after we started exploring space. The plant’s homeworld is now the place to go for clubs and parties because this stuff helps with any hangovers and it’s everywhere.”
“Don’t let our teens find out or we’ll never get them back.” Trip joked. Shran chuckled.
By this point Malcolm, Travis and Hoshi were emerging and taking the drink Shran was offering without question, having heard Shran’s explanation about it.
“Good morning everyone!” called Senkrad as he came wandering out of his room, dressed for the day in his climbing uniform.
“Morning Sen.” Shran greeted, smiling at his brother, “Sleep well?”
“As well as can be expected when your night’s sleep is interrupted by someone singing something that goes ‘Puff the Magic Dragon, lived by the sea…’.”
Shran snorted and gave Malcolm a look. Malcolm groaned and buried his head in his arms. Trip burst out laughing, then winced as his head throbbed. Shran smirked,
“It may be good, but it isn’t that good Trip.”
Trip glared at him, then yawned.
“Who is Puff, and what’s a dragon anyway?” asked Senkrad, his head cocked to the side.
“In truth? The song is about getting high… and a dragon is a giant flying lizard that doesn’t actually exist.”
“They’re myths and alternate between being evil, with dark scales and good with bright colours like red and green on their scales. Some talk, some don’t. Some have huge wings, some have tiny things that still manage to carry them around…”
“So… they’re magical?” Senkrad grinned, “Interesting.”
“Breakfast Senkrad?” Apparently Shran wasn’t as interested.
“Please. I’m starving.”
Shran gave his brother a plate of food and Senkrad sat down to eat it. “So I’m assuming Lissiel found you at the club?”
“Oh yes. She showed up just as this lot were getting rowdy and after about, oh, ten minutes, she had Archer all over her.” Shran rolled his eyes. Senkrad chuckled,
“Yes, she did mention something about that before she left. Our sister certainly knows how to charm a person.”
“Which is amazing considering she has no charming qualities whatsoever.”
“Just because my qualities aren’t charming to you, doesn’t mean they aren’t to others.” Lissiel told him as she came out of her room, a silk robe draped over her. As she sat down by the breakfast bar she seemed to be sulking. Senkrad noticed.
“What’s wrong Lis?”
“Archer’s an idiot.” Lissiel answered. “He’s calling last night a mistake and won't explain why.”
“A mistake?” Both Shran and his brother looked bewildered.
“He mentioned it being partially because I’m your sister Thy'lek.”
“Why would I care?”
“That’s what I told him.”
“So what did you do?”
“I punched him.” Lissiel smirked. Senkrad sighed and shook his head, while Shran seemed torn between amusement and exasperation.
“Are you trying to cause an interplanetary incident after all my hard work?”
“Not at all, but I don’t take kindly to being referred to as a mistake.”
“Look that’s not what I meant!” Archer came out, clutching his head and dressed in last night’s clothes that were very wrinkled. “I just meant-”
“You meant that you regretted sleeping with me.”
“Well, not for the reason of not liking you.” Archer’s cheeks were colouring puce and he glanced at his crew, clearly wishing they weren’t here. Shran’s antennas were squirming in amusement. Senkrad was ignoring it all.
“Then what exactly is it?”
“For goodness sake will you all just stop it!” Telev came striding out of Shran’s room, his shirt and boots missing. “Honestly, Lissiel, it’s clearly a human thing, don’t get upset about it and will someone give me that drink before my head explodes?”
Hoshi passed him the drink and while he was draining the glass, both she and Lissiel were unable to take their eyes off the firm, muscled chest before them. Senkrad meanwhile, was eyeing Telev’s chest, then his lack of shoes and then turning to his brother. Shran sighed and raised his hands, palms out,
“Nothing happened. He was passed out by the time I got to the bed and he was so drunk I highly doubt he’d have been able-”
“I’ll have you know I could be so drunk I’m more alcohol than Andorian and I’d still have no issue with-”
“T'Pol’s probably wondering where we are.” Trip interrupted before Telev could finish his sentence.
“Nah, I called her last night or whatever you’d call the time we got in and told her you’d be staying here because there was a blizzard going on above. Didn’t want to risk you getting lost or something, even if I went with you.” Shran said, “She did not sound impressed so… I wish you luck with that homecoming.”
Archer grimaced. That was one discussion he did not look forward to.
“Captain- Jon? Would you like some ice for your jaw? You’ve got a lovely bruise.” Senkrad held some out, smiling in a kind way. Archer wondered how there was any blood left in his body since it was all rushing to his face and accepted the ice with gratitude, pressing it to his throbbing jaw. Lissiel and Shran shared a smirk. “You should know better by now, Jon, to not offend a member of an allied species.” There was laughter in Senkrad’s voice. Shran snorted and Telev bit his lip to keep from laughing. Lissiel looked very pleased. Archer just groaned.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Ah! Too loud!” Travis moaned, clutching his head. Apparently Shran’s tea wasn’t that much of a miracle worker on humans.
Senkrad heaved a sigh as he got to his feet and went to answer the consol. As soon as he did his face lit up like a child’s. “Old Man!”
“Old Man?” Shran and Lissiel both bolted to Senkrad’s side, shoving him along so they could all see the consol. “Old Man!” they both cried in delight. The consol was facing away from the others so they couldn’t see the face of the person they were greeting with all the eagerness of five year olds.
“Hello you three.” A gruff, cheerful voice said, “How are you?”
“Tired.” Senkrad admitted,
“A bit hung over.” shrugged Shran.
“Sated but annoyed.” Lissiel drawled. The voice laughed.
“Sounds about right. Although I would have expected you to the tired one Thy'lek, given recent goings on.”
Shran squirmed a little under what was apparently a very parental gaze. “Who told you? Sanakral or Sakrana?”
“Neither. It was Lealion. For once Sankral’s wife was more of a blabbermouth than he is.”
“Ah, I see.” Shran shrugged, looking incredibly sheepish. “I was going to call you and our grandparents… I’ve just been trying to sort out my own head before I deal with the headache you lot will give me.”
“You make it sound like we’re meddlers.”
“Old Man, that doesn’t even begin to describe our grandmammas.” said Lissiel, shaking her head.
“Hm, true enough.”
“Hey Old Man! I would go over to see you but I’m currently too hung over to move!” Telev called, wincing at his own loudness. Shran rolled his eyes as if to say, ‘I never said he was a bright one’.
“Hello Telev.” called the voice, it held a questioning in it and Shran groaned,
“Nothing. Happened!” he stated, emphasising both words. “Would you all stop assuming I can’t keep my hands to myself with him? Just because Telev has no control around me, doesn’t mean I’m the same.”
“No it doesn’t. But it is the case.”
Shran groaned and threw his hands in the air in surrender. Senkrad grinned and then said, his smile fading slightly, “You’re all coming over today aren’t you? To see Soval?”
“We are.”
“What?” Shran lost the humour in his eyes and he looked horrified. “All six of you?”
“That’s right. We’re coming to see the new arrival. Are people not allowed to see their own great-grandson anymore.”
“That’s not it, I just… it’s really short notice Old Man.”
“Well it’s not like I’m the one who made the decision. Blame your grandsire.”
“Like always.” Shran grunted, looking distinctly flustered. “When will you be here?”
“Well… let’s see, by your time it’s what?”
“1423.” Senkrad offered. Archer nearly fell off his chair in shock. How the hell could it be that late? “Almost midday.”
“Right… well we’ll be along for about… 2000. Is that enough time for you?”
“Ghee… no time in the world could prepare me enough for a dinner with our grandparents. You promise you and Lady will be there.”
“I assure you we will.”
“Good.”
“You know you’re the only ones who have a hope in hell at keeping them under control.” added Senkrad, looking as relieved as Shran did. Lissiel folded her arms,
“I assume that you’re expecting both Soval and… his mother to be here for the dinner.”
“As much as it pains them they want to meet the mother of their great-grandson.”
“All the more reason for you to be there. I can handle them if push comes to shove with their comments towards me but T'Pol’s… she’s never dealt with four old prejudice people who’ll be out to make her squirm.”
“And how are you any different?” Lissiel asked, putting on a mock thoughtful face, with a sweet smile.
“There’s one of me and four of them.” Shran gave her a very insincere smirk.
“Oh yes, I don’t see much of a difference considering how much weight you’ve put on being confined to the ambassadorial chair for half a year.” Lissiel poked Shran in the stomach. His rock hard abs were clearly visible for a moment. Shran rolled his eyes.
“Then you can't count!”
“Children!” called the voice, sounding highly amused. Both Shran and his sister looked chastened, but they shot each other a dark glare before returning to the screen. “Now I know this won't be easy, but best not to put it off. Your grandmamma is in a good mood today and you know how she is when it comes to Vulcans.”
“Stubborn, racist, narrow-minded?” listed Shran lightly.
“Are you sure you're not describing yourself from a few years back?”
“If I’m describing anyone Lissiel, it’s you as you currently are.”
“I just bedded an alien, you can’t call me racist.”
Archer sank in his seat, wishing the ground would just swallow him up.
“You wanted a comparison.” Senkrad pointed out, smiling, “You can want a comparison and still be racist. Look at Thy'lek. That’s what he used to do.”
“This is true.”
“Hey! Racist against Vulcans, and Orions and any species connected to them. That’s it. I was never racist against Betazeds or Caxtonians, was I?”
“Hm, you have a point there.” Senkrad rubbed his chin, in a thoughtful way. “What about the Klingons?”
“Klingons are Klingons, what’s your point?”
“You were making the argument that you only bedded aliens you weren’t racist against but didn’t you bed that Klingon female?”
“That was a totally different situation! For one thing we were both stuck on a planet where the temperatures reach over 50 and she must have been in heat or something because she wasted no time in jumping me. If I’d said no, I’d have either been killed, had certain valuables ripped off or forced to bed her anyway. I chose the lesser of the evils. Although I have to say thanks to the smell and weight of her there was very little difference.” Shran grimaced.
Old Man, or whoever he was, burst out laughing. “I look forward to seeing you three again! I miss your arguments.”
“Want to trade places Old Man?” Senkrad offered with a long-suffering tone.
“No, no. If I had to live with those two I’d loose my mind. I’ll say this Senkrad, I’m amazed you haven’t.”
“He spends his days climbing dangerous ice cliffs, particularly during heat waves when the ice is melting, how sane can he be?” asked Shran, antennas poking forward. Senkrad smiled. “Anyway we’d better get started. I don’t want to give any of them anything to criticise if I can avoid it. We’ll see you soon Old Man.”
“See you soon children.”
Senkrad shut the consol off and said in a mild tone, “Only he can get away with calling us children.”
“Have you noticed he only calls us children? He doesn’t call Sanakral or Sakrana children.”
“I think once you’ve had children, there’s a rule that you can't be referred to as a child yourself.” Shran mused.
“You being the obvious exception since your procuring of a child was through exceptional circumstances.”
Shran rubbed a hand over his face and smoothed back his antennas, too preoccupied to answer Lissiel.
Telev leaned back on his elbows on the breakfast bar and said, “Do you want us all to go? Give you the space to clean the house.”
“I think that’s a good idea.” Senkrad agreed, looking to Shran for orders. Shran drew in a deep breath and then nodded.
“I think that’s best. I’ll see you later Telev.”
“Let me know if you need my help.” Telev offered in a kind tone, walking into Shran’s bedroom and returning with his shirt and boots. Not even bothering to put them on he left the house.
“You want us to go too?” Archer asked, secretly hoping the answer was yes. He really needed to find Phlox and get a pain reliever. His limbs were killing him now! What in the world had he and Lissiel gotten up to?
“Yes. Um… can you tell T'Pol to be here at about 1945? Better she be early than on time.” Shran scratched the back of his head in thought. Senkrad shifted and then said,
“It might be a good idea, to take some of the pressure off you and T'Pol, if Captain Archer and Commander Tucker joined us. Our grandparents have no reason to hate you two. If anything they’ll like you, you saved Thy'lek’s life after the Kumari… well…”
“Was blown to bits?” asked Shran acidly, giving his brother an annoyed glare. Senkrad quailed under it, his antennas drooping. Shran softened, “Still… I suppose that’s a good point. It might help keep them from picking on T'Pol.”
“We’d be glad to help.” Archer assured him, wincing as he looked at Lissiel, whose eyes flashed. “But we should go for now… work to be done.”
“We’ll see you later.” Senkrad smiled, sending a wider one to Hoshi, who blushed.
“Wear something more formal.” Lissiel advised. “Our grandparents are rather… fastidious and old fashioned.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
“See you pink-skin.” Shran’s goodbye was a rather distracted one, his mind probably already figuring out what needed to be done. Archer felt rather sorry for him. It sounded like he was in for a hell of an evening.
T'Pol would admit that the idea of meeting Shran’s grandparents was rather daunting. Of course, she had expected it would be required of her to meet more of his family and perhaps at some point Shran would meet hers, but to have to face them in just a few short hours was so distracting, that she forgot to comment on the senior staff’s conduct the night before and barely registered the scent of sex on Captain Archer.
“We’ve been invited along as well, to help you.” Trip said, pointing to himself and the captain.
“I am grateful.” she said, her brow creased just a little. “I believe I should meditate for a time, to compose myself for tonight.”
“Of course, take all the time you need.”
“Thank you.” T'Pol turned and walked away, heading straight for her quarters. Soval cooed in the sling at her front.
As T'Pol closed her eyes, she tried to anticipate the kind of reaction she would receive from Shran’s grandparents. Logically, they would probably be very much like Shran had been when they’d first met. Aggressive, mistrustful and, most likely, bitter.
It was fair to guess that Shran’s grandparents would be about 150. The war between T'Pol’s people and the Andorians had lasted about 200 years. That meant that Shran’s grandparents had been born and spent their whole lives hating Vulcans. No doubt the idea that their own grandson was almost solely responsible for peace breaking out and establishing the basis for an alliance was hard for them to accept with joy. That same grandson suddenly having a half Vulcan child… suffices to say T'Pol felt a foreboding about the fast approaching encounter.
Her meditations were interrupted when she was requested to go to the Transporter Pad, as she had a guest.
Thoroughly unknowing as to whom it might be, she took Soval into her arms and carried him with her.
It was to great shock, which was very hard to mask that T'Pol arrived at the Transporter Pad to see Lissiel Shran waiting for her, with another Andorian woman beside her. In the strange woman’s arms was a large silk bag, about body length and in her hand hung a box that rattled when she moved it.
“Lissiel?” she asked, trying to hide her confusion. Lissiel looked her up and down, as if she was second-guessing something and then said, her voice noticeably tight,
“You’ll need help to impress my grandparents. As it may or may not have occurred to you, my grandparents are old, and have spent their whole lives being taught to hate Vulcans. As you can imagine, Thy'lek’s… new association with your people is hard for them to accept. Now you’ll have to be accepted as a member of the family if Soval is to be properly accepted. It’s bad enough in their eyes that you two aren’t marrying, there’s no need for you to insult them by going down in something decidedly Vulcan. I assume the only formal clothes you have are Vulcan robes?”
“Yes.” T'Pol wasn’t sure where this was going. Lissiel motioned to the strange woman.
“This is my cousin Avena. She works for the Silk Guild. With her help we are going to fit you into an Andorian dress. If you wear it you’ll be showing my grandparents that you are willing to embrace Andorian culture, which should help your standing in their eyes, even if it doesn’t seem so.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your concern.” T'Pol meant it sincerely, but Lissiel’s mouth tightened.
“I’m not doing it for you Vulcan. I’m doing it for Thy'lek because quite frankly, I don’t think he can take much more and I am not about to have him break down from all the bad things that have happened to him, not if I can help it.” There was a familiar fierceness in Lissiel’s eyes, one T'Pol had seen many times in Shran’s eyes.
“I understand.” What else could she say?
Avena stepped forward. “Where are your quarters? This outfit is extremely complex and if I have to alter it to fit your skinny frame the sooner I know, the better.”
“Of course, come, this way.”
Avena was quick in telling T'Pol what to do as soon as she stepped into the Vulcan’s quarters. T'Pol passed Soval to Lissiel who held him in her arms and smiled down at him, warmth in her eyes. Then T'Pol took the undergarments Avena was holding out and went into her bathroom to put them on.
The undergarments were made of extra thick silk, deep red in colour and when T'Pol put them on she had to appreciate the soft, smooth feel of the silk. They were a simple one piece that was similar to a human swimsuit and a pair of matching sleeves that were connected by a small strip of silk across her back. The sleeves were a little long for her and she assumed Avena would adjust them.
“Are you done Vulcan?” demanded Lissiel, “Come out already.”
T'Pol had never been fitted before, so it had never occurred to her that she would be standing in her undergarments before the two women. Repressing the urge to be difficult and refuse, she exited the bathroom.
Neither Avena nor Lissiel made any snide comments; in fact they said nothing as Avena pulled out a long robe. The robe was a purple colour that complemented the red of the undergarments, with delicate black embroidery. The neckline was similar to T'Pol’s own uniform, V-necked, although it was slightly deeper and didn’t have a collar. Very long laces that looped and knotted in an elaborate way to keep the robe closed held the back of the robe together.
“Hold your arms out T'Pol.” Avena said, holding the robe up. T'Pol complied and Avena slid the robe on her from the front. Then Avena went behind T'Pol and began to pull at the laces, making the bodice of the robe tighten around her. Only then did T'Pol notice the boning in the bodice.
“Is this necessary?” T'Pol gasped as Avena pulled again.
“Of course, these outfits have to be tight. Andorians have been wearing them for centuries.”
“You mean both men and women on your planet wear such items?”
“Yes of course. On women it’s to accentuate their curves and on men it’s to show off their muscles and physical prowess, which they must prove if any woman is going to look at them.”
“You know who always looks good in the male version?” Avena piped up as she pulled the laces again. “Thy'lek. He always looks good in his formal dress.”
“Can he breath?” T'Pol asked pointedly as her stomach was compressed again.
“You’ll get used to it. We all do.” Lissiel was dismissive, “That should be enough Avena, now you can actually see her curves.” Avena made a noise of agreement and stopped pulling, now just knotting the laces off. T'Pol had the barest of frowns on her face as she wriggled a little to get more comfortable.
Next Avena knelt down and turned up the hem of the robe, pinning it quickly. It was clear she was well taught and knew exactly what she was doing. The robes hem now just brushed T'Pol’s bare feet. There was a slit along the left leg that went alarmingly high to T'Pol. Up to about halfway up her leg.
“Alright… next piece.” Avena straightened up and retrieved a jacket, which she helped T'Pol shrug into. The jacket was silk, like the other items, and this was a more vivid red than the undergarments, which had been a darker colour. The jacket was simplistic, and had laces that wrapped around T'Pol’s middle, just under the bust, tied off at the back. One of the last things Avena pulled out was a kind of cummerbund, which wrapped around T'Pol’s middle, over the tied of the jacket, concealing them. The cummerbund was about the length of T'Pol’s hand and elaborately decorated with Andorian symbols. This was black, with purple and red embroidery. Avena clipped it shut at the back, concealing the laces.
“Final things.” Lissiel said with a heavy sigh, rocking Soval in her arms.
Avena produced a pair of thick but almost see through socks, which she helped T'Pol slip on. The socks were only covering her feet, they didn’t go past her ankles. The reason why was given in the form of beautiful shoes that reminded T'Pol of ballet slippers because they too had wide laces, which Avena wrapped around T'Pol’s calf and tied off.
“There we go. Done.” Avena looked satisfied and she straightened up. “Take a look.”
T'Pol turned to the mirror in her quarters and was surprised to find that the elaborate dress looked pleasing. The undergarments dark red worked well against her skin as they peeped out along the edge of the neckline, under the purple robe. The undergarment sleeves were the longest, with the robe and jacket sleeves receding slightly to continue the triple colour scheme. The jacket was just a little shorter than the robe, and while it accentuated her figure, it also didn’t hide the beautiful robe, because it had a half circular edge that met in the middle and went out again so it was almost behind her by the time it reached her feet.
“I think this is the best colour scheme. Nice choice Lissiel.” Avena complimented as she brushed and tugged at the outfit to ensure it fit perfectly. “How does it feel.”
“It feels acceptable.” In truth T'Pol was having a little difficulty breathing but other than that it fit remarkably well.
“Good. Now stand there while I sew this hem and then Lissiel and I can get out of here and back to where it’s cool.”
“I will have the dress cleaned before returning it.” T'Pol promised as she watched Avena kneel down to start sewing.
“Keep it. I bought it for you. It’s yours.” said Lissiel, a hard look in her eyes.
“Are you certain?”
“If I wasn’t I wouldn’t have bothered now would I?”
“Thank you.” T'Pol stared straight at Lissiel, determined not to rise to Lissiel’s bait. The Vulcan knew when she was being tested.
“Forget it.” Lissiel waved her hand in the air. “At least with the outfit we might actually get through this meal without one of them leaving the table in disgust.”
“They won't leave until they’ve eaten. They all love Thy'lek’s cooking.” Avena chuckled,
“True enough.” Lissiel agreed. Avena looked up and grinned at T'Pol for the first time,
“Don’t be too surprised if the four of them are like that one over there. Lissiel is nothing if not incredible at holding a grudge and she got it from our grandparents.”
“It’s a valid one!” snarled Lissiel, glaring at her cousin.
“I know and I agree with you, but since I highly doubt the woman before us had anything to do with it and since she is now a technical member of the family would you stop acting like a nasty blizzard brat and play nice.”
“I never play nice.”
“That’s for sure.” Avena looked at T'Pol again, her eyes twinkling, “She never plays nice, not even with her younger brothers. I remember that she once tied them both up and stuck them under her bed, bound and gagged and left them there for a whole day. Poor Senkrad never got over it.”
“Hey! They broke my Imperial Guardsman toy! They deserved it.”
“You still stand by that excuse.”
“I maintain it as the reasoning of a ten year old dealing with a five and four year old.”
“If you say so.” Avena grinned.
“I seem to recall that you helped me.” Lissiel pointed out, smirking. Avena chuckled,
“True enough. I did. But only because Thy'lek pulled my nice hairstyle out.”
“Humph!” Lissiel huffed, resettling Soval and stroking his downy cheek. Soval cooed and giggled, kicking his legs out and waving his hands in the air. His little tongue was poking between his lips and his large brown eyes were staring up at his aunt with fascination. Lissiel smiled at him. “He really does look like Thy'lek.”
“Your brother says he resembles your late brother.” T'Pol commented.
“Yes well… Thy'lek and Trenach did look very similar.” Lissiel admitted, her antennas drooping a little in relaxation. “Thy'lek adored Trenach, worshiped the ground he walked on.”
“I remember when he was three, and Trenach would go out with his friends, Thy'lek used to sit by the door and wait for him to come home.” Avena smiled, moving around behind T'Pol to finish the job. Lissiel nodded,
“I would try to make him move and he never would. I even broke his favourite toy and he still didn’t budge.”
“Didn’t he tell Trenach what you did once he came home and you got into serious trouble?”
“… yes.”
Avena laughed, more at Lissiel’s tone it seemed. “There we go. All done.” She straightened up. “Satisfied Lis?”
“It’ll do. At least it looks like she made an effort.”
“I appreciate your help.”
“Hm, well just don’t make a mess of it tonight. Everything you say they’ll try to twist against you, so be careful.”
“I will do my best.”
“Well we’d better go. You can dress Soval in this.” Lissiel pointed to a smaller bag. “It’s simple enough so you should be fine putting it on him.”
“I’m sure I can manage.” T'Pol ignored the patronising tone she used. Lissiel no longer fooled her with her snide, cold manner.
Avena and Lissiel showed themselves out and T'Pol, knelt down to meditate again. As she did the boning of the bodice dug into her torso and she was having difficulty breathing. Still, she couldn’t ignore how much the dress looked appropriate.
Soval cooed on the bed, where he was lying on his stomach, where Lissiel had left him. T'Pol stood up and picked him up. Staring down at him she said,
“I believe this night will be far harder than I can anticipate.”