🌔 For Verelan.
Leave a moon to talk to my future muse: 🌔 Good ending
It was mere minutes until her meeting with the infamous Romulan defector, Verelan t'Radiak. As usual, Ambassador t'Lareth was just on time--not early, and just a hair's breath from being late. Anxiety clutched at her throat as she walked down the hallway to the meeting room, flanked by her guards. She tried to focus herself on the rhythmic sound of their steps in an attempt to herself, but it simply reminded her of when she walked with the same militant stride. In fact, it was with that same stride that she had approached the room where she first met Verelan so many years ago. It was strange... all these years and all of her work to break her habit of walking like a foot soldier and the mere anticipation of seeing Verelan, who she had grieved as a shadow of her past, made it hard not to fall in step with her guards.
The door opened with a soft hiss and there was Verelan, statuesque as she was in t'Lareth's memory, though she was now much older. Still, the years had been kind to her; her features still looked sharp and her eyes still shone with secrets no one but her would ever know. There was a twist in t'Lareth's stomach and a tightening of her throat as she felt a very mild sensation of something akin to regret that she had not taken Verelan up on her offer to defect--to seek asylum in the Federation. As quickly as the feeling arose, t'Lareth suppressed it, finding herself fighting the once-familiar, now-foreign feeling of being tongue-tied. A lump formed in her throat as she stared into Verelan's green eyes and the years seemed to melt away around them. Suddenly Verelan was once again a confident and smug Starfleet captain and she was a love-struck Uhlan, violently grieving being forced to choose between love and duty.
Pulling herself painfully back into the present, t'Lareth greeted Verelan with a soft, playful smirk, "Jolan tru, my old enemy."
