Sense and Sensibility

Posted on Tue Feb 23rd, 2010 @ 6:03pm by Ensign Velia Moretti

Mission: Episode 1.1 - "Now Boarding"
Location: Holosuite, Starbase 386
Timeline: Shoreleave 03; 1230

ON: [[Holosuite, Starbase 386, Shoreleave 03, 1230, Backpost]]

”It’s a matter of sense versus sensibility,” the deep timbre baritone voice cut through the chattering crowd, carried above the bustle of petticoats and echoing clacks of heels on the superbly polished wood which served the affair as a dancing floor. Eyes followed the trailing tone; ending at the countenance composed of a wide mouth with lips that set themselves apart on either side of perfectly straight white teeth. Tracing the ridge of the upper lip brought to attention a rather ordinary nose, slightly flared at the nostrils but centered nearly perfectly between the prominent cheekbones which rose to support the wide green eyes framed with dark long lashes that didn’t at all match the lighter shade of the eyebrows; which were still a shade darker yet than the shaggy mop of hair that one could just tell would frame the face perfectly with one swift short tug on the golden ribbon that kept it neatly restrained at the nape of the wide, solid neck. All of the man was imposing; he stood a tall six foot three, broad shouldered, the lines of his body tapered only slightly at his middle. Supported by long sturdy legs, the sight of him was enough to make any woman swoon, if even just a little. Of course, Velia wasn’t exempt from this side effect; this was her program after all.

The bodies slid away from her path as she trod towards him. Each step seemed to strengthen her posture holding her bare shoulders high and her head up … almost defiantly. The lace trim of her skirts grazed the tops of her boots before curling first one way around her calves only to be reversed in the next stride.

“Men will always stand on the side of sense; women will always be given to the persuasion of sensibility. It’s an act of God, ingrained in our divided natures. A balance, if you will. I personally think that applying fault is pointless; leopards don’t change their spots and humans cannot change their basic personalities.” The men around him were nodding in agreement, as were most of the women, surprisingly.

Velia just smiled demurely while she edged her way into the innermost circle. How good it must be to be the lord of an estate. Idiotic mumblings lapped up with no opposition purely because when you owned the town, you owned the people in it. Against her better nature she cast her eyes downward, she wouldn’t need to look up to see that his eyes had found her; she could feel the heat of his gaze on her face.

“I speak in generalities of course,” he continued on, staring at her. “There are a few women I’ve known in my time who’d remembered their place.” One pointed finger tapped the side of his head and he glanced at the men closest to him. “Sense.” He winked and the company laughed.

Velia flushed with anger. Heated blood began to pulse in her veins noticeably. She brought her flashing eyes up to meet his lidded green ones. He mistook the fire in her eyes for interest. “If you’ll excuse me,” he spoke to his audience without taking his eyes from hers, “I believe my attentions are required elsewhere.” Gently placing two finger tips on the back sides of her arms he steered her away from the group. She complied and neither spoke until they stood on the balcony encased by cool night air.

“I take it you’re of the mind that the topic of discussion was inappropriate,” he commented, leaning against the icy marble ledge.

“I think,” she stated, “that your view is rather small minded. Why you insist on dancing for those painted fools is beyond me. I also think you take liberties that are not yours to take because you beguile the women and validate the men.”

“Do I beguile you?” A smile chock full of charm crept onto his lips and he ran the back of a finger down her arm.

Velia shrugged the draping shawl up onto her shoulders. Part of it was protection from his touch; the other part was to put up a barrier against the cold. “More than you should,” she admitted, clutching the frayed ends together at her waist. “But that may just be the part of me ‘given to sensibility’,” she snorted.

“Oh come now,” his voice turned gentle. “The trait of a good host is to keep his guests feeling at ease, to make a connection. Just because we both know I’m right about the natures of the genders doesn’t mean I prefer one to the other.”

“I disagree,” Velia told him. “I think we both know you very much prefer one to the other. Reputations don’t appear out of thin air you know.”

“Admiration is the basis for my reputation,” he chided. “Because I’ve not earned it, is that any reason not to support it? People will make their assumptions; it’s not up to me to tell them they are wrong.”

“But they aren’t wrong,” she insisted stubbornly. “At least, not from where I’m standing.”

“Does it offend you?” He turned to her with a serious look upon his face.

“It does,” she confirmed. “You cannot be one man to the world and another completely different man beyond the watchful eye of the people. It doesn’t work like that. Your principles and beliefs are either yours or they are not. To pretend differently will not hold up for long.”

“How about you?” he asked. “Do you always show only your truest face to everyone you meet?”

“Of course!” She glared at him. “Fallacies are the tools of people who either don’t know who they are or cannot accept who they are. I am neither. You on the other hand seem to revel in what others want you to be, regardless of how you’re reflected upon.”

“I don’t believe this is you, from start to finish. Is there no more to you than an argumentative isolating woman who never allows anyone to come too close? Just you, behind your solid walls of solitary confinement. No surprises, no connections, full of fear for the unknown. Do you never yearn to know what it’s like to be included?” He turned back to the open night. “Most of the people in there don’t know me, half of the ones who do know me dislike me. But they come anyway. For companionship. To feel alive, even if it’s fleeting. We are social animals, Velia, and we need that on some level. No matter how much we try to deny it; we can’t change it.”

“Computer end program!” Velia hissed. The walls and floor faded to grid, and the handsome estate lord vanished. The whole program had started as a way to force her to try to find her place in social interaction. She’d chosen a Jane Austen-esque setting for her project. She’d always identified with the overlooked, strong willed, independent women that Ms. Austen had threaded into her stories. On the same token, it’d always horrified her by how the women were oppressed to the point that when they were allowed to show their true natures it made them stubborn, or undesirable, or unworthy of a place in the society of that day.

Of course she wanted companionship. But how could one build a relationship of any kind when there was no guarantee it would stand? Why put in all that work just to be left empty handed and drained? Those outdated trust exercises were fine. Like the one where you paired off and turned your back to your partner and fell. Well of course they were going to catch you. That was the point of the exercise. Life isn’t an exercise though. It’s a one way, forward moving timeline. You can’t get the moments back when they’re gone. No way to return to before you fell keeping the knowledge that nothing was behind you. There’s a void when there are no rules in place, or worse yet when others decided to make and change the rules as they go. Structure. That was dependable. Knowing when to go, what to do when you arrived, and how to handle situations. The ability to securely take things at face value. Sure, it wasn’t amped up with adrenaline or the mystery of what came next, but it was dependable. Austen’s heroines always had to deprive themselves of something to get what they wanted. Either that or they stayed their courses and were met with any number of tragedies.

Velia took away from those stories the idea that to achieve any measure of happiness you had to settle. And it wasn’t just between book covers that she’d come to realize this. She could name off people she’d known in life who had stories that included things like “well what I really wanted” or “if I could do it over again” or “if I’d only known”. Well to her, knowing meant that she could avoid that measure of regret. Life was too fleeting to play ‘what if’.

OFF

Velia Moretti
Intelligence Officer
USS Pandora