nyota_uhura24 | [BFF Verse - The ravens are all closing in / And there's nowhere you can hide]

Entry tags:

[BFF Verse - The ravens are all closing in / And there's nowhere you can hide]

Uhura was in a good mood. The memory of yesterday's assignment, of all the fear in the Debulans' eyes, was enough to make her nearly giddy. It had been far too long since she'd had the opportunity to slowly create a blinding, debilitating fear, just as her father had taught her to.

There was only one thing that could ruin her excitement. Scotty. The moment she saw him, she had to fight the urge to clench her hands into fists, or to reach for her knife. Not the knife I want... She would get it back, of course, but it would take careful planning. The fail safe was most certainly a problem. She was certain that given enough time, killing him wouldn't even be necessary, even if it was the safest course of action. But thanks to the fail safe, murder was out of the question.

Instead she monitored the times at which he entered the code, laying down preparations and waiting for a day he entered it early in the morning, and then all would be well. Soon, she promised herself. He really ought to just give the knife back, and then all this could be avoided... Though she was too angry now to let the matter go, even if he did.

To her extreme annoyance, she realized that she and Scotty were headed for the same turbolift, but there was no way in hell she was going to turn tail and run, even if the sight of him did infuriate her. "Scotty," she drawled. "How lovely it is to see you, though I must say you were far more dashing with a scar on your cheek."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He kept his attention on her hands, shifting into a slightly more defensive posture than before. There was no way in hell he'd believe that Uhura just had a kink in her hand - if he believed that, he'd be dead in five minutes, guaranteed. Although not prone to claustrophobia himself - he'd spent much more time in much smaller spaces, voluntarily, on occasion - being trapped in such an enclosed space with one of the deadliest people aboard the ship was unnerving.

"Every time I see you, it's a new lover," he replied, and if he didn't say it outright, the tone of his voice left no doubt that he was thoroughly disgusted by the idea. Whether she was lying or not - and he had no doubt that she was - he had no qualms about letting her know exactly how he felt about that particular excuse. "Do you keep several at once, then, or just discard them the minute they don't entertain you anymore?"

His posture was slightly more defensive, and it sent a little thrill down her spine, mixing with the waves of adrenalin that were already coursing through her. She liked that he was wary of her, that he considered her a threat. It was quite a compliment coming from Scotty, and her mind flashed through all the ways she could inspire that fear to greater heights. It wouldn't end well, but thinking about hurting him was the only thing keeping her calm at the moment. It was already nowhere near enough, and she had to keep stretching her hand to hide the tremors.

His taunting brought a smirk to her face. "I do keep several at once, and I also discard them the minute they no longer entertain me," she sneered. "Scotty, I don't really you're in any position to talk when you're fucking a slave." There was a tiny hint of desperation in her voice, even though she was going for cold and taunting. Fury welled up inside her. I can control this... But already she was losing her grip, losing the cold, manipulative woman who was in control of herself and as in control of her surroundings as possible. Her breaths were coming a little faster, her heart racing a little. Her eyes ran over Scotty's form, looking for openings.

When Uhura mentioned the Orion woman yet again... This time, he shifted slightly, as though the subject was one he wished to avoid. Let her draw her own conclusions from that almost imperceptible movement. If he could get a few rumors going around the ship regarding him and the Orion... It would be entertaining, for one thing, and it would be interesting to see what his enemies made of that 'information'. He didn't mind rumors about his activities around the ship - especially when he had a hand in starting a good number of those rumors himself.

"Then perhaps we can both agree that that particular discussion is over," he said after a moment, his voice intentionally tight. "I suggest you get comfortable," he added abruptly, trying to make it seem as though he was desperate to change the subject. "We might be in here a while." He was tempted to try calling a truce, but Uhura was unpredictable, and might take advantage of his lowered defenses if he suggested such a thing. Not that he'd lower his defenses quite that much - he was far too paranoid - but he couldn't shake the feeling that she was readying herself for an attack. Whether it was truth or his own paranoid fantasy, he had no idea, but he hadn't made it to being chief of engineering on the Enterprise by ignoring his intuition.

He shifted again, inching away from Uhura, although it was next to impossible to move completely out of her striking range. Still, the farther away he was from her, the better - dealing with a shallow gash on his arm or other extremities was far preferable to letting her near enough for a decent hit.

He shifted at the mention of Gaila, and she noted it but didn't make any assumptions. Scotty was too unpredictable – and far too clever – for her to be certain that his discomfort was genuine. She filed away the information anyway, to be considered later, tested, possibly twisted to her advantage. Knowledge was power, after all. He seemed almost desperate to change the subject, and it made her eyes narrow slightly. Either Gaila really had gotten to him or he was doing this intentionally; Scotty was better at hiding his emotions than this. Still, a creature like the Orion could have strange effects...

She hadn't realized that her hands were clenching and un-clenching. Her eyes darted around the lift again, and she could have sworn it was bigger a few moments ago. The echoed screams were getting louder in her head, and for a moment the room swam before her eyes. She fought it back with sheer determination. I won't lose to you, Father, she thought firmly. Her weaknesses seemed even worse in light of the missing knife. She yearned to run her fingers along the blade, to prick drops of blood from her finger. Scotty took that knife.

All the fear and weakness she transformed into anger, and there was only one person to be angry at right now. The cunning, infuriating Engineer. You're going to regret crossing me. Part of her mind protested that this wasn't how this was supposed to go, that she couldn't control things in here, but it was too late for that. Already her mind was filled with the thought of striking out at him. The tension drained out of her body, and she managed another smirk. I'm going to hurt you. “We are going to be here for a while, aren't we? I wish there was a more interesting way to pass the time than talking to you.”

He relaxed slightly when he was at least far enough away from her that she couldn't simply slip a knife in under his ribs, and crossed his arms easily over his chest, crossing one foot in front of the other as he leaned back against the wall of the lift. He looked for all the world as if he were one hundred percent unperturbed at being trapped here with Uhura, and even went so far as to allow himself a moment to close his eyes. Only a brief moment, though, before he opened them again, taking a keen interest in the wall once more.

"No one said you had tae talk, love," he replied easily, giving her a small, one-shouldered shrug. But for all his posturing, for all that he affected an air of absolute disregard for their current situation, inwardly, his mind was racing. If she did strike at him... She'd likely land a hit on him before he had a chance to react, but once she'd made her move, that would allow him a tiny opening to subdue her. The trick was in making sure she didn't hit anything vital. "Plenty o' other ways tae keep yourself entertained."

She didn't believe for a moment that that relaxed posture meant his guard was down, but that knowledge just made her more eager to see if she could get past it. Her stomach clenched with the desire to strike out when he momentarily closed his eyes. Just one twist of my knife... It was, all around, a bad idea, but there was no alternative. Not if she was to calm the chaos in her head. Her hands went still for a moment, sure in the knowledge that there was an escape after all, even if that escape meant pain. Even if that escape meant death. "Other ways? Why Scotty, whatever do you have in mind?" she asked, tone lighter now that she felt like there was an outlet for the screaming in her head.

She allowed herself a few moments to enjoy the anticipation of this moment, and felt a very brief regret that if this was the end of it all, she'd never gotten the chance to Captain her own ship. Or to get revenge for her fears. Her expression was calm, almost disinterested, right until the moment that she launched herself off the wall, knife striking in the direction of his lower abdomen.

His body reacted before he did, and for a brief moment, the only thing he was aware of was the fact that his arm was suddenly in a great deal of pain. With a hiss of pain, he struck out with his uninjured arm, stepping back at the same time, his hands shaking with adrenaline. She had managed to stab him, and it was only thanks to his reflexes that she hadn't managed to get him in the gut or the ribs.

He crouched back against the wall opposite her, clamping his hand down over the wound, clutching his arm to his chest. "The fuck was that for?" he snarled, that cool facade gone. His plans to strike back hadn't taken into account the shock of actually being injured; although he was no stranger to pain, the initial shock of it was always a surprise. He had the presence of mind to at least draw his knife, although that meant taking pressure off the wound; keeping a close eye on Uhura, he used the knife to tear a strip of fabric from his sleeve, binding it around the wound in the hopes that it would at least mean he wasn't going to bleed out.

He reacted instantly, pulling sharply away from her blade. Her knife missed his gut but sliced across his arm, and she felt a little thrill of pleasure both at drawing blood and at his instantaneous reaction. A strong opponent... His other arm struck out, knocking her backwards towards the wall, where she adopted a defensive posture, expecting retaliation. He just snarled at her, and she hissed in frustration. She needed the distraction. Desperately. The walls couldn't catch her if she kept moving. Her eyes were glued to him as he bound the wound, lips curling in some strange mimicry of a smile. “Keeping myself entertained,” she answered, twirling the knife in her hand. “I suggest you do the same. I might not miss next time.” There wasn't a lot of room to maneuver, but she was still able to feign an attack from the right as she drew a knife with her left hand – being ambidextrous certainly its uses – in order to strike from the other side.

She attacked again, but rather than try to block the attack, he dropped to one knee just before she reached him, ducking out of the way. In one swift motion, he jabbed the hilt of his knife into her stomach, hoping to at least knock the wind out of her, or to at least drive home the point that he could have very easily hit her with the blade. "I suggest you rethink your method of entertainment," he said calmly, pushing himself to his feet. "I might not be so generous next time." Fuck, but his arm hurt. He'd had worse, true, but getting injured hadn't been on his list of things to do today.

He ducked out of her way and jabbed the hilt of his knife into her stomach, knocking the wind out of her and causing her to stumble backwards. She snarled at him, furious that she'd missed and somehow even more furious that he wasn't even bothering to retaliate. The blood was thrumming in ears, the world phasing in and out of focus. Her movements weren't quite as coordinated as they should be. I'm here in this goddamn turbolift with Scotty. I'm here on the Enterprise. Her mind refused to listen to her instructions. I need to remind myself that I'm here. Cutting Scotty would've been preferable, but there were most certainly alternatives. She twirled the blade again and then dragged it along the outside of the other arm, drawing a thin line of blood in her flesh. It burned, but the clouds cleared out of her vision. I'm right here. She laughed, the sound cold and hollow. "So afraid of a little pain, Scotty? I don't expect generosity from you... I expect you to fight back. I promise not to kill you," she taunted, but made no move to attack again. Not yet, anyway.

He watched her cut her own arm, his eyes flat and devoid of emotion. As long as she wasn't attacking him, he'd let her do whatever the hell she wanted. "Big words, comin' from a woman who's never kept a promise in her life," he said, running a thumb over the fabric he'd used to bind the wound on his arm. The initial shock of the attack was fading, leaving only the familiar dull throb that he was long-accustomed to. He flexed his hand once or twice, toying with his knife with his other hand. Tilting his head to one side, he asked, "Do you really want tae die today, love?"

There was little emotion in the question, aside from curiosity. It wasn't a threat. He could kill her, and he was well aware of the fact that he could kill her - although, admittedly, likely not without some harm to himself - but she kept taunting him, kept trying to incite him to attack. He wanted to know why. Why here, why now.

She was breathing a little harder than normal, which could be attributed to her attack but had more to do with the fact that the turbolift was so small and there was no way out and it was possible that someone was watching and laughing and it was almost as infuriating as it was terrifying. Fear was a tool, a way to manipulate others, not something she should surrender to. "How the hell would you know?" she taunted back. "Just because I choose not keep my promises to you." The pain of her shallow wound kept her grounded, but she couldn't resist dragging the knife down her again, drawing another thin red line to match the first. She still hated this place, but she was more in control of herself now.

This wasn't the right way to go about this. Her power had always been in manipulation and scheming, not in outright battle, especially not like this where the opponent was so prepared. She was good with a knife, of course, but it wasn't the way she won her wars. This time, however, there might be no helping it. The fear was held at bay, but there was no guarantee it would last. "No one's going to die," she said flippantly. "I was just trying to find an entertaining way to pass the time."

"Then find a different way," he replied evenly, still watching her draw the knife along her arm with cool disinterest. "Find another way, or I can promise you that you won't be leavin' this lift alive." Once again, he spoke with next to no emotion, not threatening her, not warning her, but speaking as though he were merely stating fact. "How would you like tae go then, love? I could stab you... but that always makes such a mess." He gave her a small smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I could break your neck. Much cleaner. Faster too, probably. Less painful, I think."

He toyed idly with the knife in his hand again, watching the play of the light on the blade for a moment as though utterly enthralled by it. "I could throttle you," he continued distantly, as if the prospect of killing her was nothing more than a simple, everyday task, nothing out of the ordinary. "Of the three, I'd prefer breakin' your neck."

She thought he had been acting surprisingly sane today, and it sent a little thrill of excitement through her to have pealed back the layers of normalcy in search of the dark and sinister. It had always felt like the most real aspect of humanity, and it was a comfort to see it displayed, to lose the almost jovial Scotty she'd walked into the lift with. She couldn't help it; she laughed.

"I've always liked a little mess," she answered, voice almost enthusiastic. "So I'd prefer the stabbing, to tell you the truth. But it would be much better if you did a little cutting first. I could use a few designs on my skin," she said, idly brushing her fingers along the cuts on her arm, smearing the blood. She brought the bloody fingers to her lips and flicked her tongue over them. "I bet you could be artistic, Scotty, if you really wanted to."

"Slittin' your throat wouldn't be too much trouble," he replied, turning the blade of his knife back and forth again. "But I prefer a clean death, love. Makes cleanin' up after so much easier." There was a reason he killed from a distance. Really, truly piss Scotty off, and it was possible to wake up frozen to death in your own quarters, or trapped in the lift like this, for days. He didn't generally kill with his bare hands or with his knife unless he felt seriously threatened, and while Uhura was a threat, she wasn't enough of a threat yet to warrant him getting his hands dirty.

"O' course, if I killed you, I could get rid o' that bloody knife," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Or I could keep it, as a little somethin' tae remember you by." He glanced up at her, the odd little smile still tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Though I'm not sure why I'd want tae remember you."

"I wouldn't have expected you to clean up your own messes," she replied, voice silky. "How positively pedestrian of you." Knife still in hand, she dragged her fingers along her neck as if imagining the death he described. "I could think of worse ways to go," she said, shrugging as she let the hand drop down to hang almost casually at her side.

And then... then he had to bring up the knife, and her eyes instantly went cold. "We could have just gone our separate ways if you hadn't taken it, you know," she answered icily. "And then if we did end up in a turbolift together we'd just be sitting in mildly uncomfortable silence." This was a bald-faced lie, because she would still need an outlet for her burgeoning terror, but that was beside the point. "But I am going to get it back, and I don't care what I have to do to you in the process... In fact, I'm going to enjoy it. You have such a lovely pained expression when you're cut... And I have had it up to here with playing nice."

He tilted his head to the side again, his lips moving silently as though he were going over what she had just said. "Ah. There's a problem with your line o' reasonin', love," he said after a moment. "You see, the thing is, love... I know where the knife is. An' you don't. An' I'm not tellin'..." Why, he wondered, hadn't he brought up the topic of the knife sooner? She was far too attached to the thing, and that was where half the fun was. "An' the thing is, love... the thing is, I'm not goin' tae tell. You can slice my skin tae ribbons, love, an' I still won't tell. An' if you kill me, love... If you kill me, I take the ship with me. An' you know what that means, love? That means your pretty little knife will be incinerated, along with you an' all the rest o' the crew, in an explosion far worse than any supernova you've ever seen."

His tone had started out even, but as he continued speaking, his voice grew harder, his tone sharper, and he finished his little speech with a hint of warning in his tone. "So you play nice, love, or you'll never see that trinket again." He was, by now, almost daring her to attack again, because if he was going to be perfectly honest with himself, sparring with her - verbally or physically - was an entertaining way to pass the time.

Rage bubbled up in her as he threatened the knife. For some reason it infuriated her more even than his threats to her or the ship, especially when he spoke in that almost sing song way that transformed into something hard and threatening and challenging. A little shudder went through her, and the twisted grin returned to her face. Even though his words infuriated her, this was exactly what she needed, to see him trying to bait her the same way she'd been baiting him. It took you long enough to show your true colors, Scotty. "Give me enough time, and you'll be begging to tell me where that knife is," she answered, voice calm as she contemplated her next move. "And if you didn't, if I had to kill you, it might be worth the explosion... Just to hear you scream."

She took a moment to enjoy this image, still watching him with cold amusement. She couldn't quite tell with Scotty - she never could - but she was fairly certain that he was on board with her method of entertainment, and while she very much hoped she didn't end up dead, she could scarcely bring herself to care. She wanted to cause pain... and she wanted to feel pain. Feigning distraction for a moment, she moved towards him again, this time coming in low and then shooting upwards, one knife slashing at his legs while the other was aimed at his chest.

He reached out to catch her wrist, preventing her from landing a hit on his chest, although the blow aimed at his legs landed, slashing open his thigh. This time, however, his reaction was less severe; he was prepared for it now. He took a moment to slip his knife back into its sheath, and grabbed her other wrist, considering twisting her arms until she was forced to drop the knives. Confiscating weaponry from her seemed to be turning into a habit for him. "I don't call that playin' nice, love," he told her, tightening his grip on her wrists. "An' I wouldn't do that again if I were you."

She felt a thrill of victory as the strike to his leg landed, and she could already see the ruby red of his blood. It was such a beautiful color. He caught the arm aimed at his chest, however, and she hissed with fury as he grabbed the other one, effectively halting her attack and momentarily trapping her. The idea of being further trapped send fear rushing through her, but even though the smart thing to do was to tear herself away from his grip, she was too driven now. She needed this fight too much. "Good thing you're not me, then," she answered, using the leverage of his grip on her wrists to launch her knee upwards towards towards his groin.

In retrospect, he should have seen it coming. One minute he had a firm grip on Uhura's wrists, and then next, he was doubled over, completely defenseless, gasping for breath, and trying desperately to ride out a wave of pain so severe he was seeing stars. He more or less crumpled on the ground, curled in on himself, not even caring by this point whether or not Uhura attacked him while he was down. He wanted to curse, but he had to catch his breath first, and the wave of nausea that accompanied the pain wasn't helping.

It was immensely satisfying to see him double over in pain and crumple to the ground, and she stared down at him coldly for a moment. "I told you that cutting would be more fun," she said conversationally. "But you had to go and make things difficult, as usual." She dropped to squat floor beside him, holding one of her knives to his throat. "Those ways you were thinking of killing me... are they the same ways you'd want to go, Scotty? Because I'm still awfully fond of throat-slitting myself."

The pain subsided, but slowly, and he still hurt as Uhura dropped down beside him and held the knife to his throat. He glared up at her, his eyes cold and dark as he tiled his head back, exposing more of his throat to her. "Do it," he rasped, pushing himself up, leaning into the knife. One wrong move on her part, and it would be game over for him. He fixed his eyes on hers, smiling that faint half-smile again, an expression at odds with the utter lack of emotion in his eyes. "Do it."

He tilted his head back, exposing more of his throat, and told her to do it. A visible shudder went through her. It had been so long since she had killed anyone worth killing, since she'd felt the thrill of extinguishing a life that mattered. For a moment her mind flashed back to her favorite memory, to the day her father handed her that knife... But she wasn't going to kill him. Not when he was asking for it. And not when that would very likely result in her death as well. "No," she whispered, smiling down at him. "I believe I promised to draw you the Enterprise." Keeping the knife pressed against his throat, she used her other hand to push his shirt up a little, exposing more flesh for her to press the other knife into, just hard enough to slice the skin.

His torso was already a patchwork of scars; this wasn't the first time he'd been on the wrong end of a knife, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He drew his breath in sharply as she slid the blade across his skin, but he made no move to stop her - whether because of the knife at his throat or because he simply didn't want to stop her, it was impossible to tell. "Make sure you do it right," he told her, his eyes still fixed on her, that faint smile still lingering on his lips. "Too shallow an' it won't scar, love, too deep an' I'll go tae medical an' they'll patch it right up."

[BFF Verse - The ravens are all closing in / And there's nowhere you can hide]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)