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17 January 2013 @ 10:51 pm
to the pools that you lift on your wrist  
Title: to the pools that you lift on your wrist
Date posted: 01-17-13
Fandom: Defiance (shut up)
Word count: 1050
Disclaimer: These characters definitely don't belong to me, but instead to SyFy.
Characters: Stahma and Datak Tarr.
Notes: Yes, I know. Nothing good can come of posting fic for a show that's not airing for another three months but I can't be tamed and, you know. I can run back once the show airs and be like AU IT'S ALL AU PRETEND THIS NEVER HAPPENED. Also, I'll blame hearts_blood for her constant indulgence. She is also responsible for all the Castithan words because she's brilliant enough to make up a language! Song title from Leonard Cohen's 'Take This Waltz.'

“Let’s go to the house,” Datak said as soon as he walked in the door, the door she had been so pleased with when they first had a home in Defiance. She had spent years longing for a roof over her head and a proper door, and now...

Stahma knew her husband was excited about their new house, but this was getting ridiculous. He looked like a little boy, eager to show off, unable to wait. “It’s late, heart of my heart; can’t we go tomorrow, in the daylight?”

“I think you’ll prefer it now,” he replied cryptically, “You won’t want a crew there.”

She asked no more, knowing that it would only be a waste of time. Datak was persistent, and he loved showing her the progress on his newest project. Stahma knew how much it meant to him, this house he was building, this house he could provide on his own. It was different from seeing his work, the mines and the store rooms. This was the life he wanted all along for his wife and son.

“Any hints?” Stahma teased as they walked to the house. The street lights were spotty out here and Datak carried a heavy lantern.

A smile played on his lips, a sign of deep pleasure. “You’ll enjoy it.”

“Hardly a hint.” She pressed against him, squeezing the arm her own was linked in. “What is it?”

“Something nice,” was all he answered, and his smile broadened when the house came into view. It was only the bones of it, but Datak had plans drawn up and schedules, and Stahma loves what she sees so far.

It was dark inside their house, and cavernous, private and exposed at once, beams and frames contrasting against rooms with walls up. The stairs are bare wood and their steps echoed as they traveled up.

“If it wasn’t you I’d be nervous,” she said at the top of the stairs. This house of their dreams was almost unsettling in the dark quiet-- still so foreign and threateningly spare. Datak laughed quietly.

“Close your eyes,” he told her, and he took her by the hand and led her forward. “Keep them closed,” he said when they stopped, and he released her hands.

“Datak...” Stahma called as noises bounced around the room. There was the sound of metal, and of flint striking, and his steps nearing her.

He took her hands gently, his thumbs rubbing her knuckles. “Open them.”

Stahma Tarr no longer considered Casti her home. It had been far too long, and too much had happened, and the life she led now-- the life that she loved-- would never have happened back there. When she thought of home, she thought of her husband and son and whatever space they were sharing.

But the sight before her brought tears to her eyes, and her heart throbbed painfully. “It’s like home,” she said, looking around in wonder at the room her husband had illuminated with a smattering of candles. “Datak, it’s a kupaxi.”

He chuckled. “It is. You wanted one.”

Stahma hadn’t mentioned missing the bathing rooms from their homeworld in years, and hadn’t quite realized how much she had longed for a bath until that very minute. She let go of his hands to walk over to the walls and touched them in wonder. “It looks like venijena,” she breathed, touching the cool stone. The branches of color were pale grey instead of the spidery lilac of the venijena on Casti, but the effect was the same. “How...”

“They found a vein of this stone a few weeks ago,” he answered, coming up to stand beside her. “The stone turned out to be easy, it was the glazing of the glass that was the hard part.”

Stahma exhaled a laugh. “And the carving?”

“There are quite a few artisans looking for work,” he said, “and not too many are looking for an old-style kupaxi.”

She turned away from the wall to look down at the centerpiece of the room, the pool that looked bottomless. The deep blue of the pool with the rippling water gave Stahma’s heart another pang. How often had she yearned for the relaxation and sheer bliss the kupaxi offered, let alone the intimacy it harbored, when they lived in the wretched little tent with little more than a basin that worked as both a bathtub for Alak and a washbasin for their clothes and dishes? She couldn’t remember the last time she had been properly clean, the kind that came from soaking for hours, luxuriating in water scented with oils from flowers that no longer existed.

“Is it--” she started, unable to finish. Datak nodded.

“I’m not as cruel as that, my love. Why else would I bring you?”

Datak understood, she realized. He may have lived in a very different world than she did, but for all its faults, it was gone, and they could never go back. Her parents and her siblings were dead, and she would never see the home she had grown up in again-- but here, on a faraway planet, decades later, her husband had built her a piece of their home that they could share.

Without a word, Stahma started undressing, heedlessly letting her gown lay where it fell. She needed to feel the water surrounding her before she blinked this mirage away.

“You didn’t tie up your hair,” Datak commented as he followed her into the water. Stahma had sunk in up to her chin, her eyes closed in bliss. Her hair swirled around her with the movement of the water, and Datak took a moment to marvel at the sight of his wife.

“Mm,” Stahma said, tilting her head back, “I don’t care.” She took a breath and spread her arms to float on the surface of the water, her hair a halo about her face. Datak couldn’t bear to stay away and slid his shoulder under her head. Stahma turned her face to kiss his throat, murmuring “Thank you.”

In the low light Stahma’s skin gleamed like polished venijena, and Datak slid his hand over her stomach. “This is all the thanks I need,” he told her. With his other hand he touched her lips, tracing her smile.
Psychotic Writing Muses: Defiance - an unlikely alliancehearts_blood on January 18th, 2013 03:58 am (UTC)

Also, for anyone who's interested, the random Castithan words are mostly being semi-purloined from an online Croatian dictionary.


God I love these two so much.

Edited at 2013-01-18 03:58 am (UTC)
Une Frakkante Cylonne: Defiance- forest- hearts_bloodsunshine_queen on January 18th, 2013 04:11 am (UTC)