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Troubles

Fictober 2018 Prompt: “You think this troubles me? Fanfiction Fandom: Star Trek Voyager Pairing:  Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway

"You think this troubles me?" She asks.

"Doesn't it?"

"Yes, somewhat, but probably not as much as it should" she sighed, "Maybe we've been out here far too long, things that would have shocked me, or made me anxious, years ago, hardly seem worth the worry now."

"We have experienced a lot, and not much surprises us now."

"It's not just that, I know now that this crew can handle almost anything. And, I can endure, because I have you by my side."

(A03)

“Can you feel this?”

“Ow!” Krysanth jerked away from Fayne’s poking fingers. Everything about the woman was long and spindly, especially her pale digits.

“I’ve heard that messenger wings are sensitive, but I didn’t think they’d be that fragile,” Fayne said with a snort of derision. “Is that why ya wear the coat?”

Krys glared at her and absently tucked her hood forward. She wore a hoodie and a leather jacket and it was still not enough to keep her wings completely safe. If she wasn’t careful, they would tear and then she would have no job, no skills, and likely die on the streets. Just like her mother warned her. 

“Yes.” Her words were clipped, but soft. She didn’t want to fight. She never wanted to fight. But it seemed Fayne was constantly spoiling for one, even when they were just walking down the street. “Don’t touch them. Please.”

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“People like you have no imagination.”

Fayne punched him. As tall as she was, he was taller, with muscles to match and tusks as big around as her thumb jutting up from his mouth. It was not her smartest decision of the night, but then she usually made bad decisions after drinking. 

“Don’t ya talk t’me like that ya bloody toad!” she yelled at him. Again, not a good decision. 

His first hit knocked her flat and Fayne had to roll to avoid his stomp where her middle had been. She grinned at him, from beneath the bright lock of red hair over one eye, the rest brilliantly white. “Missed me,” she laughed, and rolled to her feet, ready for more.

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“How can I trust you?”

“You’ve already proven that what you say you stand for isn’t what you actually believe,” he said dismissively. “I think we’re better off just ending this partnership now.”

Her voice was a mere whisper, damning in the City of Secrets, where all lies and secrets dropped in volume. “I think you are missing the point, Wayland. Do you care so much about what I say and do in public? Or do you care that you are paid and paid well?”

Wayland shook his head, braid swaying gently behind him. “How am I supposed to even believe that?”

Another woman, tall and dark of hair and skin, stepped from the shadows. It was enough to make Wayland take a startled step back, his cape rustling as his messenger’s wings made ready to be used, to propel him up and away if necessary.

“I do not suffer from the same malady as my client,” the woman said, her voice as dark as her skin. “If you do the job, Wayland, you will be paid handsomely.”

Wayland straightened his cloak, his wings settling beneath as he tried to play it cool. “Alright. I can accept that, then. What’s the package and where does it need to go?”

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“Will that be all?”

“For the moment,” she said carefully, her voice only a whisper. She watched the shadow of her assistant fade into the darker shadows of her office. Then she was alone in the dark. 

She preferred the dark, the lights always too much for her pale eyes. The sun was too hot for her pale skin. The touch of another was too much for her, tugging at her uncomfortably. It was why she wore gloves, long sleeves, pants. All but the purest air burned her throat, reducing her voice to an untrustworthy whisper. The world was too much for her. Or it should have been. Instead she took all those disadvantages and put them to use. 

She taught mercy as one to whom nature had shown none. She taught understanding as only one from the outside could. And she took strength from pain, rising above it again and again if only to prove that she could. She was the White Lady and one way or another, she would make her way to the top of this city. One day she would be the white star above it all.

Standing, the White Lady snapped her fingers and walked toward the window. A shadow separated itself from the gloom and her assistant hovered beside her, a dark spectre. They were loyal for a price, but constantly sought their freedom. The unwary could free them and mischief was the least that the dark spectres could cause. She was always careful.

“I need a meeting with Brighton. Off the records. Can you contact his private secretary?”

“Of course. What else do you require?”

‘Nothing,’ was the response it sought, freedom from its contract, but the White Lady didn’t give the dark spectre that out. 

“I am content for the moment. Come back to me when the time and place of the meeting is set.”

Staring out over the dark city of Kayde, she clasped her hands behind her back. It would take patience, cunning, and meticulous planning, but she was on her way. Eyes rising to the mass of stars above, she smiled. Oh yes, she was on her way.

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“Take what you need.”

“I’m not...destitute,” Khrys stumbled over her words, frowning at Fayne as the other woman gestured to her kitchen. “I have a place of my own, it’s just on the far side of the city.”

“Uh huh,” Fayne said, clearly not believing her. She tugged off her knit cap and tossed it on the table. “Well I’m getting something to eat, you’re here. If you don’t wanna eat my food, I’m not going to force you.”

“I thought forcing people was what you did,” Khrys muttered.

Fayne whirled and stalked over to her, peering down. “Just because you choose to limit your options in life don’t mean the rest of us do. I’m trying to be nice here, stop being a petulant, anti-violent asshole.”

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