Star Trek: Starbase 777

Whatever Saren was expecting, whatever painful, miserable image he imagined... suddenly, this was not it. Because here they were, standing in what once was considered the main entrance into the village, the legs of the arch, burned and broken, still upright in the soil. And the houses still stood, too - but they were cleaned, broken pieces and rubble taken away, until only the carcasses of what once was were left. The village was like a corpse, undeniably dead and gone, yet taken care of, made look presentable, perhaps even beautiful again. And it all bloomed. Because of the forest, which had partially reclaimed some of the walls, ivy and flowers peeking through the cracks shyly; because of the overgrown gardens and pots, once that managed to survive the attack now overgrown: and because of the flowers, left there by the doors and entrances by other survivors, who came here for a visit before the two officers. Perhaps if Saren didn't hesitate as much, wasn't as slow, they would've met someone?.. And then there was the memorial - standing tall in the centre of the village, it depicted a figure, staring somewhere ahead of itself, hands shielding, protecting a flame. The base of the memorial was adorned by more flowers, and decorated by still burning candles, which surrounded the plate with all the names of those who who had perished during that faithful day. Saren reached out, his fingers gliding across the familiar names. For some reason, he half-expected to find his own.

"I don't mind carrying them," Renakir said as he readusted the bouquet in his arms. He gave his dinam a nod and gently tightened his fingers around the base of the bouquet. To Saren's words, Renakir felt like he could cry. Awkward as he was as he tried to convey his feelings, Saren's meaning was clear and it filled Renakir with so much warmth. A warmth that radiated from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, causing his ears to twitch ever so slightly. It was only a few second after the other's utterance that Renakir caught himself staring at Saren again only to remember he was not wearing his sunglasses so the other probably could see tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. "Anything, dinam," Renakir looked away and towards the rest of the forest, only looking back when he heard the cracking of bark as Saren grabbed a piece to keep for himself. "No matter how scary, I'll be here." [D] And Renakir followed Saren through the forest, making sure to watch his step. There were no forests on Remus, or on Rator III, at least, not where he lived. As they approached the village entrance, Renakir was surprised to see... So many flowers. Cracked walls had slowly begun to be reclaimed by the forest, overgrown bushes and tree branches cast large shadows on the ground. It was empty yet to full, all at the same time. Renakir followed behind Saren, speechless, just letting his dinam have his moment as he clutched the flowers in his arms. He followed towards what he could only assume was a memorial placed at the village centre. Adorned with beautiful flowers and a placque filled with names. "It... Seems like we aren't the first to visit this spot," Renakir was surprised the candles were still burning and the flowers placed at the base of the memorial seemed fresh. It was as if they had just missed someone else visiting...?

"...It really does, doesn't it?" he replied, still sitting in front of the nameplate, voice even, quiet. He didn't find his name. "Maybe... maybe if I visit next year, I will see someone." His family weren't the only survivors, of course. A handful of them managed to escape, just barely enough to keep their vessel afloat and functioning and cloaked, until found by the Republic patrol. And after they joined the Flotilla... well. Some people stayed longer than others, but many of them chose to move to other, protected colonies. Saren never saw them again. Never tried to, too busy trying to keep himself together, a task that felt nigh impossible at times, and studying, studying, studying, all until that faithful day he saw the two officers dressed in Starfleet's blacks and whites. He always assumed they moved on, suddenly non-existent in his life just as the dead were. And perhaps he was right - yet still they remembered. And the evidence of that surrounded him, blooming, smelling like honey. Not blood - honey... Eventually he sighed, turning towards Renakir - just a sheen of tears in his eyes, yet his cheeks were dry. "There are... too many houses where I would like to leave the flowers. So let's put them here - they're meant for everyone." And with that, the bouquet was carefully arranged into two smaller ones and put on both sides of the nameplate. Saren stalled for a minute, arranging and re-arranging the individual flowers uselessly, just wanting to stay by the memorial for just a little bit more, just a second more... But he knew that he had to move on. "There's... one last thing I want to do." he said, standing up. "This may be... a bit hard. But... do you want to see my childhood home, dinam?"

Although Renakir wished they could have seen who had visited first, maybe it was better than they didn't. A his eyes grazed over the walls covered in vines, the overgrown gardens, it didn't feel as eerie as he would have expected. This was Saren's home at one point, not too long ago either. He did wonder where the other survivors were, there obviously were people who still cared about this place to come visit. Renakir noticed the water in Saren's eyes, but didn't say anything about that and just gave him a nod. He handed the bouquet over to his dinam to arrange as he wished. It didn't bother him that Saren was taking his time with the arrangement, moving flowers around, looking at his work. If he was able to visit Remus again he probably would have done the same, not that there were any places in Biscae village to display flowers, but he would have found a spot. "I would like that, lead the way," Renakir spoke slowly and softly, wondering which of the houses there was Saren's. What a beautiful village, Renakir kept thinking as he looked at the houses again. It may have been an empty shell of what it used to be, but it was very pretty, just like Saren's soul.

Saren nodded, in part grateful, before turning and venturing further into the village, past the houses, past the streets, refusing to slow down and linger for too long on places he remembered visiting or hanging out at with other kids. But... instead of any signs of Romulan activity, there were just more flowers, more honey, as if to purify the place from the stench of blood and smoke. They walked, nearing the edge of the forest - tree stumps could be seen here and there, remnants of the trees that burned with the village. Some part of the forest suffered, too - only saved by the heavy rains, so appropriate for what happened, that fell soon after the raid. "...Well. There it is." The house stood on a slight hill - were it just a tad taller, it could be overlooking the nearest portion of the village. Once white walls stood overgrown, yet the ornate drawings of leaves and Rihan creatures were still discernable, Talai's and Arinn's combined artistry withstanding the test of time. Unfortunately, the door was not there, instead showcasing the ransacked, dark, empty insides of the house. The one surviving window was taken off of it's hinges, now leaning against the wall, glass cracked and tinted with soot. A wounded sound tumbled off of Saren's lips at the sight of purple and yellow blooming on the porch of the house he was born in. And then another one. And then he just covered his face, perhaps hoping that it would help him hide away from all of this, standing in front of his destroyed home, it's empty window sockets staring right at and past them not unlike a corpse would. His shoulders trembled with the effort not to cry, because for fuck's sake - no way would he break down because of the sight of some flowers on his porch, the red wooden door his father spent so much fucking time building gone, memories gone, his birthplace gone, ripped away by his own kin. It's not fair, he thought, swallowing down a tight knot in his throat. It's just not fair!

In silence, Renakir followed closely behind his dinam. With his arms not occupied by flowers, he could gently rub some dirt from his eyes as they made their way through the village. The canopy of branches and leaves casted shadows on all of the remnants of houses and pathways. As they reached Saren's old house, Renakir's eyes caught sight of the charred stumps that made his heart sink. The way that such beauty in the form of flowers and leaves could exist juxtaposed to the skeletons of past horrors was both eerie and romantic. Approaching the house, Renakir gazed at the fallen structure. He could see the beautiful drawings hanging from the wall which he could only assume belonged to Talai and maybe Arinn? He regrettably didn't know too much about his dinam's parents aside from his brief meeting with Talai. A nice man, he would probably get along with Renakir's dad too. His eyes soon drifted downwards to the flowers that had blossomed at the base of the tattered structure. Purple and yellow petals looked as if they were reaching up towards the sky, the colours mixing with the green grass and dirtied white walls. l And then suddenly he heard the sound of his dinam's voice and quickly turned his head to see the man covering his face. Renakir swiftly made his way to Saren's side. "Saren," He whispered in a delicate tone. "It's alright, I'm here," Renakir held out his arms, ready to hold Saren if he so chose to accept his offer.

Renakir got his hands full almost immediately - Saren barely had to duck his head to place himself right under the half-Reman's chin, a defeated sound making it known that his battle to keep himself away from crying was quickly being lost; at least this way, with both of his eyes covered, he wasn't going to leave tearstains on Renakir's clothes, saving him some semblance of dignity. "I hate that I do this s-so easily," he uttered, after a couple of seconds of frustrated breathing. "I hoped that... that the one good thing from all this shit that has happened to me, was that I would stop being such an emotional crier, that I would stop being such a wuss, that I would become at least a bit desensitized, a bit more put together. But it only got worse, and it's so stupid, it's such a stupid thing to be complaining about now, right? But it's all I can do! It's all I can do..." Grief could be a debilitating emotion - yet sentient beings all felt it, evolved in tandem with it, all united in their ability to mourn for what and who was lost. And this factual, scientific take on what he was going trough, made Saren feel at least a little bit better - if anything, it only proved to him that despite everything, he was still, undoubtedly, himself. That through all this tragedy, through all his loss, Irok couldn't steal away his humanity. That he failed at turning him into a moldable, empty shell - and failed at stealing his future. *...Because here it stood, one of the manifestations of it - lanky and on a colder side, holding him, comforting him, tall and familiar and trusted. His first friend on the station, someone who saw worth in him, enough to claim as a brother and follow Saren to a different quadrant for this long, arduous journey. And he was just one of the now many examples, and fuck if that didn't make Saren feel.* divider

17:45

Slowly, he realized that... there was no need for him to linger here for too long. Not anymore. Because this place was slowly being turned into a memorial. These people were respected and remembered, not only by him, but by others, too - evidence all around him. Meanwhile... Saren had epohhs to feed. A conspirator to kiss. Friends to care for. Work to do. All in one place, and it was Now, and... Renakir could probably feel that shift - as Saren calmed down, just as suddenly as he was taken into a chokehold by a wave of grief. Eventually, he had enough strength to lift his head, and look at the house - his home - again. And maybe, eventually, he could see it as a symbol of hope. Of past lost, but not pointless - for it shaped his future. This was a shell, after all. The part of this particular memory that really mattered, was waiting for him on Mol'Rihan. "Sorry. Sorry, um," he stood straight, still close to Renakir, wiping his eyes. "I'm, okay... No - but, I will be, eventually. This... eventually, this will turn into something more. And... at first, I was apprehensive about this idea - but now I see that... it's the best course of action. And... in a way, it's what this village was destined to be. Something More. Heh..." His hand found Renakir's, and gave it a tight squeeze: "And... perhaps this is okay. And I should... focus on the Now, not the Before. Where you, and-- our friends, and the starbase is. I don't want to lack behind anymore..."

Renakir embraced the other quickly, his broad shoulders allowing him easily envelop the other in his embrace. He had no problems if Saren wanted to soak his clothes with tears, they were replicated and even if they weren't, comforting his dearest dinam was more important than anything else. He listened in silence to his friend, his brother, pour his grey heart out to him. All of the pain and struggles that had been boiling up came out full force. Renakir's embrace stayed firm, like a large gray statue of unwavering support and love. Saren's words of disappointment with himself pained Renakir to hear. That the man had been through so much yet still struggled to let himself feel. "Dinam," Renakir's voice was soft and velvety, much like his hair that was probably soaked with sweat from walking through the forest. "It's okay to cry, you're not weak for doing so. You are allowed to feel pain, to give in to your emotions. Isn't.. Isn't that what it means to honour those past? By living a full life with tears and laughter, is to give thanks to those who are no longer walking this path with us," Renakir released his grip as soon as he could feel Saren's breathing steadying again. He took a deep breath as they separated, allowing Saren's hand to slip into his own. His hands a little clammy but he didn't think his diman would mind. Rays of sunlight matched the warmth of Renakir's smile when his eyes met Saren's. Light silver eyes looking at him with adoration and peace. "This village is already a beautiful memorial, thank you for sharing this piece of your history with me. I will follow you wherever you want me to go," Sincere words paired with a little squeeze of his hand conveyed Renakir's feelings. He was no Vulcan, but he hoped he Saren could feel his aura. "Arhem temculhas." I promise.

He had to agree with Renakir on that - for he was right, wasn't he? To honor love lost, you loved the next one even more deeply. To honor lost family, you gave all you had for what you had in the present, be it for blood or found. All this passion, to make up for what could've been. A reassurance for those who passed, that you were genuine, that you cared - and still do. And Saren knew that all these people would want to see the remnants of the Llaiir Prime colony move on and prosper, despite of what was lost, in spite for those who dared to hurt them. He also knew, that... if he did perish here, ten yers ago... that would be his dying wish. "You're," he allowed himself to be a little bit pathetic and sniffle, the fond tone of his voice conveying the true message of Saren's words, making them as clear as the cloudless sky, "You're stupidly loyal, you know that?.." He used his free hand to wipe at hs eyes quickly, the blanket safely stored under his armpit, warming his side. Ah, loyalty. A point of pride for many Romulans, a doctrine to follow. He remembered Irok accusing him of it's lack. Not just for the State, the Empire, but for his own colony - after all, if Saren was loyal, wouldn't he comply and take the old eagle's offer, and follow him to the Mogai, taking a chance at saving all these people? And for a while, Saren stupidly believed him - even knowing that the trade Irok offered was probably a lie, a part of his game. One day, the old traitor would get what he had earned. But as of now... "I will follow you too. But, you already know that, don't you?.." a thoughtful expression appeared on Saren's face, as he briefly touched the chest pocket of his attire. "Let's finish it, then. Follow me..." The road that lead to the Lareth house had a smaller offshoot of a path, overgrown and barely there, leading around the building, somewhere closer to the forest behind it. And that's where Saren went, leading Renakir to the clearing... (edited)