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Sen: Settling In 
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Chief Security/Tactical Officer
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Joined: Tue Jan 17, 2012 8:51 pm
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Post Sen: Settling In

<<USS Sentinel, Sen’s Quarters, July 17, 2385, 2050 hours>>

Her quarters were not overly spacious, but they were comfortable and, more importantly, they were all her own. Archana had finished most of her unpacking in record time, driven by a need to feel occupied. With most of her clothes and personal items carefully put away, she was down to her final possessions. They were the objects and memorabilia that meant the most to her, that made any place she lived in feel like home.

Her favorite selection of old, hardcover books were carefully arranged on a side table beside the sofa, their covers faded and worn from age and use. The bookends that held them up were mismatched, but each meaningful in their own ways. One was an old trophy she’d been awarded as a child at a local dance performance; another, a weighted glass sphere with a flat bottom and the image of a blooming chameleon rose inside of it. It had been a gift from her father on her eighteenth birthday, and meant to be a reminder of her beautiful home in Betazed.

There were pictures of family and friends scattered about, as well as three intricately woven tapestries, one of which had been hand-woven by her grandmother long before Archana had been born. Archana had never met the woman herself, but she’d heard plenty of stories, and she was glad to have something that had belonged to her plucky ancestor. Then, of course, there was her idol of Krishna, a statue that stood just under a meter tall and took up nearly the entire table it stood on. The blue figure held a flute to his lips and was attired in brightly colored clothing, and the ruby red silk that covered the table beneath him was oddly complementary.

Looking at Krishna’s joyful, smiling face, Archana couldn’t find it in her to smile back. Even with most of her things unpacked and her quarters arranged to her liking, she didn’t really feel at home at all. Something was still missing.

More precisely, someone.

Trying to force back any and all thoughts that strayed too far in the wrong direction, Archana determinedly strode to the glass-topped table near the door to turn her attention to the last of her unpacked belongings. Yet as she dug into the crate of odds and ends, she couldn't stop herself from thinking back, recalling the night she had hastily thrown the miscellaneous items into the crate in her haste to leave.

Had it really only been two weeks? In some ways, it felt more like an eternity. It was amazing how quickly—and how completely—a life could change. Archana had learned that years before, but it didn’t make her situation now any less painful. A month ago, she had been a married woman. Now, she was divorced and alone, and although she tried to tell herself that she was better off, she couldn’t help but wish that things could have been different.

In many ways, Archana still loved her ex-husband, her imzadi. Jerric had been everything, and she’d been a fool for him—all the way up to their last night together, when he had let his personal demons consume him and had turned his rage against her. But Archana was no victim. There were lines drawn that were never to be crossed, and attacking one’s wife was absolutely and irrevocably one of those lines.

She couldn’t help Jerric, she reminded herself. It had become something of a mantra for herself over the past few months. She’d tried and failed, loved and lost, and now she had to forge ahead without him. The sooner she learned to live with those cold hard facts, the better.

Her fingers closed on the final object at the bottom of the crate. Lifting it out, she discovered that it was a decorative plate wrapped haphazardly in a scrap of old cloth. It had been a wedding gift, and though she had never particularly cared for it, it had hung on the wall of the quarters she shared with Jerric for the entire eight months of their marriage. She pulled the cloth away with trembling fingers, and a wealth of those memories she’d tried so hard to avoid seemed to unlock inside of her just at seeing the familiar piece of décor.

Raw anger suddenly coursed through her, spurred on by all the heartache, despair and humiliation she’d endured in silence for the past few weeks. How could he have done this to them? How could he have done this to her?

Nearly blinded by this unexpected rage, Archana took one last look at the plate, her dark eyes flashing with cold, unfettered fury, before she hurled it violently to the floor. The magnificent shatter of broken glass was like music to her ears, an unmistakable confirmation that some part of her pent up emotions had finally freed itself.

As if a spell had been broken, she felt her control return to her, and the white-hot anger passed, leaving her just as cold and as empty as before. Barely even breathing, Archana simply ignored the broken glass that now littered the previously pristine floor and walked silently into the bedroom to carefully lie down on the bed. Without even bothering to dim the lights, she turned her face into her pillow and quietly cried herself to sleep.


Lieutenant Archana Sen
Chief Security/Tactical Officer
USS Sentinel NCC-83680

Sun Jan 22, 2012 1:08 pm
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