Meditations on the Self

Posted on 18 Jul 2016 @ 10:32am by Rear Admiral Azura Ashcart

706 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Errand of Mercy
Location: Captain's Quarters
Timeline: ED 4 - 0600

ON:

Azura woke with a start, his eyes flying across the ceiling to land on the chronograph resting on the nightstand beside him, it read 0600. He had slept, dreamless for eight hours for the first time in months. He blinked rapidly and remembered who he was laying next to and marveled. Had the General's advice been that right, was that all he had to do was unburden himself to his wife and watch the demons disappear? He shook his head at the silliness of the thought, of course not. Logically what had happened was more likely his dire weariness had finally caught up to him and caused his body to shut down to rest. He tilted his head slightly as he considered.

"Although," he whispered not waiting to wake up his wife or his child "it couldn't have hurt..."

He untangled himself from his wife who had stretched her arm across his body and twined her leg around his. He smiled softly to himself at the press of her skin against his as he wiggled and shifted, his shirt having ridding up during the night. She needed her rest as much as he had. He fear was still there but it had dulled noticeably since last night and he took a hopeful breath.

"Maybe I can do something else I haven't been able to in months." he whispered to himself moving with practiced ease across the room to the closet. He tugged off the shirt and trousers he had worn last night and slipped on a set of blue robes. The Vulcan markings shimmering silver in the star light. His eyes flicked to the windows and he watched intermittently as he slipped on the robes and moved on bare feet out of the bedroom. The deep green and silver robes made soft rustling noises as he entered the center of the living room and turned to look at the windows in front of him.

The streaks of light that represented the stars flying past at warp were a soothing thing to see. He moved to the table where a single wicked candle had been placed, then neglected for months. He turned to the desk that was behind him then stepped towards it picking up the lighter that lay there. Flicking it on as he turned and moved back to the candle he placed flame to wick and nodded to himself as the fire took hold. He placed the lighter down on the table and stepped back to fall gracefully to his knees and settle down into a meditative posture.

Azura locked his eyes onto the stars with the flame in the bottom of his peripheral vision and imagined himself easing into the lake that was his mind. His eyes closed as he floated down to the choppy waters, he breathed in deeply and then exhaled through his mouth and the waters calmed slightly. He focused his attention to relaxing his body and with each inhalation and exhalation he breathed out the stress in each muscle until his body was relaxed.

Slowly over an hour the choppy waters eased until they lapped gently at the shore of his mental island. He stood there, in his mind, and attempted to do what he hadn't been able to for ages. He pointed to the waters and commanded them to still. Slowly through a force of will they, and by extension his mind, calmed and smoothed over to glass. His eyes flicked open and he almost crowed his excitement but bottled that away so as not to wake the other occupants of his quarters.

His eyes locked onto the candle which had burned down an inch and then over his shoulder to the chronograph on the wall above the door. It was 0715 and almost time to feed Savannah. His stomach growled at that thought.

"And me too apparently." He pushed himself up and leaned down to blow out the candle then thought better of it. He would let it burn while he prepared breakfast for himself and his wife. Breakfast in bed would be a good thing for her, and to serve it to her would do wonders for his own mental health.

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Azura Ashcart
Captain
Commanding Officer
USS Redemption

 

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