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Art Gallery: Klingon Appraisals

Posted Jan. 24, 2019, 6:49 p.m. by Civilian K'vorth, Son of the House of Duroc (Klingon Warrior) (David Shotton)

Posted by Civilian Halai Cosgrove (Head of Science and Terraforming) in Art Gallery: Klingon Appraisals

Posted by Civilian K’vorth, Son of the House of Duroc (Klingon Warrior) in Art Gallery: Klingon Appraisals

Posted by Civilian Halai Cosgrove (Head of Science and Terraforming) in Art Gallery: Klingon Appraisals
Posted by… suppressed (3) by the Post Ghost! 👻

Snip

“Not at all,” Halai said softly. “Close your eyes and wait here.” It was a request but one her tone suggested he follow. She had her reasons of course. To have someone watch you while you weighed the merits of your own work would complicate the process and interject feelings that were not useful. His request was quite specific and she wanted to go about it with the honour it demanded.

K’vorth tilted his head slightly, then nodded. His uncovered eye closed as instructed and he stood straight, chin raised as his breathing settled into a steady rhythm, his broad shoulders straight but his hands loose at his side. He understood the request, to have someone watch you while you find yourself was distracting, and didn’t allow for the inner thoughts that one needed. His eye closed, he yet listened to her movement. The keen senses of a warrior always on the road and danger in every port honed to a knifes edge, still struggled slightly to follow her precisely. She was like a silent dove moving around him, yet he could sense an intensity interwoven with a serenity about her that let him track her better than sound.

A few moments later, he’d feel her presence in front of him. “Keep your eyes closed and hold out your hands together so I can set the piece in them. I warn you, it’s small, but weighty.” It was as true as it was metaphorically representative. Just as he had asked.

He reached out and placed his hands cupped together, fingerless gloves with metal studs affixed to the knuckles but with klingon writing in each palm, carefully embroidered with a golden thread that must have been incredibly tough to withstand the wear and tear of his lifestyle, or something he took care to maintain. On his right palm if Halai could read Klingon, was the phrase “The cave that you fear to enter, holds the courage that you seek.” On his left palm, read “Wear your scars with pride, for if your soul has no scars, you have felt no pain and conquered no demons.”

Carefully placing the object in his hands, its weight was not great, but more than the small rounded shape would have suggested. “Okay, you can open them.”

The big Klingon did not, at first. K’vorth held the object in his hands, moving it to his fingers. Gently his finger tips searched the item, moved over the curves and patterns in the surface. It took maybe a minute, and his head dipped as he concentrated on the touch, the feeling that he received from the stone. It was clear that K’vorth saw more in this piece than his eyes would show him. “I do not trust my eyes to see what this truly holds,” he told her, “the depth and beauty behind it is contained in the touch and the depth placed within, like how your eyes lead to the soul you hold within you. You did not make this with your eyes, you made this with your heart and your soul, and I must see it with my heart and soul to understand the passion that created it.” Moments later, K’vorth opened his eyes. He did not look at the stone first, but straight into Halai’s eyes. His own eyes reflected a deep reverence, serenity and calm as he did, before they lowered to the stone.

The sculpture was a sphere made of a black stone that had glittering elements to it- it was like gazing into the depths of the night sky. But rather than a solid sphere, she had taken the same delicate carving technique he’d witnessed elsewhere to carve out the interior and create patterns in what became a hollow sphere with more negative space than stone left. The shell was now not stone but vines snaking through each other and even closer inspection would note the impossibly tiny flower and buds. Though the sphere was only 10 centimetres in diameter, it was not hard to surmise that it had probably taking hours upon hours of excruciating delicate work for her to create the piece and keep it intact, especially given that she carved with tiny lasers. One false move and the piece could be ruined. And yet, even with the delicate nature of the carving, the stone itself was quite hard and felt very solid in his hands. It was likely the piece would withstand some bumps here and there.

He raised the piece before his eyes, and took some moments to view the shapes and carvings, the tiny flowers and buds that his eyes revealed to him, the vines and space inside the sphere. Finally, his eyes returned to hers and he lowered the piece, holding it high still near the center of his chest. “This piece is special to you,” he said softly, taking a step closer to her and looking down into her eyes. Taller than Halai and as powerful as he was, in that moment he was not intimidating or carrying the aura of a physical warrior within him. It was much more a feeling of reverence, of deep calm and truth that the big Klingon carried in his soul, a passion that was not a physical manifestation, but that of a soul finding something that gave it great joy and connection. Whether that was the stone or Halai, wasn’t clear. It would be closer to describe it as both. “It will be treasured, as every soul that finds peace and serenity should be within the turmoil of the battles we face.”

“A gift, from one korsionno to another,” she said solemnly, though her eyes held gratitude and even a hint of joy. The word translated in her mother’s language to ‘soul-seeker’ and it was clear by her demeanor that this gift was no small thing for her. Whether it was a cultural thing, or just her, there seemed to be something special about her making it a gift. “Go with purpose K’vorth, Son of the House of Duroc, and honour will already be yours.”

~Halai Cosgrove

K’vorth nodded again, accepting the gift simply for what it was and the item was placed carefully within a pocket inside his jacket. Heavily padded as it was, the size of the item was not betrayed by any bulge. “My purpose is reforged today, strengthened. This can only be a sign of the truth of my quest, as by chance it has led me here to meet you and the clarity and beauty of your soul.”

The big Klingon reach up with his hand, notably with his right palm. His finger tips gently brushed her forehead, not touching but beside the tattoo that was marked on her that curved to a V at the bridge of her nose. “Knowledge,” he said to her, almost as a whisper, “is within you. Seek it as you would seek truth, and you will discover possibilities you have yet to consider.”

With his left hand, he raised it between them and held it palm upwards, “There is beauty, wisdom and truth to be found in the scars, as there is beauty within your heart, wisdom in your mind and truth within your soul. These are my gifts to you, from a time when my people were greater than they are today, in a way they cannot understand. But you do. I know your true name, as it is not a sound, but a feeling you leave within me. Be with peace, korsionno, and what you require will always seek you.” He used the term she had used, with her same inflection as if he understood it. He knew not what it translated to, but he knew the power behind it.

Then, the big Klingon did something unexpected. He leaned forward gently, and brushed his lips against her forehead in a delicate caress completely at odds with his people and their often brutal attitudes . His tall frame holding a feeling of acceptance, compassion and connection. There was no doubt the big man could be a powerful enemy but in that moment, everything about him conveyed security, tenderness and understanding woven together with threads of the passion he held within him.

K’vorth took two steps back, and his lips curved to a smile as he bowed to her from the waist. He tilted his head and closed his eyes as he did so, then returned to his full height. Without more words, but taking a moment to look through her eyes and within her, he then turned for the door.

K’vorth, Son of House Duroc


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