SIM:VivanLaxynConfession

(( Trillus Prime - Laxyn Estate 2379 ))

It was a big day in house Laxyn, the eerie silence, where Jalana the eldest child would usually hurry around, not to be too late for her lessons, for dinner or anything else one could be possibly late for, was deafening. What her parents, the master and mistress of the house, did not know what she had been so busy with, that the time got away from her. Jalana had studied, for something she was not supposed to learn. ::

The Trill's career had been decided when she had been old enough to be taught her first words. She had been taught her whole life the ways of Diplomacy, the rules, the history, the gestures and unspoken agreements between those carrying the responsibility of their people. She did not have the pleasure of being taught all the lovely things that kids raved around when coming home from school; gold stars and smiley stickers were strangers to her, just as those other kids were. For the last 18 years her companions where lists of politicians and rules of conduct, her reward was to hear that she had done well for once, her teacher the strictest man she could ever imagine: her father. ::

Her fate was to be his successor, Ambassador in the Diplomatic Corps. She would meet the big names of politic, the leaders of yet unknown species, accompany those who made first contacts to ensure peaceful and fruitful conversations and contracts. To be a figurehead of her people, was not something Jalana had ever wanted to be, but her father already saw her statue in the hall of history, in his imagination. And she knew, that she would have to break his heart, to avoid breaking her own soul. ::

This was indeed a big day, for Jalana Laxyn because of a different reason than it was for Vivan Laxyn, the head of the house. And the younger Trill was afraid to share her reason with him, but she had to. If she'd not she would burst at the banquet, in front of everyone assembled and she could not do that to her father, her teacher, the man who did all of this out of love.::

Jalana had gotten the good news an hour ago and now walked to his room, trying to muster up the courage, that she would need right now, before it was too late. Inside the door-frame though she hesitated, stopped in her tracks and watched him. A tall distinguished man, in his late forties, his light brown hair decorated with fine hairs of silver, that seemed to shine when the light just hit them right. Leaning against the door-frame, her head tilted slightly, watching him with a fond smile on her lips that reached her sparkling green eyes. He was a handsome man and while she saw him as the strict teacher every day, she had also seen as the loving husband, whenever he gazed at his wife, thinking that nobody could see him. ::

He wore a calf long brown tunic, made from heavy fabrics, that had a little shine when moving, off-set with a decorative trim of ancient Trill symbols, over loose black pants and dress shoes. His special attire for tonight's banquet. He had been awarded a medal of peace, a great honour and a very important day for him. It brimmed over with status and influence, giving him almost something royal; if it was not for his arms being raised in a folded T, tearing and pulling at the closing mechanism of his collar. ::

Vivan Laxyn: For how long do you want to watch me fight with this collar, before you offer your help?

The young Trill pushed herself from the frame and crossed the room, coming to a halt in front of him. Gently, as if they could burst at the touch, she laid her hands on his and moved them away. The proud chin of the man remained in the air, exposing his throat to let her do her magic. Her slender fingers had no trouble, to join the hooks with the hoops, linking the sides of the collar. But she did it slow, trying to find the words. But he noticed something else faster, than she could get her words out. ::

Vivan: You are not dressed yet, we will be late.

The daughter swallowed, now there was her way in, if she ever saw one. But how could she do all that without hurting him? Maybe there was no way. ::

Jalana Laxyn: I am not coming with you this time.

She could feel him stiffen under her fingers and she almost closed her eyes to let the storm wash over, but kept them on the closing of his collar instead. Her heart beat faster, afraid of what would happen now. There was no way back. ::

Vivan: What do you mean? Of course you will. You need the training.

The training, that he had put all of his free time in, to teach her everything she would need to know, and that she had dreaded so much. What if there was nothing that would bind them together, without this training? This career? She took a deep breath and forced herself to keep her voice soft. ::

Jalana: I need to talk with you about that.

He shook his hand and deciding that she was done, took a step to the side, checking the collar in the mirror, before he reached out to the panel next to it, on which his sash hung neatly and ready to be worn. ::

Vivan: Jalana, we really do not have time for that right now. Go and get dressed, we talk later.

She could not wait, knowing that while she was afraid, she also almost burst, wanting her family to know the news. Her brother would possibly the only one who would be happy for her, but he was 9 and happy about everything. It bubbled under her surface, threatened to just burst out, to blurt from her lips without a filter, and exactly that treat was made true, when she did not speak up fast enough.

Jalana: I'll be going to Medical school.

The silence in the room was eardrum bursting loud. She could hear them, the gears in his mind, working, processing and immediately denying. Not with words, but his thoughts. Jalana saw the fine lines and wrinkles around his eyes deepen, his lips whiten as he pressed them together, the blue eyes, that had shown a tiny hint of warmth, turned cold. He had stood there, frozen for a long unbearable moment, before going on as if nothing had happened. ::

Vivan: You won't.

The bitterness in his voice send chills down the young woman's spine. She knew what it was, he did think that she really would not do it, if he told her so. But she could not deny herself her dream, her passion. Since she had been eight years old, Jalana had known that she wanted to be a doctor, help people, find solutions for illnesses that did not have one yet. Like her grandmother who had died from a sickness that had no survival rate. Her loss had left a hole in Jalana's life, a wish and desire, that had always been there, but had longed for something to bring it to the surface. ::

Jalana: I will, father. I know you want me to follow your footsteps, but I want.. I need to become a doctor. I have been thinking about this for a long time, and I passed the tests and...

The man suddenly swirled around, facing her with that stone like expression, his eyes had never been that piercing and cold as they were now. His daughter stood there, in front of him, trembling. He was not the kind of man to become loud. His rage was silent, dangerous like magma under the surface, just that his volcano never erupted. He was like the tiny piece of glass, that had accidentally fallen into food, noticed when it was too late and secretly doing its damage. ::

Vivan: You went behind my back, without my permission and have the nerve to come to me after the harm is done?

It was a whisper, and it still thundered in Jalana's ears. Yes, that was exactly what she had done, because she had known, that he would have never agreed. He would have locked her into her room and taken her communication rights, if he had known. She would not give up, not now, not after how far she had come. ::

Jalana: You would have never allowed it.

Vivan: And you know why. You were raised to become an Ambassador.

That was the problem. She had been raised to become something she did not want. Something she wasn't and never would be. And she was angry about that, about everything she had never experienced. The joy to be a child, playing with other children, learning in a public school, bruising her knees when she'd fallen off a tree, getting the reassurance that she'd be doing better next time when she had not done well... and most of all, a father who would show her that he loved her, not only when she did the right step into a world that was not her own. She straightened her back, he would not take this from her, too. ::

Jalana: And nobody ever asked me if I want that. I don't. I thought that once you see that I meet the qualifications and would be accepted, that you would see that diplomacy is not the only thing I can do.

Vivan: ::He scoffed, shaking his head and returned his gaze back to the mirror.:: You will never get through with it. You know that you are not cut out to be a Doctor.

His words felt like a slap into her face. The one person that she would have thought, could believe in her. Why couldn't he be happy for her, for finding something that she loved? For something she knew was her calling? ::

Jalana: :: whispering :: I will... get through with it. I will become a doctor.

Her father turned his head to the side, meeting her gaze. She almost stepped back, the look in his eyes took her breath away, cut off the way to her lungs. It was like a wall of disgust and disdain, but there was more, lurking in the background of his steel, she would not have the chance to melt again: pain, hurt and betrayal. He had given her everything, taught her everything, and she denied it after all these years. ::

His voice was barely audible, but she could see the words not only on his lips but also in his eyes. ::

Vivan: Leave, and don't come back. You will be gone when we return from the banquet.

Her mouth fell open, trying to form words, but nothing came out, the words chocked before they were even born. Did he just kick her out? Completely? He could not mean that! Her throat was closed up, the only sound that came through the squeezed shut opening was a squeak, words did not find their way. But Vivan remained silent, staring at himself in the mirror, making sure that his sash sat right, brushing over the thick fabric of his tunic. ::

She knew, he had said his last word. No matter for how long she would stand here. She had never seen him so angry, so hurt because of her. And it broke her heart, tore her soul into pieces, like nothing else had ever done. Because she knew that she could not make it better, because she had to follow her heart, her calling. She could not live his life. ::

And still, as she left her father at the mirror, finding her dragging steps to to her room, she wished, as she had never wished before, that she could. ::