#i ended up desaturating this even more cause ow

[shadow0-1]

gunslinger

[justanothergaymess]

So I just started writing a scene for my DS9 OC. And I knew that them and Garak meeting would result in unprecedented levels of wlw/mlm hostility. But boy howdy that escalated quickly. Anyhow. For context, the following scene is set in my post-Rejoined canon divergence AU where Jadzia seeks out Kira Nerys’ advice for dealing with her intense love for Lenara

***

“The Professor will not appreciate your presence.”

“Oh, please, Major, I am well used to my presence not being appreciated by now. You, of all people, should be well aware of that.”

“They have even less patience and diplomatic skill than I do, Garak. Trust me. You do not want to be in a room alone with them.”

“Less diplomatic skill than you? Now I am even more intrigued than before,” Jadzia mused.

“Believe me, Lieutenant, you are in for quite the show,” Garak agreed. “Now, Major, I am not asking you to be left alone with them. Just let me take a quick look. That can’t hurt anyone, can it?”

“What’s in it for you?” Nerys raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, just an old mystery from days past I would like to get a chance at solving. Major, must I remind you about the favour you owe me for gifting you the full list of those access codes last week?”

“They are already annoyed by me. I’d jeopardize whatever is left of our once great friendship if I let you see them.”

“You know how many lives those access codes saved, don’t you? Not only how many, but also whose...”

Nerys sighed. “All right. All right. If you end up in the infirmary over this, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I am sure to tell Dr. Bashir that all of this was entirely my fault, I solemly promise.”

As the door to the meeting room slid open, Nerys and Jadzia entered first, giving Jadzia a second to muster Nerys’ contact. The singular individual sitting at the table was unremarkable, nose creases as well as forehead patterns on grey skin pointing to Bajoran and Cardassian ancestry. A Bajoran earring in cold, desaturated gold made an intentional connection to Bajoran culture apparent. Their hair was tied together into a practical bun, their robes were simple, in a dark purple, the same colour as their lipstick. The way they wore their eyeliner was remarkably similar to how Nerys had applied hers when Jadzia first arrived at the station.

“Kejal, this is Jadzia Dax, the friend I mentioned in our correspondence,” Nerys introduced her. Unsure on how to interpret the gaze between the two other women, Jadzia nodded silently in Kejal’s direction.

For a second, Kejal’s eyes rested on Jadzia, before jumping to Garak, who was just entering the room. And from one second to the other, Kejal was standing up, arm stretched out, the end of a small phaser directed at Garak’s forehead.

“If it weren’t for the laws of this station, I would pull this trigger, and my respect for any laws is very limited to begin with,” Kejal scoffed at Garak. Their voice was cold, high-pitched and precise.

“Kira, I was aware you were working with the government and Starfleet, but fucking Cardassia? What in the name of the Prophets happened to you?” Kejal shook their head at Nerys.

“Kejal, this is Garak, he is a tailor at this station, and insisted to come see you. I owed him a favour, okay? I really wish I could have warned you in advance.”

“Figures you’re not with the Council. But, by process of elimination, that makes you the sole agent of the Obsidian Order still present on this station,” Kejal suggested.

“Ahh.” Garak gestured a small bow. “I see my reputation does well precede me. So does yours, Professor, and I must say, yours is just as impressive as mine. You see, I was supposed to meet you years ago, but we never got the chance.”

“Kejal, could you please put away the blaster? I promise you, Garak does not pose a threat to your life at this moment,” Nerys pleaded.

Kejal sighed and packed away the blaster. “Why do I even trust you anymore?”

“Because we are still fighting for the same cause!”

“Are we?” Kejal shook their head and took a seat. “All right, Agent, I’ll humour you. How were we supposed to meet?”

“Few historians can claim to have had a significant impact on their subject of study, and yet you do, Professor. I was supposed to meet you the night you killed Legate Gorat and his son.”

“Meet me in what way?”

“After confessing to the murders, you proved rather silent. The local authorities contacted me to have a more... engaged conversation with you. I unfortunately arrived at the scene mere minutes after the friends you share with our dear Major here broke you out of...”

Kejal scoffed. “So Starfleet lets fascists run around, talking about all the people they sadly sadly didn’t get to torture? Figures.”

Garak raised his hands. “Please, Professor, I am not your enemy, I am mere...”

“All of Cardassia is my enemy!”

“I do understand that we are not on the best of terms, and I respect that. But if the Major assures you that I can be trusted...”

“I never went that far!” Nerys protested.

“Before this completely escalates,” Jadzia interjected, “could someone please bring me up to speed? Kejal, you seem to take a lot after Nerys, and I find that most fascinating, but until a few minutes ago, I didn’t even know you existed. So before you three start throwing hands, I’d at least like to know why.”

Kejal stared at Jadzia, a hint of surprise peeking through a mask of rage. “Hmm. I... You know what? Why doesn’t Mister Obsidian Order over there summarize the file the Order has on me? That way you get to learn a bit more about me, I get to learn what the Order knows about me, and the Agent can prove that he is as trustworthy as he insists to be.”

“Professor, you know you are putting me in quite the uncomfortable position with that request?”

“The only person in this room currently not feeling a great amount of discomfort seems to be Lieutenant Dax. I might just be confusing a beautiful face with a relaxed one, though. Now, Agent, do you want to begin?” Kejal insisted.

Jadzia was used to several lifetimes of flirts, direct and indirect, but could not place if this one was genuine or a diversion. Perhaps both.

“Well. I am afraid that the Order knows very little about the Professor’s biography prior to that night. They are quite the enigma, actually. What we do know about this woman is that she managed to stop the career of a rising star in the Cardassian government dead in its tracks. Quite literally. Legate Gorat had been sent to Bajor to stabilize the planet...”

“Wouldn’t that have been Dukat’s task, though?” Jadzia wondered.

“That’s fascists for you. Government branches with conflicting and vague areas of responsibility to maximize internal conflict and secure the strength of the highest ranks of leadership,” Kejal pointed out.

“Oh, but the Gul and the Legate worked together quite well! The Legate was quite methodical in his actions against the Bajoran terrorists, where the Gul used broader disciplinary methods. The Legate was rather young, despite his title, and had a very promising future ahead of him. He could have made it to Grand General of the Central Command by the time the occupation had ended, were it not for the small detail of his son. One day, out of the blue, the Legate confessed that he had an illegitimate son. One that ran away because the Legate had kept him a secluded secret for so long.”

“Fascinating, isn’t it, that the mass executions weren’t politically disastrous, but having had sex was,” Kejal commented.

“The Order never found him, since the Legate did not allow genetic records or photographs of the child to exist. Frankly, we did actually not know of the boy’s existence before his father turned to us for help. But one day, two years before the occupation ended, the Legate announced that his elusive son had returned to reconnect with him. He was supposed to make a public appearance with his father the next day.”

“And that’s where the Professor comes in?” Jadzia concluded.

“You have to understand, Lieutenant, the Legate had been placed under the highest security measures. Every living thing in a two mile radius was catalogued and under surveillance, there were dozens of patrols around the compound, anti-air and anti-ground stations in the entire perimeter. He was in that meeting with his son in his office at the centre of the compound when his vitals failing triggered an internal alert. Seven seconds later, soldiers barged through his door, only to find his corpse, the Professor here, and a pile of blood that could conclusively be proven to belong to a son of the Legate.”

“A pile of blood? Your phrasing implies like there wasn’t any body,” Jadzia wondered.

“Now, Lieutenant, you are beginning to ask the questions the Obsidian Order had compiled after the fact. What happened to the son’s body? How did the future Professor get into the compound undetected? Why did they go after the Legate? How was this woman that, by all measures of blood, could rightfully call themselves a citizen of Cardassia, radicalized to commit such a heinous act of treason? And, above all else, who was the murderer?”

“I thought that was supposed to be the Professor?”

“I did kill Legate Gorat, and the Legate’s son,” Kejal said nonchalantly, almost cheerfully.

“Yes, we know that they are the murderer, but we have no clue who they are. The genetic sample we took from them pointed to no existing person in any Cardassian database. Or any Bajoran database. Or any database in the quadrant. Their genetic makeup was not even capable of pointing us to any relatives. Nobody had ever heard of them. Nobody had ever seen them. It was as if they began existing the night the Legate died.”

“I like women with mysterious pasts,” Jadzia joked towards Kejal. Another moment of confusion writhed beneath the Professor’s composed facade.

“As I mentioned before, members of the Shakaar resistance broke the future Professor out of our custody as soon as word of the Legate’s death spread like wildfire. They went on to become a hero within the resistance, founding an underground news network. Their nightly radio programs are considered somewhat of a national artifact among the Bajorans, I have been told. After the occupation ended, they were offered a place in the Provisional Government several times, and refused every time. Instead, they began teaching history and linguistics at some provincial university, becoming junior professor a couple of months ago. Quite the achievement for a woman that is barely 23 years old.”

“The average book on the history on the late occupation could tell you more about me than that,” Kejal stated.

“Ahh. But here comes the surprise, Professor. The Order did answer one of our questions; motive! You were a member of the Elmaj resistance cell. It took quite the effort of reconstruction, but the cell had a runner that can only be you. A year before you killed him, the Legate took care of the Elmaj resistance cell. You were avenging your comrades.” Garak smiled triumphantly.

Kejal closed their eyes, breathed out, and opened them again. “They were more than comrades. They were family. Gorat murdered every single member of my family, one by one. I would have been killed, too, if I hadn’t been away on a mission.”

“So, for taking your family, you took his,” Jadzia concluded.

“No. This wasn’t about revenge. This was about making sure no one would ever lose their family by Gorat’s hands again,” Kejal whispered.

“Quite the confession to make in front of a sworn enemy,” Jadzia suggested.

“Hah!” Kejal laughed. “Please. All that remains of the Obsidian Order is a lot of dust, ash, and glass, somewhere in the Gamma Quadrant, and one measly tailor on some backwater space station.”

“Are we officially trading insults now?” Garak wondered. “Because I think I finally can answer another of the Order’s questions, in memoriam, if you will. I am quite certain you didn’t join the resistance out of some higher calling. You joined it because you were struck by feelings for some poor Bajoran woman. Do you understand how I know? Why would Bajor’s most renowned anarchist, who, if I may go on a tangent, has been pushed out of Cardassia’s one hundred most wanted traitors three weeks ago, visit a Starfleet space station? You owe no fealty to the Provisional Government, you said so yourself many times, and I doubt you hold any debts to the Major. You despise her for having joined the new government, for having abandoned your ideals, for serving Starfleet. And yet you followed her call here. The great hero of the resistance is but a puppet to their carnal desires.”

Garak sunk back into his seat. His outburst seemed to have taken even him by surprise. Jadzia made a mental note of such a moment of emotional honesty from the ever-lying tailor.

Against Jadzia’s expectations, Kejal began grinning. “Oh, how deeply the mighty have fallen. The sum total of the Order’s current intelligence operations is barely capable of solving the plot to a cheap romance novel.”

Their sudden exhale sounded a bit laughter. “Yeah, sure, I think that Kira is really hot, and I have done so since I first met her all those years ago – my sincere apologies for being so direct. And yeah, I do think Shakaar and her have betrayed what we fought for by divorcing the resistance from its revolutionary roots. But that’s not why I am here. I am here because someone needs my help resisting a government and social traditions to be with a woman she loves. Now, Agent, I suggest you leave me to my work, because even if I shoot you now right where you sit, it’ll take Starfleet months before they manage to catch me. And believe me, that’s a gamble I am willing to take.”

Without any further word, Garak left the room.

Kejal shifted their attention to Jadzia, seemingly not wanting to address what had just occured. “Now, Dax, Kira informed me that you need a government toppled. How do you want it done? Swift, slowly, peacefully, violently?”

“Nothing so intense, I am afraid,” Jadzia said. “I simply need to put enough pressure on the Commission to be allowed to love Lenara in peace.”

“A shame. You know that overthrowing a government can be a way into a woman’s heart, right?”

“Well, it doesn’t seem to have worked out as well for you,” Jadzia couldn’t prevent herself from commenting.

“My life is a tragedy, no matter if you think of Trill, Human, or Bajoran theatrical tradition. Yours doesn’t have to be. Let’s work on that, shall we?”

[kimjoongs-main]

all hallows eve

↬ “i usually advise the weak-hearted not to visit the Weeping Willow. the apothecary is quite...stubborn, for lack of a better word. don’t get me wrong, renjun’s a talented herbalist and is highly skilled in his line of work. the villagers are without a doubt grateful for his services! the issue is...we’re not quite sure he feels the same. if you must, then pay him a visit. otherwise, i would just order from him indirectly like the rest of us.”

meet the other residents of Wisteria

A royal blue building with moss growing on the roof, a royal blue building with moss growing on the roof, a royal blue buil—here it is!

Breathing a sigh of relief, you finally stumbled upon the apothecary’s shop. A large sign hung from the roof shingles with the words The Weeping Willow written on it in smooth, black paint and outlined with an iridescent gold shimmer. The shop itself was quite quaint and rather charming on the outside. Surrounded by an iron fence, with only a tiny gate separating the rocky dirt road from the smooth stone pathway, the Weeping Willow was definitely a sight for sore eyes.

Carefully unlocking the gate, you stepped foot on the stone trail that led to door of the shop. However, as soon as the tip of your shoe came in contact with the stones, a glowing red light seeped out from the edges. You jumped back, letting out a sharp squeak as the stone continued to glow. Soon after, the other stones nearby began to glow as well with different shades of reds, greens, blues, and yellows. The iron gate shook rapidly before it slammed shut, lock placing itself back through the hole and tightening. The window shutters flew wide open, pounding against the walls of the building with fervor, as if it had a mind of it’s own.

You gripped the woven basket tightly in your hand, inching backwards slowly, ready to make a run for it at any given time. You didn’t really know what was going on, but you were certain of one thing.

This wasn’t an ordinary apothecary shop.

As the edifice continued it’s frightening theatrical display, you failed to notice the willow door gradually opening little by little. Pale, dainty fingers wrapped around the edge while glaring amber eyes peered through the tiny slit, shifting back and forth between the illuminated stones and the panicked newcomer cowering behind the front gate. The hidden figure’s mouth turned down into an unappreciative scowl, a soft growl escaping from the depths of his chest and up through his parted lips.

“And to what do I owe the displeasure? Do you not realize how early it is?”

Confused as to where the sudden biting tone came from, your eyes frantically scanned the perimeter of the area, until they finally locked with the burning yellow orbs peeking through the doorway. You audibly gasped at their overwhelming intensity, causing you to choke on your next words.

“U-um w-well I was...I was j-just—“

“Spit it out already! I do not have the time for this.”

“I was...I was told you’d be open this morning,” your words faded towards the end, and you feared the thought of having to repeat yourself once more. However, it seemed your words managed to reach the obscured figure’s ears. His eyes made a rolling motion and you heard a soft scoff leave his lips.

“And who told you that?” he grumbled.

You gulped. “The innkeeper at the Harrownight Inn, Mark L—“

“Mark Lee, of course. I should have known.”

He clicked his tongue in disapproval and all at once, everything stopped.

The stones lost their dazzling glow, the window shutters ceased their incessant pounding on the walls, and the gate opened with a chilling creak, inviting you to once again make the daring cross over from the safety and familiarity of the dirt path to the uncertainty and perplexity of the stone trail. Still shocked from your past experience, you hesitated placing your foot down on the same stone that caused that terrifying chain of events to play out, that is until you heard a frustrated groan come from inside the shop.

“Either you hurry up and get inside or else I’ll slam this door in your face. Your choice, my dear. Make it quick.”

Determined to not make him annoyed with you any further, you simply disregarded your inkling sense of fear and raced inside, the door promptly shutting behind you. Once you arrived within the confines of the shop, you took the time to take in your surroundings.

Despite the rising sun shining its dazzling light upon the earth outside, the interior was rather dim and gloomy. Silk curtains covered every single window, and the only source of light provided was a single flame atop a bed of chipped logs.

The snarky figure, who you presumed was Renjun, the apothecary Mark told you about, was nowhere to be seen. It was as if he vanished into thin air upon your entrance into the shop. The only sign of life you could see was a baby calico kitten, snuggled up on a leather couch by the fireplace. The golden hazel tone of her fur was enhanced by the warm flare of the candlelight.

Entranced by the kitten’s adorable appearance, you could hardly restrain yourself from walking over and gently running your fingers through it’s silky smooth coat.

“Well, aren’t you a beauty?” you mused quietly to yourself, smiling widely as the kitten purred and nestled it’s tiny head into the palm of your hand. You could practically feel your heart swell with adoration.

“Her name’s Luna,” a hushed, yet firm voice rang out, startling you enough to yank your hand back and twirl around to find the source of said voice.

You didn’t have to look very far because standing directly in front of you, was the young man you presumed to be Renjun. He was covered with a beige brown cloak, similar to your own, and adorned fingerless, leather gloves around his delicate poised hands. A single chain hung from his neck with a luminescent sapphire blue charm dangling in front of his chest. Shifting your gaze back up, you were shocked to see just how...juvenile he looked. He couldn’t have possibly been any older than you or Mark, perhaps even younger.

As you continued to observe him, you couldn’t deny his undeniably refined beauty. A petite, elegant face curtained by strands as black as the night sky. The slope of his nose, the deepness of his eyes, the curve of his lips, all factors that contributed to the apothecary’s ethereal appearance.

However, you noticed something different about him this time. His eyes. No longer were they the burning gold you had witnessed them to be only a few moments earlier. Now they had calmed down and faded into a familiar, earthy brown. But that was not all. There seemed to be lingering traces of amber speckled across the edge of his iris, or perhaps your own eyes saw it as an illusion, merely a reflection of the burning embers flying off the crackling flame. But you knew for certain, there was something else concealed behind it.

“Are you just going to stand there and gawk at me all day, or are you going to sit down?” Renjun’s snarky tone snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Oh, um..yes.”

You quickly took a seat on the creaky, old chair by the work table. Renjun was standing on the opposite side, hands carefully lifting vials of vibrant and desaturated substances up to his face. He inspected each one with the utmost attention to detail, turning the vials over in the palm of his hand and holding them up by the cork. Once he deemed a substance to be satisfactory, Renjun then placed the vials inside a large baleen basket. He proceeded to do this for a few more minutes, and when he ran out of vials to inspect, he covered the basket and carried it over to a large shelf, putting the basket of vials on the bottom. He stood up straight, briefly dusted off his cloak, and made his way back over to you.

Renjun pulled up another chair from the side of the room and positioned it on the opposite side of where you were sitting. He plopped down with a soft thud, breathing out an exasperated sigh as his fingers gently tapped on the edge of the table. He flicked his hard gaze up to you. If looks could kill, you would definitely be six feet under right about now.

“So what exactly is your reasoning for being here so early in the morning, pray tell?”

“I’m seeking a remedy to help treat my cuts and bruises.”

“...That’s it? That’s all you came here for? With how early it is, I assumed you needed something more...” he paused, searching for the right word, “...substantial.”

You raised your eyebrows. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Renjun chuckled dryly at your offended tone, and you could have sworn you saw a flash of emerald appear in the middle of his pupil. “Calm down, my dear. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

He peered over my shoulder and clicked his tongue twice. Almost immediately, a flash of orange and black whipped past your face and landed elegantly in his lap. Luna pawed gently at Renjun’s thigh before resting her head upon it, soft purrs leaving her tiny body as her owner absentmindedly stroked her fur.

“It’s just...you’re one of the few customers I’ve had who actually comes here seeking the correct treatments,” he sighed. “You see, people like to stop by and request remedies that far exceed the degree of their ailment. I once received a customer who requested a full jar of Full Moon Drops to relieve his minor stomachache.”

Seeing the confusion appear on your face, Renjun was quick to explain. “Full Moon Drops should be used sparingly. Once the victi—I mean, the diseased, consumes a drop or two, they should feel the effects happen within a moment. Unfortunately, those drops can become quite addictive the more you consume them, and the more you consume, the more susceptible you are to hallucinations...and quite possibly even death if you were to go that far.”

At that, Renjun smiled sinisterly.

A flash of red.

“However, if that were to happen I certainly wouldn’t be the one to complain. This world has become far too crowded, don’t you think?”

An indignant sound left your lips at this unexpected question, causing the young apothecary to snicker.

“I’m only joking, my dear. All of my customers...dead,” he spoke solemnly, but you detected a hint of malice underneath. “I wouldn’t be able to make a living. Imagine how dreadful that would be for me?”

You remained silent, perturbed at the slightly horrific direction this conversation took. You almost regretted refusing Mark’s offer to walk you here himself.

What a foolish choice on your part.

“My apologies, things went a little dark there, didn’t they?”

Renjun sighed once more before he abruptly leaned forward, gazing deeply at you with narrowed eyes.

A flash of green again.

“You said you needed something for your cuts and bruises, correct?”

A meek nod.

“Would you mind showing me where the injuries are so I can get a good judgement of their extremity?”

Obeying his request, you slowly lifted up the sleeves of your cloak, revealing an array of scarlet lines and speckles of violet and indigo shades. Renjun gingerly reached out and wrapped his fingers around your wrist, bringing your forearm closer to his face to get a closer inspection. His other hand ran over the cuts, immediately retracting once he hears a soft hiss sound from you.

After a few more moments of complete utter silence, Renjun finally frees your wrist and rises from his chair. Luna is quick to scurry off his lap before she falls, her little paws trodding across the wooden floor and back to her former resting spot on the couch.

Your eyes stay glued on Renjun’s form, watching him move about the shop, up and down the shelves, inbetween the tables, and under the hanging herbal plants. Not once did he cease his movements, even has he spoke to you.

“I’m not too worried about those bruises. They’ll heal on their own in a few days. As for the cuts—“ he momentarily stopped, reappearing from behind a row of shelves with a round container and a roll of bandages in hand. He returned to his seat in front of you and place the items down the on the table.

“This here,” he held up the round container “is Tree Sap Salve. It helps with healing minor cuts at a faster rate and leaves the skin with a stronger layer, so that even someone as clumsy as you will not be able to inflict minor wounds on yourself again.” He smirked, but continued.

“Massage the salve on your wounds twice a day, once before you go to bed and once after you wake up. Wrap them in these bandages to ensure that the salve won’t rub off. Keep doing this and I guarantee those cuts will be long gone in a few days.”

As soon as he was finished explaining, Renjun hastily wrapped up the items in a nude satchel and pushed it over to me.

“How much do I owe?” you asked, moving to receive my coin purse from the inside of you cloak.

Renjun stared at you for a moment. Then a small, almost genuine smile appeared on his lips.

A flash of yellow.

“You said Mark sent you, yes?”

You nodded.

“Well then, in that case your purchases are on me. You’re welcome.”

“Are you sure? But—“

Renjun raised up his hand to silence you. “Before coming here, he also probably told you to remind me to eat, is that right?”

Surprised at how he knew, you simply moved your head up and down. Renjun smirked again.

“I thought so. Well, when you return to the inn, make sure to tell him that I already had a hearty breakfast with Jaemin earlier this morning. I’m sure that will get a...reaction out of him.”

“What kind of reaction?”

The apothecary chuckled jovially. “Let’s just say...Mark and Jaemin don’t walk the same path. The less you know about their relationship, the better.”

You took his warning into consideration, but couldn’t help being curious as to what he meant.

Deciding to feign ignorance about it for now, you reached for the satchel and slung it over your shoulder. You raised your hand to Renjun in a farewell, and he reciprocated, although rather blandly.

Before you could walk through the willow door, you were stopped by Renjun’s voice.

“Where are you off to next, my dear?”

“Wherever my feet take me, I guess.”

He quirked his eyebrow at your vague answer. “I see. If I may, I’d like to provide another warning.”

You waited patiently.

“Stay away from the castle by all means. Trust me, you do not want to get roped into whatever ridiculous scheme that pompous little brat comes up with.”