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Author - Bether | E | Genre - Angst | Genre - Drama | Main Story | Rating - G
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A/N: I’ve always wondered how Trip and T’Pol might deal with their child becoming emotional and how they might each handle the situation differently. This is my interpretation of their reactions to Lorian’s loss. If you’re not a fan of sentimental pieces, you might want to skip this little story. Not a lot of action going on here. Many thanks to Distracted for her beta-ing help and for coming up with a really cool name for a pet bat!
Lorian Tucker opened his eyes, the silence of his sleeping quarters awakening him. He rolled on to his side and tried once more to drift off to sleep. It was useless. Something was missing. Lorian sat up halfway on the bed and scanned his room aboard the starship Enterprise with a careful eye. He caught sight of the large cage on top of his dresser and directed his gaze toward the dark form that lay in its corner. Nothing moved from inside the metal bars. There were no sounds—no clawing at the cage, no barely audible squeals that had always made his mother wince, but that his father had never been capable of hearing at all.
Lorian pulled the covers off his legs and quickly rose to his feet. He stood completely still for a moment, unable to move, as an unnerving sensation settled in the pit of his stomach. The young boy attempted to steel himself. He stepped forward apprehensively. The room’s darkness didn’t allow him to clearly see what he feared from this distance.
Lorian’s feet moved across the carpet, each successive step to the floor jiggling the metal bars of his pet bat’s cage. The walk from the bed to his dresser seemed inordinately long. It just wasn’t like Elvira to be so quiet.
With the cage now merely an arm’s length away, the boy stopped walking and gazed down at the latch that secured the door. He placed his hand down on it and cautiously pulled the door open, waiting for a long moment in an attempt to prepare himself for what logically he already knew, and then reached inside the cage.
Lorian’s two tiny fingers gently stroked the dark skin of the small creature as it lay totally still inside its metal enclosure. The young boy stared down at the lifeless form for a long moment and then carefully scooped it up into his hand. He brought it up closer to his face, his solemn eyes focused intently on the fallen pet. Small tufts of black fur covered her tiny head as she lay unmoving in the palm of his hand. Images flashed through the boy’s mind. He remembered what his bat had looked like when she was alive. He could still see her wings flapping excitedly just as they always did whenever he’d approached her cage. They didn’t flap now. Her life had been taken—stolen from him by an unwanted visitor. Death.
The young boy’s lip began to quiver. Tears welled in his eyes. He whimpered quietly, alone in his grief.
“Lorian?” A voice came from just outside his room. “What is it? What are you doin’ up at this hour?”
The eight-year-old son of Trip and T’Pol Tucker turned around to face his father, still cradling the dead animal in his hands. He looked searchingly, through his tears and the dimly-lit doorway, for Trip’s familiar, comforting face. Their eyes met. Father to son. Lorian’s human nature immediately rushed to the surface and boiled over.
“She’s dead, Father,” he sniffled, extending his arm out with an open palm to reveal the evidence.
Trip’s face fell. He took the small bat from Lorian’s hand and laid it down gently inside its cage. He turned and knelt down on the floor in front of his son, placing both hands supportively on the boy’s shoulders.
Lorian felt the cool tears streaming down his cheeks as he gazed into his father’s knowing eyes.
“It hurts to lose something you love, son. I know.” Trip placed a hand to Lorian’s face and tenderly brushed away several tears. He stared down at his hand for a moment, smiling softy, and then held up two damp fingers to show the boy.
“These, my boy, are a part of me… and a part of you. They’re a part of the human emotions that we share.”
“Mother will be displeased with me.”
“No, son, no,” Trip whispered, gathering the boy in his arms. Lorian closed his eyes and rested his head on Trip’s chest. The soft, rhythmic thumping of his father’s heartbeat sounded repeatedly in his ears. It was almost like a soothing lullaby—a steady and constant force in his life that he knew would always be with him. He felt the warmth of his father’s body pressed against him and the strength of his arms around him. He allowed his body to go limp as he felt his father’s love surrounding him in their embrace. Lorian knew he was safe here.
“Your mom won’t be mad…displeased, Lorian,” Trip reassured, running a hand gently along the boy’s tousled hair. “She understands that you’re my son, too. Hers and mine.”
Lorian pulled away and stared back at his father. “But Mother wishes for me to repress my feelings and be dignified. It’s the Vulcan way.”
“These things take time, Lorian, and your mom would never want you to forget your human heritage, either. It’s okay to feel sad, but you can also try to remember all the wonderful times you and Elvira shared together. That always seemed to help me feel better whenever I lost a pet.”
“You had pets, Father?”
“Oh yes, Lorian,” Trip chuckled, his face brightening. “I think I had just about every kind of pet imaginable, son.”
Lorian’s eyes widened with interest, this new information momentarily distracting him from any more melancholy thoughts of Elvira. He reached out and grasped Trip’s hand, wrapping his small fingers firmly around his father’s, and then led him over to the bed. Young Lorian could sense the strength behind the man from whom he inherited his sky blue eyes. It was a restrained power, an inner energy, a potential force that was controlled according to the situation…and the shared company. Clearly, there were some similarities between Vulcan and Human behaviors, he decided.
Trip moved the disheveled blankets out of the way, clearing a small space where the two of them could sit undisturbed. Father and son settled down on the mattress and turned to face one another. Lorian lifted his legs up on to the bed and folded them “Indian style” as if he were preparing to meditate. He rested his hands down on his thighs, focusing his eyes intently on his human parent.
“Tell me all about them, Father. Please.”
“You really should get back to bed, Lorian. Your mother would be displeased if you were irritable tomorrow mornin’, you know.”
“I’m Vulcan, Father, remember? I will behave in the dignified manner that has been taught to me… despite any potential deficiency in my normal period of rest.” Lorian felt pleased with himself. He was getting quite adept at speaking what his father liked to call Vulcan-ish.
Trip smiled back at him with gleaming eyes. “Wow, son, I’m impressed.” He paused for a moment and then gazed upward, as if trying to recollect his childhood menagerie. “Well, okay then, let’s see…there was “Hoppy”, my pet frog.”
“Yep. That little fellow used to jump straight up in the air and right onto my shoulder all the time. Then he’d just hang out for hours,” Trip chuckled, looking back over at Lorian. “Used to carry him around with me while I was doin’ my chores.”
“Really. And then, of course, I had crabs, snakes, fish, a turtle, a dog, rabbits, a couple of cats and ducks…even a pig. Your grandma and grandpa would let me keep ‘em as long as I took good care of ‘em.”
Lorian grew quiet as thoughts of Elvira once again began running through his mind. He gazed at his father’s face for a long moment.
“Ever have a bat, Father?”
Lorian lowered his head. Somehow, merely looking into his father’s eyes left him feeling vulnerable. It was something he would need to work harder at if he was to remain as stoic as a Vulcan should remain. Still…every time the young boy opened his eyes and met his father’s gaze, he knew that Trip could see right through his little façade. The connection between father and son was strong and deep. Lorian knew it was all right to let Trip see him. He understood that it was safe to reveal his hidden emotions to the very man who so frequently seemed to elicit them. And, even without looking at his father, Lorian knew Trip understood, too.
Father and son embraced once more. Neither of them spoke, nor did they need to. Lorian just lay in Trip’s arms and let himself be his father’s son. He allowed Trip’s comfort and love.
Father will protect me. Father will show me the way , Lorian thought confidently to himself. He closed his eyes and felt his body beginning to relax as he drifted off to sleep.
Trip lifted the covers carefully and climbed into bed. He rolled on to his side and attempted to get back into a comfortable sleeping position without disturbing T’Pol. Just as he closed his eyes, he felt a warm hand gently touch his back.
“Is Lorian well, Trip?” T’Pol questioned, her voice edged with a concern that only he could recognize. “I was certain I heard weeping sounds… and quite certain they weren’t originating from you.”
Trip turned over to face her. “Elvira died sometime during the night,” he sighed. “Lorian was a little upset.”
T’Pol removed her hands from Trip’s shoulders and raised a brow in realization. “I see. Were you successful in calming him? Perhaps it would be best if we requested another bat from Dr. Phlox’s collection.”
Trip shook his head. “No, darlin’, that wouldn’t be a good idea. Not right away. He needs time. Time… and understandin’. He needs to come to terms with the loss. We need to let him grieve first.”
T’Pol stared back at him and fell silent.
“I know this is complicated, T’Pol, but you can’t lose sight of the fact that Lorian’s as much human as he is Vulcan... and he’s so damned afraid of lettin’ you down.”
“That would be impossible. Mastering complete emotional control can take many years…even a lifetime for some. He is still merely a boy.”
Trip noticed T’Pol’s face relaxing as she spoke of their son. The change in her expression was so subtle that only someone who had looked into her eyes for many years could possibly see it and yet, to him, it was obvious.
“Even if Lorian were never to gain the ability to completely repress his emotions,” T’Pol began, “it wouldn’t change anything. It would not and could not alter the fact that he is my son…our son…and always will be.”
Trip smiled back at her, moving his hand up to her cheek. His fingers gently caressed her warm, green-tinged skin. He moved closer and placed his lips lovingly upon hers. When they parted, he was still smiling. “Maybe you should tell him that.”
“I do not wish to disturb Lorian at this late hour if he is sleeping. I will speak with him in the morning when he is well rested.”
Trip nodded and slid his body along the sheets until he was resting up against her. She turned over to her side and allowed him to curl up with her. Trip wrapped his arm around her protectively, buried his face in her soft, brown hair and dozed off.
Lorian opened his eyes to find his mother standing before him, gazing down at him as he lay in bed. He blinked several times and sat up quickly. “What is it, Mother? Have I done something wrong?”
“Of course not, child,” she reassured. “There’s no need for you to rise out of bed so hurriedly. I merely wanted to see if you were well. Your father told me what happened last night.”
“Oh.” Lorian felt a wave of sadness wash over him. For a brief moment, he’d forgotten that Elvira was gone. The reminder of the loss stung him once again. He lowered his head and stared at the midnight blue sheets that still covered his legs, running several fingers slowly along the soft bedding as if caressing them might somehow be a comfort to him. He watched as the thick blanket began to rise and, simultaneously, he felt the mattress sinking from the weight of an outside force. Apparently his mother had decided to sit down.
Lorian tried desperately to maintain composure in T’Pol’s presence. He felt her eyes upon him even though he still could not look into them. He knew that disappointing his mother would hurt even more than losing Elvira. He couldn’t permit it to happen. He wouldn’t permit it to happen. And yet he seemed powerless to resist these emotions.
“Son, please look at me when I speak to you,” T’Pol requested firmly.
Lorian lifted his head slowly and met his mother’s gaze. Several tears slid down his cheeks. “Yes, Mother. I’m sorry, Mother. I know you don’t want me to express my feelings in this manner. I understand that this is not the proper way for a Vulcan to behave. I am having great difficulty suppressing my emotions.”
T’Pol seemed unfazed by his obvious loss of control. “Are you aware of how much you resemble your father when you display dispiritedness?” Her expression softened, apparently at the thought of the similarity she’d discovered between him and his father.
Lorian raised a brow, a bit surprised by his mother’s comments. There was a faint sparkle in her eyes that he was certain he hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t exactly sure how to respond.
“You know of IDIC, child, but do you truly understand its meaning?”
“I guess maybe…perhaps I do not. Please explain it to me again, Mother.”
T’Pol extended an arm toward him, her open palm revealing a large, round medallion. The IDIC necklace. Lorian had seen it before but had never been allowed to put his fingers to it or hold it. He gazed up at his mother, still unsure.
“Go ahead, Lorian. You have my permission. Take it in your hand.”
The young boy put a finger to the medal. It was warm to the touch from the heat of his mother’s hand.
“Your grandmother gave it to me before she died,” T’Pol added, softly.
Lorian stared down at the necklace as it lay in his hand. He felt the power of its symbolism and meaning even without total comprehension of it.
“The galaxy is filled with countless forms of life,” his mother explained. Lorian could feel the importance behind her words. She spoke softly but her voice did not waver once. “All are unique and all should be respected as such,” she continued. “No one species should ever claim to be superior to another. Ideally, we should embrace our differences. Doing so is not an easy task, but we must always make the effort. Acceptance is the key to harmony in our coexistence with others.” She placed her hand gently atop of his. “In many ways, Lorian, you represent the true meaning behind the principle of IDIC.”
“Me? Why me?” The young boy questioned with wonderment.
“Your father is Human. Your mother is Vulcan. You… are a little of both.”
Suddenly it all became quite clear to him. “Are you attempting to tell me that due to my partially human DNA, it’s acceptable that my control may not always be perfect?”
It was T’Pol’s turn to raise a brow. “You are a very wise young man, my son, but it isn’t quite that simplistic. You will need to find a balance within yourself…a balance that will not force you to sacrifice either of your heritages. Finding and achieving this balance will not be effortless.”
“So, you’re not disappointed in me?” Lorian inquired, almost pleadingly.
T’Pol ran her fingers through the boy’s almond-colored hair and tenderly stroked the soft, wavy strands atop his head. “You are my son, Lorian. Nothing will ever change that fact. You are also your father’s son. I have never been anything less than pleased with you. Do you understand?”
Lorian nodded back, wordlessly.
“Besides,” T’Pol continued, “Elvira lived a long life for a bat. You did a very adequate job caring for her. Perhaps if we visit with Dr. Phlox, it might be agreeable with you to decide on another pet…after a sufficient period of time passes, of course.”
Lorian turned away from her. “I don’t believe that I can even think about another pet at this time, Mother,” he whispered.
“I understand, Lorian. You will need to find your own path on this matter. Your father seems to believe that it would be appropriate to arrange for a proper farewell for Elvira. Do you agree?”
Lorian gazed back up at her somberly and nodded his approval. Her hazel eyes softened when he looked at her. It was a very slight change and yet, to him, it was quite clear. He sensed her love and support. It was almost illogical the way a simple expression in her eyes could soothe him the way it did.
Illogical, yet comforting, he thought, smiling in his heart.
“Are we out here just because of Elvira, Father?” Lorian inquired, turning sideways in the co-pilot’s seat for the sole purpose of obtaining a better view over Trip’s shoulder. Any view of the galaxy had always proven to be amazing to the young boy. The stars were indeed a wonder to behold. And, yet, taking a shuttlepod out merely for the funeral of his pet bat seemed peculiar… even to him.
Trip turned, glancing over at Lorian. “No, son, not just for Elvira,” he stated quietly as he quickly returned his attention to the shuttle’s controls. “Enterprise was already due for an external inspection for possible repairs. Your mother and I felt that this would be an opportune time for you to come along. We can release Elvira whenever you feel ready to. Okay?”
“That would be agreeable.” Lorian bit his lower lip absentmindedly. He sat silently for a moment, lost in thought. Both parents had attempted to comfort him… each in their own unique way. He remembered the feeling of his father’s strong arms around him. He remembered the gentle touch of his mother’s fingers upon his head as she stroked his hair…and the sensation of the IDIC necklace as it lay in his palm.
Lorian closed his eyes and felt the strength of his parents’ union. He felt the depth of unconditional love they’d always bestowed on him. He felt the courage within himself.
It is time.
Lorian opened his eyes again and held his head up high. “I’m ready, Father,” he stated with conviction. He leaned down and picked up the small coffin that he and his father had made together the night before. It felt so light in his hands that it was almost difficult to believe it actually held his deceased pet. The boy looked up at his father once more. Trip nodded and smiled tenderly. Lorian held the elder Tucker’s gaze for a long moment. There was a familiar look in his father’s eyes that he’d seen before. But what did it mean? He didn’t know.
Lorian turned and slowly proceeded over to the waste disposal chute. After reaching his destination, he paused and stared down at the tiny wooden box that he held in his grasp. The young boy raised a hand over the top of the coffin, laid his fingers down carefully and gently caressed the lid in a final farewell. Then suddenly, without further hesitation, he pulled open the door of the chute, slid the box down and let go of his beloved pet.
Good bye, Elvira. You’re free now, girl…and I will always remember you.
Lorian turned to face his father. Now he remembered where he’d seen that look.
Father is proud of me, he thought, feeling rather pleased with himself.
Have a comment to make about this story? Do so in the Trip Fan Fiction forum at the HoTBBS!
A whole mess of folks have made comments
Awww...this is sweet, sentimental, and all-around lovely. Lorian's fear of disappointing T'Pol is palpable, and the love and support from both of his parents is well-done.
This was very well done. I could not help but think of Lorian at 14 while I was reading the very end piece the foreshadowing of his having to say good-bye to his father.
I thought that was wonderful. Lorian is lucky to have such loving and supportive parents. They just have different ways of showing it. A minor point: although I like how you worked the IDIC medallion in wasn't that from season 4? I don't mean to be picky, but I think T'Pol's mom was still alive and well when they went into the subspace corridor.
Hmm...I guess maybe you're right, Kathy. I'm not very good at continuity and remembering what happened when. I was thinking so much about making the point that I suppose that one went right over my head. Sorry. Thanks for reading, though.
No need to be sorry. The story is really good and your point was well made. Although my mind contains a plethora of useless trivia, I would never have the guts to allow anyone to read something I had written. I am pretty much in awe of all the talent that is hanging around this site and I fervently hope you all keep right on doing what you do.
That was an exemplary story. Your sensitivity to the child's loss quite moving. Not the kind of thing I would ever dare attempt. My compliments.
Really lovely. Thank you.
Oops. My bad. Betas are supposed to pick up on stuff like continuity errors. Sorry about that. Guess I was too busy wiping my eyes and sniffing. Isn't this a sweet story?
Wow!!! So sweet and moving!!! Very well done.
Oh yeah, now that someone mentioned it, the IDIC timelime mix-up is there. But the story itself was so-o-o good that it was so easy for me not to notice that.
I'm glad you folks are willing to overlook my little faux pas. I truly appreciate all of the encouragement.
Not to worry, Distracted, you're a great beta. It just went by both of us this time.
Blackn'blue, don't underestimate yourself now. Surely, there must be just a teeny little bit of sentiment somewhere inside you just dying to break free. Don't worry. Just kidding. :p
I'm sorry Bether, I've praised your stories in the past, and if you can't say anything nice . . . But EVERYONE writes young Lorian as a little angle child who speaks "Vulcanish" and whose main goal in life is to please his parents. I just don't buy it. I could write a treatise on this and would if we weren't coming right up against Thanksgiving. (No time). Lets take our cues from the only episode in which Lorian appeared. He wasn't speaking "Vulcanish" and he even had a slight Southern accent. Yes he was stoic, becuase presumably he'd studied Surak (or maybe he was just grim--because of what he'd just been through). But being stoic doesn't affect your accent or your word choice. That would have been formed by his TWO parents and, most importantly, his peer group. I don't buy the stories in which he is made to seem alienated from or revered by his peer group. In the few scenes in which he interacts with his crew he seems to be to argue with him in a way that presumes familarity and some degree of equality. As for living to please his parents, give me a break! I'm sure he has a love/hate(annoyance) relationship with both of them. In E-Squared, he goes to straight to his mother for advice (implying closeness) then lashes out at her verbally (What do you know about being human?). That I buy! That's real. As for Trip, he sees him after a hundred years and reluctantly says in effect, "You were a good father, it feels weird to say that." And if you're a parent, you know that's all the better it ever gets!
I feel like this is a story about the death of pet that avoids all the uncomfortable feelings about the death of a pet. I could be wrong, since everyone else liked it.
Submitted respectfully . . . .
Well, he's only 8 years old here, remember. Still a small child. I think most kids that age still aim to please their parents. It's not until they get a few years older usually that all the fun stuff starts.
I suppose I write these little scenes sometimes as a bit of an escape from reality and in the way that I WISH things would be, but I understand that's not what every reader wants.I guess maybe that's why I could never create my own characters. They'd likely never be believable.
I've been through the loss of a pet many times. I know how lousy it feels. I'm sorry you didn't like the story.
Maybe I should also add that I didn't base the Lorian in my story on the adult version we saw in E-Squared. I just wrote him the way I imagined him at that age.
Well to be even more of a downer, I would say that the death of a pet at age 8 is uncomfortable because it doesn't seem "fair" and it bring up fears about death in general and gets the kid thinking about his or her own mortality.
And complaining about your story is my way of killing many birds with one stone. EVERYONE writes Lorian like this. He's a little angel who wants to please his parents right up through age 14, according to fan fic.
So don't take it personlly. Like I said, everyone else seems to prefer this type of story. I don't get it.
And I've lost plenty of pets too.
Well, that honestly depends on the individual child. My 10 year old adores animals, but doesn't do much more than get a bit teary-eyed and sad for a few days when one dies. I, on the other hand, have been known to cry for weeks after the death of a pet...even now. I can't say that I personally ever remember worrying about my own mortality when I was a child and was grieving for a lost pet. I only remember missing that which was familiar and comforting. There are no right or wrong ways to grieve. I suppose someone with Lorian's level of intelligence might consider something like that, though.
I'm sorry this struck such a negative chord with you. I suppose what I'm working on most with my writing at this time is sentence structure, painting a picture, and, most importantly, trying to express myself. This one took almost 3 months for me to write. I always hope to elicit an emotional response from my potential readers, but not exactly an emotional response like the one you're having. Thanks for taking the time to comment.
I hate to break it to you, JustTrip'n, but Bether's version of Lorian reminds me a LOT of my youngest child, who's eight. Her older sister has definitely reached the rebellious stage, but my youngest still lives to please. It's a little scary sometimes... like when she wakes up suddenly at ten pm after she's been asleep for an hour and insists on getting up to finish the homework she forgot to finish... but she's MY daughter. OCD tendencies must come from somewhere, right? I find Lorian believable in this fic... perhaps not stereotypically American, human, and rebellious, but then he's NOT human, is he? He's also not American.
There are human cultures in which the need to please one's parents overrides other concerns in childhood. Is it so hard to believe that the Vulcan traditions wouldn't take precedence here?
OK, you got me there, Distracted.
Bether, keep doing what you're doing.
It's okay, D. This is good practice for me, right? I need to work on learning how to handle some constructive criticism now and then.
I honestly believe deep down that even as adults we still want our parents to be proud of us. Well, so long as we had a good relationship with them in the first place anyway. We may not always admit it to ourselves and, of course, there may have been rebellious periods when we didn't always feel that way, but I still think it's an almost instinctive thing.
I wasn't trying to make that Lorian's sole purpose in life here in my story, though. At least, that isn't how I intended for him to come across. He's trying to find himself. Trip and T'Pol are trying to help him feel comfortable with who he is. They are treading on new waters themselves and are attempting to find the best way to handle the situation. It's something that happened to myself when I first became a parent. I found myself thinking in ways I hadn't before because there was a new life that I was vital in helping to mold.
The intended message here in my little fic was one of acceptance and support. The theme of IDIC...which is something that I believe in strongly in RL. I'm shutting up now.
Bether I really liked your story about Trip and T'Pol different parenting style here I thought your story was nicely done. I liked Lorian feeeling baout the loss of his pet was well done and realistic to me.
I think your writing IS getting better structure wise Bether.
Kids can be so different in their reactions, some unconsolable, others seemingly untouched by the death of a pet. I have seen both and often wondered why.
My granddaughter's pet rabbit died at my house when I was taking care of him. Imie thought it was her fault because six months before, for a couple of days, she and her parents ran out of food for him. I explained that he would not be harmed by two days of lettuce from the refrigerator instead of pellets, and now he was getting more than enough to eat. I had the vet explain it to her. If it was anyone's fault it was mine and I had been taking him for several vet visits to try to solve his problem. Kids pick up on the strangest things. Everyone's experience is different.
A bat, though? Didn't someone say they thought Vulcans descended from bats? If you except that, there might be more to explore here...
Bether, you made me cry! This story was just lovely, beautifully told. I have nurtured pets and wildlife all my life, so I really identified with young Lorian and his loss. I also appreciated the way you addressed Lorian's ongoing struggle to find his identity and balance, being a child of two such disparate cultural backgrounds.
Please allow me to add a few words about character interpretation. There will be those who see certain characters quite differently than the way you see them. For example, when you write about a Lorian who is eighty or ninety-plus years removed from the Lorian we saw in E2, it could be argued that practically ANY interpretation of young Lorian could be credible.
That being said, some feedback may come off as less "constructive criticism" and more subjective and disgruntled than intended. I would hope that the writers who archive their work here, and the readers who partake of them, would agree that an atmosphere of acceptance of ALL stories, no matter how the characters are interpreted, is the most effective way to foment creativity and keep writers from being put in the awkward position of being compelled to defend their work.
I personally believe that there is room for all kinds of stories, and every possible credible interpretation of the characters therein. IDIC is a wonderful thing, folks.
Bether, keep writing whatever your muse inspires you to write. You're doing just fine, in my humble opinion.
Thanks so much for stopping by, HR, to offer those encouraging words. I really do appreciate it. I understand what you mean about character interpretation. I didn't even actually plan for Lorian's temperament to be any certain way before I started writing this. I just listened to him and wrote what he was saying.
Linda, I'm so sorry to hear about your granddaughter's bunny. I've always had a special relationship with animals and just about all living creatures, for that matter. As difficult as it is to deal with the loss of a pet as a child, I still believe that it is a valuable lesson to learn while growing up. Pets may only be in our lives for a short period of time, but they touch us nonetheless. To me, in the end, love is always worth the pain of its eventual loss. And love always seems to find a way to endure.
Anyway, justTrip'n, I take no offense from your comments.
Great! No offense intended. Still friends! Well, at least when you get my compliments you know I mean it. Same for the rest of you. You're all good writers.
Hey if Hopeful Romantic gave you her stamp of approval you're home free...'cause NOBODY writes a better Lorian than she does :)
*sniffle* Nicely done, Bether, I really enjoyed this. Keep it coming, beautiful stuff! :)
A beautifully touching story and intimate. I really enjoyed it please contiue to write your lovely stories
I just thought of something which has been bothering me (not your story Bether!) It is burial in space which seems to be based on burial at sea. But with burial at sea, the remains drift to the bottom of the ocean and decompose back into the planet's biosphere. But in space they do not decay, just drift forever - not recycled, not returned to their origin. Does that bother anyone else? Sorry Bether, for using your comment space to bring this up.
Most "burials at space" in fiction are conducted in such a way as to having the corpse being sent toward a star where they will be destroyed and returned to the atoms that make up all of the universe, thus they are kind of recycled. Alternately, they will fired into the atmosphere of a planet (ala Spock in WoK) with the expectation that the body will be burned up and "recycled" into the biosphere of said planet.
Does that make you feel better about it?
I like that, Rigil. I'll go with that. Works for me.
Now that you've mentioned it, I can't say that the image of dead bat remains circling around space through all eternity was too appealing to me, either, Linda. Unfortunately my brain is so simplistic that I had to ask for help for the correct terminolgy to even get it off the shuttlepod. I'm glad that I have you folks around to fill in the blank spots. Definitely comes in handy. : )
It does help Rigil, and your comment too, Bether. I must have missed it that most space burials were directed toward a star or planet. The ones I have seen in ST series and movies (except for Spock's) seemed to be sent out into the vacuum of space - or I just missed seeing that star looming in the distance. I am obtuse that way sometimes.
Into a star makes the best sense to me, instead of onto an alien planet where the remains might be toxic to the local flora and fauna. Of course I am all for what happened to Spock, LOL.