Subject: Grail: "Great Brightness" - Preparations, Pt 2 (Brinn)

<<OOC: My last few posts have been REALLY out of order. This is the way

they should have appeared: Preparations, Pt1, Preparations, Pt 2, Private

Concert, and finaly, the Women of the Grail. Sorry, all.>>

"Preparations, Pt 2"

or

"Hunting Commander Hunt"

~~~~~~~~~~

Someone was watching her.

Ever since she had come on board, Athalya Anne had the distinct feeling of

being watched. She wasn't the only one: other people had complained of

being stalked by the ops crew. Athalya Anne shrugged it off. She knew she

was interesting. Who wouldn't want to stalk her?

Dragging her gaze back to Miranda St Claire, who was sitting opposite of

her, Athalya Anne drolly intoned, "And that, my heart, is why we are

fucking with the Kerstians."

Miranda said something. Athalya Anne wasn't quite sure what it was. She

was aware of one thing and one thing alone: she was being watched.

"She just bedded the councelor and now..." Lusty laughter wrang out through

the room.

It was that little Ferengi. He had been stalking her for the past few

days. It was indeed one thing to stalk her, but another entirely to gossip

about it. It was time to put a stop to this. Or at least a pause.

Before she knew it, she was up. "Excuse me." Athalya Anne mumbled to St

Claire as she set a course for the Ferengi. There were two. One ran, but

the other, in an ops uniform, stood where he was like a deer in the

headlights.

Rage. That was the only emotion she could feel and the only emotion that

was on her face. The Ferengi reconized it and knew, instinctivly, if

nothing else, that this wasn't going to be a little chat he was going to

hear. Before he could move, Athalya Anne grabbed him in a choke hold and

shoved him up against a wall.

"You listen hard and you listen fast, you sniveling little coward," Athalya

Anne hissed in the little spys face. "I don't like gossips. And I don't

like spies." She tightened her hold, "Do you know what I do when I don't

like something, spy boy?"

"No..." He squeeked out, terror eminating from every pore in his body. She

smiled, enjoying his position, even if he didn't.

"Tell this to your boss, too." Athalya Anne tacked on, as an after

thought. "When I don't like someone, I go after them - their friends and

famliy first, of course. I chop off their heads and serve them on a silver

platter to the person I dislike. And after I've gotten all the friends and

family, I go after the person I dislike. You wanna know what I do to

them?" She lowered her face to his and glowered. He cringed. Athalya Anne

noticed, with the sane side of her psyche that he was turning purple. The

insane side choked him harder and enjoyed it. He squeaked.

Leaning in closer to his lobes, Athalya Anne whispered, "I cut their hearts

out with a spoon and shove it down their throats, but not before they've

been left in the same room with a Sarillian blood beetle. You do know what

Sarillian blood beatles do, don't you?"

The Ferengi nodded and turned a shade darker. Athalya Anne, enthused by the

bright purple he was turning choked him harder. "Good." She hissed, "And

tell your boss, too." Athalya Anne dropped and kicked him, savegly enjoying

the sounds of his gasping for breath and the grunt he eminated when her foot

came into contact with his gut.

Straightning her tunic, or, accuratly, DeMontigny's tunic, Athalya Anne

walked back to the table she was sharing with St Claire and attacked her

steak (what else?) with gusto.

"Was that really, truly, nesscary?" Miranda asked with an almost detached

air.

Athalya Anne thought about it as she chewed her steak. It really depended

on who you asked. Someone like Mirka or Miranda would say no.

"I suppose not." Athalya Anne conceded.

"Then why did you do it?" The same detached air was obvious in her voice.

Athalya Anne smiled. "You, my heart, speak the language of love." She

paused and shovled some meat into her mouth. "I do not."

"Everyone speaks the language of love." Miranda countered, losing her

reserve, "It's innate to humanoid behavior."

Athalya Anne sighed as she took Miranda's hand and pressed it against her

cheek. Miranda ran her thumb along Athalya Anne's jaw line. Athalya Anne

smiled a sad sort of smile and Miranda's hand fell away. They sat there,

niether eating nor talking, each to her own thoughts.

LMaj Athalya Anne Brinn