(no subject)
Aug. 28th, 2009 12:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tree_and_leafFurther signs that tree_and_leaf is, indeed, possibly on the stressed side...
Went round to a friends for dinner, and finally remembered that I needed to put a wash on before I went. Except - having got back very late, the evening having turned intoslightly worrying fangirling of the general attractiveness of the Obama administration serious political debate - I discovered that I'd omitted to turn the bloody washer on. Which I discovered by taking half the clothes out of the washer and thinking, Mm, these are very dry, the spin cycle's not normally that efficient, although they still look a bit grubby... Ah. Yes.
And instead of going to bed like a sensible person, I ended up writing rather pointless Sarek/ Amanda fic. *headdesk*
Title: Mother Tongue
Words: 1059
Warnings: None, unless you really dislike fics with babies in them. Could be either TOS or AOS. However, in my head, Sarek is played by Mark Lenard.
Rating: PG, if not U.
Spoilers: Spock has parents, you know - the story that he was generated by a computer algorhythm is just Doctor McCoy's idea of a joke...
Characters: Sarek/ Amanda, OCs, infant! non-speaking! Spock.
Summary: He's a child of two worlds, and some people don't entirely approve...
Once, when Spock was still an infant, some distant cousins of Sarek stayed with them, while they were conducting business in the capital.
Skorr and his wife T’Lann had met Amanda only once before, shortly after the wedding. The only thing Amanda could remember about them was that Skorr had turned to Sarek and said “We were... intrigued by your choice of a second bondmate.” Even someone who was not as attuned to the nuances of Vulcan as Amanda was would have heard the implied insult, but Sarek had merely laid his fingers over hers and said, “It was the logical decision.”
But here they were in her house, which, Amanda thought, suggested that they no longer disapproved as strongly as they had done.
Or perhaps not. T’Lann bent over Spock, who was lying on his back in a corner of the sitting room, moving his fists aimlessly and staring with sleepy concentration at the mobile (a scale model of the 40 Eridani system) hanging above him. She said, after a long critical look, “He is very small, and he does not hold his head up. He must be in the lowest percentile for a Vulcan child of his age.”
Amanda gritted her teeth. “He’s half human. He’s above the human curve.”
“Doubtless,” said T’Lann, even more expressionlessly than usual.
“Anyway, you must excuse me,” said Amanda, and picked Spock up, who stirred fretfully. “It’s time for his nap, by human or Vulcan standards.” She left the room with a dignity which even her whispering of soothing words to the boy could not lessen, and Sarek gazed after her, feeling a quiet admiration at her refusal to rise to the bait.
“I notice your wife speaks Standard to the child,” said Skorr.
Sarek found himself remembering the summer he had spent at Skorr’s parents’ house, on the edge of the mountains, remembering them with a vividness he had thought impossible. He had been an adolescent, gawky and not yet wholly the master of his emotions; he remembered his shame at the irrational dislike he had felt for Skorr, and his battle – his losing battle – to overcome it.
He suddenly wondered if the dislike, shameful though indulging in the expression of it had been, had really been that irrational.
“It seemed unreasonable to deny the child the advantage of learning Standard as a native speaker,” he said, levelly. “I speak to him in Vulcan.”
“But Standard is an easy language to master, compared with Vulcan. The average Vulcan school child is fluent in Standard by the age of ten,” said T’Lann.
“Perhaps, wife, Sarek has reason to believe that young Spock will require more intensive teaching.”
Sarek felt a sudden sympathy for his fifteen year old self. He ought not to have broken Skorr’s jaw, of course, but he had, he thought, forgotten quite how severe the provocation had been.
“There was another factor in our decision,” Amanda came back into the room, chin up and back ramrod straight.
“There is more to linguistic competence than grammar and vocabulary. There is, for example, idiom and accent. On the one hand, I do not wish Spock to learn to speak Vulcan with a Terran accent.”
“That is logical,” agreed Skorr, with what was almost a smirk. “Your accent is, of course, good for a human, but your decision shows admirable self-knowledge.”
Sarek began to think that his fifteen-year-old self might not have made such an illogical choice. Amanda’s accent was all but flawless, and always had been; it had been the reason he had noticed her in the first place.
“Equally,” Amanda said, “I do not wish him to speak Standard with a Vulcan accent, and I would like him to have a substantially better grasp of idiom than the Vulcan school courses produce.”
She paused, and added, “Of course, they are excellent as second-language programmes go. But Vulcans tend to have difficulty with velars, and I’m afraid the courses are totally inadequate as far as colloquial usage goes.”
“I fail to see the benefit in a command of colourful metaphors.” said Skorr. “They are most illogical.”
“Then you are failing to understand how communication works. One must listen for what is said, not what one wishes to hear. Incidentally - when you greeted me in Standard on your arrival, I noticed that you have trouble with the stress patterns; it makes you sound drunk. I wouldn’t have said anything, but since you were so eloquent on the subject of the benefits of self-knowledge, I conclude it would be illogical not to. I could recommend a very good coaching programme, if you like.”
*
“Skorr was right about one thing,” said Amanda, as she and Sarek prepared for bed. “Though possibly for the wrong reasons. I’ll never pass for Vulcan. I could get points put on my ears, have all the plastic surgery in the quadrant, and I’d still give myself away the moment I opened my mouth. However good my accent might get.”
“Skorr is a remarkably limited individual, of disappointingly low intelligence,” said Sarek, blackly. Then he added, in a brighter tone, “however, I must admit that I am impressed with the choice of wife his parents and grandparents made for him. They are truly well-matched. I would not have thought it possible. I do, however, pity their future off-spring.”
“Yes,” said Amanda, drily, “They’ll probably be horrible at modern languages.”
“And they will be brought up to be blind to all that is good in the universe that is not Vulcan. Such a blindness is... illogical.”
“Yes... Sarek, do you suppose that Spock will have to deal with many people like that, when he’s older?”
“There will be some. I hope not many.” Sarek paused. “And I have no doubt that he will silence them with his own qualities, which come from both of us, from both our worlds.”
“He looks so Vulcan,” said Amanda. “A sickly Vulcan, apparently.” She sighed.
“He has your eyes. I think they are his best feature.”
“That was disgustingly sentimental, and quite possibly inaccurate. I think he’s got a look of T’Pau, actually...”
“I am endeavouring to improve my grasp of Standard idioms,” said Sarek, and kissed her, in the human fashion, full on the mouth.
Went round to a friends for dinner, and finally remembered that I needed to put a wash on before I went. Except - having got back very late, the evening having turned into
And instead of going to bed like a sensible person, I ended up writing rather pointless Sarek/ Amanda fic. *headdesk*
Title: Mother Tongue
Words: 1059
Warnings: None, unless you really dislike fics with babies in them. Could be either TOS or AOS. However, in my head, Sarek is played by Mark Lenard.
Rating: PG, if not U.
Spoilers: Spock has parents, you know - the story that he was generated by a computer algorhythm is just Doctor McCoy's idea of a joke...
Characters: Sarek/ Amanda, OCs, infant! non-speaking! Spock.
Summary: He's a child of two worlds, and some people don't entirely approve...
Once, when Spock was still an infant, some distant cousins of Sarek stayed with them, while they were conducting business in the capital.
Skorr and his wife T’Lann had met Amanda only once before, shortly after the wedding. The only thing Amanda could remember about them was that Skorr had turned to Sarek and said “We were... intrigued by your choice of a second bondmate.” Even someone who was not as attuned to the nuances of Vulcan as Amanda was would have heard the implied insult, but Sarek had merely laid his fingers over hers and said, “It was the logical decision.”
But here they were in her house, which, Amanda thought, suggested that they no longer disapproved as strongly as they had done.
Or perhaps not. T’Lann bent over Spock, who was lying on his back in a corner of the sitting room, moving his fists aimlessly and staring with sleepy concentration at the mobile (a scale model of the 40 Eridani system) hanging above him. She said, after a long critical look, “He is very small, and he does not hold his head up. He must be in the lowest percentile for a Vulcan child of his age.”
Amanda gritted her teeth. “He’s half human. He’s above the human curve.”
“Doubtless,” said T’Lann, even more expressionlessly than usual.
“Anyway, you must excuse me,” said Amanda, and picked Spock up, who stirred fretfully. “It’s time for his nap, by human or Vulcan standards.” She left the room with a dignity which even her whispering of soothing words to the boy could not lessen, and Sarek gazed after her, feeling a quiet admiration at her refusal to rise to the bait.
“I notice your wife speaks Standard to the child,” said Skorr.
Sarek found himself remembering the summer he had spent at Skorr’s parents’ house, on the edge of the mountains, remembering them with a vividness he had thought impossible. He had been an adolescent, gawky and not yet wholly the master of his emotions; he remembered his shame at the irrational dislike he had felt for Skorr, and his battle – his losing battle – to overcome it.
He suddenly wondered if the dislike, shameful though indulging in the expression of it had been, had really been that irrational.
“It seemed unreasonable to deny the child the advantage of learning Standard as a native speaker,” he said, levelly. “I speak to him in Vulcan.”
“But Standard is an easy language to master, compared with Vulcan. The average Vulcan school child is fluent in Standard by the age of ten,” said T’Lann.
“Perhaps, wife, Sarek has reason to believe that young Spock will require more intensive teaching.”
Sarek felt a sudden sympathy for his fifteen year old self. He ought not to have broken Skorr’s jaw, of course, but he had, he thought, forgotten quite how severe the provocation had been.
“There was another factor in our decision,” Amanda came back into the room, chin up and back ramrod straight.
“There is more to linguistic competence than grammar and vocabulary. There is, for example, idiom and accent. On the one hand, I do not wish Spock to learn to speak Vulcan with a Terran accent.”
“That is logical,” agreed Skorr, with what was almost a smirk. “Your accent is, of course, good for a human, but your decision shows admirable self-knowledge.”
Sarek began to think that his fifteen-year-old self might not have made such an illogical choice. Amanda’s accent was all but flawless, and always had been; it had been the reason he had noticed her in the first place.
“Equally,” Amanda said, “I do not wish him to speak Standard with a Vulcan accent, and I would like him to have a substantially better grasp of idiom than the Vulcan school courses produce.”
She paused, and added, “Of course, they are excellent as second-language programmes go. But Vulcans tend to have difficulty with velars, and I’m afraid the courses are totally inadequate as far as colloquial usage goes.”
“I fail to see the benefit in a command of colourful metaphors.” said Skorr. “They are most illogical.”
“Then you are failing to understand how communication works. One must listen for what is said, not what one wishes to hear. Incidentally - when you greeted me in Standard on your arrival, I noticed that you have trouble with the stress patterns; it makes you sound drunk. I wouldn’t have said anything, but since you were so eloquent on the subject of the benefits of self-knowledge, I conclude it would be illogical not to. I could recommend a very good coaching programme, if you like.”
*
“Skorr was right about one thing,” said Amanda, as she and Sarek prepared for bed. “Though possibly for the wrong reasons. I’ll never pass for Vulcan. I could get points put on my ears, have all the plastic surgery in the quadrant, and I’d still give myself away the moment I opened my mouth. However good my accent might get.”
“Skorr is a remarkably limited individual, of disappointingly low intelligence,” said Sarek, blackly. Then he added, in a brighter tone, “however, I must admit that I am impressed with the choice of wife his parents and grandparents made for him. They are truly well-matched. I would not have thought it possible. I do, however, pity their future off-spring.”
“Yes,” said Amanda, drily, “They’ll probably be horrible at modern languages.”
“And they will be brought up to be blind to all that is good in the universe that is not Vulcan. Such a blindness is... illogical.”
“Yes... Sarek, do you suppose that Spock will have to deal with many people like that, when he’s older?”
“There will be some. I hope not many.” Sarek paused. “And I have no doubt that he will silence them with his own qualities, which come from both of us, from both our worlds.”
“He looks so Vulcan,” said Amanda. “A sickly Vulcan, apparently.” She sighed.
“He has your eyes. I think they are his best feature.”
“That was disgustingly sentimental, and quite possibly inaccurate. I think he’s got a look of T’Pau, actually...”
“I am endeavouring to improve my grasp of Standard idioms,” said Sarek, and kissed her, in the human fashion, full on the mouth.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-30 11:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-31 12:33 am (UTC)