Saffron-Colored Memories

Posted on Sat Aug 14th, 2021 @ 4:40am by Lieutenant Cassian Pell
Edited on on Sat Aug 14th, 2021 @ 4:42am

Mission: The Waiting Game
Location: Guest Quarters, Risa
Timeline: Day 85 - 2000 Hours

"The color," Declan said from light years away, "is Saffron. You'd know it as ..." The Deltan's voice rose on the last word in invitation.

"Crocus Sativus," Cas said. Saffron was the color of the outfit he wore. The pants were loose-fitting and of a material so soft that almost seemed to flow around him. That and the matching caftan, worn open, felt almost decadent against his skin which was, of course, the point. Declan believed in embracing as many of the senses as possible. That and making sure that Cas remained fashion-forward.

"Spice derived from the flower. Has to be hand-picked. If I remember correctly, it takes 150 flowers to make a third of an ounce of dry saffron threads. Not a job I'd ever sign up to do."

Declan chuckled. His voice, classically trained, was a rich tenor. Engaging even when they were debating everything and anything. "You," he said, his voice dropping to a caress, "would do it happily if you were working on some difficult problem at the same time. Tedious jobs give your mind room to work. Wasn't that what you said that night you picked apart the flower arrangement?"

"You were so angry," Cas said, shaking his head slightly. His attention settled on the details as it was meant to and he found himself leaning forward slightly.

Declan created moments and he often made these calls from a holodeck where he could orchestrate every detail. Tonight, twin moons bathed the sea behind him in silvery light while Declan's outfit, a matching caftan, done in green and silver, that seemed to capture and reflect slivers of moonbeams in the depths of the folds.

"I remember this place," Cas said. "Didn't we vacation there during break that first year at the Academy?"

"Yes," Declan said. "Beautiful place but so cold and neither one of us knew the first thing about building a fire." He punctuated the statement with a delicate shiver. "So, there I am trying to find something I can bear to part with to burn and you're doing research."

"It worked," Cas said as he leaned forward to pick up his teacup. Vulcan Yellow Leaf tonight. One of his favorites. "I found the instructions ..."

"... and everything we needed was in the wood box next to the fireplace. Who knew it could be that easy."

"The owner of the cabin probably," Cas said. He chuckled, the cup poised before his lips, and then took a long swallow. That had been the weekend they talked. About how Declan would never be able to settle down for one person. Those bittersweet moments when love turned to enduring friendship. Resolutely, he pushed the memories away. "I can still hear you, clutching that awful coat to your chest and saying you would never sacrifice fashion for warmth."

"You have abominable fashion sense, my friend," Declan said. "But you are trainable. There will be one more crate coming your way. Hopefully it will get to you before you depart. You're still on Risa?"

"For the moment," Cas answered. "Yes. I have a couple of days here before I have to report on board. You still on the home world?"

"Yes but Earth-bound for a seminar next month." Declan grinned, the wickedness of it lighting the depths of his eyes. "Can you imagine? I have to vow to be on my best behavior and I'm the guest lecturer!"

The conversation settled into counterpart, repartee and innuendo, as they moved passed the awkwardness of the memory. Before long they were arguing and later, when the conversation was over and he was alone again, Cas honestly couldn't remember a word of it. Not that it mattered. Declan would remind him the next time they spoke.