05-13-2024, 05:02 PM
Peter followed her carefully, doing his best to not do something that might be considered offensive, though of course he had to admit to being somewhat in the dark on that subject. He didn't know a whole lot about Klingon culture, but what he knew, he admired greatly.
Yes, there were...shall we say....less than admirable parts of it too. The slavery. The subjugation of entire worlds. The Klingon Empire was definitely something of a mixed bag as far as Peter was concerned.
But he deeply admired Klingon culture, especially the value it placed on honor, loyalty, and sticking to one's word.
Of course he wasn't so naive as to think that this meant that all Klingons were honorable, even by their own standards, or kept their word always.
But this was true of everyone. He knew that well enough. And still, the dedication, loyalty, honor, integrity, and martial prowess which the Klingons valued, resonated deeply with something inside him.
He followed her movements and her words vis a vis the cups and teapot. He was under no illusion as to how the aftermath of this was likely to be...unpleasant. But he was fairly certain that he wouldn't die. And that, at least, was something. Not many humans were allowed or trusted with this honor, and he took it deadly seriously.
I just hope that doesn't mean literally the little voice in the back of his mind said - even as another part of him thought At least I'd be in good company - as he looked as he felt: Humbled, honored, nervous of doing something wrong. So he listened to her instructions carefully, and then proceeded to try to strip the vine of its thorns as she'd said. It was easier said than done. Both because...well, this was not something he was used to doing, but also because his hands were shaking a bit from nervousness. Meaning that he pricked his fingers quite badly more than once and let out hisses of pain. A few droplets of blood fell from his finger to the table, which he didn't notice as he was so entranced in managing a simple task like putting the thorns in the pot of water. He held the thorns almost ceremoneously in one hand, while using the other to drop them in, indiviually.
He had no idea if this was the right way to do it, but he trusted that Artemis had spent enough time around humans by now to realize that this was reverent by Human standards, and Peter was doing it as well as he could. He was feeling all sorts of things he couldn't really put into words right now but he was unquestioningly here. Now. In this moment. Sharing this moment with someone who, he realized, mattered to him much more than he would have thought when they'd first met.
Yes, there were...shall we say....less than admirable parts of it too. The slavery. The subjugation of entire worlds. The Klingon Empire was definitely something of a mixed bag as far as Peter was concerned.
But he deeply admired Klingon culture, especially the value it placed on honor, loyalty, and sticking to one's word.
Of course he wasn't so naive as to think that this meant that all Klingons were honorable, even by their own standards, or kept their word always.
But this was true of everyone. He knew that well enough. And still, the dedication, loyalty, honor, integrity, and martial prowess which the Klingons valued, resonated deeply with something inside him.
He followed her movements and her words vis a vis the cups and teapot. He was under no illusion as to how the aftermath of this was likely to be...unpleasant. But he was fairly certain that he wouldn't die. And that, at least, was something. Not many humans were allowed or trusted with this honor, and he took it deadly seriously.
I just hope that doesn't mean literally the little voice in the back of his mind said - even as another part of him thought At least I'd be in good company - as he looked as he felt: Humbled, honored, nervous of doing something wrong. So he listened to her instructions carefully, and then proceeded to try to strip the vine of its thorns as she'd said. It was easier said than done. Both because...well, this was not something he was used to doing, but also because his hands were shaking a bit from nervousness. Meaning that he pricked his fingers quite badly more than once and let out hisses of pain. A few droplets of blood fell from his finger to the table, which he didn't notice as he was so entranced in managing a simple task like putting the thorns in the pot of water. He held the thorns almost ceremoneously in one hand, while using the other to drop them in, indiviually.
He had no idea if this was the right way to do it, but he trusted that Artemis had spent enough time around humans by now to realize that this was reverent by Human standards, and Peter was doing it as well as he could. He was feeling all sorts of things he couldn't really put into words right now but he was unquestioningly here. Now. In this moment. Sharing this moment with someone who, he realized, mattered to him much more than he would have thought when they'd first met.