Tish Hokni'es Kwi'shoret // Spirk

Chapter 1: An Illogical Situation

   Title translates: I sense the consciousness calling to you from space...

A/N: This is me exploring the headcanon I had of the interpretation of T'hy'la. 'Wouldn't the Vulcan mind recognize and distinguish their true bondmate? Wouldn't it try and stop itself from being wrongfully married? And 'Wouldn't both parties be equally affected by the bond? No matter how far apart and whether or not they've even met?'

This is, in part/sort of a kid fic. For convenience, they are both the same age. (bridge crew roughly around the same as well) The first three chapters Spock and Kirk are 8 years old. After that, they are 19.

Jim was never sent to Tarsus IV and there is no evil step-father Frank.

I've also done some pretty extensive research for this story and by "extensive research" I mean by originally searching what I intend and then quickly falling down the interweb rabbit hole. I believe I've almost scraped the deepest darkest depths of the Trekkie Internet.

So this means a mix of canon and fanon, but mostly personal headcanons with a dash of artistic license. If I do get something immensely wrong, just let me know.

~ Tish Hokni'es Kwi'shoret ~

It was illogical. Everything about this situation is illogical. Spock thinks as he walks down the sandy pathway towards his home. The sun was already beginning to set, casting a deep orange, red glow in the sky. He was already on the older side of an unbonded Vulcan. What could possibly be the delay? He was not aware of any illness, nor was he mentally inadequate. All his classmates had already been bonded.

   Spock fought the worry of never having an intimate link with another. My time will come. He assures himself. His mind was already calling for a bondmate, it was a subtle but persistent tug of emptiness in the deep corner of his mind. It would pull harder after long periods without a deep meditation, for that was the only way to soothe the aching void.

   He couldn't bring this problem to his father, he'd only get a cold gaze and a scorning for his lack of emotional control.

   Spock should know better than to show a display of emotions, to slip up. It was illogical, it was not the Vulcan way.

   His control was nearly perfect except for this one, small problem, a bondmate - or a lack thereof. Somehow he knew, deep down in his katra that something was different about him. It was not of his mixed blood, but of his mind.

   From the hushed muttering of those with -and without- a mate, Spock had not heard one mention of the consistent physical and mental pain brought on by the longing for their own.

   Spock examines the shadow of a nearby rock for a moment and determines that he was just on time for dinner. As he opens the door to his place of living, he notes that the air was two degrees cooler than it was programmed regularly. The contrast from outside even larger than normal.

His mother had spent a long time on Vulcan, almost effortlessly adapting to the thin air and heavy gravity -even the heat- to a certain degree. With that being said, she still preferred the brisk air conditioning whenever she had the chance. It was a preference that Spock's father stubbornly divulged his wife in.

   "Spock! You're home." His mother looks surprised.

   "Of course I am. Classes have ceased for the day, and I have arrived at the mutual time of the agreement. You have no need to be surprised."