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Feel free to use this to get a hold of me! I am also

YourOverlord! Add me if you like!

As for concrit? I welcome it; however, anon commenting is off.

Lemmie 'splain. No, there is too much. Lemmie sum up:

I absolutely promise you that if you step up to talk to me, I will treat you with decency, consideration and probably respect you a whole lot more than even before we started. I consider good constructive criticism to be like telling me my fly's down. YEAH it's embarrassing but it's better than to continue skipping down the road with everything ugly hanging out.

We all have bad days, and heck, I may have missed something, or we just may see the character or canon in very different ways. I'd love to talk about it. I'm the very first to admit I'm not perfect OR EVEN CLOSE. I need to devour at least ten more souls for that upgrade.

I adore talking canon, and I can say that if for any reason I don't make changes based on our conversation, I will give you a very thorough, well-ruminated on reason why not.

"Messages will be returned in order of priority."

[Text] [Audio] [Video]

( BOOYA )

CW: This app will touch upon the subjects of rape, suicide, and abusive sexual relationships.

( MoM Application )

Canon

A.

[You may find yourself facing large, heavy gates. Behind the bars, you can easily see the enormous, austere residence spread both tall and wide against a backdrop of a lake, stables and a small, private cemetery. The unbridled horse grazing, unhitched beside a carriage, by a liveried servant is in direct opposition to an obviously futuristic lightflier not far from it.

Even the guard that narrows to nervous attention holds both a sword and a strange, small device.]

And you are?

[The voice comes from behind.

Aral, for his part, neither looks, nor feels the part of the lord. Having taken the long way, treacherous and unmonitored paths and foothills back to the residence, he smells of sap, a chemical tinge of smoke and the exertion it took to get back. His green dress uniform had survived in all but the pressed edges, looking as if he'd intended the slight look of disarray and set jaw.

He lifts a hand, stilling the guard from comment on him, and focuses all of his attention on this newcomer.]

B.

[The Counts and Minsters poured out of the building first. The debates of the evening being traded in words so sharp that they might as well have been blows. Aral followed much more sedately, having taken a bit of time to brief his intelligence officer and leave orders for the evening.

It's by chance he stumbled across a stranger, enough out of place to inspire both caution and curiosity in equal measures.]

You seem lost.

Mask or Menace

C.

[It helped to liken the city to a space station. It had the bustle of a large hub.. the rowdy clash and wild fusion of fashions and cultures that defied any easy identification of a trend or perhaps some anthropological hint as to the people - and species... intelligent and alien, the very thought sent his mind into fits of fantasy and planning at once. It was like water, as far as he could tell. Formless, impossible to grip, but could fill the air around you and sweep one far away should he let it. There were colors and layers fitting the ghem Cetagandan... lack of modesty known to the Betans... the maliable gathering of anything adorned by a Jacksonian mindset...

And yet, nothing that fit anything else.

There was only one way to begin. Diplomatically.]

Might I ask a question?

OTHER

[Pick your poison, or let me know and I'll cater a starter to you.]

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Admiral Lord Aral Vorkosigan

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