Voice Testing Post

[use_everything]

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.]

Comments

[keep_nothing]

[ Only a year or two, give or take. ]

So technically, I should—feel Gregor? I guess I would count in that if I'm Lady Vorkosigan ... What am I supposed to be feeling?

[ She'll come back to the latter part of what he's said in a moment. ]

[use_everything]

[It becomes evident that it not merely her father's name being used, but his own.]

The chance of a coincidence seems vanishingly small.

[dendarii]

[ No, that's not - he flinches a bit, both at the missed cue and his father's understanding. A little pain for his heart too; he'd known most of the history, some of it from Piotr himself, but to see his father accept that Miles could have killed him in self-defense ...

God, how toxic that seems. ]

No, I - disappointed him very badly. Failed my physical exam for Imperial Service. All I wanted was to make him proud.

[ It all swirls with with complicated undercurrents. Miles' relationship with Piotr was hardly easy, but he loved the old man all the same. ]

[keep_nothing]

Clearly someone who thought they couldn't get burned so far from the fire. but what could they hope to accomplish here?

[ She hands back his comm. ]

[dendarii]

I ... er ...

[ Had his mother sworn to Gregor? He honestly doesn't know. ]

... You'll have to ask him. I can't feel you, though, as we have no liege relationship.

[keep_nothing]

[ Her brows knit together at that, more perturbed than angry. ]

Well that's no good.

[dendarii]

-- It's not?

[use_everything]

[Shave another twenty years off of him, he might have taken that outlook at its face value. But age, and to some great extent, Cordelia has broadened him.

But even at his most old Vor, he could not have missed the armed weapon behind her eyes.]

The Imperial Navy of Barrayar. [Formerly, and he'd a mind and a nearly complete plan to overhaul that convoluted system. With his new duties, Admiral was, perhaps, understating, but abandoning such rank would give the illusion that one could simply retire from the Emperor's service.

Still, if she wished to play THAT role, he could put off the inquiry by her own script.]

It's a droll, political story.

[keep_nothing]

That you and A—your father should have this link, but not with your mother?

[dendarii]

Well - I'm not saying that, but -

[keep_nothing]

So how do you make a new liege relationship then?

[rathercommon]

Barrayar? I've never heard of that.

[ It's a lie she sells fairly convincingly, too. She is a good liar. If she hadn't been taken by surprise, she very well might not have let any clues slip - and even then, someone not so observant or astute might have missed her reaction, or taken it as reacting to something else. ]

Will you tell me about it? I'll buy you a coffee if you do, Mr Vorkosigan.

[dendarii]

[ Oh no. He thinks he probably knows where this is headed, but he can't help from responding. ]

You take an oath. A rather specific one - Mother, you're not wearing yourself to me.

[keep_nothing]

Heavens, no. That would be rather backwards.

[dendarii]

[ He relaxes instantly in relief. Ah, leave it to his mother to be sensible. ]

I am terribly relieved to hear it.

[use_everything]

[That seemed to throw the older man off guard yet again. He wasn't sure it was safe to hope, or dare to breathe a sigh. From the very moment he first heard of Admiral Naismith, he'd had nothing but assumptions.

He felt the aftermath of at least one of those acutely. He marshaled his emotions strictly, and again pushed back on the pain fogging his mind.]

I think I should begin the more civilized route: talking.

Can you tell me about it?

[use_everything]

Nothing comes to mind. There's no reward to such slander, no allies that could be curried from it.

The boy's accent is frankly Betan.

[keep_nothing]

Which makes even less sense than if he was Barrayaran.

[use_everything]

I would enjoy that, Miss Jones. [His expression is some practiced mix of pleasant and distant that Alys was possibly most familiar with.] As I'm new, I will trust in your taste.

[dendarii]

[ That damn pain. Miles won't exactly relish taking it back, but he will be glad once he has it. It feels wrong for his father to be clouded even a little. A man like Aral ought to be clear and sharp, always.

Softly, he blows out a breath. ]

It beats the alternative.

[ Black, black humor, that. He very lightly leans his head back against the couch, careful not to jostle anything. ]

The test? Or Grandfather?

[keep_nothing]

[ She smiles. That smile that tells Miles that should really have known better. ]

Glad to hear it. Off you go then, recite it to me.

[rathercommon]

[ Too bloody right you will. Like I'd go anywhere you directed. Kitty shoots a perfectly pleasant expression back at him and invites him: ]

This way.

[ And, as they walk: ]

Is your Barrayar - is that a country where you're from? From your world, I mean.

[dendarii]

[ Shit. He really, truly should have. That doesn't prevent his mind from coming to a screeching halt. ]

Mother, please!

[keep_nothing]

It makes the most sense to do it this way!

[dendarii]

You know enough about my head without a telepathic link!