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]

[ Awkward is the word of the day, it seems.

Cordelia is barely half a step behind Aral when they come back inside; indeed, almost bumping into Aral from behind when he stops. She catches herself in time though, spared that small indignity in front of the men she's supposedly raised in the missing years she can't yet account for.

She stays to the background for now, watching the tension as if trying to figure out how to navigate it before taking the first plunge ... ]

[dendarii]

[ And of course Miles is here too, having worked things out with Aral (more or less) and past Cordelia's initial impressions too. He's ... honestly not sure which is worse, though one has left the more obvious mark. He's on the couch while Gregor cooks and talks to Aral, both shoulders bound up by casts; the left arm is in a full sling as well, having been the more badly injured of the two. He's desperately grateful to have healers who can take the worst damage away from him; this will all be gone tomorrow, once Lucy has had a chance to recover enough.

He's awful quiet, though. Mind still whirling, working through the enormity of the situation. Then he sees his mother standing there, apparently working through much the same thing. ]

Better give them a bit of space, I think.

[keep_nothing]

[ She turns to face him, startled out of the thoughts whirling through her head much like Miles just had; her eyes hadn't really been staring at Gregor and Aral so much as through them, imagining who knows what sort of scenarios of what's happened between them all.

With one last glance at the Emperor—And he would be by that age, wouldn't he? No longer that frightened boy I held close while fleeing—and her husband, she joins Miles in the main living area. There's a beat of hesitation as she decides how close to sit next to him, finally deciding on a distance that might give a total stranger a sense of unconformable proximity or a family member a sense of cool separation, her knees just a couple inches away from his.

Then she meets Miles' eyes, probably twinging a memory from him. She always did face everything head-on, eyes forward, meeting his gaze with a steady look. She searches his face—her own being so much younger than he can ever recall ... smoother, firmer, her hair a brighter copper with no hint of gray at all—and her lips part just slightly, letting out an awed sigh. ]

God, how could I have not seen it before ...

[dendarii]

[ It's cool separation for Miles; he'd thought he might be pulled into a hug immediately, and sorely feels the lack despite knowing it would only have hurt his poor broken shoulder bones. God, it really is his mother. Younger than he's ever seen her - it's desperately strange and bewildering, especially for her. Aral has always been a terrifying wall; his mother, never so distant she feels right now.

He swallows thickly. ]

I'll just take it as a compliment. So good at maintaining my cover that my own parents didn't know me.

[keep_nothing]

[ Cordelia shakes her head, but if it's denial of what he said or in disbelief, even she's not sure. My own parents, he says. She absolutely can see it now, the strong resemblance to Aral, pieces and parts of herself in those eyes ... She settles on the only question her mind can supply at that moment. ]

Why?

[dendarii]

[ As a simple answer, he nods over to Gregor. ]

Because of him. I'd played with the Naismith persona a bit my first day, but I hadn't intended to keep it. But ... Gregor ...

[ He bites his lip a bit. ]

We couldn't tell anyone he's the Emperor of the Barrayaran Imperium. Everything else stemmed out from that single point.

[keep_nothing]

Stemmed and ballooned from what Aral—your father and I could see.

[ Gosh that fumble was painfully apparent, wasn't it. She's clearly not used to saying such things yet. ]

[dendarii]

[ Very clear. He's gotten some bits and pieces from Aral - made his own best guesses - but hasn't sat down to talk shop yet. It seems bizarre to try doing it with the father he knew from back home, much less this mess. ]

Yes, well ... it seems to be a talent of mine. Things getting out of hand.

... How ... old am I for you?

[keep_nothing]

[ She gives a faint snort, the corner of her mouth turning up slightly. ]

Wonder where you could have gotten that from.

[ Then her lips straighten into a line again, remembering the worry she felt earlier that day. She looks directly at Miles again, eyes a touch wider in their dull fear. ]

... Only days. You had just come out of the replicator.

[dendarii]

Both of you, as far as I can tell ...

[ But mostly his mother. The "Naismith" appellation is appropriate on more than one level, oh yes. He frowns a bit in turn, trying to even parse that. His parents only know him as a baby. Not even a baby of one or two years, that might have given him some incredibly hazy memory to go off of. He has nothing. Letting all his breath out in one long exhale, he decides to attempt lightness. ]

Good news, then. I live to be at least twenty. However twisted the journey.

[keep_nothing]

[ She suddenly blows out a breath she hadn't known she was holding, half a laugh and half ... something else that makes her throat and chest tight and her eyes burn, pooling unexpectedly. She's smiling though, covering her mouth with one hand while she swallows thickly. Her son lives. ]

[dendarii]

[ He'd meant it to be self-deprecating, as a "look how terrible your son turned out." Apparently his parents envisioned much worse. What a strange, alien thing to think ... ]

So it's not so bad, right? Coming here and - and finding me here. I never meant to besmirch your father's name.

[ It comes out in a whisper at the end. ]

[keep_nothing]

No ...

[ She drops the hand from her mouth to grasp at his hand, the one not in a sling. She'd rather wrap both of her arms around him and not let go for several hours, but she'd rather not crush him right now. ]

Not so bad at all.

[vorbarra]

[His attitude toward Cordelia entering is entirely different to anyone schooled in reading Gregor. He still seems distant, reserved, but he is much more openly shy, flicking glances over at her rather than forcing himself to meet her gaze directly or not at all.]

I'm not sure anyone else will be home for it, but you're welcome to eat with me once I'm done, [he offers immediately, aching a little with missing his foster-mother. But maybe this one will not be so different after all.

He can only find out. And she is the one he emulates emotional courage from, the ability to face himself.]

[keep_nothing]

[ She thinks she can read that in him, but really she's only guessing. Without the years that went in behind it, she's flying rather blind. The looks he's flicking over at her are encouraging though so she steps into the kitchen, keeping a good foot or two between them, but close enough that she can see what he's cooking. ]

I'd love to. Uh—Sire.

[ Smooth, Cordelia. Really smooth. ]

[vorbarra]

[Gregor is so startled he actually laughs briefly, a sort of choked off sound. A necessary release of tension.]

Oh, God, please don't. Not you, too. It just makes me picture you giving cool looks to my ImpSec babysitters about Sire needing a nap.

[keep_nothing]

[ His laugh and the image he conjures startles a laugh out of her too, the tension in her relaxing. ]

I think I actually heard Drou saying the same thing just the other day.

[vorbarra]

[He offers out,] I thought it was surreal enough being here, that first day, but this must be doubly so for you. An extra helping, finding Miles and myself drastically fast-forwarded.

[keep_nothing]

I'm still trying to wrap my head around it, honestly.

[ She leans her hip against the counter she's next to. It probably seems both foreign and familiar to Gregor: Cordelia relaxing around him, treating him as Gregor the man rather than Gregor the emperor; he might also remember her commenting every now and then on how restricting those Barrayaran court-ish clothes are (and then in the next breath gush about the new dress Aunt Alys had just gotten her, but that's besides the point). To see her now in native civilian clothing, relaxed enough to slouch ... ]

[vorbarra]

[He is much more used to her sweeping in like a traveling armada and ordering all the occupants of the room about to their places, it's true. But this seems weirdly natural on her, actually more natural, and it sends up a tiny pang of old bitterness at how much is sacrificed to the Imperial cage. Not just by him but by those around him.

His expression of sympathetic interest doesn't waver.] I can't blame you. I won't lie, I'm doing a bit of that myself. The two of you have always seemed very... [He waves the tongs vaguely.] Indomitable.

[keep_nothing]

[ She gives a low whistle, that little smile coming back, oblivious to that hint of bitterness. ]

Indomitable, huh. I hope I wasn't too hard on you then.

... Can I ask, how ... how old are you now?

[vorbarra]

No-- no. It was not a comment meant to censure, I assure you. [More just a child's in awe of his protectors, a bastion of safety in an extremely dangerous, frightening world for Gregor from very early on.

He hesitates a moment, then looks over at her directly.] I'm twenty-five; Miles is twenty.

[keep_nothing]

[ She shakes her head a bit, dumbly, just trying to imagine what she's missed. She looks him over, head to toe and back again, trying to reconcile the little boy she knows against this man standing before her. ]

Twenty-five ... so you must be Emperor now. Have been for a few years.

[vorbarra]

Yes, for better or worse, [he says, with a whole host of complicated, indecipherable emotions behind it, and it really speaks to his relationship with the Cordelia of his time that he says up front that he has mixed feelings about it.]

[keep_nothing]

[ She offers a soft smile. ]

Better, I'm sure.