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

[dendarii]

Me? No, I knew better than that. Ivan on the other hand ...

[keep_nothing]

Uh oh, do I want to hear this about Alys' sweet boy?

[dendarii]

[ Miles snorts at that. Fondly, because he does love Ivan, and yet ... ]

We've all come to the conclusion that he can't actually be as stupid as he pretends to be, or else he wouldn't get out of nearly so much.

[keep_nothing]

Why do I have the impression that you're the one to get him out of trouble?

[dendarii]

In his defense, it's usually my fault to begin with.

[keep_nothing]

Should you really be telling your mother that?

[dendarii]

You know it all in the end. Maybe you'll worry less if you know what I've survived already.

[keep_nothing]

[ That cools he amusement some. ]

"Survived", huh?

[dendarii]

[ He'd meant it as a comfort, truly; he tries to extend some of that to her now. ]

Yes. I've made a life for myself, despite everything. You and Da gave me all the fighting chance you could.

[keep_nothing]

[ She is comforted by it, more deeply than he could know. She reaches out to cup his cheek again, her touch light, thumb sweeping his cheek just under his eye. ]

[dendarii]

[ He leans into that touch, his love for her springing up like the sudden light of a candle. Warm, glowing, and fierce. ]

I survived, Mother. I'm still here.

[keep_nothing]

[ Her other hand joins the first, holding his face she leans in closer (pointedly ignoring the aches it causes). She rests her forehead against Miles', her son's. Just for a moment, confirming his existence. ]

[dendarii]

[ He can't raise his hands to her shoulders in return, however he might want to. Instead he settles for leaning back against her forehead. ]

I'm all right. It - it hasn't been easy, but I am here.

[keep_nothing]

Thank goodness.

[ Her voice is tight with emotion, but it's not at all constrained over their link. Profound relief and brilliant joy and heartbreaking guilt and above it all she repeats what she thought on the day of his birth: Live. Live. Live. ]

[dendarii]

[ It's refreshing to feel that; he could just about drown himself in it. ]

I can tell you good stories too. Ridiculous ones. Not just messes.

[keep_nothing]

All of them. I'd want to hear all of it. Because that's life, isn't it? No point in shielding it from me.

[dendarii]

... All right. All of it then. [ He laughs a bit. ] I just don't know where to start.

[keep_nothing]

Doesn't matter where so long as I get to hear you tell it.

[dendarii]

[ He really has to think. There's just so much ... He feels he should start somewhere relatively light. ]

Well - I'm in ImpSec now. God help both Gregor and Simon Illyan.

[keep_nothing]

[ She relaxes again, letting her hands slide from Miles' face. She rearranges herself to tuck up one leg onto the cough to better face him, wincing only a little at the ache that produces. Though she does take his hand if she can, not wanting to let go of him entirely just yet. ]

That seems sensible, at least. Do you work directly under Illyan?

[dendarii]

[ He allows it gladly, setting himself up comfortably as well. ]

Basically. They tried giving me a regular post to teach me proper subordination ... Didn't really work out. Illyan was the only one that would take me after that.

[keep_nothing]

[ She smirks a bit. It sounds like a very Betan trait to her. ]

Trouble with subordination, huh? It can't be good for a military career if no one will work with you.

[dendarii]

Poison, in fact. I primarily serve as ImpSec's liaison to the Dendarii Free Mercenary Fleet.

[ He's grinning rather widely at that - there's a hell of a story. ]

[keep_nothing]

[ She blinks, both at the name as well as his grin. ]

The what now?

[dendarii]

A mercenary fleet. 3000 personnel, about 13 capital ships. I ... er, accidentally created them.