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]

[ She only lets out a small, strangled gasp of pain, nearly falling over herself with her momentum. She barely manages to stay standing, hovering dangerously close over Miles, catching those bits and pieces through the near-blinding pain. ]

[dendarii]

[ It dims, thankfully, after a moment, though everything else is still raw. Even with analgesics, Miles' broken bones are a terror to deal with. He groans, faintly, unable to get back up. Damn these restraints. ]

A-are you all right?

[keep_nothing]

I should be asking you that.

[ She hates that she can't hide the tremor in her voice just then. She moves stiffly, wincing as she does, bending down to try and help Miles up without twisting or bruising anything else on him. The effort is made harder and more awkward by the casts, but she grits her teeth to bear it. ]

[dendarii]

I'm fine. Didn't feel a thing.

[ The gratitude leaks over, though, as she helps him sit back up. ]

-- It's all right. I've done so much worse to myself, you have no idea.

[keep_nothing]

[ She can believe that just from what little she's heard so far. But now that her mind isn't screaming with is he hurt?, her momentary adrenaline seeps out of her, causing her to sit on the floor with him as the aches are that much more powerful. She flops onto the ground next to him, her knee bumping his. ]

[dendarii]

[ Careful not to jostle his injuries further, Miles edges closer to her. A moment's hesitation, and then he leans against her shoulder. A familiar gesture, accompanied by the memory of having done so many times as a child. Seated like this, the only way for him not to be completely lost in the height gap between them. ]

I didn't ... realize. That Bothari held the sword.

[keep_nothing]

[ She automatically leans towards him as well, comforted by that small gesture. Then her posture stiffens. ]

... What did you say?

[dendarii]

[ Confusion from Miles, still half heartsick from the vision he'd seen. ]

With Vordarian. Removing the head. I always thought you had done that.

[keep_nothing]

How did you—?

[ Just complete and utter confusion from her, with a side of oh shit. ]

[dendarii]

.... It came across. The link. Weren't you thinking of it just now?

[keep_nothing]

I was but—that can—you can see that?

[ A belated panic rises in her, she hadn't meant for that. She wouldn't want anyone to see that. ]

[dendarii]

I ...yes. As if I were standing there myself.

[ It comes out as a croak. ]

[keep_nothing]

[ Her hands cover her mouth as if that could hide her horror. ]

Oh Miles. I'm sorry, I hadn't—I didn't mean for you—for anyone to see that.

[dendarii]

I - I know. I didn't realize myself that we could do that. Gregor and I have been rather more abstract.

[ He tries, very awkwardly, to reach for her with the arm that isn't as badly damaged. ]

[keep_nothing]

[ It takes her a couple seconds to calm down before she can reach back for him, gripping rather tightly. ]

Trust me to find a new thing out the most painful way. I'm sorry ...

[dendarii]

It seems to be our way of things. Mine, for sure.

[keep_nothing]

Maybe it's only with more poignant memories ...

[ She says that more for her own benefit than his, trying to wrap her head around it. As her panic recedes, she recalls that she had seen something of Miles memory too. Her stomach drops a bit when she realizes she recognizes the woman who was standing over Bothari's body. ]

[dendarii]

[ Miles feels the stomach drop but not the cause. What a strange sensation. ]

What is it?

[keep_nothing]

[ She swallows because her mouth is suddenly dry. ]

How ... was Bothari killed?

[dendarii]

[ A sudden, black flare of guilt. Darkening the otherwise busy brightness of his mind. ]

... My own fault. I discovered that Elena Visconti was among the Dendarii and arranged a meeting. She killed him.

[keep_nothing]

[ Her hand tightens in her grip on Miles'. ]

Why on earth did you think that was a good idea?

[dendarii]

[ A physical, visceral flinch at that. More guilt in streaming black clots. ]

I didn't know! I thought - it would bring Elena and Bothari joy --!

[keep_nothing]

[ She reaches her other hand to join the first, holding his hand with both. She's kicking herself for that; good job, Cordelia, might as well accuse him of killing Bothari himself. She wants to reach through the link and just bat those clots away, fill him with light instead. She tries to send reassurance, apology over. ]

No—no, you're right. I'm sorry. That was our doing, Bothari didn't want her to know ...

[dendarii]

[ Breathe, dammit. He lets her in, as much as it may hurt, to help clear the worst of it out. Slowly the agony trickles back into mere guilt. ]

She didn't. Neither of us did until that precise moment.

[keep_nothing]

[ She holds Miles close in their minds as close as she can't do at the moment physically, the mental equivalent of holding him to her bosom. ]

We have ImpSec retain the records. I'm sure Illyan covered it. ... Is that how you found out, working for ImpSec?