use_everything | Voice Testing Post

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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He goes silent for a few long seconds, turning that over.]

I didn't, really, but I found that I had to. [Gregor shakes his head.] It's not plaguing me so much these days. Please don't let me dredge up awful memories when you've just arrived.

[Miles has already assured him that he's not going to turn out like Serg, irrefutably. All the rest of it Gregor can handle on his own.]

[ She lets out a puff of relieved breath, but not for the fact that she's off the hook to talk about it. ]

Thank goodness. I didn't want you haunted by anything—anything that happened. Or could happen.

[Or could happen. She's hit the nail on the head with that one, as per usual. Gregor is stuck in a position of not wanting to lie to her (it did haunt him, does still haunt him) but also not wanting to invite the conversation. It's far too heavy for day one of their newly balancing relationship.]

In retrospect I definitely understand why you wouldn't tell me. [Though he'd felt a bit betrayed at the time. Now, wryly,] Being an adolescent is confusing enough on its own, without all the complications.

[ She senses that there's something to that, even without the link between them open. She doesn;t want to tug on that particular thread anyway, afraid this easiness between them would unravel. ]

Sorry to break it to you, kiddo, but being an adult is just as confusing. Then you get to throw politics into it.

[Gregor is very thankful for her grace in that.]

I've always had the politics, at least, [he says dolefully.] But couldn't you have told me it doesn't get less confusing? It's been a nasty shock.