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

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[He would like to leave her that, to simply agree. His hand traces down her side, soothing.]

Without Admiral Naismith all of Greg Vorthys falls into doubt.

No, it must be committed in full or deconstructed.

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[ She lets out a slow sigh, closing her eyes briefly to feel his hand all the more. Her voice lowers almost to a whisper. ]

So deconstruction isn't out of the question?

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[He shakes his head.]

Not as such. It's as viable an option as continuing.

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[ She knows what she wants her answer to be, but ... ]

And Gregor?

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He is the one, most of all of us, who stands to gain most or lose all while here. ... You the second most.

Our son favors dropping it all, but when he talked he was only worried about the name. I told him to talk to Gregor. I would speak with you.

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[ She tilts her head up to look at him. ]

Why am I second? I would think you would be, being the actual Lord Vorkosigan.

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All that's offended is my reputation. As I'm aware of the truth of the matter, it is hardly an issue.

If we were to catalog all what I consider more valuable we'd need to hire on a microbiologist to start.

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[ She gives a faint smile, head still turned up to him. ]

Still not sure why I rate second though ...

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[His hand reaches up to cup the side of her face, thumb brushing lightly over her lips once.]

On one path is a simpler life. Not free of trouble or danger, but I'm afraid, dear Captain, that is beyond my power.

On the other is more politics and games. Your association to me, being what it would be, might face you with difficulties as well. Still, if anyone could navigate this without damage to her honor...

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[ She tilts her head into his hand, her smile growing briefly wider under his thumb. It dims slightly at the latter choice he describes, knowing the impact it would have on not just her, but both of them. ]

Offering me a choice when Ezar offered you none ...

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[He doesn't answer that, expression lidded. His hand remains on her cheek, warm.]

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[ She keeps her gaze on him, eyes looking into his. She lifts her hand to his, covering his fingers with her own. ]

This is your choice as much as mine. What do you want? And I don't mean what you think is right or should be done to keep everyone safe ... what do you want?

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[His eyes were stormy, the struggle and consternation it brought with it reflected clearly in in them. It had an echo to the words Gregor had used early to throw him off.

It was such a Betan sentiment. But, he was not Barrayaran to the bone, it permeated to the cellular level.]

I'm not sure that's so easy for me to separate.

...

Let me sleep on it.

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[ She knew it would not be an easy question for him, letting that storm brew in him for the hope that it would settle and clear on its own. She leans up to press her lips to his in a soft kiss. ]

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[Ah. That's it.

His absolution, his saving grace. Honestly, what else DID he need?

He smiles against her lips and pulls her gently across his lap before tilting his head up into the kiss, just as soft.]

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[ She laughs lightly as he moves her, taking it as encouragement to practically drape across his lap. She wraps both arms around his shoulders, one hand winding its fingers into his hair, mussing it up. She's not taking on their son's deep bone aches at the moment, but her body twinges in remembered pain at the semi-awkward pose.

But with Aral's arms around her and his lips against hers, she finds she really, really doesn't mind. ]

[dendarii]

[ And then, from behind the couch, there's the quiet noise of someone clearing his throat. ]

The bedrooms are upstairs.

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[ There's a small note of alarm at being caught so openly, her arms tightening around Aral as she quickly pulls her head back from him. Since she's on Aral's lap, she's in the better position to see Miles' face.

Then the absurdity of the situation suddenly makes her laugh; she stifles it before she can laugh outright, the sound coming out as a sort of muffled snort. Her thoughts are kind of singsong even in her own head: our own son just caught us being naughty~. ]

Yes, thank you, Miles.

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[While she laughes, Aral goes absolutely straight backed, shoulders up, gaze STEADFASTLY FORWARD.

For Miles, what had been a relaxation into some powerful, warm emotion, suddenly shuttered so fast it completely cut the connection down in a moment of fluster.

He clears his throat, properly, and moves to untangle themselves.]

[dendarii]

[ Well. Now he nearly feels bad. But they were being awful obvious. ]

Would you like help finding it? The one on the end, maybe, with the thickest walls.

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[ She tactfully won't mention how messed up Aral's hair is then. Getting up gingerly from his lap, still recovering from Miles' pain earlier. Though she can;t help teasing while Miles' is wearing that expression. ]

Oh, I thought we'd take the one next to yours. Wanting to be close to our baby boy and all that loving parental stuff.

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[This is a neutral face. This is the most neutral of neutral faces. It's so neutral ImpSec would consider it a level up in new bland face techniques.]

Cordelia.

[dendarii]

[ Oh. God. A very clear note of dismay, like an exasperated bell. ]

Kindly do not provide me with a sibling, please.

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[ Her smile stays in place, only a small blip of movement to betray that anything is wrong on the outside. But along their link, Miles will catch the sudden coldness from his words. It's not his fault, not at all, but it brings up a despair that Cordelia isn't quite over yet, a longing and heartbreak and anger all at once. ]

... Would that we could.

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[Aral had found his feet as the small exchange took place. The look he gives her is quick but concerned. The light hand pressed to the small of her back is subtle, barely traceable.]