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 thinks for a moment, going over a couple options before dismissing them in turn before she settles on one.

She takes that mental step closer over the link, getting a little better about this already. She shares her memory of Miles, the second time she got to see him in the flesh ...

Happy birthday, she had thought, Aral's arm around her had tightened enough to hurt, his muffled laugh in her ear as Dr. Ritter had cut Miles out of his biological packaging, slicing through the nutrient tubing. Her heart swelled as Miles gave his first cry, weak and thin compared to his cousin Ivan's angry, hungry bellow at his birth. She blinked back her own tears as she took in his tiny, wizened, and wrinkled form. His spine noticeably deformed, legs frozen in a tight bend, but he kept breathing, kept fighting for every breath. Alive. My son ... ]

[dendarii]

[ Oh. He's taken aback by how small he looks - but more importantly, by the amazement he can feel coming from his mother. Proud to have him even in such a tiny, deformed state. How much more, then, must she be happy to see him alive and mobile twenty years later ...

He chokes a little himself, trying to hold back tears. ]

[keep_nothing]

[ She leans in close again, cupping his face and wiping under his eyes as if the tears had already fallen. Her own eyes were pools too. ]

Now you see the joy you give us.

[dendarii]

[ He leans into her touch gladly, bowing his head. ]

Yes ... yes, I think I do. I'd been so concerned about how I'd turned out I wasn't thinking about how I'd started ...

[keep_nothing]

You had a rough start, that's for sure.

[dendarii]

And a rough middle. And a rough everything else ...

[ He sucks in a deep breath. ]

But I am still here.

[keep_nothing]

I want to see those years, how you grew ... [ She gives a small laugh. ] Can you be jealous of yourself?

[dendarii]

I suppose you can be. But you'll just catch up with yourself someday.

[ He pauses, considering. Trying to find good, safe one to show her that wouldn't draw down questions or concern ... Few of his memories are completely untouched by bittersweetness or pain.

Ah, but riding. Fat Ninny ... That one will work. He gives her a mental image of being about ten, atop the horse's back (positively enormous from his perspective) and flying around with more speed than he could ever possibly manage on his short, crippled legs. Glorious in the extreme. ]

[keep_nothing]

[ She inhales at the vision, her gaze fading inward with the memory. Her concern comes after she remembers his joy, the sheer rush of weightlessness upon the beast's back, and the fondness for the animal herself. It's hard to negate his emotions with the motherly panic at the inherent danger for him. Eventually she just half mutters to herself with a little smile, shaking her head lightly. ]

Of course it's a damn horse. You really are Piotr's grandchild ...

[dendarii]

[ A belated apology, as well - but it was such a good one he couldn't pass it up. A second, more complicated image rises to the surface of his mind: him and Piotr playing a strategy game against each other. The memory itself is blissful, but Bothari watching carefully from a corner casts a long shadow... ]

Yes. He and I - it was complicated, but I loved him.

[keep_nothing]

... How did you grow closer?

[dendarii]

The horses, to begin with. I was riding nearly before I could walk. And I proved to be very intelligent. We had many discussions on military history and tactics. He's the reason why I wanted to enter the Service so badly.

[keep_nothing]

To make him proud?

[dendarii]

[ He swallows, thickly. Stronger, now, is the image of Piotr in bed, old and worn and critically ill. Hanging on to a few last threads, namely Miles' news ... which he is forced to give. Failing the physical exam. Piotr's disappointment - hidden, somewhat, behind the old man trying to blame Aral's democracy and Vorhalas' soltoxin in being gears of change that had crushed Miles. The concern is real, but so too is the disappointment. A whiff of despair. And Miles' own quiet agony at having let his grandfather down one more time, all his struggles cast off to the excuse of outside pressures. As if it weren't his own damn fault for not jumping down off the wall and shattering his legs ... ]

Yes. Yes ... very much so.

[keep_nothing]

[ Her breath catches in her throat, one hand going to her chest as if she could soothe the ache there. ]

That was ...

[dendarii]

[ -- Dammit. If it was that vivid for him, she must have seen it too. ]

Sorry. I didn't mean - I'm trying to give you happy memories.

[keep_nothing]

[ She shakes her head lightly, eyes downcast. ]

The happy ones aren't always so poignant.

[dendarii]

Scars last longer, after all.

... He died shortly after that.

[keep_nothing]

Oh, Miles. I'm so sorry.

[dendarii]

[ He shrugs a little, the ache still burning in his chest. ]

One last disappointment to speed him on his way.

[keep_nothing]

[ His shrug causes her to ache as well, both physically and emotionally. No matter how much she hated Piotr at the moment, it was clear he meant a great deal to Miles.

She leans in again despite the aches, wrapping her arms around him again. She knows it won't help. But. ]

But look at what you did since then. He'd be proud of that.

[dendarii]

[ That only makes his shoulders ache worse, but at least Cordelia's taking it and not him. He leans back against her, comfort taking the edge off his pain regardless. ]

I ... I hope so. I did end up in the service in the end.

[keep_nothing]

In a very flashy manner too. Maybe he'd be impressed.

[dendarii]

Very possibly.

[ Or would he scorn Miles' roundabout route? Hell. He doesn't know. No sense in wondering too much. ]

Iillyan is terribly frustrated with me, though.

[keep_nothing]

I can't imagine why.