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

I plan to be no where near it. [There's a crack of dry humor there, under the long suffering expression.]

I likewise encourage a tactical retreat before the word "constitution" drops, and some decent wine.

Ah, see, you're missing all the fun. I think I'd prefer a front row seat.

Hm.

[The sound had a doubtful air of "suit yourself."]

Hm, indeed.

[ And that is very much a "I'll do what I want." Miles has relaxed, finally, having found some kind of even footing with his father. He reaches out carefully - suppressing a wince - and awkwardly moves to slide the dagger back into its sheath. ]

[He doesn't move to help, having picked up enough of Miles to see the blazingly obvious. It would hurt far more than it would help. Still, there's some relief in see him take it back, no matter how painful that looked. An acceptance after the last hour was more than he expected. The relief was sharp, a little poignant.]

Speaking of your mother, I should message her.

[This was not a discussion he was looking forward to having. Hello, dear. I nearly killed our son.]

[ Miles winces too - that will not be a fun conversation. ]

... Tell her it was my fault if need be. Because it is the truth, you know.

I wont have to tell her anything.

One look.

[ He just. Sighs, softly. ]

I do wish you'd contacted me over the network first. I could have explained.

I find anger pushes anything good or wise from me.

[He lets his gaze drop. It wasn't anything to do with HIM.]

You had used her name, her father's name in whole, and took to insult what I saw as my son. The combination lead to a loss of my intentions and better sense.

And thus injured your son instead.

[ He probably shouldn't have said that; apology floats over as soon as the words are out of his mouth. ]

I admit I hadn't thought how it might look to you two. Given that both you and Mother knew immediately when I took on the Naismith persona.

I did.

[The smile is weak as he continues.]

They've a few advantages, but .. It still stands. I apologize, wholeheartedly.

[ What a strange thing to hear. It makes his stomach contort a bit; unnerved more than relieved. But ... then again, it's not really for him, is it? His father needs to be able to make up for this. Always lower the wall for a retreating enemy ... ]

Apology accepted, then.

[ He hesitates. Speaking of which. ]

If ... you'd like - if we can manage that much finesse - I'd be grateful to split the pain I've got now.

[There is such an intense amount of gratefulness that it leaves Aral a little numb in its passing. Of all the direst of mistakes, one after another, there's one he can apologize for. The interplay understood, accepted and now kept tight. A new nightmare, but a new balm beside it.]

I would certainly wish to try.

[ Progress, then. Miles knows he's made the right choice, even if it does dent his pride slightly. A small thing to give up to soothe his father's spirits.

Also: he's still real fuckin' sore even with his pain meds. ]

Let's try then. See what happens, as Gregor is fond of saying.

[ He's not precisely sure how to push this kind of thing, but he starts to divide the flow of pain in his mind, trying to get it into two streams. ]

[For his part, Aral focuses on the radiation of it that comes in dull background pulses from Miles. It wasn't hard to recall how it had felt, some part of him still gave little phantom pangs, nerves over stimulated.

And gradually reclaims it, from the heavy throb in the shoulders, to the ache in the joints and the bones, for now, no more than the arthritic complaints he entertained on rainy evenings on Barrayar.]

[ Miles, in turn, lets it spool out - to a certain point. About where it reaches the divide he set up, he mentally envisions closing the spigot. There. Hold right there ... ]

I think ... it's set.

[ He certainly feels better, slumping a bit in relief. Between the healers and the pain meds it's nowhere near agony any more, but still throbbingly tender. ]

That's... reasonable.

[Between the two of them, and the aids, it was certainly far, far more manageable than it had been before.]

[ It's kind of nice. Miles lets out a long exhale and relaxes. ]

Just - tell me if it becomes too much.

[He shifts his shoulders, experimentally and nods.

Too much. That's a wonderfully subjective term.]

As you say.

[And then, with more reluctance, finds his comm from his pocket.]

And Gregor?

[He has no sketch of how that will go either.]

[ Ha. Hahaha. Oh god, Gregor. ]

He's probably going nuts. The last time my link got cut off suddenly, I was kidnapped for two weeks on a Russian submarine...

Edited 2016-01-24 15:23 (UTC)

...

How did you manage that one?

Thanks for assuming it's my fault somehow, Da. Completely random selection of imPorts, as near as we can tell.

[He doesn't quite manage to stop the smile. He DOES try.

He lifts his hands.]

There is a marked trend of accidents of speech, so far.

Though... random seems poorly planned, impulsive, even.

Edited 2016-01-24 15:41 (UTC)

[ God. He just rolls his eyes a bit, fondly. ]

A test, maybe. Or a mistake. Normally I am all for not interrupting an enemy while making a mistake, but ...

But the trap was on more than you. [There's approval there, another one of those small, new threads of pride.] Not to mention the far reaching effects.

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dendarii - 2016-01-24 18:15 (UTC) - Expand

use_everything - 2016-01-25 04:14 (UTC) - Expand