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]

Oh could you.

[dendarii]

I've heard stories, at least. Wild ones. Something about vomiting being the only reason Da didn't shoot you on sight?

[keep_nothing]

[ She gives a faint grown with one hand half-covering her face, exasperation and amusement mingled along the link. She wished Aral would stop telling it like that. ]

I had a serious concussion at the time. But yes, I probably would've tried to reach for a weapon or even a rock had my stomach not rebelled.

[dendarii]

[ Gosh. It's cute. Miles can't help but grin fondly. ]

I'm glad that you didn't, then.

[keep_nothing]

Me too, but how is that an example of me rushing into things?

[dendarii]

The rest of it. Something about having fallen head over heels by the end of the trip?

[keep_nothing]

Then you should know that your father claims he fell in love within five minutes, after the vomiting. I had only done so after two days.

[ She adds a mental so there. Very mature adulting here. ]

[dendarii]

[ Miles can't help but laugh a little at that. ]

All right, all right. Da outstrips you on that one. I'd say charging in to retrieve me counts, though.

[keep_nothing]

Only because it became necessary!

[ There's a slight dampening of her mood on that particular topic, but she tries not to let it infect the conversation. Continues smiling. She deliberately chose not to say "because your father made it necessary." ]

[dendarii]

[ Whoops. At least he got that rattle of warning; he shies away from it accordingly. ]

Or how about moving to Barrayar at all? You practically escaped Beta Colony.

[keep_nothing]

[ She covers her face again, the exasperation/embarrassment/amusement rising once more. Her reply is muffled by her hand, but Miles should just barely to be able to make out: ]

In my slippers, no less ...

[dendarii]

I didn't hear that part. Did you wear them all the way to Barrayar?

[keep_nothing]

No. Only to Escobar.

[dendarii]

Only Escobar. Of course.

[keep_nothing]

It was a freighter! No stops!

[dendarii]

They didn't have anything you could borrow? Even I managed that with the Dendarii.

[keep_nothing]

There was only the pilot, and he didn't, ah ... expect to have visitors on that run. Ten minutes before take-off.

[dendarii]

Poor pilot then. I'm surprised he let you.

[keep_nothing]

It was because he was chosen for a secret mission for the president!

[ She suddenly frowns, comically, eyes darting for her answer. ]

Wait, was that the excuse I gave? I think it was ...

[dendarii]

[ Oh no. He's surprised - and delighted by that. ]

Wait. I didn't hear that part of the story.

[keep_nothing]

That's about all there was to it. I just said the first thing that came to mind so he'd let me on, not ask questions, and not draw attention to himself thereby drawing attention to me.

[dendarii]

... I think I know the feeling. Clearly I inherited that from you too.

[keep_nothing]

Oh is that right, Admiral Naismith?

[dendarii]

I've mortgaged farmland in Vorkosigan Vashnoi, in fact.

[keep_nothing]

[ She blinks, thinking for a moment. Maybe she's remembering wrong. ]

Vorkosigan Vashnoi? Isn't that—

[ Oh. Oh. ]