use_everything | Voice Testing Post

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.]

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[ His laugh and the image he conjures startles a laugh out of her too, the tension in her relaxing. ]

I think I actually heard Drou saying the same thing just the other day.

[He offers out,] I thought it was surreal enough being here, that first day, but this must be doubly so for you. An extra helping, finding Miles and myself drastically fast-forwarded.

I'm still trying to wrap my head around it, honestly.

[ She leans her hip against the counter she's next to. It probably seems both foreign and familiar to Gregor: Cordelia relaxing around him, treating him as Gregor the man rather than Gregor the emperor; he might also remember her commenting every now and then on how restricting those Barrayaran court-ish clothes are (and then in the next breath gush about the new dress Aunt Alys had just gotten her, but that's besides the point). To see her now in native civilian clothing, relaxed enough to slouch ... ]

[He is much more used to her sweeping in like a traveling armada and ordering all the occupants of the room about to their places, it's true. But this seems weirdly natural on her, actually more natural, and it sends up a tiny pang of old bitterness at how much is sacrificed to the Imperial cage. Not just by him but by those around him.

His expression of sympathetic interest doesn't waver.] I can't blame you. I won't lie, I'm doing a bit of that myself. The two of you have always seemed very... [He waves the tongs vaguely.] Indomitable.

[ She gives a low whistle, that little smile coming back, oblivious to that hint of bitterness. ]

Indomitable, huh. I hope I wasn't too hard on you then.

... Can I ask, how ... how old are you now?

No-- no. It was not a comment meant to censure, I assure you. [More just a child's in awe of his protectors, a bastion of safety in an extremely dangerous, frightening world for Gregor from very early on.

He hesitates a moment, then looks over at her directly.] I'm twenty-five; Miles is twenty.

[ She shakes her head a bit, dumbly, just trying to imagine what she's missed. She looks him over, head to toe and back again, trying to reconcile the little boy she knows against this man standing before her. ]

Twenty-five ... so you must be Emperor now. Have been for a few years.

Yes, for better or worse, [he says, with a whole host of complicated, indecipherable emotions behind it, and it really speaks to his relationship with the Cordelia of his time that he says up front that he has mixed feelings about it.]

[ She offers a soft smile. ]

Better, I'm sure.

You're so sure of that, so easily.

[It's a little... overwhelming.]

[ The smile widens. ]

Well, I haven't seen or heard anything yet to contradict my first impression.

Edited 2016-01-17 04:09 (UTC)

Mm, assume the best until you're proven the worst? You do get results that way.

[He means very specifically you, as in her, though he's employed that tactic himself before.]

I'll ask you to tell me all about it. But—later, after Aral has no doubt grilled you about it, in excruciating detail, I'm sure.

No doubt, [he agrees, droll. Clearly he's used to that phenomenon.

Gregor thinks about what she might like to know instead, shuts the heat off, and slides the rice and vegetables and chicken into a serving bowl to cool before facing her directly again.]

It occurs to me you might like knowledge of a different nature. I did grow up with Miles, you know. [And he doesn't say it outright but he knows he is not very forthcoming with his parents. Which Gregor understands, honestly he does, but he also sympathizes deeply with Cordelia's urge to know her son and it pains him sometimes in a way exclusive to orphans to see her remain ignorant of him.]

[ Her eyes and even her whole self seem to light up with the change of subject, clearly hungry to know more. ]

You did? Then you—we did raise you ... together?

[ She can't help the small not of hesitancy in her voice towards the end there. She knows how she feels about the subject now: awkward and somewhat conflicted considering how she met his father and of his true end. She had only really started to figure out how she might approach Gregor while in charge of his upbringing, but the five-years-old-Gregor seems a different beast than talking to Gregor-in-front-of-her about it. ]

[That question deserves a more complicated answer than Cordelia might be expecting; Gregor palpably hesitates for a moment, looking uncertain, but he imagines even younger she is likely to appreciate the plain unvarnished truth.]

In a way. I... think of you as my foster-parents, [he says, cagey despite his intent, not quite able to stomach saying directly, You're my foster-mother and I miss you dearly at times, or even worse, Your husband can't bring himself to name himself as my father in any way and I cannot blame him.] Though I understand it is not a role you might have looked for at this age.

[He sounds very neutral about supplying his supposed foster-mother with an out to caring about him too overtly right now, and continues on without a blip. Obviously what she's interested in is what he'd know about Miles and he can't blame her; it's why he'd offered it out in the first place.]

We weren't raised physically together, obviously; I've always been at the Residence, and we're far enough apart in age that by the time he was walking I was always in lessons or the academy or my mandatory period of service... [An oblique, slightly awkward shrug.] But I did traipse around with Miles and Ivan and occasionally Elena from time to time.

[ She seems to relax at his choice words though, her momentary hesitation eased. Though to Gregor, it may seem like she's getting side-tracked form the subject of Miles, a soft smile playing at her lips. She's talking to Gregor now. Even Miles, her son, can wait a moment for this. And the rest of it be damned. ]

With Ivan and Elena too ... I'm afraid it sounds like you were rather outnumbered with smaller children.

[So even then he'd meant something to her; not just a child she'd had to grow to love. Gregor hadn't even known that was a concern he'd ever had, but he finds it being soothed, anyway. His memories of her that young are a mad hazy rush of confusion, being swept through the mountains holding onto her skirts.

He leans forward on the counter on his elbows, bracing himself, and gains a similar wisp of a smile.] I didn't mind too much. They always forgot I was Emperor, you see.

[ She grins wider, both at what he said as well as his posture. It's the most relaxed she'd seen of him here yet. ]

The little scamps. How dare they. I hope it did you some good.

[Cordelia is the person he's most open with in the universe after Miles (which at this point is a drastically unfair comparison, Miles so outstrips everyone else). It's hard for him to completely abandon that, and in any case, he wouldn't want to. It just being the two of them alone goes a long way for him.

His smile widens just a little.] It did. And you were always careful to puncture my bubble if the Imperialness started going to my head, don't worry. [Clearly he harbors no ill feelings about that.]

Oh no, I wonder if I should ask just how I did that.

With one extraordinarily well-placed, utterly mild, pointed remark. Your aim is acute.

[Gregor may or may not have picked up a similar ability from her; it's just unrefined in him at present, making rare appearances. Now that he's turned to very lightly teasing instead of seriously reminiscing, he turns to pull down to plates and start to serve the food.]

[ She automatically reaches to help, stepping in closer to his personal space to take the plates from him. There's absolutely no hesitation in doing this either; she could be in her apartment on Beta Colony, helping her own mother serve dinner with the familiar ease she's showing Gregor. It occurs to her, belatedly, that he might be uncomfortable with it, but what he's said so far ... she does make sure to keep a watchful eye on his reactions though, resolving to back off if he reacts badly. ]

You know, I'm actually surprised at this. I can't imagine having gotten away with teaching you how to cook too.

[On the contrary, Gregor takes a lot of comfort from, as Miles had put it, the fact that all of their ranks seem like optical illusions to her. Sometimes he does need someone who understands intuitively his position in life, but even more often he just wants someone to not give a flip what his family name is.

It's quite relaxing, spending time with her. Plus she is always so sensible and he is, normally, equally so.]

You didn't, [he answers her simply, appearing to maneuver around her without thinking about it. There's some slight self-consciousness, but it's only born from the knowledge that she might form some separate judgement of him, different and distinct from the Cordelia he knows.] I learned to cook here. Self-defense.

But I don't see why you'd be surprised at 'getting away' with anything. [He looks at her curiously. Thought of her as indomitable indeed.]

[ It pleases her immensely that there's only a hint of self-consciousness, tugging another smile on her lips.. ]

Self-defense, huh? From starvation, I take it. I guess Miles would be in the same boat on that too, growing up a lord's son.

I guess I meant more I'm surprised that Illyan didn't have conniptions at what I allowed, or disallowed, you to do. Or maybe he did. I'm sure he would've had nightmares of you catching fire by standing too close to a heat plate.

[ She takes over the serving, taking the serving spoon from him, just barely missed brushing their hands together as she starts to shovel food onto the plates, handing the first plate to him after she deems it adequately filled. ]

Come to think of it ... do you happen to remembers Drou's wedding night?

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