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

[dendarii]

[ Infectious too; he can't help but be lifted up with her, feeling all that. ]

I feel a bit terrible about it.

[keep_nothing]

But not near enough to tell the poor sod.

[dendarii]

Never quite did. He got his money in the end.

[keep_nothing]

Really? How'd you manage that?

[dendarii]

Forward momentum. Carried it so far I came out the other side eventually.

[keep_nothing]

[ She hums softly, still glowing from her laugh. ]

Must be a family trait.

[dendarii]

I think so. You and father both ...

[keep_nothing]

You're the result of that too.

[ She reaches out for him, her fingers running through his hair. Her touch is soft and gentle, slow and taking her time as if she was feeling out every single hair that brushes past her fingers. ]

[dendarii]

[ Ah. He leans into that, deeply comforted. His head is significantly less scarred than the rest of him; they mostly start at his neck and go down from there. ]

A worthy result?

[keep_nothing]

[ She lowers her voice, warm and intimate, the emotion echoed through the link. ]

The very best.

[dendarii]

[ He can't get over that no matter how many times he feels it. It's as pure a balm for his soul as Gregor's unconditional acceptance. ]

I am ... very glad you think so.

[keep_nothing]

[ Sensing that, moving closer in their link, minds tangling a little bit more so he can feel it all the better. She leans in, physically too, resting their foreheads together. ]

[dendarii]

[ He's more than happy to relax into both, sinking into that fondness all the more. ]

Sorry. I - you must tire of saying it so often.

[keep_nothing]

Never.

[dendarii]

[ Dammit, here his voice goes cracking again. Too overwhelmed with emotion, all that brightness pouring straight down the abyss that is his self-worth issues. (But oh so soothing in the moment.) ]

Mother...

[keep_nothing]

[ She leans in all the more, closing the distance of their minds, her love and complete and utter acceptance of him shining all the stronger. ]

Just remember it.

[dendarii]

[ He shivers a little in her arms. It's almost too much, like putting his hand in a fire. ]

I - I will. I promise.

[keep_nothing]

[ Oops,she's getting this link stuff wrong again. She slowly withdraws again, or ties to, until it's no longer that blinding light but just a warm glow, unwavering and constant so long as their link is open. ]

[dendarii]

[ Better. He doesn't feel quite so gloriously scorched now. ]

Sorry, it gets rather intense sometimes.

[keep_nothing]

I would imagine so. Was it like that when you [ gestures vaguely in the direction of their heads ] with Gregor? With that deep dive?

[dendarii]

Multiplied even more so, yes. I can still feel it sometimes. Like a brand.

[keep_nothing]

Ah, no wonder you're still sensitive from it.

[dendarii]

Yes. It's ... not bad at all. I feel as though it's sealed off something worse.

[keep_nothing]

Sealed off?

[dendarii]

Cauterizing a wound. -- Don't tell Gregor though, he'll think he injured me. Quite the opposite.