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's helpless in this department, wanting to comfort Miles but not knowing how to. ]

I suppose it's no comfort to have you mother say that you look normal to her, is it.

[dendarii]

[ It's a big issue anyway. Hard to just pull out by the roots. ]

If you'd met me taller, you'd thought that normal too.

[keep_nothing]

[ A soft sigh. ]

I would have, but only because I wouldn't know different.

[dendarii]

That's what I meant. You don't know any different for this body too.

[keep_nothing]

So ... that means whatever shape or size you are, it's normal for Miles.

[dendarii]

... How do you always manage to cut straight to the heart of things?

[keep_nothing]

[ She raises her shoulders and holds it, comedic with her smile. ]

Mother's intuition?

[dendarii]

Maybe just your intuition. Especially unfair with me.

[keep_nothing]

Is it unfair if it prevents senseless acts of stupid decisions?

[dendarii]

[ He flinches guiltily. How had she known? He'd thought he'd kept the thought away from the front of his mind. ]

... Sure it is. I enjoy my stupid, senseless acts.

[keep_nothing]

[ She just keeps smiling, not giving anything away except for a vague sense of smugness. ]

The acts, sure, but not the results. I know how those go too.

[dendarii]

Yes, well ...

[ He sighs faintly. ]

When's the last time you did something like that?

[keep_nothing]

Honestly? Retrieving you. It just happened to have the added benefit of retrieving Alys, Ivan, and the government of Barrayar.

[ Though underneath her words is the fierce guilt and regret of losing Padma and Kareen. ]

[dendarii]

[ Ah. He stifles the first comment that comes to mind, then, and instead says: ]

A mixed result, at least.

[keep_nothing]

[ She catches his restraint. She appreciates it, but ... ]

... What were you going to say?

[dendarii]

...

That I was biased in thinking that was an unabashedly good outcome. But you lost others, didn't you?

[keep_nothing]

[ She nods, reluctant to speak of it, but Miles should know. ]

Padma Vorpatril, Ivan's father, was hiding with Alys in the capital. We chanced across them, not prepared to help them because of our time constraints. We were going to leave the following morning when they were raided; they'd found him because he was trying to find a doctor for Alys who had started going into labor.

[ Her hand in Miles' hair tightens ever so slightly, not enough to hurt him, but enough to convey her grief. ]

He was shot in the melee we had caused, nerve disruptor to the back of the head. He'd been trying to get to Alys, staggering and penta-drunk but trying to protect her from those guards from killing her and Ivan.

[dendarii]

[ Ah. He's not surprised, exactly, but the visceral detail is painful all the same. ]

I knew the story, but not ... all of that. I didn't realize.

[keep_nothing]

[ She nods. She'd guessed. ]

Aral and I probably didn't want you to know as children. And then there was Kareen—

[ Her voice tightens uncontrollably towards the end, cutting herself off before it can continue. Damn it, Cordelia, keep it together in front of your son. ]

[dendarii]

[ Oh god. He tries to be comforting, leaning in close to her. If only his arms weren't strapped to his sides... ]

Gregor's mother?

[keep_nothing]

[ She nods, though it's several moments before she can speak again. Miles will get a jumble of images from his mother: the shape of a woman, curled up in an almost fetal position at the edge of some bed while a man takes up most of it, another of her own hand being held out, a small shoe in its grip and the same woman across from her, her eyes widening at the sight of it, yet another of the same woman with her face muscles locked in a last expression of death-agony, her mouth open as the blue nerve disruptor fire enveloped around her head. ]

I—I had gotten her killed. Given her the hope that Gregor was alive, and she tried to take her revenge on Vordarian. Too soon ...

[dendarii]

... Timing kills more surely than a disruptor blast.

[ Bothari echoed in return - god, like mother like son. The images are painful, difficult to swallow; he reels a bit dizzily at that last one. ]

[keep_nothing]

[ She holds Miles close, both for comfort and to be comforting, not sure that either is working. ]

It was hard ... to look at Gregor after that. Aral and I told him about his mother ourselves. It had gotten better by the time we were appointed as his guardians, but every now and then I still see her in him ...

[dendarii]

... And it hurts nearly as much as the first time?

[keep_nothing]

[ Nods (carefully!) against his shoulder. ]

I may be appointed as Gregor's guardian, but I never want to take her place. I couldn't do that to her. Or Gregor.