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]

[ It is the same tone he'd heard about his Grandfather; it makes him wince, both at the memory of Piotr as well as hearing that tone come from her mouth, again. He resolves never to repeat that particular phrasing in front of her again.

Maybe he doesn't need to. Not with his mother staring him in the face, saying that like he really is the beautiful thing he could possibly be. God. He sucks in another sharp breath. ]

They don't much here. I'm - practically normal with the range of imPorts.

[keep_nothing]

Good. I'd hate to have to start on the wrong foot with a number of people so soon after arriving.

[ But that seems to break her sudden intensity and tension, pulling back a bit more and still grasping his hand, her other relaxing, sliding down to gently cup the base of his neck. She realizes she can subtly feel the top of his spine from there, the slight protrusion that's less than ordinary—no, now is not the time to prod him in that way. ]

How long have you been here? You and Gregor ...

[dendarii]

[ He sort of flinches a bit, feeling her touch that curve. He won't pull away from his mother, not ever, but it shocks him to think that she hadn't known about it until just now. Couldn't have, in fact. ]

Only a month or so. We arrived after the first of the year, together.

[keep_nothing]

[ She makes sure to stop moving her damn hand at his flinch, keeping it still, a warm hand on his back and nothing more. ]

And only the two of you?

[dendarii]

[ He relaxes again, though he's suddenly body conscious in a way he wasn't before. ]

That's right. We've been keeping up a lie in case anyone else shows up - other Barrayarans, mostly. Hence Miles Naismith.

I - I am very sorry for dragging your father's name into this.

[keep_nothing]

It's your name too. [ A beat. ] Unless we decided on another name for you? I can't imagine we would have ...

[dendarii]

[ He shakes his head. ]

Miles Naismith Vorkosigan. That's my whole name.

[keep_nothing]

It is a good name.

But no one else here knows about Vorkosigan? ... Well. Not that you're a Vorkosigan anyway.

[ Her tone hints at amusement at that. ]

[dendarii]

Gregor, obviously. And Charles Xavier perhaps. He's a telepath who helped us look at our link early on.

[keep_nothing]

A telepath?

[ No, wait. The more important thing first. ]

What link?

[dendarii]

[ She doesn't know. But Gregor - ah, he must be shielding himself. Miles hadn't realized, as his part of the link with Gregor still feels open. ]

... Telepathic link. With Gregor. Betwen Gregor and all his subjects, actually. Between liegesworn in general.

[keep_nothing]

[ She frowns, piecing that together. ]

... I haven't felt anything like that.

[dendarii]

I wondered ... Gregor must be keeping quiet for now. Not - too much at once.

[ He winces a bit, glancing down at his copious bruises. ]

[keep_nothing]

[ She shifts her posture slightly, the emotional mother giving way to the observant Surveyor. ]

I'm rather out of my depth with this. Explain it to me.

[dendarii]

[ Huh. He's seen that side of her, of course, but not quite like that. She's fresh out of the survey now, isn't she? ]

It's ... one of our powers here. Both of ours. Following Barrayaran liege relationships - so Gregor and I, and Gregor with all of his subjects. And ... Father and I, too.

[keep_nothing]

[ Only a year or two, give or take. ]

So technically, I should—feel Gregor? I guess I would count in that if I'm Lady Vorkosigan ... What am I supposed to be feeling?

[ She'll come back to the latter part of what he's said in a moment. ]

[dendarii]

I ... er ...

[ Had his mother sworn to Gregor? He honestly doesn't know. ]

... You'll have to ask him. I can't feel you, though, as we have no liege relationship.

[keep_nothing]

[ Her brows knit together at that, more perturbed than angry. ]

Well that's no good.

[dendarii]

-- It's not?

[keep_nothing]

That you and A—your father should have this link, but not with your mother?

[dendarii]

Well - I'm not saying that, but -

[keep_nothing]

So how do you make a new liege relationship then?

[dendarii]

[ Oh no. He thinks he probably knows where this is headed, but he can't help from responding. ]

You take an oath. A rather specific one - Mother, you're not wearing yourself to me.

[keep_nothing]

Heavens, no. That would be rather backwards.

[dendarii]

[ He relaxes instantly in relief. Ah, leave it to his mother to be sensible. ]

I am terribly relieved to hear it.