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

[vorbarra]

[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.]

[keep_nothing]

[ 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?

[vorbarra]

[How odd to think that at one point she'd had to think of things like that, growing up a lord's son, as if it weren't a fact of reality as much as the sun rises. It's a look into her coming to terms with Barrayar that Gregor had never thought of.

He also hadn't thought of that she could tell him a few things. He'd had a discussion about her with Serg shortly before arriving here, and it is not a topic he would dare revisit with this incarnation of her, who barely knows him and it so fresh in her memory. More innocent things like Drou's wedding...]

I have no idea what Illyan thought of you, [says Gregor frankly,] but I can't fathom him thinking you irresponsible or careless in any way. [This probably says more of Gregor's impression of her, than of his impression of Illyan's impression.

A short silence as he takes his place and seats himself, thinking back.] I'd have been... five, or thereabouts? Not really. That time period is not very clear to me. [He'd been a frighteningly mute, obedient child with somber eyes through most of it, with a tendency to clutch at Drou and Cordelia when allowed.]

[keep_nothing]

[ She gives a faint snort at what she thinks of Illyan thinking of her. Which is another thing Gregor might not be used to seeing of her. Lady Vorkosigan probably had to learn the decorum of her station as much as he did growing up. ]

I'm sure he must have said something about me at some point during those twenty years, if not grumbled it.

[ But she smiles as she says it, clearly not holding it against Illyan, probably even finds his hypothetical irritation amusing. She serves a plate for herself and sits across from him, for his benefit as well as hers: so he can have some breathing room around this not-quite-familiar stranger and so that they can both watch over the other person. ]

I'm not surprised you don't, you were very young. [ Among other reasons she doesn't want to touch on ... ] But you had sneaked away after your bedtime, came into the room to nail down a few goodies from the trays. I though Illyan was going to bite the heads off of the poor guards who were supposed to be filling in for Drou on her own wedding. [ She laughs at his remembered face. ] You hid behind my skirts before they could snatch you up and asked if you could stay for her party.

[vorbarra]

[It is new and different, this side of her, but it seems to slot neatly into what he's known of her already, so it manages to be unsurprising. Only interesting, like reading the backstory to a character you've come to know well through deed.

If Illyan had anything critical to say of Cordelia, Gregor isn't surprised he wouldn't have mentioned it to him; it's one topic his Emperor is not likely to be impartial on, no matter the training. She hadn't truly acted as his mother, perhaps too conscientious of trying to step in for Kareen, he's not sure, but she had come very close on some occasions and Gregor holds very few dim memories of his real mother to compare.

No, asking impartiality would not have been easy. Gregor's surprised by her story into a shy smile, happy to hear her laugh besides. It's a very far expression from anything else she's seen from him thus far.]

I really don't remember that, but I guess I'm not surprised. Did you let me? You were always my most sympathetic audience when I complained about being kept in the Imperial Bedroom away from any fun. You and Miles.

[keep_nothing]

[ She grins wider at his smile, glad to know there's something she can share this time. ]

Of course I did! All you wanted was fifteen minutes of freedom, you poor kid. You stayed long enough to dance with Drou and have three cream cakes before you got tired again. I did put my foot down at four cream cakes though, that's too much before bed for anyone, let alone little emperors.

[vorbarra]

[His smile widens, and he starts to eat as he listens, a sure sign his nerves have settled.]

I still dance with Drou sometimes, actually. More gracefully now, I hope. Saves a lot of questions if I reserve all my dances for married women.

Though, I haven't yet exercised my Imperial authority to have four cream cakes, [he says thoughtfully.] Seems short-sighed of me in retrospect.

[keep_nothing]

[ She laughs, interrupting her first bite, the fork hovering for a moment. ]

You'll have to get right on that. We can have cream cakes for breakfast tomorrow.

And you're probably more graceful than I am. I'm still learning all the different types and having trouble keeping them straight in my head. The mirror dance is the easiest by far. Though I hope that means I asked asked to dance with you, make you shine in comparison?

[ She avoids the implication behind his words for now, not wanting to lose this relaxed casualness just yet. ]

[vorbarra]

[He immensely appreciates her dodging the implications of his marriage prospects. Gregor gets more than enough of that at home.]

Oh, we do sometimes, yes. You seem to have this knack for telling when I can't stand another millisecond of politics at another polite social function and come rescue me. I've never known how you do that; no one else can tell.

It's strange to me to think that you haven't learned most of them yet.

[keep_nothing]

It's strange to think that I will learn them. Maybe I'm just incredibly good at faking it.

[ She finally takes a bite from that hovering fork and gives an appreciative hum. ]

[vorbarra]

I wouldn't put it past you.

[He takes another bite and looks down at his plate in open evaluation. It's decent if a little bland.]

Well, it's not awful. And I did make it myself. [He really isn't over that.]

[keep_nothing]

It has that going for it, at least. Once Aral and I get more settled, maybe I can teach you a thing or two about spices and seasonings.

[vorbarra]

I would love that, [he says sincerely.] Between the two of us, Miles can probably afford to just stop trying and give up on setting off the smoke alarms.

[It's all fond exasperation as he says that.]

[keep_nothing]

Oh no, he's not going to get off that easily.

[vorbarra]

Mother's prerogative, is it?

[keep_nothing]

Something like that.

[ She eats a few more bites, obviously enjoying the meal even if it is a little bland. Her smile also dims, thinking about something he just said. ]

... Can I ask ...

[ She stops herself, unsure if she wants to continue. ]

[vorbarra]

... You may ask me anything. You always have.

[Something Gregor obviously hasn't minded, as he drops the words into the air quietly, setting down his fork. There's no guarantee that he'll answer, but.]

[keep_nothing]

She has. I haven't.

[ An important distinction in her mind, a necessary separation. For now. It's hard for her to phrase this, the struggling emotions apparent in her eyes. Gregor probably doesn't even need to open the link between them to know what she's thinking. ]

Can I ask ... what am I to you? I never wanted to replace your mother.

[vorbarra]

Ah. Would you like me to make the distinction more clearly? I wouldn't mind. [It would be hard for him, but not impossible, and Gregor of all people knows the desire to be seen as entirely yourself and no one else.

He has to pause and gather himself before answering, but it's not so difficult as he was expecting, to say this.]

You didn't. You and Lord Vorkosigan were always very careful not to step into... either of those shadows. [Gregor is careful to sound neutral, saying that.] You're the person who always lets me hide behind you when I need to, [he ends up saying, plainly and a little helplessly.] Except it's not so much behind your skirts so I can eat cream pies, now that I'm older. You... listen. And you have no further agenda than myself.

I can't tell you what that means to me. [And there is no word like mother in there, but that's alright.]

[keep_nothing]

[ Carefully neutral through all of that. She understands. It's ... somewhat of a relief, actually, knowing she never crosses that line with him, but her heart also aches for him, both emotions reflected in her eyes as she looks at him.

She nods, accepting it. ]

A confidant. You would absolutely need one.

[vorbarra]

[Gregor can't help but feel a matching confusion of relief and ache about it. It's hard for him sometimes to watch the Vorkosigans, and how unconditionally they all love each other, through all their foibles and misadventures. But he's extraordinarily grateful to them, too, for so many things, and he knows that his place as bystander is not one that could have been changed.]

Oh, I do, [he sighs, setting his chin on his palm, a small, wry smile offered out at her.] It expedites things immensely that you already know all of the really gory Vorbarra secrets, anyway. I don't actually have to explain anything to you.

[keep_nothing]

[ That catches her attention, a curiosity bubbling up. She doesn't want to make him tense again, but ... Careful, Cordelia, careful. ]

And ... you know them now, too?

[vorbarra]

[This has to come out eventually, and Gregor truly doesn't want to hide it, because-- God, he does miss getting to talk to her. A confidante, as she'd said.

His eyes darken and go abstract, unfocused.] One, anyway. I learned the truth about my father just earlier this year. Not in any detail, but... enough. Enough to know. Miles insisted I speak to you about it-- I'd just done that a few days before arriving here.

[Which is cutting a significant amount out of that story, but one thing at a time. For all his talk, Gregor is still a little uncertain around this younger Cordelia.]

[keep_nothing]

[ She may not know this man yet, but she's able to tell when he's hiding something. Mother's intuition? She dismisses that description immediately. She's not sure what to say to that though so she settles on something safe: ]

I imagine you had a lot of questions for her.

[vorbarra]

... Surprisingly few, actually. [That really hadn't been the primary topic of discussion there, but there's no way for this Cordelia to know. Gregor glances up at her again, finally, and his voice softens.] But I don't expect you to want to talk about it. It's very recent, for you.