dendarii: (Default)
Lord Miles Naismith Vorkosigan ([personal profile] dendarii) wrote2017-01-02 09:55 am
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[IC] [Mask or Menace] Contact Post

"This is Miles. Leave a message and I'll respond to you at my earliest convenience."

The line has gone silent; any messages sent to this name only return an error.
rathercommon: (ummm whatever though)

[personal profile] rathercommon 2016-02-03 12:15 am (UTC)(link)
Well maybe it's someone from the past, then. I don't know. I tried to figure out his feelings on clones and he wasn't biting at all so I assume he doesn't know about you.
rathercommon: (you need to be punched)

[personal profile] rathercommon 2016-02-03 12:20 am (UTC)(link)
Well then he was someone lying about being Lord Vorkosigan then. I don't know. Though he looked like he was related to you tbh. Regardless, he has some connection to the guy you were cloned from or some connection to you so just...Where are you? I ought to go there.
rathercommon: (attentive)

[personal profile] rathercommon 2016-02-03 12:24 am (UTC)(link)
No. I got coffee with him to try to find out as much as I could but he was VERY closedmouthed. Look if he's dangerous I want to be with you.
rathercommon: (not sure what's happening but not good)

[personal profile] rathercommon 2016-02-03 12:30 am (UTC)(link)
[ Until...? She waits for a follow-up text, then writes urgently when none comes: ]

Miles what's your address, I'm coming over
rathercommon: (you need to be punched)

[personal profile] rathercommon 2016-02-03 12:47 am (UTC)(link)
MILES SEND ME YOUR BLOODY ADDRESS
use_everything: (Chaos is a lack of knowledge)

[personal profile] use_everything 2016-02-03 02:42 am (UTC)(link)
[There had been a time in his youth, before any formal military training, that he had simply thought that opening a door and charging through it with a yell was just how it was done. It seemed dramatic, full of noise and honor. He had learned quickly and painfully.

These days, knowing he had a spooked enemy, thanks to his chance meeting with Miss Jones, it made more sense to let his opponent come to him. He'd done as much research as he'd dared with what felt like a narrowing time window. The bones, the mention of a pipe based travel power, the unabashed, seemingly impossible to fake hatred towards Lord Vorkosigan, but so many deep ties to the family. There were as many enigmas as insults.

It was all the questions that he couldn't answer that made the goal of this, waiting patiently outside the door, one of submission, capture and questioning. The moment a figure warily.. foolishly.. stuck his head out, Aral only took a fraction of a second to visually confirm he had the right person.

He lashed out, in three blinding strikes of a practiced judo form. The first grabbed a handful of hair, yanking the younger man forward and letting go as quickly. The second hooked a boot under the bracing foot, and the last grabbed an arm, wrenching and locking it behind his opponent.

In a moment, the other was in a powerful joint lock, powers locked with a shove of willpower, (An uncanny sensation, like a knot being tied.) and he turned and forced the other back inside.]
use_everything: (Tell me what I may do)

[personal profile] use_everything 2016-02-03 03:12 am (UTC)(link)
[There's a moment where, in the instant after the crack, the large hand holding Miles' locked clenches and then loosens, as if taken with indecision. Whatever it was, it was enough. The dagger bites deeply, through bone to muscle.

It wasn't just pain that ate Vorkosigan's vision now, but a flare of rage, seeing THAT blade in this impooster's hands. The moment of hesitance is gone, and he lets himself drop as his leg buckles, forcing Miles with him in a controlled move, greater weight, the broken limb and leverage on his side. It's none too gentle way to meet the floor. The dagger is ripped from Miles' hand in an efficient twist, and a knee presses firmly, insistently on Miles' back.

The threat is clear. It wouldn't take much more weight.]


You have a chance to surrender, Admiral Naismith.

[The Barrayaran accent is audible, and the raspy baritone terribly familiar.

It wasn't much louder than a whisper, but held command in it.]
use_everything: (There should be one way)

Last should have been muscle to bone. Braaaainn

[personal profile] use_everything 2016-02-03 03:41 am (UTC)(link)
[Vorkosigan snarls down at the imposter but doesn't shift. There's no retaliation, in fact, he lets go of the lame arm to keep himself steady. Instead, all of his focus is on the blade in his hands, marred by his own blood.

He pulls the cap of the pommel and curses at what he finds there.]


I'm hardly the one mocking the Vorkosigan name.

[The dagger comes down, driven in front of Miles.]

Where did you get this?
use_everything: (To what end)

[personal profile] use_everything 2016-02-03 04:00 am (UTC)(link)
Given a Vor seal dagger?

[The Betan accent was flawless, affect and humor he'd seen on the network utterly convincing. But that blade... it seemed utterly incomprehensible that anyone could wrest it from his father.

The details like mentioning Bothari, the mountain range of their ancestral lands... He couldn't tell if it was a mockery designed to strike at the Vorkosigans or something else.

Confusion lifted his voice from the more deadly tones of rage.]


I'm going to ask again.
vorbarra: (ether-bunny36)

[personal profile] vorbarra 2016-02-03 04:21 am (UTC)(link)
[ Gregor, of course, comes in with the full story, working at an advantage to everyone else as usual. Also as usual, he's been given this advantage by someone else, who'd done all the legwork and passed off the information to him. It's been over a month since he's had to walk in and divert a crisis by his mere presence alone, but Gregor finds he hasn't lost the knack.

He does have to stop just outside the door he can hear voices in, take a deep breath with his eyes closed, and descend the whole Imperial mantle over his shoulders. Just like with Metzov, he doesn't think it'll make a difference to Aral what clothes he's in when he holds himself that way, calm and upright and eyes flinty with the knowledge of how much power he holds. This one moment is all he can spare to calm his racing heart, jolted into a breakneck pace by the disappearance of Miles's link, pain of dangling wires where he'd been ripped out wrestled down.

But he thinks he understands now. Aral must have some power like Kitty's, able to shut others' off. It's all he has to go on. Anyway-- it's a secondary thing to solve. Priority is clearing up this mess. Gregor doesn't know what he's walking into, but when he sees Miles on the floor, who knows how many other things broken when he's not even healed in the first place, the dagger stuck in the floorboards between them, Aral standing over him--

He goes cold. Cold with anger. This is a situation Gregor can and will resolve with the force of his voice alone. ]


Lord Vorkosigan. You will release him at once. Miles, introduce me.

[ Because Emperors do not introduce themselves. Not and be taken seriously. ]
use_everything: (It sounds downright Jacksonian)

[personal profile] use_everything 2016-02-03 04:44 am (UTC)(link)
[The man Miles had been craning to get a look up at looked... far younger than any clear memory he had of his father. Missing the deep lines of stress, worry and laughter as much as the grey from his hair. Those steel grey eyes were fixed down on Miles, focus in rapid study-

When a new presence enters the room, filling it immediately with a certain pressure. He'd seen the man, by name of Greg Vorthys, but this incarnation of him was nothing like his brief research had allowed.

The strength of the command, the sudden, almost tangible force of the Imperium was enough to make Vorkosigan pause, a shudder crawling down his back. He moved, before he even had thought behind it, pressure off of Miles' back.

It's no relaxed stance, prepared to move, strike if necessary, a fiery gaze settled on Gregor, taking his measure in full.]
vorbarra: (hollow-art05)

[personal profile] vorbarra 2016-02-03 05:11 am (UTC)(link)
[ Gregor doesn't so much as bat an eyelash under this scrutiny. He'd been expecting it. ]

From, I would estimate, about twenty years in your future. The man you are subduing is your own son.

[ There's not one iota of emotion in his voice, but he calculates this revelation for devastating effect. Gregor doesn't even need to remind himself of priorities; he's too well-trained. Miles's injuries take second place to ensuring he doesn't acquire more. It burns him to make that concession, but Gregor will not be distracted by sympathy or sentiment. ]
use_everything: (Vampire bubbles)

[personal profile] use_everything 2016-02-03 05:48 am (UTC)(link)
[It felt like his mind was pouring down a wormhole jump in speed, but still too damn slow. That information made some of it make perfect sense, crystallizing and snapping into place with final clicks.

And some parts floated even further, or were simply dislodged from where they'd settled, tentatively.

Of all of it, there were two parts that stood out, far more true that the muddy sluice of truth and lies...

... The eyes staring up at him were startlingly like Cordelias...

... The set of Gregor's face matched a near-mute child he remembered guiding a small hand to a pyre...

If it was true... God. He remembers hearing the crack, feeling the give under his fingers, intentional or not... he marshals himself carefully.

Aral Vorkosigan stood up, almost entirely on the power of his good leg, locking the knee of the other to stay upright. The pain edging around his eyes and the blood staining the undress greens in a widening plume were otherwise the only hints of how bad it was.]


You'll forgive me if this seems to have gone from suspect to incomplete.
vorbarra: (icon-crack06)

[personal profile] vorbarra 2016-02-03 02:49 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Good. Step one: remove potential for further violence, done. Step two is deescalate the emotions of the scene until facts can be cleared up. Step three was meant to be addressing physical injury, but Gregor abruptly does not care one single wit about step two and interrupts them both. ]

Lord Vorkosigan -- both of you -- are going to sit down and not attack each other until this is cleared up. Whatever you're doing to suppress his powers, [ and here his voice tightens to command, ] stop it.

[ Humanity is returning to Gregor from behind the Imperial mask, and he steps forward until he's at Miles's side, where he kneels down and puts his hands out, hovering.

Softly, ]
Tell me how to help you up so that I don't hurt you further. [ Aral can take care of himself; indeed, Gregor knows that in about twenty minutes he would not thank him for fussing over him with Miles in such a bad state. One bloody knife wound is not going to stop Aral Vorkosigan. ]
Edited 2016-02-03 14:57 (UTC)

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