dendarii | [IC] TEST POST

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[IC] TEST POST

[ Miles Vorkosigan cuts an unusual figure even under the most extraordinary circumstances: tiny and somewhat hunchbacked, his curved spine obvious even beneath his custom-cut Imperial Security green military uniform. Unless you're bitty like him (and he's met few adults below his height of 4'8"), he likely comes up to your shoulder or a little lower.

There is, however, a manic energy to the man that makes him fill up more than his physical space. Sharp, penetrating gray eyes take in the world around him as great refreshing gulps of information. Depending on the situation, he may be taking in you as well. ]

A - Canon

[ In his case, you suddenly find yourself in an empty and rather old-fashioned looking house. Old-fashioned except for the high tech consoles installed in various areas, anyway, and if one looks out the window a relatively sci-fi-esque view can be seen interspersed with vaguely Russian architecture. Miles looks up, startled by your sudden appearance. ]

I'm sorry, have we met?

[ In other words, how the hell did you just waltz into the Vorkosoigan House without him being alerted by the guards? Visiting his father or mother, maybe? That's the only thing coming to mind. ]

B - Mask or Menace

[ Staring, Miles can deal with. It's depressingly normal and almost comforting, given the circumstances. But having people approach him like some kind of celebrity is damned unsettling. It feels like some awful combination of being both Lord Vorkosigan and Admiral Naismith at the same time ... which is technically true, but he's not enough at ease with himself to cross those wires just yet.

Speaking of which. He fixes a brilliant smile on his face as his confident swagger threatens to knock over anyone within a five meter radius of him. The space operatic Admiral Naismith persona in full force and practically spilling over. After all, when faced with a wall, Miles tends to charge right the hell on through. First obstacle to be defeated: finding out what the hell is going on and why his head is feeling strangely full all of a sudden.

He's about twenty or so, though with a face like his he could be anywhere between early twenties and early thirties. The tell-tale import barcode flickers at his wrist; he hasn't quite realized what that means for himself or anyone else. In a remarkably flat, pseudo-American accent: ]

You know, I think I've gotten myself lost. Any chance you're more familiar with this place?

[ Heropa is where he's come out first, but by now he could be in any of the Porter cities. ]

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[Gregor quickly waves a hand to try to suppress that hint of alarm.]

Not like that. Just... whatever you wanted to say. [His smile is a little self-conscious, a little sloppy.] I know I might not be your ideal audience, but I'm here, and... free of logistical constraints.

[In other words, he is the one person Miles never has to actually lie to.]

[ The alarm fades, to be replaced by something more melancholy. That's the other half of the equation to Miles' unhappiness - spinning his wheels, first and foremost, but also the necessity he's placed on himself to lie to everyone all of the time. It's safer - much safer - for both of them. And he enjoys the little Admiral persona very desperately. But it's the first time he's had to stay deep within it without anything else going on. No mayhem. No wars or craziness to keep him focused.

He swallows, faintly overwhelmed for a moment. ]

The only one here. Yes.

[A bit of an unwelcome preview for if he went off the rails and tried to do Naismith full time, Gregor assumes. It really is... much to be wearing all the time, that manic energy.

Quietly, he says,] I do know something about feeling as if you'll be swallowed up by a role.

[It's the whole reason Miles had found him on the Hegen Hub.]

[ Miles winces faintly. Of course Gregor would understand - that's Gregor's entire life right there. Miles, at least, doesn't need to live up to his role as Vorkosigan in the same way that Gregor absolutely must be the Emperor. Not a fair comparison at all. This may be the very first time Gregor doesn't have to do any of that. ]

Yes. Yes, you do. Not fair for me to complain.

[He shakes his head. Guilting him hadn't been his intent at all.] It's not complaining. Well, it is, but my lot in life doesn't... diminish yours.

I always had someone I could, ah, unburden myself with. Your parents, notably. You. It doesn't bother me to return the favor. Not making use of it was... rather the problem. [Gregor had only felt he was trapped and alone, unable to share his thoughts with anyone. That hadn't actually ever been true. That distinction is what makes the key difference, that he understands now.]

[ He stills a bit, soothed. Gregor always does seem to know what to say. ]

... You'd rather I make use of it, then.

[He'd be extremely glad it seems that way.]

Yes, [he says, in that same quiet, intent tone.] I would. We... often are not on the same planet, at home, but I hope you know that you may-- that you have my ear.

[Being the only two Barrayarans here merely expedites that.]

[ He looks down at his hands, considering this. Hasn't he always had the Emperor's ear? They've been friends for so long, practically raised together. Why does it feel different to receive that offer now?

Maybe because Gregor doesn't have to be the Emperor here. Just Miles and Greg and a world that doesn't give one single damn thought about their politics. Admiral Naismith and Greg is the safest cover, but it's not their only option. Not in the least. Something inside his head lightens; his side of the link declouds a bit. ]

You may regret that. I'm told my mouth is the most dangerous thing I have.

[Gregor feels it, too, the difference here. There's always looming politics at home, overriding his life. That someone could have convinced him even for a moment that Miles was a traitor speaks volumes to how impossible it is for Gregor to slip out from under that mantle. He's gotten better at it as time goes on, as he grows into his role on his own and becomes less defined by Aral's example, whether he was mimicking it or rebelling against it. But nonetheless, in the end, there would forever be the necessity of liege-lord to liege-sworn, their hands between his.

That's still true here, of course. It'll probably be true in the damn afterlife, Gregor still Emperor. But here... It feels like there's room for something else.

Wasn't Cordelia always saying that the Imperium was an illusion, anyway, a society-wide maintained social construct? Surely that means it could be turned off sometimes, just for a moment, even if it turning back on was an inevitability.]

Fortunately for me, I seem to remember you pledging it to Our service. So I have nothing to be afraid of. [It's difficult to call anything Gregor says light, but he at least doesn't sound dour as he goes on,] And I have an advantage no one else has had. [A wry smile as he refers to their bizarre, newfound mental connection.]

[ It's that space that's intriguing now. And which makes having Gregor as a real confidante as a new and startling possibility. It turns Miles' head a little to think of it.

Not that it keep him from snorting pretty hard at that last comment. Both those comments, really. ]

Advantage, is it. I feel like I'm the one who's more compromised, here.

[ Amusement is the only undercurrent though; any serious objections (privacy, heachaches) were already worked out within the first week or so. ]

[Dryly,] We are equally compromised, I think.

[Gregor doesn't often verbally refer to what goes on in their heads-- the illusion of privacy goes a long way to not feeling invaded-- but after an initial discomfort, he's mostly adjusted.]

[ Miles is enough of an outgoing person that it feels like an extension of himself, to some extent. Just ... only directed at one person. Admittedly the most important person here currently. ]

... It's true that I'm getting more out of you that way. But I wasn't that terrible at reading you before.

There's reading and then there's knowing, [Gregor sighs.] And feeling.

... Although, it is expedient. [For example, rather than trying to awkwardly explain that he isn't complaining-- rather, good-naturedly griping-- he sends across the sensation of discomfort, shy almost-embarrassment at having his feelings on display, but also the accompanying sense of quiet trust that he knew it wouldn't be taken advantage of. Not an insignificant assurance to Gregor, not at all.

Like all of Gregor's emotions, it's muted, drawn in subtle dusty shades, but as focused as if it were sent by tight beam straight to Miles's head. He's very distinct, articulate even in his mind.]

[ Miles warms in response, gently opening his side of the link a little wider to allow Gregor's message in easily. Welcoming both that initial note of embarrassment and the trust too. He picks out the thread of trust to mirror it with his own strain: less quiet, as most of Miles is, but firm and bright. If he had to have a telepathic connection with anyone, he sure is glad it's Gregor.

And then, a lighter thought: ]

You know I won't make fun of you. Much.

[ It could be much worse. Imagine Ivan?

The thought came unwilling, automatic, threaded with amusement. Where Gregor is reluctant to show expression like that outwardly, his facial features creaky with disuse at being bent toward anything but Imperially stern or withdrawn and melancholy, inside it's much simpler. He can allow his face to stay relaxed in the neutrality he's been schooled in all his life and still convey what he wants to. Miles feels things so brightly, with such absolute certainty, it's like having the sun focused at him in short bursts. Gregor finds it soothing, lighting up the murky corners of his thoughts.]

I know you won't.

[Gregor, of course, is extremely adept at managing multiple conversations simultaneously. All that experience with political nuance. He's sure if he weren't the emperor, Miles would have roped him into covert action ten times already. ... Maybe he could still be persuaded to.]

[ Miles can't help it. He bursts out in an unexpected moment of laughter, quickly stifled by him clapping a hand over his mouth. Oh god, Ivan. Ivan being involved in all of this would be the worst. We would never hear the end of him. All of him. And anyone he chose to dally with.

Miles, at least, hasn't had any success with his relationships as Admiral Naismith, so he doubts he will have any success here. And Gregor is shy, so at least that side of the link can go unused. Right? Miles shakes his head a bit, having to drag himself back into gear to continue the conversation happening outside their heads. ]

Friendly ribbing, now, that might yet happen. [ Speaking of Ivan and relationships. ]

[Gregor doesn't try to hold back the sense of warm pleasure he feels at hearing Miles laugh. At being the one to make him laugh. It's so uncomplicated, compared to how many days he's spent untangling disputes, some petty, some intergalactic, some petty and intergalactic, after which no one was happy and he too was strung out and exasperated. Sometimes scared of himself and who he would grow to be by the weight of his decisions.

Miles seems so cavalier about his friendly ribbing, but the truth is, Gregor has had very little of it. Miles and Ivan themselves are rarely around him, not since he'd been shipped off to the Academy. It's quite late to be learning it, yet surely not too late.

He sets his chin in his hand, watching him, enjoying his enjoyment with a slight flicker of a smile.]

Only if I'm allowed that privilege in return.

[And you do realize that it's only me that would have that... unobstructed vantage point of his 'dalliances'. Unless you've both taken oaths I didn't hear about.]

[ Note to self: make Gregor happy more often. If being happier himself is the way to do it, then there's no reason not to. He decides that from here on out he's going to seek out ridiculous things in this ridiculous world to try and get the both of them a laugh. They absolutely could use it.

Miles grins a bit more and leans back in his chair. ]

'course. It's not friendly ribbing if it isn't mutual.

[ And further brightening there as well. No, no. You're right. I'm quite safe from that. There's some good-natured glee in realizing he won't be stuck with it. ]

You'll have to be patient with me. I'm out of practice.

[Getting Gregor to actually laugh is a very tall order, but making him simply happy is drastically easier with someone as irrepressible as Miles in his head to piggyback his feelings off of. He could block them out if he wanted to, of course, and oftentimes he does, but when they're sparkling-bright like this, tinged with Miles's indomitable energy, why would he?

Gregor would not be inclined to lean on his subjects this way, for his mental health. But as they'd just covered, Miles isn't just his subject.

At least Ivan is... Ivan. And therefore harmless. I'm dreading if one of our more unsavory countrymen showed up. You're not spectacular practice for working on my shields. As he's been demonstrating, he's rather lax with them around Miles.]

[ Miles prides himself on being interesting, at least, if not always amusing. He's certain he can come up with something. Even if it's something as simple as a running commentary for whatever he's doing that day.

His darker moments will likely be unpleasant enough, oh yes. But manic Miles is nothing but bright, furious energy. ]

I'll help. Ivan would be the best teacher there, but ... well, we'll figure something out.

[ Some of that amusement fades, though, as Gregor mentions other possibilities. That - yes. Hmm. Extremely possible. So we'll set aside practice for that as well. If anything, you'll be able to keep them out if you can keep me out. ]

[Keeping his mind occupied in not-depressing avenues seems like half the challenge to Gregor, most days, so merely interesting is already a large step up.

Truthfully, he's concerned about what might happen if they both hit a downswing at the same time. Telepathy was not designed for two depressives in a funk. Practicing his shields-- and against Miles in particular-- might not be a bad bit of foresight, grim though it may seem.]

... Thank you. [For both. I can't imagine anyone more obstinate than you at getting access to denied information, so I'm sure that will be adequate.

How's that for practicing his friendly ribbing?]

[ That could be a feedback loop of painful and epic proportions. All the more reason to have friends who can snap them out of it, or perhaps welcome another sworn liegeman into their group. In addition to basic shielding, anyway.

He grins at that second comment - oh yes, that was Gregor practicing. Miles does not have to feign his delight.

Exactly. Everything else will be easy after me. ]

[Gregor is profoundly glad that Miles is exceedingly skilled at both of those things: making friends, and finding Armsmen worth the asking. He himself is at such a deficit. Normally, all of his personal Armsmen are screened judiciously by ImpSec before they are even allowed to come to his personal attention for approval. Miles seems to just do it organically, as if he grows them to suit.

And of course the idea of Gregor making something like a friend at home would be laughable, apart from the ones he had already, neatly provided to him - like so much of his life - by Aral and Cordelia's generosity. Here, he's... attempting to learn, with varying success.

He's just glad he has someone to practice on that knows him so well.

He lets that comment sit for a moment, absorbing the atmosphere of camaraderie, before saying,] So, what do you think? Will that be enough traction to be going on with?

[ If Miles has one natural super power, it's being an incredible attractor of talent. And judge thereof, to keep them close. Then again he did have very good examples in the form of Elena and Bothari. By now he's likely attracted a decent circle of friends here too; surely some percentage of them will talk to Gregor too.

Miles sips at his coffee during the interlude, enjoying the moment and the atmosphere both. He's much calmer than he was coming into this conversation. ]

Yes, sire. Good to start out with. See where momentum takes us from there.

[He can sense that thrumming tension has toned down, like a string vibrating between them that's switched to a lower frequency. He relaxes along with it, satisfied he's accomplished something for someone today.

And Gregor has to admit that it has an extra layer of satisfaction for doing it for the one subject he has here. He's defined his life around serving Barrayar since he was old enough to have such thoughts; depressed as it makes him at times, it's who he is. Without Miles here... he'd eventually flounder. Much as he suspects Miles would flounder without him.

Good thing they're both here, then.

He lifts his coffee in a fake toast, though he's given so many of them it comes across as officious without his conscious effort.] To momentum. And... seeing what happens.

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