[IC] TEST POST

[dendarii]

[ 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. ]

Comments

[dendarii]

[ Miles waves a hand, like "well there you go." ]

I am serious though. We can more or less do what we like here.

[vorbarra]

I admit, [Gregor says slowly,] that has not fully set in.

[It's been a month, Gregor. But it hasn't. He literally has no memories in his entire life of being able to do what he wants without consequence.]

[dendarii]

We have time for that. All the time in the world.

[ He's a little awed himself. Even traipsing off as the little Admiral isn't quite like this. ]

[vorbarra]

No one to report back to.

[Gregor blinks again.]

It's very strange. A little... vertigo-inducing, at times. [Not altogether pleasant-- somewhat frightening. But not altogether bad either, not at all.]

[dendarii]

[ Miles nods in complete agreement. He also isn't 100% enjoying this - as evidenced by the conversation they just had - but he has at least encountered the sensation of freefall before. ]

Do you need some traction too, Gregor?

[vorbarra]

Ah... no, thank you, Miles. I'll be all right. [Frankly Gregor would have to be in a wretched state indeed to answer anything else, it's so ingrained in him that he Must Be All Right or the Imperium itself stops functioning. All that pressure is why he'd left, but. That doesn't mean he feels he's escaped it.

Except he could, here. He could. It really does feel like freefall.]

It's just very... disorienting. Did you know there was minor flooding in the southern parts of Florida this morning? I actually started thinking about potential relief efforts to suggest to Minister Avalos before I was fully awake. It was a bit like, mm, waking up a second time.

I'm left wondering what to do with myself. [The sheen is wearing off his coffee shop job slowly but inevitably, leaving Gregor feeling a bit, well, useless.]

[dendarii]

[ That's exactly why Miles is asking. Their last encounter - and misguided adventure - still weighs heavy in his mind. Gently, with a faint tendril of gentleness to make it clear he's not accusing or blaming: ]

Why didn't you suggest anything?

[vorbarra]

[Gregor's withdrawing into his own head, as he's wont to do, and it startles him briefly to feel that gentle presence edging its way into his consciousness. His hand twitches on the table, but he remains with his eyes downcast, a privilege he's allowed in front of Miles that he isn't with his ministers or his Counts or in public.]

... I suppose I was afraid I wouldn't know how to stop, then. [He glances up.] Foolish, isn't it?

People are being pushed out of their homes and I'm worried about having to be responsible for something again.

[dendarii]

[ Miles hesitates. He doesn't want to intrude - knows Gregor needs his silence as much as anyone else, if not moreso - but this is different. Something else needs to be done. Slowly, he moves to put his hand over Gregor's. His presence at the fringes of Gregor's mind warms a little too. ]

It's your choice. You can say no when you want to, this time. Help or not, do nothing or not.

[vorbarra]

[If the brief touch on his consciousness surprised him before, the physical contact is moreso, though he only exhales at it. The warmth in his mind, against his hand... is like a single clear note. Something to focus on that isn't his own head.

Gregor is still too shy to really show his fear, but he manages to convey his reluctance to lose the bits of authentic freedom he's just newly found, not stolen and guilty and limned with desperation as his escape attempt at home had been.

At the same time, he's not suited to doing nothing. He wouldn't know how.]

That's how it is for everyone else, isn't it? I have no obligation to... serve. I just have to-- decide what I can live with.

[He doesn't move his hand.]

[dendarii]

[ He'll take that as an invitation to stay, then, both physically and mentally. He's not an especially quiet person; if all that blasted heat can be warmth for someone else, then all the better.

He thinks for a moment, considering the dilemma. Not so different from his own in the end. ]

Just like everyone else, yes. No more and no less.

Perhaps ... a job? A regular one. More than a coffee shop but less than being an Emperor.

[vorbarra]

[They are a pair, aren't they. And it is an invitation, made easier because Gregor doesn't have to make it; Miles invites himself, always has.

Apart from the Vorkosigans, there's really no one that casually touches him at all. If he makes friends here, Gregor belatedly realizes, that may well change.

He relaxes enough at the continued contact to let a wry ghost of a smile come through.] You may have something there. I forget that there's such a thing as... halfway. You'd think I was a zoo animal let out of its pen for the first time, the way I'm acting. [He doesn't actually think being Emperor is that dreadful. Anymore. Well, he has a strong desire to do his duty appropriately, anyway, which makes up for it.]

[dendarii]

[ A faint snort at that and an equally quiet smile. ]

Funny, Illyan says the same thing about me. Not doing things by halves. [ He shakes his head. ] Good practice for both of us animals.

[vorbarra]

[Gregor spares a moment to think, Poor Illyan, dealing with the two of them, which he shares with Miles in a flicker.]

But you've done this before. Escaped the pen, as it were. Wasn't that half the appeal? [Gregor always assumed it would be, in being Naismith.]

[dendarii]

[ Poor Illyan indeed. Miles' grin widens at the thought. At least Illyan isn't here. ]

Oh, yes. Nearly the sum of the appeal at first. And then everything got ... out of hand.

[ His mouth twists; he can't help the stab of guilt that goes through him at Bothari. The jump pilot, with his implants hanging out ... ]

[vorbarra]

[No doubt, Illyan would be profoundly grateful if he could know.

Gregor has been living with people dying on his word his entire life; he still remembers being caught in that lightflyer with the dying Negri during that flight from the Residence to Vorkosigan Surleau. It'd seemed endless, like time had trapped him hanging in some nightmare. The details are fuzzy, as he'd only been four, but some things burn into your brain and never fade. The gasping of his breath, the gore of it...

He understands that stab of useless guilt.]

It does tend to, [Gregor sighs.] There's so few... strings, here. It's so uncomplicated. Are we sure the other shoe isn't going to drop?

[dendarii]

[ Miles dimly senses that Gregor must be remembering awful just now, without knowing what. But that guilt, well - clear like a bell on both sides. He swallows and lightly tightens his grip on Gregor's hand. No feedback loops. Stay here and focused. ]

Ivan could show up.

[ Starting with an aggressive pull back towards lighter things. ]

[vorbarra]

[Ah-- right. No feedback loops.

At last, Gregor flips his hand over and tightens his grip back. It's nice not to be on Barrayar in this sense, at least; here, no one's going to stare at the Emperor effectively holding hands with his mutie crip foster-brother in public.]

Or your mother, [he points out with something approaching lightness. Practicing his friendly ribbing again. Right.]

[dendarii]

[ Here they'd only be mistaken for paramours. Eh ... Whatever, Miles hardly cares what anyone else thinks right this second. ]

Don't even mention it. You may summon her.

[ Taking the ribbing well in stride, with a faint smile that says good. ]

Then again she'd have us straightened out before we could blink.

[vorbarra]

[Gregor is gloriously free of caring about the potential political consequences that would come about if someone saw him with what they interpreted as a male paramour. All he has to deal with are his own ghosts on the subject as an echo of his father.

No, he gets to be just himself about it. It's been many years since he'd been one of Miles's de facto playmates... but some part of him has never quite forgotten that ease of familiarity. He elects not to question it.]

You're the one that dodges her, not me. Though it occurs to me that she'd still be your mother as per your cover, too, [says Gregor thoughtfully.] Your avenues of escape would be few.

[dendarii]

[ Best not to, maybe; Miles has already moved on past the thought as easily as breathing. ]

I suppose so ... with the Betan attitudes on clones and all. I'm not sure I'd know how to play that. Or if she'd even play along with us.

[vorbarra]

[Gregor's tendency to linger is ever to his deficit, but he does manage to push on himself.]

Somehow I think it wouldn't require much playing at all. On either part. Who you are as... yourselves, is sufficient to sell it.

[dendarii]

If she agreed to it, maybe. I think she might convince me to give it up first.

[vorbarra]

[His eyebrows go up.]

You could be convinced to give it up? --You mean the lie, here, [Gregor realizes a moment later.]

[dendarii]

Here, yes. [ He recoils a bit at the thought of giving it up permanently. Like half of his own self cut out and rotted. ] She hasn't tried back home.