[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. ]
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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[ which gives Spock and excuse to pull his hand back and stand from the cold booth. ]
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I have housing that may work. May as well investigate what they've given us.
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A logic course of action.
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Come on then. I think it's this way.
[ He slides back into that flat, pseudo-American accent as he picks the Naismith persona back up. Back to a vaguely swaggery posture. ]
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Ready for a quick trip to Virginia, Commander?
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[ He shows the attendants the barcode on his wrist, which gets the both of them waved through. ]
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[ He steps through the portal neatly, coming out into Virginia on the other side. ]
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Perhaps you could study the technology employed here.
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Think I will. That would be something to take back.
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[ He's flagging a bit as they walk, having difficulty keeping up. His legs are really starting to hurt ... ]
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Then you may have difficulty in reproducing the technology in your reality once you return.
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Maybe a blueprint then?
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... Are you quite all right, Admiral?
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[ He waves Spock off lightly as he climbs the stairs up to the house in question. Oh good, his key works. ]
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Subspace quantum physics is a wholly different branch of engineering, and periodic maintenance is required to ensure the teleporter functions properly.
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[ That's really the best way to do it. When Miles is determined, the only thing to do is get out of his way. The house is obviously made for several roommates to stay together ... but for the moment, it's empty. He makes his way to the couch and sprawls, carefully leaning down to remove his leg braces. ]
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[ Spock remains standing upright since Miles technically didn't invite him to sit yet, but quieting while he watches, unaware until that point that he had any kind of brace on. Now he understands what was wrong with him at least. ]
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[ That's much better. He carefully places them on the floor and takes a good look around the place. Definitely different from where he's lived before ... It will take some time to get used to it, for sure. He waves to the other seat on the couch, gesturing for Spock to sit. ]
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