[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]

Hot. Not boiling, yes?

[ He adjusts the temperature carefully. ]

[scienceping]

Affirmative.

[dendarii]

Gimme a minute.

[ He brings towels too, so Spock can soak those instead if he wants. Both go on the table in a spot not iced over. ]

[scienceping]

[ He immediately immerses his hands into the steaming bowl, his expression tightening in pain and ... disgust? before it smooths out again. Spock stills for a moment to let the heat just soak into his fingers first, gradually moving them again, rubbing both hands together under the water so he can gauge the damage now that he can feel something again. ]

[dendarii]

[ He gives Spock a quizzical look as he leans in. ]

Is something wrong with the water?

[scienceping]

Negative. The temperature is optimal.

[ After another moment or two, Spock lifts his hands out of the water to inspect his fingers. Not as bad as before—he didn't hold the glass as long as the first time, and the near-immediate immersion in hot water helped a great deal. After inspection, Spock reaches for the towels and dries his hands studiously, drying every bit of water from his skin. ]

[dendarii]

[ He tilts his head a bit, relieved but curious. ]

Do you... dislike water?

[scienceping]

[ Still trying to wipe every last drop off, sob. ]

As I explained previously, the Vulcan race evolved in a desert environment. The presence of water was rare on approximately 72% of the planet. Because of the manner of our evolution, the sensation of water is ... unpleasant at best.

[dendarii]

What would work better than water? If we're going to continue...

[scienceping]

Any semi-solid matter that can retain temperature when heated. The optimal substance would be sand or some manner of earth material.

[dendarii]

[ Miles brightens abruptly as an idea overtakes him. ]

What about a chemical heater? I'm sure I could get a few of those.

[scienceping]

That would be sufficient.

[dendarii]

I think I saw a store on the way over ...

[ He reaches down to put his braces back on. ]

[scienceping]

We can still proceed with our current supplies, Admiral.

[dendarii]

... Are you certain?

[ Reluctantly, he puts the braces back down. ]

[scienceping]

The discomfort is minimal and easily managed.

[ He puts the now thoroughly-used towel back down, briefly using it to wipe the table that's just now beginning to defrost. ]

[dendarii]

All right, all right. How are your fingers? Ready for another trial?

[scienceping]

Affirmative, Admiral.

[ He shifts his position to center on the next tumbler, filled slightly more with water. This time Spock places one hand against the base of the glass instead of on the table, wrapping his fingers around it. Miles might notice that the tips are still slightly green, and that Spock's grip briefly fumbled as the tip of his two longest fingers bumped the glass, betraying his slight loss of coordination and sensation.

But before Miles can protest or stop him, Spock begins to concentrate as he did before. This time, the frost spreads immediately, albeit slowly, from the areas where his hand is touching the glass. Spock only concentrates for a few moments as the frost continues to spread over the entire glass, then withdrawing his hand entirely once the entire glass is encased in a thin layer of frost. ]

[dendarii]

[ He does move to stop the Vulcan, then retreats as that ice starts to spread. Best not to interfere, lest they have an even worse accident. He lets out a low whistle. ]

I think we've found the critical component. You need to be touching something in order to freeze it.

[ Carefully, he tugs the edge of his sleeve over his hand and offers it to Spock. ]

Now try me. Just - a little. You should have some sense of its effect on organic matter.

[scienceping]

[ Any sense of accomplishment that he just gained from that is wiped out by Miles' suggestion. Spock faces him head-on, those pointed eyebrows turning into a deep frown. ]

Certainly not. While I agree that it is important to know the effects on organic matter, I respectfully refuse to attempt it on any sentient being without further experimentation on inorganic and non-sentient organic material.

[dendarii]

[ Oops. Well. That's probably for the best. He would certainly get a disapproving look from Gregor if he got frostbitten ... He reluctantly nods. ]

Potted plant?

[scienceping]

[ Frostbitten or worse. :| ]

... That is acceptable.

[dendarii]

[ Hey, he backed down. Mostly because of Gregor. He gets up to retrieve a plant out of the corner and puts it on the table. ]

Let me see your hands first. You didn't look fully recovered last time.

[scienceping]

[ Good. :|!! Spock hesitates at first, but it's a reasonable request. He holds up both hands to show that he didn't full recover; the skin on the tips of his hands are tinged a deeper green up to his first knuckle, and it's also beginning to affect the skin itself, showing dry patches and shallow cracks in the skin. ]

[dendarii]

[ Miles frowns as he looks down at Spock's skin. That ... was worse than he'd thought. Significantly so. ]

... Let's make this the last test for now. This is starting to hurt you.