[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]

I am twenty. Apparently the legal age is twenty-one. So unless you've purchased some, I unfortunately have none.

[vorbarra]

[Twenty-one sounds ridiculously old to Gregor for drinking, but more importantly, Miles has come up only one year shy.

He tries to disguise his laughter as a cough into his hand, but is not really successful. He didn't try very hard.]

So I should be supplying for you? What a reversal. Ah... I'll make a trip. Later. [Right now he feels rather like being lazy. Having the freedom to be lazy hasn't gotten old, either.]

[dendarii]

[ Even if he had been able to hide it, Miles would have felt his amusement through the link. He just shoots back a feeling of friendly exaperation in response. ]

Later, yes. I like doing this. Just - sitting like this. I've done this with Ivan, but not you.

[vorbarra]

[It's just not often that Miles runs up against such an asinine rule. Usually he topples them before him. His exasperation is inherently funny.]

It is novel, isn't it? [His humor fades into generally feeling at ease, relaxing back into the chair. Just... sitting, as he'd said.] You should get detained by ImpSec more often and I'd visit you.

What do you talk about with Ivan when you do this?

[dendarii]

Sorry, Gregor, but even that wouldn't be enough. I half went mad after the Kyril Island incident.

[ He's joking. Mostly. As much as it would be nice to get to see Gregor on a casual basis. ]

Ah, well ... it's Ivan, what do you think? Drinking and women.

[vorbarra]

[He's joking, too. Though he doesn't see another way he'd get to see Miles more frequently, at home-- Miles does his level best to stay off-planet as much as possible, it seems, like every other career-mad young Vor, and Gregor can't blame them.

He'd rather talk about Ivan than his depressing fate being dirtbound.]

And you have... opinions on drinking and women? [It's never seemed like Miles has done much of either. At least not enough to come to Gregor's attention about it.]

[dendarii]

[ At least Miles' ambition is different. If no less spectacular in the results. Moreso. ]

They're both fine things, but Ivan does more of both. As always. [ He huffs a bit. ] Besides, that's Ivan. Ivan is ... a good friend, but really, I don't talk to him for intelligent conversation. The opposite, in fact.

[vorbarra]

[Ivan can't be as stupid as all that, if by genes alone, but Gregor understands the need to put up a facade in order to escape responsibility. He's never gotten to do that, but he understands it.]

So you talk to him for unintelligent conversation? Or just the bluntness? I talk to Henri for that-- it's very refreshing. [Henri Vorvolk may be as dry as any accountant, but he doesn't have a political bone in his body, at least not any bent toward maneuvering and ambition.]

[dendarii]

A little of both. It's relaxing, talking to Ivan. He's not fraught with anything.

Henri may be smarter though.

[ Poor Ivan, so horribly maligned. ]

[vorbarra]

Fraught with burdensome relations, maybe.

Oh, Henri is perfectly intelligent, it's just all very... focused. Things are simple to Henri. [Gregor sounds slightly envious, actually.] He couldn't fathom so much as giving me a poor piece of investment advice. Those sort of motives don't occur to him.

[Which makes him simultaneously a great relief to Gregor, to have someone his age in the Counts that he doesn't have to second guess their intentions, and also a remarkably poor confidante. He just doesn't understand a lot of the convoluted difficulties that come with being emperor.]

[dendarii]

Pure and innocent, eh?

[ Ivan does at least get the political side, that much is true. One can't be related to Alys Vorpatril and ignore it. And he needs some political acumen in order to avoid work after all. Mostly. There are a few exceptions Miles can think of ... ]

Well - you have me, now. And no politics. Internal or external.

[ Except for Miles quietly reassembling the Dendarii for the sole purpose of protecting Gregor. Details. ]

[vorbarra]

More like pure and oblivious. [It's the bland cajoling of someone who is actually friends with the person they're mocking.

Gregor lifts up his head enough to respond more directly to that last bit, looking at Miles and seeing him maybe a bit too clearly.] I do have you, don't I? And you're right, without politics. You'd think we'd have gone mad with freedom by now. Instead I've been serving coffee.

[Maybe he should be setting his sights a little higher.]

[dendarii]

[ He smiles a bit, sheepishly. ]

That's the beauty of freedom, isn't it? Being able to go out and serve coffee if you want to. Or take over a country. Or anything in between. You really can do anything you want, Gregor.

[vorbarra]

If you'd like to take over the country, Miles, please leave me out of it. You're on your own for that.

I think I'd like to go swimming in the ocean once the weather changes. The original, un-terraformed experience. [Since he's not likely to ever visit Earth himself, back home.]

[dendarii]

[ Miles grins - he'll settle for taking over a chunk of the unsettled population, maybe. That grin warms into something more fond. At the mention of the ocean. ]

I hear Florida is warm enough for it all year long. It's just more pleasant in summer.

[vorbarra]

Really? But we are on the north continent-- ah. How provincial of me, [he says with ready, self-mocking amusement.] We're not on Barrayar.

There's no reason we couldn't visit the beach just to look, anyway. I've seen pictures; the seaweed isn't even red. [A slight joke. Of course after terraforming Barrayar has Earth-like sea life, too, but it wasn't what anyone would call prevalent.]

[dendarii]

No, we are very much not. The seaweed is even green, I hear ...

[ A tinge of unsettlement across their link; awe and homesickness both. Nothing will ever take the place of Barrayar, no matter how many times he's forced to badmouth it as Naismith. He tries to focus on the awe instead, to appreciate Earth rather than long for home. ]

Why not? Pack a lunch and go, right now. Pick up some wine.

[vorbarra]

[If anyone shares Miles's complicated love-hate for Barrayar, it's Gregor. He understands that mix of awe and homesickness, and echoes it back more gently, sympathy rather than feedback.

Gregor sits up a bit more, looking abruptly more lively.] Nothing stopping us, is there? We could pick up lunch on the way. You get the food, I get the wine.

[dendarii]

[ It's soothing like that. Having someone who really, truly understands ... He's not sure what he'd do without Gregor, if he's being honest with himself. ]

You've got the idea now. Moderate freedom - not just serving coffee.

[ He summons up a nice mental image of a Russian-American place he's fond of nearby. Reasonably close to Barrayaran cuisine. does great take-out. ]

[vorbarra]

[It's a thought Gregor's had himself about Miles more than once. He really doesn't know what he'd do. Who they are in public is both so different from who they are in private, for entirely different reasons but nonetheless true.

'Moderate freedom'. What a concept.

At that image, Gregor brightens and gets to his feet straight away.] I'll get my shoes. D'you think they have blintzes?

[dendarii]

I will certainly request them. Or find them.

[ He will charm them into doing it if he has to, so help him. The Emperor wants blintzes, so blintzes he shall receive. ]

Meet you at the porter to Heropa after?

timeskip?

[vorbarra]

Sure. Don't go crazy about it, Miles. I'll survive if they don't.

[Gregor is rather easy to please and rarely asks for anything, too conscientious of imposing himself on those who serve him. Rather to the disappointment of some of them... a fact he is unaware of.

He ducks out to get shoes and coat both, suspecting the beach is likely to be windy, and meets Miles downstairs to head out.]

Timeskip!

[dendarii]

[ That is exactly why Miles is getting you blintzes, Gregor. Because you never do ask for anything.

In the end he gets a nice picnic put together, all wrapped in a to-go box, with Miles promising to stop back later to put together a sales pitch for their new menu item. Gladly carries it the whole way through the porter, to the beach, right up until setup. Surely Gregor has his hands full of wine, anyway. He can't help that swell of awe when they get to the sand and the ocean stretches out before them, green seaweed and all. ]

An excellent idea, Gregor...

[vorbarra]

I do have them occasionally.

[He's totally oblivious to the idea that other people might want to do things for him, just for him. But he is looking forward to eating blintzes, even though they undoubtedly won't be quite the same as the ones from home. It'll be close enough. A bit of Barrayar on a blindingly Earth-like beach.

Gregor can't explain it, but something about staring out at the vast expanse of sand and water hits home to him that they're on Earth in a way that had only been intellectually true to him before. He'd walked slowly down the dune, eyes fixated, and had to tear them away to help spread out the blanket-- pilfered from the couch in their living room-- to sit on.

There's a brown paper bag with two wine bottles in it, and two plastic stemless wine glasses, settled between them, yet unopened.]

Strange to think that this water was the site of the original evolution of humanity. Millions of years ago, of course, but... Hard not to get a little philosophical.

[dendarii]

[ Miles settles himself down on the blanket with an appreciative look at the wine bottles. The basket goes down between them as well, with Miles already reaching over to grab a pirozhki out of the basket. Something to munch on while they talk. It's windy, but not unpleasantly so, he decides; just nice, with the smell of salt permeating the air. He breathes deep. ]

In a sense, we've actually come home?