[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

[rathercommon]

[ She's cut off from her protest that she has no idea what either of those words mean by those two words. I died. Her expression is caught, now, in pure puzzlement: she stares at him, then hesitantly ventures: ]

I don't...understand. You died? [ And then she realizes - ] Cryorevival?

[dendarii]

Just so.

[ He half-lids his eyes, trying not to remember - well, nothing. It had just been nothing, barely even the memory of the needle grenade going into his chest. ]

So please, try not to die. I can tell you from experience it is not pleasant.

[rathercommon]

[ She stares at him, a mixture of faint horror and fascination on her face. Cryorevival is something she knows of, faintly, but certainly not something that anyone of her acquaintance has the least experience with. When the poor die, they die, they don't have some...insane off-world technology swooping in to restore them to life. She looks at his thin face and thinks that it does have perhaps a bit of the skull in it - perhaps its leanness and its exhaustion giving it that appearance, or perhaps something else, something more unearthly...

Don't stare, Kitty. Fortunately, that last comment startles her out of her fascinated reverie - startles her enough to make her snort a little scornfully. ]

Oh, that's rich, considering the source. Dying's not pleasant, but I'm a touch suicidal. Don't mind that bit. Over losing your job? You'd have just accepted someone murdering you? Honestly, I'm of half a mind to come over there and slap you.

[dendarii]

[ All he can do is smile crookedly at that, all self-deprecating. The irony is not lost on him. ]

Do as I say and not as I do, eh?

[ The smile fades, leaving only exhaustion behind. ]

It was rather more than a job. More of a whole other life, suddenly lost. A dead man walking.

[rathercommon]

Complete crap.

[ She pronounces that firmly, then stops to reconsider. ]

Well, no, I suppose that's actually technically quite true. But the sentiment is crap. Your job was your life, okay. You lost it, all right. But you haven't passed into the grave. You've been reincarnated. You're still alive, still breathing, and still clever and brave enough, so stop looking so damnably tired and mopey.

[ And then Kitty - again, a bit caught up in her temper and her passion - remembers that she is talking to Lord Vorkosigan, not bossing around someone of her social status. She isn't going to bow and scrape and apologize for speaking to him frankly, to be sure - she'd be a bloody terrible rebel against the established power if she did, wouldn't she - but she does flush just a little bit in self-consciousness. Yelling at her liege lord. Sure. Does that constitute treason? Lese majeste, perhaps. Something new to be arrested for. ]

[dendarii]

[ He only looks quiet and thoughtful in response, considering the words seriously. As if she were a fellow Vor and not one of his subjects. If anything, the class divide makes him more inclined to take her seriously. No polite dithering here. ]

You have an alarming talent for being right, do you know that?

[rathercommon]

[ And that makes her color a little bit more, in surprise - and also a little bit in pleasure. That's a nice thing to hear. Especially from someone who she is, unhappy though she is about this fact, starting to be very impressed by. She tries to play it cool - which is so weird, so weird, given who she's speaking with. Playing it cool. With Lord Miles Vorkosigan. Sure. ]

I've always thought so. Most other people tend to think that I have an alarming talent for shoving my nose where it doesn't belong, so I like your assessment a bit better.

[ And then she pushes her hair behind her ear, and she says: ]

What's happened to you is clearly rotten. Incredibly rotten. Was it fair, though? The decision to discharge you.

[dendarii]

They overlap more often than not.

[ But the "not" side of the equation more than balances the "more"... He refrains from adding that part, given that his own examples would be bewildering without a whole heap of confidential information. Speaking of "not" - he winces at the woman's apparent willingness to come to his defense. Flattering, to be sure, but not necessary. ]

More than fair. Exceptionally fair. I could consider the discharge to be for compounded stupidity as much as it was for the medical condition.

[rathercommon]

[ She narrows her eyes slightly. ]

What do you mean?

[dendarii]

[ He hesitates. How much to say without giving up confidential information, and yet not letting himself off the hook? He leans against the table more heavily, staring down at the embroidered tablecloth. ]

At every step, I had the opportunity to turn back. And at every step, I persisted.

[rathercommon]

[ She shakes her head a little bit. ]

Turn back from what? From...being killed, or...?

[dendarii]

No. From lying about my condition.

[rathercommon]

Ah.

[ She sits back a bit, nodding in comprehension. The picture is pretty clear now - and very plausible, given what Kitty has learned so far about Lord Vorkosigan's character. ]

Right. Then - yeah. It does sound like you had that one coming.

[ A quick nod. ]

Then that's almost easier, in a way. If it was fair, that means there's no use in fighting against it. So the only thing you can do is move forward.

[dendarii]

Is that all. I had no idea. Truly, a simple thing to do.

[ Such exasperation in his voice. But despite the sarcasm, he can't refute her. Isn't it exactly what Harra had said? ]

[rathercommon]

Don't get cheeky with me, Lord Vorkosigan.

[ She crosses her arms and fixes him with a level stare. ]

It isn't simple at all. And it's not inevitable, either. You're rich enough that you could stay in here in this mansion drinking yourself to death. I bet you know a couple of Vor lords who would do that without the encouragement of losing their life's work.

[dendarii]

Me? Cheeky? Never.

[ The smile dissipates as quickly as it appeared, though. He had considered drinking himself to death, or very near to it. That had ended after the first hangover came along to remind him of how painfully alive he still was. That and Ivan's ice water baths. He shivers slightly just thinking about it. ]

What do you propose? Now that you've surely realized I'm not a Vor lord who prefers to drink delicious wine all day. Even in this circumstance.

[rathercommon]

True. But - [ She shrugs a little shrug. ] That's about all I know about you, isn't it. That and your - You know. Public side. And your interesting career. That's not all that much. I'll give advice, if you'd like, but a lot of it's going to be based on incomplete information, given that I don't actually know you so well.

[dendarii]

... Then it stands to reason that we ought to get to know each other.

[rathercommon]

[ She gives a self-conscious little laugh, and a half-smile, and agrees: ]

I guess it does, yeah.

[dendarii]

[ In return, his smile is small but genuine. ]

After ... we have attended to more immediate concerns then. I need to call Illyan before it gets too late.

[rathercommon]

[ And that makes her give a short laugh. ]

I was under the impression he didn't sleep. That's what the rumors say, anyway.

[dendarii]

[ Miles snorts faintly in response. ]

He may or may not sleep. But the ImpSec he sends will be much more helpful if they haven't been dragged from their beds.

[rathercommon]

[ She flashes a quick smile. ]

Yeah. I'd like them to have their wits about them.

[ Then it fades a little bit. ]

And they're...going to do what you tell them, right? I mean - It's not really hard to imagine one of them deciding that your orders were a bit too soft and sentimental. And overriding that and - you know. [ Her shrug encompasses the whole of what can happen to someone suspected of some form of treason when they fall into the hands of Imperial Security. ]

[dendarii]

[ A second, equally derisive snort. His eyes glitter with what is by now a familiar, stubborn intensity. ]

Not in my own house, they won't.

[rathercommon]

[ And that brings the smile back - a little wryer, but genuine. ]

All right. Then it sounds like I'm putting my life in your hands.