barrayarmods: (Default)
For Barrayar mods ([personal profile] barrayarmods) wrote in [community profile] forbarrayar2017-01-18 09:31 pm

[ january ii log ]

Who: Everyone
What: The end of quarantine, a breath of fresh air, and the first taste of action
When: January 18th - 31st
Where: Barrayaran camp / Cetagandan base
Warnings: TBD


Quick links:
Barrayar: Piotr Vorkosigan / Barrayaran camp / Missions
Cetaganda: Zahal ghem-Zefyst / Cetagandan base / Missions
Special thanks to Ana for last-minute PB hunting!


It's been a little over two weeks since you first arrived on Barrayar. As the month wears on, the weather shifts a little colder, and snowstorms come, dumping over a foot of snow on the ground over the next couple of weeks.

barrayar
So far, the outsiders tent has only been visited by the Countess and the Princess. But on the morning of the 18th, the General Count himself makes an appearance. Piotr Vorkosigan is a lean, hard-faced man, battle-worn and fierce, but despite his reputation as a master strategist and the bane of the Cetagandan existence in the southern half of the continent, he looks to be no older than his early thirties, and he's held the rank of General for nearly a decade. When he comes to speak, the guards make way immediately, and he doesn't waste time mincing words.

"My name is Piotr Vorkosigan. I am the commanding officer of this camp." Hands clasped behind his back in a parade rest, he surveys the outsiders at a glance. "I hope it's been clear to you all that you aren't under arrest here. We had to detain you until we could find out what you were, because you clearly were not our enemy. I'm sure you've heard by now that we're at war, and not on the winning side. This planet -- Barrayar -- was cut off from the rest of galactic society for seven hundred years, until just thirty years ago. Until then we had no plasma weapons, no spaceships, no electricity. We had just barely begun to absorb the changes that had eclipsed us when we were attacked without word or warning by the Cetagandan Empire. Eight planets already conquered, and they sought to strike us while we were vulnerable. They claim to be saving us from ourselves, to bring us the light of civilization, as though we are dogs being taught a new trick."

His lip curls. "Komarr -- the planet that controls the only wormhole entrance to this system -- allowed itself to be bribed by the Cetagandans so that they could get their warships through the other side. They demanded unconditional surrender -- no treaty, no convention -- but we answer to one Emperor only, and our refusal to surrender under any conditions was met with warfare and occupation. Some Counts, traitorous collaborators with no honor, have surrendered, but our Emperor refuses. And Vorkosigan's District is loyal to the Emperor. Our only chance at outside help is through his son, Prince Xav, using his position as ambassador to Beta Colony to try and drum up support and get supplies through the blockade. With ghem patrols on every street of our cities, we've gone to ground to fight on our terms, wherever we can, lest we fail to remind the Cetagandans that this is our planet. They don't know these mountains, this land the way we do -- staying hidden is the only way we survive."

He gestures at the camp with one hand, the worn tents, the campfires, the weapons long-antequated by galactic standards. "If we used any galactic technology, the Cetagandans would be able to trace our location as easily as if we'd sent up a flare, so we are relegated to our own traditional weaponry, to fighting from the shadows. And our location has been compromised before." His face is mostly hard and impassive, but his eyes flash briefly. "A scant month before you arrived. How, we still don't know. But we were forced to split our forces and flee. We're operating at half our usual manpower and supplies, and we can afford to take few risks, so you must understand why we had to be so cautious with you. We still don't have a clue how you wound up here, or why; that's beyond even the imagination of galactic scientists, I think. But I do understand that you had no chance in the matter, none of you, nor have any of you given any reason to suspect you might be a threat to our effort. So, effective today, I am lifting the guard around your tent. You are free to walk the camp as you please -- save for the areas restricted for military use. But as you know, we are short on resources -- manpower included. We have no room for freeloaders or empty hands. If you wish to stay, you'll work like the rest of us. We could always use extra hands around camp." He surveys the outsiders once again with an even sharper eye. "We might be able to use a few extra hands elsewhere, too, if you can prove yourself trustworthy.

"I won't hold anyone in this camp against his will. Anyone who wishes to leave my do so -- but know that there is no protection in a war zone. All of our cities are occupied by the enemy, and their soldiers won't hesitate to shoot any man wandering down from the mountains. If you do want to leave, you'll be escorted by one of our scouts down to the foothills, to as safe a space as possible -- and to make sure you won't be able to trace back your route. We cannot afford to let our location fall into the hands of those face-painted bastards, however remote the chance."

He'll leave it at that, and when he takes leave, so do the guards who have been posted around the outsiders' tent. The detainment is over.

camp
Now that you're free to roam about the camp as you please, except for the restricted military areas, the atmosphere has changed a little. Some of the soldiers still regard the outsiders with wariness or diffidence, particularly those who might not look not quite normal. Barrayarans don't take especially well to the unnatural. But they are ultimately social and outgoing by nature, and they’ll especially gravitate toward other soldierly types, although they're sort of dubious about the women who claim to be warriors or soldiers in their own right. Still, their disposition is tentatively friendly if on the gruff side. Now that you're no longer under quarantine, they might strike up a conversation or invite you to play card or dice games with them, even if just out of curiosity if nothing else. But Barrayarans are stubborn as well: arguments might escalate quickly, and you might find yourself in a confrontation.

Now that you're no longer confined, you eat at the mess at designated mealtimes like everybody else, and you'll find that the soldiers don't eat much better than you were these last couple of weeks. You also get access to the bath tent for the first time since you arrived, if you'd like to take your chances, but bathing in the winter is always risky business. Near the bath tent are the stables, which always have a soldier or two on duty as stablehand. If you need medical attention of any kind, sickbay is the place to go, although don't expect much in the way of bedside manner from the medical officers.

Lower-ranking officers and the little old Dendarii ladies who help with the camp direct you to your jobs, a variety of mostly menial but necessary tasks. The work isn't extraordinarily demanding, and it's hardly slave labor – you're doing no more work than the average soldier here. If you're decent with knives or know anything halfway about cooking they might requisition you for the mess, if you know anything about horses, you'll probably be assigned to the stables, if you're just plain strong they'll set you to chopping firewood, and no one needs any special skills to help with the washing. But no one is assigned to just one job – when something needs doing, they'll find one of you to do it.

Life among the guerrillas is tough – none of them have it easy, and neither do you – but it isn't all bleak and miserable. When it starts to get dark and the winter chill sets in for the night, the off-duty soldiers gather close around the campfires to socialize and swap stories, maybe even share a little wine or maple mead if they've got any. Once in a while a particularly courageous (or drunk) soldier will even start a round of one of Barrayar's many traditional drinking songs, a few of which have had their lyrics adjusted with more contemporary references. However war-worn, wary, and rough they may be, the Barrayarans have an unmistakable sense of family and unity among them.

missions
After Piotr's speech on the 18th, the outsiders will be offered an opportunity: they're short on manpower, but they can't afford to waste time. Their intelligence on Cetagandan security is out of date, and the operations are risky, but if you're willing to stick your neck out for the Barrrayaran cause, it'll start to establish a bond of trust.

Piotr orders Captain Aaron Vorbataille and Captain Alexei Vorinnis to organize two recon missions to scope out the base's perimeter security, and two more to infiltrate the base and scope out the power supply. On January 22nd, the first perimeter scouting teams return more or less successfully, but with some unfortunate bonus information: there's a traitor in Piotr's camp. On January 23rd, the second perimeter scouting teams have even better success with gaining intelligence, as well as happening on a Cetagandan field science team. Adrien and Beth's squad does not engage, but another squad chances an attack on the Cetagandan team, and manages to capture one of their scientists.

With the discomfiting knowledge that there is a traitor among them, Captains Vorbataille and Vorinnis choose their infiltration teams for the power supply recon carefully. Lieutenants Dmitri Vorhalas and Boris Vortala are ultimately selected to lead the teams, though there is some heated disagreement between the captains on whether they should be bringing in more personnel at all. The power supply recon mission on January 28th has mixed results: intel gathering was mostly a success, but otherwise it was a failure. Not only were the Cetagandans alerted to their presence, but Lieutenant Erik Grey was KIA, and Lakshmi Bai and Lieutenant Vortala were both taken prisoner. No one in either squad seems to be able to provide an answer as to how or why the alarms were tripped so early. The only upside is that Lieutenant Vorhalas has taken a prisoner: Duv Galeni.

Needless to say, the implications of a traitor being in camp are troubling, but with two prisoners from the Cetagandan side, hopefully they'll be getting some answers.

The unabridged event writeup is here.


cetaganda
Zahal ghem-Zefyst approaches the gathered exotics with a welcoming smile, and a near bounce in his step – face fully painted in a more intricate manner than any of the other soldiers present. Unlike the rest of the Cetagandan soldiers, he's dressed in multiple layers of robes, all in colors matching his face paint to the exact shade. To the casual observer he looks unarmed and relaxed, but those who know what to look for will find that some of the folds of fabric are designed to keep things hidden, especially at the hip. Once he's certain he has the attention of every exotic, he gestures, open armed, as his smile grows.

"Good day. I am General Zahal ghem-Zefyst, commanding officer of this base and all operations, and I would like to first offer my sincere apologies for what has occurred – ending up here from wherever," and here his eyes light upon the most non-human of the group gathered before him, "you originated from must have been a shock. You've been told little of what is going on, but I see no reason why that should continue. You are currently on a planet known as Barrayar – but we," he gestures to himself, his wife, and the assembled soldiers with him, "are from the Cetagandan Empire. Nine planets wide, the Cetagandan Empire has existed for centuries, and flourished for all of them. There is nowhere else in the galactic Nexus that can rival our standards of living, our level of technology, and our way of life.

"This planet," he continues, cheerful voice taking on an edge of scorn and sadness, "has been left in the dark for seven hundred years. You can imagine what befell them without modern technology – society could not handle the strain, and these past eight centuries have been filled with bloodshed and fighting. Only recently has the government become truly centralized, and even then it is a tenuous peace, enforced by more bloodshed. Cetaganda's hope – our hope – is to bring them back into the Nexus as a whole. We wish them no harm, and some of their district Counts have willingly joined us, having seen the value of our cause.

"But the Barrayaran Emperor – Dorca Vorbarra – has resisted us, and there are still some districts where the population refuses to acknowledge the value of galactic technology. Of what it can do for them, of what we can do for them. This fracture between Emperor and Counts, of subjects and their ruling class, is only proof as to how fragile this society is, and how desperately it needs to be guided. We wish to be that guiding hand, and want nothing more but to live side by side with the Barrayarans."

The statement is made with a soft gesture of togetherness, before Zahal continues, smiling again. "Again, I apologize for your quarantine. We know you are here not by choice, and are taking steps towards understanding how you arrived and perhaps, how to send you home again. Until that time, however, you are free to go wherever you wish on base, respecting those areas set aside for military use. Some of you have expressed interest on learning about our culture – if you desire more in-depth information, that will be provided on request. You need not do anything beyond respect the boundaries and continue to be as civil and courteous as you have been. There are all only ten of you, and we have plenty resources to spare.

"Lastly – none of you are required to stay here with us. If you would rather brave the elements and undiscerning Barrayarans, we will escort you out, so long as you leave any technology you acquired here behind. Thank you, all of you." He bows, then, and turns to leave – gesturing the guard to follow him out of the room.

base
Now that you're free to roam about the base. as you please, aside from the restricted areas, the atmosphere has changed a little. It's still heavily military -- they are at war, after all -- but the genteel, almost delicate air hinted at during the exotics' quarantine seems to permeate the entire base, a certain fundamental Cetagandan sensibility. On a military level, everything here is built with function in mind -- but to the Cetagandan eye, form can rule supreme even in utilitarian contexts. Even such ordinarily mundane areas as the mess or the washrooms are dotted with art and designed to please the eye, even if subtly. You couldn't mistake it for anything but a military installation, but it's probably the most beautiful military installation you've ever seen.

The ghem troops are nothing short of civil, same as everyone has been. Some of them are even quite interested in the exotics -- whether seeking camaraderie or merely partaking in a novelty, it may be difficult to gauge, but there's no getting around the fact that anyone who doesn't look quite human, or anyone with an especially aesthetically pleasing form, is getting a little extra attention. However, they are all quite polite, in a way that is clearly cultural rather than circumstantial. The ghem ladies are a bit more elusive and much fewer in number, but they're even more outgoing than the soldiers, and any of the ghem on base might be pleased to share with you any Cetagandan cultural pastimes or teach you about Cetagandan art, although there may be a few polite laughs at the expense of anyone particularly "uncultured". 

Now that you're no longer confined, you eat at the mess at designated mealtimes like everybody else, and you'll find that the artfully prepared fresh cuisine served along equally (somehow) artfully prepared meal rations you've been getting are the standard here. There are no longer any guards posted around the exotics' room, which has been officially dubbed as your living quarters, and you share a communal bathroom with the rest of the hall. There's a common room on each floor where soldiers often go to spend their off-duty hours, with the appropriately recreational accoutrements: the materials for a few kinds of games popular on Cetaganda, a couple of sizeable vid plates for watching holofilms, as well as the supplies for a variety of Cetagandan art forms. There's also an exercise room in each barracks building with about what you'd expect, but probably prettier and more future.

You aren't asked to do any work, just politely told to keep away from restricted areas. A couple of ghem officers appointed by Zahal take you in individually for interviews of a sort, a couple of times a week. They're perfectly civil, and the interviews themselves are tame -- the Cetagandans are merely trying to collect some more information to better understand this phenomenon. So while there might be some questions in the personal sphere, they're primarily interested in where you come from. They won't try to force you to answer in any way -- if you sit there in stubborn silence for the hour, they will endure it politely, if in exasperation.

missions
We're using that word loosely, because none of this is official or even remotely organized.

Now that the exotics' room is no longer guarded, curiosity gives rise to temptation. On the night of January 22nd, Ratchet and Kaidan sneak out to the science/medical complex and overhear Zahal and one of his science officers talking about signs of wormhole activity as they try to puzzle out what happened. On the following night, January 23rd, Lapis and Darkstalker make their way near the war rooms and listen in on Zahal and one of his intelligence officers discussing the Barrayaran information leak and confirming that there are 'exotics' among the Barrayarans too. They have also learned that the Barrayarans are planning a raid sometime in the next week.

Things get a little chaotic on January 28th, when security alarms are suddenly tripped and a few curfew-cutting exotics run into outsiders from the other side. The evening is sort of a mixed bag for everyone involved -- Duv is captured by one of the Barrayarans and this time, no one gets back to the barracks without getting caught. On the other hand, Wash and York manage to capture Lieutenant Vortala, for which the soldiers thank them in appreciation as they take him into their custody.

The unabridged event writeup is here.
littlemissfutility: (25)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-01-24 07:05 pm (UTC)(link)
He doesn't have to say any more than perfect before she wants to groan. Slowly, slowly, she's growing more comfortable around him--or, maybe more accurately, everything Byerly's suggesting is starting to sound so insane that her concerns about him aren't at the front of her mind anymore. She's not so comfortable that she's moved from where she's standing, still out of arm's reach, but her thoughts have shifted, and so has the light in her eyes. She has to talk him out of this before it becomes some big...thing.

"Isn't pretending to be noble the kind of thing people get executed for?" It seems like it probably is. From what he's said, and from what she knows, people with titles--whether they're Lord So-and-so or Officer or Doctor--have plenty of reasons to worry about who else tries to claim the same name. (Not everyone, of course. Daddy always taught others whatever he could, and Rick cared (cares, he's still out there) more about what people did than what they called themselves. But all these Vors? That's different.) "There has to be an easier way to get a knife."
vorrutyer: (punchable eyebrow)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-01-24 08:10 pm (UTC)(link)
"Oh, certainly," By answers. "We all remember the story of the Three Mikels. - That was three young men pretending to be the slain Emperor Mikel Vorbarra, rescued as an infant from the blade of the assassins who took his life. The first two were proles, but the third was actually a Vor himself. A Vorkalloner. They packed him into a cannon and fired him back towards the Vorkalloner District. That's why they call him Saint Vorkalloner, now - he was quite literally cannon-ized."

He laughs. That's a good one. One of his favorites.

"But you only get murdered by your own government for that sort of thing. Anyway, who would be able to contradict you? Someone else from your version of Earth, I suppose, but they're not here. So...?" He shrugs.
littlemissfutility: (46)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-01-24 08:17 pm (UTC)(link)
"That's a terrible joke," she says, but her mouth twitches a little. It's a mix of awful, a pun so bad that someone's dad would probably tell it combined with all the real danger that comes from a place where people still fight with swords. Maybe that's why Byerly likes it. He seems like the kind of person who'd like jokes that were a little too true to be completely funny.

"Even on your Earth, they probably know that America doesn't have aristocrats." Of course, she doesn't really think of Russia having them, either, but everyone here is basically Russian, and they clearly give a damn about who's a Vor and who isn't. "And I can't just make myself sound British or--or whatever."
vorrutyer: (smug aka default)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-01-24 08:23 pm (UTC)(link)
Another cheery shrug. "You could be not from Earth, then," he says. "Say you're from - hm - Georgios-5. A planet about six wormhole jumps from here. No one could call you on it except for those with some Galactic education, which consists of Miles, Sonia, and Olivia. Or say that your version of alternate-universe Earth does still have aristocrats - that doesn't seem so hard to believe. That after the collapse of civilization, they built it up into a neo-feudalist form, just like happened on Barrayar. No one will question it."
littlemissfutility: (64)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-01-24 08:32 pm (UTC)(link)
Beth glances down at her right hand, since she doubts it's the stitches he means. The cast is hidden away under a coat and a mitten, but it's definitely still there, bulking out her sleeve and (mercifully) keeping her wrist a little warmer.

"I'm not that injured. It's just a fracture." And the cast isn't so big that she can't work around it; if they had guns here, she'd be fine. (Why they can't have guns here still baffles her. The count mentioned the Cetas tracking weapons, but if it's just plain old bullets in a plain old gun, how will they even know?) She shrugs, watching his even steps with some envy. Turns out cowgirl boots aren't ideal for tramping through the snow. "Anyway, it's gotta be mostly healed by now. They put the cast on a while ago."

Ahead of them, the leader raises a hand, and Beth shuts her mouth, eyes darting around them. The reason for pausing is still a fair ways off, but it's visible out there before them: a huge wall, painfully man-made in a land where everything feels wild to her. Their destination.

((OOC: I'm really sorry, I must have missed this tag notif!))
littlemissfutility: (49)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-01-24 08:38 pm (UTC)(link)
It, like his alternate-Earths theory before it, is starting to sound dangerously possible. She'd make a pretty crappy lady, these days, judging from the glimpses she's seen of the actual countess around here, but she could try. In ripped jeans and a bloodstained shirt and hair she hasn't cut since the world ended, maybe, but she could try.

"Okay," she says, and tries to make it clear through her voice that she's not taking this actually seriously, so he shouldn't, either. The last thing she wants is to find out he's gone behind her back and convinced Sonia and everyone else to fake this. "So I pretend I'm a noble. There has to be more to it than saying so, or everybody would."

What do I actually do?
vorrutyer: (world-weary (and smug))

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-01-24 08:46 pm (UTC)(link)
"Oh, there is more to it," he answers. "Courage, for one. And a certain disregard for the supposed sanctity of the power structures which govern our world. Not many people have that, you know - you'd be surprised - everyone wants to act like power is power and must be respected at all times. Instead of being...Well, I'll not scorch your innocent ears with descriptions of what it actually is."

He strokes his mustache a moment, then goes on - "And you'll need allies, naturally. To give support to your claims. Sonia would be key. Miles wouldn't be bad. A few of the other outsiders..."
littlemissfutility: (34)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-01-24 08:58 pm (UTC)(link)
"Tell me." Power can be a lot of things, depending on who wields it. The way her father quietly rallied their neighbors together into one house. Rick wobbling between democracy and dictatorship, trying to do whatever kept them alive. A working partnership when there was nothing but Daryl, the dead, and her. Dawn's hold over the hospital, alternating between an iron grip and a blind eye. More than allies, more than anything, it's going to be worthwhile to know how they see power here.

So she doesn't bother counting outsiders who might help her, instead waiting for an answer he's breezed over. "My ears aren't that innocent."
traitorous: (CYBORG.)

[personal profile] traitorous 2017-01-24 09:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[ they're out of time.

maine's already considering the logistics of his and lakshmi's escape, working possible scenarios in his head: can he take out both wash and york before the guards come, and can he do it without seriously harming either of them? can he also do it without dragging lakshmi into the potential crossfire? maybe. probably. wash looks disoriented enough that maine is sure he could subdue him in a couple seconds. one second to send him toppling forward with a hard yank on the sword, another second to hit him square in the jaw and lay him flat on the ground.

after that it's just a matter of dealing with york, and york's got an exploitable left side. probably doesn't have delta to compensate for that weakness, either. a little kick of snow to his face, and he's momentarily fucked.

it's dirty and messy and totally unfair but playing fair is what gets people killed. maine doesn't have the patience to take on a small army of very armed, very unfamiliar soldiers without a proper way to defend himself or any prior intel into what the cetagandans are actually capable of. the covenant and the insurrectionists were easy because maine knew their tactics, their weapons, their habits, their ships, their fucking high school textbook histories. all maine knows about the cetagandans is what the barrayans told him, and the barrayans don't say a whole lot.

there are shouts in the distance, the stompstompstomp of many boots crunching through heavy snow. maine breathes in and out and rocks forward onto his toes, every muscle in his body rippling in warning as he gears up for an attack, like the ocean before a hurricane. his hand slides higher on the sword, smearing blood on the blade, and all at once he's shifting his weight back to his heels, gripping the sword tighter, pulling, two goddamned seconds zach come on —

— then wash abruptly draws away, tells him to go as he hands him back his weapon, and for a moment maine almost punches him anyway.

instead he plants an open palm on the center of wash's chest and shoves him hard, away from a sloppy gunshot that was surely meant for maine's head and not wash's right shoulder. too late for wash's bullshit niceties and gallant courtesies. the cetagandans are here.
]

Don't do me any favors, rookie. [ spoken with a pointed shove of the rapier into wash's hand. keep it, since you like threatening his life with it so much. ] Watch your own fucking six.

[ he doesn't know why york and wash are with the cetagandans and not the barrayans ( doesn't matter; why are any of them on this god forsaken planet in the first place, is the better question ), but this is where they're safest. he needs to get back to the barrayan encampment, regroup with carolina, figure out where to go next. wash and york can take care of themselves, just like they always have.

right now his only responsibility is to lakshmi. he turns toward her, jerking his chin sharply upward. time to bail.
]
Edited 2017-01-24 21:44 (UTC)
dendarii: (good point)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-01-24 10:02 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, you're wrong, but I already knew you couldn't do basic math.
dendarii: (frakkingcylon 138)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-01-24 10:05 pm (UTC)(link)
Miles considers that. It's telling that his first instinct is disappointment that he can't be the one to bring a captive in for questioning. That would surely win him points with Piotr ... But that can't be his purpose here.

"You can just walk out?" he asks, stalling a bit as he mulls it over. "They're not tracking you?"
vorrutyer: (confused)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-01-24 10:11 pm (UTC)(link)
Math?
dendarii: (half pint of trouble)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-01-24 10:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Half a man means half the tolerance, obviously.
vorrutyer: (world-weary (and smug))

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-01-24 10:15 pm (UTC)(link)
You know, they say that height doesn't make a man.
dendarii: (cocky lil bastard)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-01-24 10:16 pm (UTC)(link)
Alas, when it comes to alcohol? The sheer volume is often what counts more.
vorrutyer: (haughty (and smug))

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-01-24 10:16 pm (UTC)(link)
"Yes, yes, you're very worldly," he says dismissively, waving a hand. He crosses his arms, then, leaning back slightly, eyeing her with consideration. "Well, then you can fill in the expletives one could use for it. That hardly matters.

"What matters a bit more," he continues, "is also making sure you believe the lie. That's the key to pulling off all fictions. You cannot simply utter an untruth. You have to accept that untruth in your heart. You have to completely live it, and not let any other thought enter your mind. Say I wanted to pretend I was a respectable, compassionate creature - " He presses a hand to his heart. "Then I would have to only think clean thoughts. So if you want to be powerful, you must believe yourself powerful."
vorrutyer: (explaining everything (badly))

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-01-24 10:17 pm (UTC)(link)
I'm not talking about alcohol tolerance now. I'm talking about manliness.
dendarii: (202)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-01-24 10:26 pm (UTC)(link)
Are you? And you're using that to reassure me? God forbid.
littlemissfutility: (58)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-01-24 10:40 pm (UTC)(link)
She'd hoped he'd had slightly more in mind than just power is crap. But if he does, he keeps it to himself. Maybe that's all he has to say; with the way he talks, maybe he really does think power is just an illusion, something one person tricks everyone else into believing. It's a depressing thought, but she can't entirely deny it. The fact that there are better ways doesn't mean people will take them.

There's something else, too, the way he uses himself as an example, that's itching at her. If you wanted to pretend you were a self-important bum, what would you do? Pondering over how much of Byerly's act is just that--an act--is going to take more than one night.

So all she's left with is his advice as applies to her. Believing in her own strength hasn't convinced others in the past, but they've always learned better. So, solemn-eyed, she asks, "What if I already think I am?"
vorrutyer: (Backpfeifengesicht)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-01-24 11:01 pm (UTC)(link)
I've just always been so deathly curious. How big is it?
dendarii: (cunning plan)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-01-24 11:02 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Really, Byerly. Ugh. He counters in turn: ]

My last girlfriend was eight feet tall. She didn't have any complaints.
vorrutyer: (what a shitty grin)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-01-24 11:03 pm (UTC)(link)
Eight feet tall? Good lord. You must be like the Emperor's own camp stool, then.

[ He holds out his fingers to illustrate the tripod he's describing. ]
dendarii: (frakkingcylon 192)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-01-24 11:04 pm (UTC)(link)
[ A slight eyeroll at that. ]

Must you be so crude.
vorrutyer: (Backpfeifengesicht)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-01-24 11:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Crude? I'm just being scientifically curious. How did you get an eight-foot-tall girlfriend?
dendarii: (solpadeine106)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-01-24 11:15 pm (UTC)(link)
By rescuing her, of course.

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