barrayarmods: (Default)
For Barrayar mods ([personal profile] barrayarmods) wrote in [community profile] forbarrayar2017-02-02 08:00 pm

[ february i log ]

Who: Everyone
What: New arrivals, desperate times, whispers down the hall.
When: February 1st - 18th
Where: Barrayaran camp / Cetagandan base
Warnings: TBD


Quick links:
Barrayar: Barrayaran camp / Missions
Cetaganda: Cetagandan base / Missions



welcome to barrayar.
It's the dark of night when you come to in the foothills. Snow on the ground, chill winter wind whistling -- in fact, it's dangerously cold, and all you have is the clothes on your back.. A steep mountain range towers just ahead, its peaks illuminated by the light of two moons. Whatever you last remember, it isn't how you got here, and you feel oddly jetlagged, slightly queasy.

And you're not alone. There are a few other people close by, all looking equally lost and confused. But before any of you have a chance to figure out what's going on, the soldiers arrive.
There's a war on, they say, and you unlucky bastards have just been dropped right smack in the middle of it.

barrayar
The cold snap hits the guerrilla camp hard, especially with a handful of new people to care for. On the 1st, a few people from Riverfall Village come to the camp, Village Speaker Yakiv Gura among them, who seems to have a rapport with Piotr. They bring extra supplies with them, such as clothing, heavy wool blankets and bedrolls, as well as extra firewood to help fend off the cold. The new outsiders are accommodated the best they can -- they're all provided bedrolls and any extra clothing they (probably) need -- but the Barrayarans don't have an extra tent to spare, so that means all twelve outsiders are force to share a tent that ordinarily sleeps ten. On the plus side, it should provide some warmth. The cold is

A young boy comes in tow of the villagers; Speaker Gura tells Piotr that the boy turned up a week ago and insisted on helping them with the supply haul, despite his small size. He's clearly Barrayaran, and looks as though he might have been living on hisown for a while. He doesn't speak mcuh, and when asked his name, will only give it as Negri -- first or last, no one's sure, but the boy doesn't seem easily fazed. Piotr tells the villagers he has no room in his camp for lost children, but somehow the day after the villagers leave, Negri turns up in camp again. He's curious, but quiet and unobtrusive, wherever he is in camp. He's a very good listener…even when you might not want him to be.



On the 3rd, the Barrayarans and outsiders awake to discover that the part of the cave where they've kept the majority of their food supply has collapsed, either blocking their access to the cache or destroying it entirely. It's impossible to tell. The villagers can't spare much more than they already have been -- certainly not enough to feed the hundred and fifty-odd soldiers in the camp -- so while they try to find out a way to recoup their food supply, they have no choice but to slaughter their own horses for food. Food will be heavily rationed, but fairly -- the outsiders receive no less than the rest. The prisoners, on the other hand, get nothing. There probably isn't enough wild game in the area to sustain the camp, but Piotr sends out hunting parties, and when they get wind of a Cetagandan supply drop on its way, they organize a raid on the supply lines.

camp
With temperatures well below freezing, no food, and excruciatingly little in the way of advantage against the Cetagandans after their last infiltration attempt, morale is beginning to drop. Piotr and Olivia remain bastions of perseverance as always, but Sonia is beginning to buckle and wilt as the days go on. The soldiers do their best to entertain themselves and keep morale up, but all they've got are maple mead, and old card and dice games. They could use some new forms of entertainment. Maybe a snowball fight might get the blood moving -- assuming you can stand the wind chill. Thankfully, there's no shortage of warm clothes and wool scarves.

The cave isn't big enough to simply move all of camp inside, but the sickbay and mess tents are moved where it's a little warmer and out of the harsh wind. It's generally crowded with off-duty soldiers despite the food shortage, because no one wants to be out in the cold right now. Things get a little better after the mostly successful raids, but food is still heavily rationed.



missions
The hunting parties are only moderately successful; there isn't much wild game out there right now, and while the soldiers fare alright, the outsiders' hunting party fails miserably. The raiding parties yield a little more in the way of relief, enough now that they don't have to keep eating horse meat, but Pearl was captured by enemy forces in the chaos.

Maine helps Piotr with a very successful final interrogation of ghem-Miko, the Cetagandan scientist taken prisoner last month. He reveals that the Cetagandans have been studying the locations where exotics appeared, as it seems to be linked to wormhole technology, and that the Cetagandans are planning on building a device to control it. They have the technology, they're almost sure, but it's a puzzle they haven't solved yet. Ghem-Miko doesn't live long past his interrogation -- public execution by decapitation is his sentence, and when it's done, a few soldiers carry off his body and severed head.

Piotr's interrogation of Duv Galeni goes about as well but, blessedly, less fatally. It becomes known that Duv is from Komarr, the planet that sold Barrayar out to the Cetagandans, and that Duv Galeni is really David Galen, a relative of a few Counselors in the head of Komarran government. However, he's able to successfully convince Piotr that he isn't allied with the Cetagandans, and after a few days of agony, Duv is granted parole at Piotr's discretion.

On the evening of the 15th, Maine, Beth and Byerly inadvertently catch Vorhalas in the act of trying to sabotage what little of their food supply they've been able to recoup. He tries both fight and flight, but the three outsiders are able to take him down and drag him to Piotr's doorstep. It quickly becomes apparent that Vorhalas was responsible for the cave-in earlier in the month. Piotr is both furious and victorious; he now has a lead on the traitor conspiracy among his men, and his esteem of Beth, Maine and Byerly has gone up considerably for their part. Vorhalas is up next in the interrogation chair, and this one won't be pretty.

The unabridged event writeup is here.

cetaganda
The recent supply drop not only provides resources for the base and for distribution to their other outposts, but also brings fresh species for transplant into the gardens at the Grow Labs. The arrival of a handful of new exotics gives rise to a fresh wave of buzzing curiosity around the base. All of the new exotics are given thorough physicals, just as the first wave were, and provided with fatigues and anything else they might need. They make an even dozen now, their bunk at capacity. The Cetagandans are beginning to become accustomed to having the exotics on base, some of them even forward enough with their curiosity to be friendly. Darkstalker now has a small following of ghem lady scientists who regularly feature him as a subject in their art.

New arrivals will be processed as the first were -- once everyone has been whisked out of the extreme cold, everyone is subject to a thorough physical, including a number of scans that may or may not seem totally arcane to you. Other than a blood sample, nothing they're doing is at all invasive. Lady Diya d'Zefyst, while not a physician, is present at all physicals. She is easily notable not only for her striking, almost ethereal beauty as is typical of the haut, but, as the only haut on base, she is easily distinguishable by her lack of facepaint.

While the exotics still have freedom of movement around the base, the recent extreme temperatures have their hosts diplomatically suggesting they travel as much as possible, they are provided cold weather wear, as the mess hall and medbay are in separate buildings from the barracks. Weather warning aside, they encourage the exotics to take advantage of the non-restricted recreational facilities -- exercise rooms, art rooms, the lush gardens in the Grow Labs -- and will satisfy any reasonable curiosities.

base
In an effort to make the exotics feel more at home, the Cetagandans decide to put on the sort of function they might for visiting diplomats, full of art of all sorts, to show that they're just as willing to share their culture with the exotics as they're asking the exotics to share with them. The function is hosted on the evening of the 7th in an annex to the Grow Labs apparently meant for this express purpose, as it shows off the most beautiful and elegant of the Grow Labs' specimens, and acts as a live arboretum in and of itself, and quite vibrantly beautiful.



If there's one thing the Cetagandans are good at (besides art, and language, and genetics) it's throwing a good party. Functions like this are always an opportunity for Cetagandans to try and socially one-up one another; everyone is in their most fashionable dress in the latest fashions they manage to keep off-planet, or at least a dress uniform, wearing fanciful scents and vibrant facepaint they might not otherwise on the job. For the artistically inclined ghem (read: a lot of them), this is the chance to show off their artistic endeavors as well -- large sculptures of unusual and improbable materials, walkable installations meant to engage every sense, and of course the living art engineered by the ghem ladies, ranging from relatively simple and tame pieces such as koi fish patterned with clan insignia or black roses and blue orchids, to complex combinations of non-human DNA to create some genetic sculpture. There is, of course, food and drink -- in the usual flagrant Cetagandan style, although the hors d'oeuvres and drinks are even more ecletic than the usual mess hall fare. It seems as though the Cetagandan passion for genetic art extends even into the culinary realm.

At the center of the party is a particular kind of art installation called a discernment garden. Housed in a beautiful, improbably architectural tent, the discernment garden consists of a series of rooms, each meant to test the refinement of the senses -- not unlike a varietal wine tasting. Each room is dedicated to a single sense, inviting participants to judge a collection of samples and suss out the differences, or match tastes and smells and textures to labels; the end of the garden presents its visitors with a final art piece incorporating all five senses, as a final test of one's refinement. Some of the ghem might (a bit wryly) confess that this is actually more of an education tool used for Cetagandan children, but this is meant as a gesture of good will toward the exotics.



missions
On the evenings of the 6th and the 8th, some of the exotics do a little sneaking around, and not for the first time. York lends Kaidan his access badge to the R&D Lab on the 6th and Kaidan, along with Sans and Symmetra, stumble onto a whole lot of wormhole data and schematics to construct a device capable of controlling the phenomena of the exotics' appearance. On the 8th, Deanna and Natasha sneak around to the tactical buildings and overhear some marital discord between Zahal and Diya, and a troubling glimpse at their diverging plans.

On the evening of the 13th, Jasper, York and Daryl are all in the medbay when a biocontainment breach sends it into automatic lockdown, trapping them inside. They overhear Diya arguing with one of her subordinates over unauthorized use of ba genetic material, whatever that is.

The unabridged event writeup is here.
vorrutyer: (or ugly)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-07 01:00 am (UTC)(link)
"Ah - thank you," he says as he ducks inside - quite literally ducks; the flap is a bit low for his lanky frame - sounding a little startled by her consideration. (The source of his surprise is purely cultural; having a woman hold the door for the man is very odd for him, and it genuinely takes him aback.) He straightens his coat once he's inside, and then asks the rather burning question -

"But...Forgive me, dear Miss Greene. But do you mean to imply that you were in prison?"
vorrutyer: (wry)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-07 01:02 am (UTC)(link)
[ Byerly's only response to Tucker's question is to flip up his hand in a what-can-you-do sort of gesture. He moves right along - ]

I'm sorry, if I can take a moment to clarify. Your...son is seven feet tall and has mandibles.
traitorous: (CARNIVORE.)

[personal profile] traitorous 2017-02-07 01:20 am (UTC)(link)
[ unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, despite his glowering stature and demeanor, this soldierly type isn't nearly as repressed as some of his fellow colleagues and marines. the fluttering sweep of byerly's dark lashes does not, in fact, go over maine's head, nor does his teasing ( and most likely insincere ) insinuation. his eyes flick down to his mouth and then further down to his throat, back up again, no longer mildly confused or suspicious but now wryly amused and as close to delighted as he ever gets while he's not in the middle of a firefight because what the fuck when has any stranger ever tried to work to sweetly work him over like this.

the answer is never. never ever ever, not here or in freelancer, not in any star system or universe, not once.

byerly is totally fucking with him. that's fine. that's new and new feels fucking good. but fair's fair.

he hums, the sound a low rumble in his chest and also the only warning byerly will get, before he slides his hand from the bottle to byerly's wrist, hooking two fingers in his jacket's sleeve and tugging the material over his arm. his thumb finds his pulse, presses in, delicately traces the vein from the heel of his palm to the crook of his elbow. the hand still stretched across byerly's legs returns to his written please to etch another question mark in the ground.

how's that for unsubtle.
]
dendarii: (solpadeine111)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-02-07 01:34 am (UTC)(link)
Something slightly less cynical?
vorrutyer: (handsome)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-07 01:36 am (UTC)(link)
[ Ah. Ah - Hm. So accustomed is Byerly to the repressed and the ashamed that the first thought that crosses his mind is that Maine is, truly, a naif who did not understand the insinuations of touching like that or invading personal space like that. That's the thing about being a Barrayaran who likes to sleep with men (and who very often gets assigned to sleep with men, because sometimes the Imperial Service wants a bit of blackmail on certain persons and having screwed a man is generally blackmail enough for a Barrayaran). You grow accustomed to men who are coy, men in denial, men who either due to willful ignorance or genuine idiocy don't recognize flirtation when they see it. You don't really...encounter many men who say yes. Let alone flirt back. But...

But that touch is - unsubtle. Because, yes. Soldierly types. Unsubtle. Always unsubtle...

By licks his lips, a touch uncertain. And then he takes a swig from the bottle - and then passes it over again, this time without wiping the neck clean. He watches Maine carefully, his eyes steady, his gaze intense and unblinking. ]
littlemissfutility: (100)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-02-07 01:37 am (UTC)(link)
She laughs, moving out of the way of the entry, toward an empty bench. It's a moment in which she can see clearly just how little she's told him--which is kind of satisfying to look upon. He hasn't ferreted out her whole life; she can tell it to him, or not, as she prefers. "No, I lived there."

Thinking of it in any detail doesn't exactly inspire laughter these days, of course. It's in ruins now, as surely as the farm is. She adds, more soberly, "The world ended. Nobody needs a prison when the world ends--except people who want a safe home."
vorrutyer: (god honestly what is this guy's face)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-07 01:39 am (UTC)(link)
[ By shrugs, rolling the bottle between his hands. His voice is rather clinical as he says: ]

I enjoy sex, of course. Usually. As long as my target isn't too unspeakably vile. But I think that only a monster would willingly participate in torture just so he can get in someone's good graces enough to get laid.
vorrutyer: (Backpfeifengesicht 5)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-07 01:43 am (UTC)(link)
"I...see," he says a little dubiously. But dubiousness isn't fair. It makes quite a lot of sense, really: those bars can keep dangers out just as easily as they can keep dangers in, of course. A well-fortified structure, few entrances, few exits...Dirty, of course, but as their current circumstances demonstrate, one ceases to care about dirt when one grows sufficiently desperate. Hm.

Well. He sweeps a bow towards her. "Might I fetch for you today's ration of food, Miss Greene?"
dendarii: (solpadeine129)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-02-07 01:44 am (UTC)(link)
[ Miles just sort of blinks at him. ]

Dear god. You said that like you were talking about the weather. "I enjoy a good rainstorm, of course, unless I'm caught in a downpour."
omniavincit: (pic#)

[personal profile] omniavincit 2017-02-07 01:48 am (UTC)(link)
William's here for a glimpse of the other side's tech—his eyes haven't strayed from the track since he heard engines. Until now, when he diverts his gaze to stare at Tucker in stark disbelief.

Where did they find this idiot?

And still, he has to check the urge to explain. To explain what a s'more is. Moments before holding armored trucks up at swordpoint. “You're kidding, right,” he says from somewhere low in his throat. He looks back at the road. “Is there any way we can swap recipes later?”
littlemissfutility: (56)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-02-07 01:49 am (UTC)(link)
"I already ate." Which is true, but it's accompanied by a tiny pinscratch of a frown as she looks up at him from where she's sat down. Willing though she is to have some conversation with him--today, at least--the return of his demonstrative gesturing seems like a bad omen. It's only a step or two away from his snide comments. "But you should get yours."
vorrutyer: (staring at the heavens)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-07 01:50 am (UTC)(link)
Imagine. A downpour of sex.

[ He smiles up at the roof of the cave, but his smile is more weary than wistful. ]

In time, it becomes little more interesting than the weather. The act becomes a banal one, once you've repeated it enough times. Unless you are with someone remarkable, but I fear that the company I keep tends to be quite unremarkable indeed.
vorrutyer: (drugged out)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-07 01:52 am (UTC)(link)
"Mm." He wrinkles his nose, glancing up towards where the scant rations are being handed out to those who are eating during off-shifts. And he says, experimentally, wondering how this will go over - hah, like he doesn't already know that it'll just result in fierce independent prickliness - "I haven't been able to stomach the thought of consuming horse, I fear. Do you want mine?"
dendarii: (TW_S1_E2_0063)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-02-07 01:57 am (UTC)(link)
Dear god, Byerly. That's depressing.
vorrutyer: (world-weary (and smug))

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-07 02:00 am (UTC)(link)
[ He shrugs and takes another drink. ]

It's the problem with living a life of endless hedonistic pleasure. The sparkle really does rub off it. Once you've experienced enough debauchery, it all becomes so...boring.

[ Another. ]

I'm sure you experienced that, too. I bet playing mercenary admiral, back at the beginning - all that adrenaline - thrilling. But in the end, there, weren't you starting to get a little bored of it?
littlemissfutility: (18)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-02-07 02:00 am (UTC)(link)
She can see exactly what he's doing, as soon as he does it, and part of her wants to get up right then and there. But he's otherwise being...well, not nearly as much of a creep as he has been in the past. Which doesn't mean much when everything he does is suspect, but it seems more like he's trying to be nice than anything.

Which could just be some other ploy in some elaborate way to get whatever it is he wants from her, but people who want things don't usually make elaborate plans, in her experience. They just take.

And anyway, she has a knife, which takes some of the bite out of her but is this some kind of trick wondering. Even if it is, she has a solution to the whole mess, right at her waist.

"I hate eating horse," she tells him, which isn't a lie, even if it's not the reason she's telling him no. "But it tastes okay. You should try it."
dendarii: (solpadeine130)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-02-07 02:04 am (UTC)(link)
[ He's silent for a moment. And he holds out a hand for the bottle again. ]

You know what's definitely boring? Not being an admiral any more.
vorrutyer: (haughty (and smug))

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-07 02:05 am (UTC)(link)
"I tried," he answers, slumping down onto the bench and sighing mournfully. "Bravely. Heroically. You ought to have seen it, me doing battle with my gag reflex. But in the end, my gag reflex won, and I nearly threw it all up." He uses a fist to prop up his chin and studies a point above her head. "Eat it, don't eat it, I don't care. But I simply can't. It'll go to waste otherwise, I suppose. Ah, well. Perhaps I can use it to lure a wolf and trap that wolf and train that wolf to hunt me rabbits."
vorrutyer: (shaaaahhhhts)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-07 02:07 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, but you are, aren't you? The prole admiral. Miles Illyan the mercenary.

[ He hands the bottle back. ]

Reclaiming your rank even after it was stripped from you - you'll truly ride that rank until all joy is gone from it. All the sparkle rubbed off.
littlemissfutility: (48)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-02-07 02:08 am (UTC)(link)
She's not sure whether that's even close to the truth--the part where eating horse makes him want to barf, specifically, not whether cooked horse would be interesting to a wolf--but it sounds a little like bullshit designed to make her eat his food. But it doesn't really matter at the moment, because they haven't grabbed a bowl to argue over yet.

More importantly, his plan sounds like a really bad one to her. She barely knows how to hunt, and she knows it's not going to work. "Why don't you just trap rabbits?"
dendarii: (eidetics 66)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-02-07 02:10 am (UTC)(link)
[ Miles glares at him a little. And takes another swig. ]

And you'll go from person to person, getting less out of each one, until you die alone.
vorrutyer: (what a shitty grin)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-07 02:12 am (UTC)(link)
[ That makes him...laugh. And not a fake laugh, either - a genuine one, merry and heartfelt, for a good long time, until he's half bent over catching his breath. Byerly Vorrutyer...might have a screw or two loose. ]

Give me the mead back, come on.
dendarii: (bg054)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-02-07 02:13 am (UTC)(link)
[ Vorrutyers. Miles makes a face and passes it over obligingly. ]

Don't you want something better than that?
vorrutyer: (satisfied (but smug))

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-07 02:14 am (UTC)(link)
"I wouldn't even know how to start," he answers quite honestly. Frankly, training a wolf does seem more manageable to him than rabbit-trapping. How on earth do they manage it, anyway? Rabbit-trapping? In the holovids, you always see the traps lifting up with the rabbits in them, but how do you make them go automatically like that...? What a mystery.

"Do you know how to trap rabbits?"
vorrutyer: (smug aka default)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-07 02:15 am (UTC)(link)
Than the mead? Don't tell me you had a bottle of wine you were holding in reserve all this time.