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forbarrayar2017-02-02 08:00 pm
barrayarmods) wrote in forbarrayar2017-02-02 08:00 pm
Entry tags:
- !event,
- #barrayaran camp,
- #cetagandan base,
- *diya d'zefyst,
- *olivia vorkosigan,
- *piotr vorkosigan,
- *sonia vorbarra,
- *zahal ghem-zefyst,
- agent maine | traitorous,
- beth greene | littlemissfutility,
- kaidan alenko | standsentinel,
- lakshmi bai | shri,
- lapis lazuli | mirrortide,
- ratchet | asafepairofhands
[ 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.
What: New arrivals, desperate times, whispers down the hall.
When: February 1st - 18th
Where: Barrayaran camp / Cetagandan base
Warnings: TBD
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.
no subject
The threat that the woman directs at him sounds surprisingly steady given her situation, and even not knowing her, Wash knows that tone of voice. Not dripping with malice or seething hatred, just the calm, unwavering determination of someone giving their word. She means it. She means every word of it.
Wash has been so focused on thinking about the mental effects of the drug that he hadn't stopped to consider what it would look like, hadn't thought about being able to see it take hold on someone, and god. He can see it rolling over her like a wave, a sudden tension and then all of it just washing away with the tide. She stretches as much as she can in her bonds, rolling back her shoulders, and when her eyes reopen all Wash can think of is Zahal's words, from moments before. Suspended in bliss.
She looks content. And even in that state, there's something in her eyes, something in her smile, something confident and bold, a held-back ferocity, a predator surveying their realm, immediately reminding him of how she'd fought the night he and York had gotten her captured. Small wonder that Maine might've taken a liking to her.
He tries to catch her eyes, as if to try and send her some unspoken signal that he's still trying to help her, that he's on her side, but she seems barely aware there's anyone else in the room at all -- and what can he do? Nothing, not here, not now. Wash has always been calculated and careful, has always ended up sitting back whenever he needed to do something, and he can't help but feel something sink in his chest. This is different, he tells himself. He'll help her. He's here to help her.
Wash looks back to the dragon, to Zahal. He hates to admit it, but part of him is -- interested, to see Zahal's methods.
no subject
He hadn't thought much of the prisoner before, or her threats, and seeing her like this he couldn't help but think of her as being a little weak. Surely if she was stronger she would have been able to resist longer.
He glanced sideways towards the other exotic, one of the scavengers he hadn't talked to. Something about the way he was looking at the prisoner rubbed Darkstalker the wrong way, but he couldn't place why.
"So now what?"
no subject
"Now we ask the basic questions that we can." Turning back to her, he begins, settling into a stance that seems at rest but is truly anything but. "What is your name? And did you come from the Barrayaran camp?"
no subject
"My name is treason. I would not want your head cut off before the Count has had his chance." The Count, the Count. Will he be worried? No, no, he was a man of singular purpose.
But she meant to protect his Countess. She promised to be by her side. Wandering, even now, before she seems to remember they're in the room, mouth parting with the second set of the questions. "Maharani Lakshmi Bai, Jhansi ki Rani." Tsks it. They would not know what they mean. Empire braggarts never did. Their English always mangled it so.
"The Queen of Jhansi - and my kingdom never had so much snow." She tsks, slow, eyes closed. That is answer enough to his question. She sinks back into the chair, her head rolling to the side, laughing slowly to herself, memories - missing and homesick - of somewhere so long gone. Jhansi's winters were stark as her summers. Like being jut out of the ground did not leave them with much kindness. "She is flat and rocky and bare. Such is much of Bundelkhand. Her winters are not like this. They snap."
no subject
She's answering because she has to, because she must, and he wonders what it feels like, if she's at all aware of the secrets she might be spilling out for anyone in this room to hear, if any part of her fights this or if she's just drifting and blissful, answering because she feels like she wants to. The way she talks is strangely conversational, even if she isn't looking at anyone at all.
Maharani Lakshmi Bai. Jhansi ki Rani -- she is a queen. He looks at her and that just seems to immediately click into place, like it makes sense, like all along she'd already held herself like a queen, only he never thought of it. Royalty isn't something Wash is familiar with, but he imagines most queens don't fight like she does. If she led her people, she led them in battles, too. Jhansi, Bundelkhand. She's talking about her home.
Wash glances to Zahal. Might not be the answer he was looking for -- she must have come from the Barrayan camp, and she'd given a different answer, but it's information nonetheless. It's easy to see how one would need a skilled interrogator. She'll need to be directed, to give him what he wants -- or they could just let her talk and talk and talk and she might stumble upon it eventually, giving up all the secrets she keeps without so much as a blink of an eye. Wash suppresses a shudder, but he's silent, listening, absorbing, almost wishes he wouldn't remember any of this, all this about her that he shouldn't know, but if this was someone he was interrogating, someone whose information he needs.
Zahal is already being far more patient than he would be.
no subject
Darkstalker sounded a little annoyed, his tail flicking from side to side. A careful eye might notice the spines along his back rising slightly. There was something about the way the prisoner was speaking now that had him on edge. Not the content, that was all gibberish as far as he was concerned, but the surety in the way she said it. It reminded him of his sister, like a hollow echo of Whiteout. He did not like it.
no subject
But a Queen. And one who's met General Count Vorkosigan, by the sound of it. Or at least knew his reputation. Zahal's eyes narrow -- if they could get the location out of her.. but that would take more than a simple question. So he continues, giving Wash a long, flat look. "So you have met the General Count. What have you discussed?" It is a guess, but Zahal does not phrase it so. If she hasn't, she will correct him. And if she has, well. He will know more.
no subject
"We met, he is a good man, if young." A hum, like he's just an adviser and this a war table. Her head tilts in consideration, the gold sways, glittering at her ears. The red stones catching the light. "I would keep him as one of my own generals, and his wife at my service if I could. That is what we discussed. I am not fool enough to tell a man I have just met that I am royalty."
Says the woman, doing just that.
"That is what we discussed. His wife. Her care. I offered myself even in service to her, for she is worthy of it. Her life will be lonely as a General's wife." It would be all knotted up waiting, always waiting. That was death, that was a hellscape. It was not the battle, it was waiting and being helpless. Why did they never understand that? "I would ease that if I could. Though, they aren't used to women doing their own work. Told me that they do not expect their women to be carried into battle'." A huff of irritation, imitating his tone. Her eyes roll, still arrogant. "Half my durgadal could carry him. No one could want soldiers as fine as they were." Sliding over him, the snake, and then Washington. A smile, and a memory as she looks to him. "I'd say most men are all so fragile about such things. But not all." She is - fond, not of him. She doesn't know him and where she is sitting presently - haha - he is just one of them. Standing here listening as she pours out words. Maine, Maine knew him, and Maine never questioned her ability. She ordered, he followed, he breathed please when he wanted to cover her. "Some are worth their weight."
Bemused with the words, really, she looks back at the Ghem. A almost shrug as she looks over him dismissively. What was he too her? But she knew what he was. Another barking dog. Come then, monster, peel apart your skin, let her see, let her see. "Some aren't worth their own spit."
no subject
The General Count. What a title. He listens, doing his best to parse everything that's being said even if part of him still feels an incredible guilt from it, and then there's the way her gaze moves to him, not just passing over him, but definitely looking to him. There's a smile, curving at her lips, and he knows immediately that she can't be thinking of him. She is thinking of Maine.
If Maine meant so much to her, if she meant so much to Maine, there's no way that Maine wouldn't come bursting back here to try and get her back -- he knows him well enough to understand that. He and York have to talk to figure a way out of here before Maine gets himself killed.
That last comment, directed at Zahal, might draw a bit of a smile from him.
"It doesn't sound like she's your biggest fan," he says, dry, amused -- and immediately regrets it. Smiling, jesting at her interrogation. God. This is almost too clean, for what it is. He's done a lot worse himself, shot people in front of their friends, threatened them with guns and knives, and there isn't any blood or screaming here but that just makes it all too easy to forget how cruel it still is. A breath, recentering himself. "The General Count apparently doesn't expect women to fight, but they'd still let her come here."
Just offering an observation. He doesn't like helping, but maybe if he can keep them focused on this, just on things about her relation with the Barrayans, they're likely to find more of what's useful to them -- while avoiding any of her own secrets from her own world. Maybe.
no subject
"If the enemy is so desperate for soldiers, of course they'd send her. Even a queen should be expected to lead her army the situation demands it."
no subject
"So you have experience in combat. Tell me, what of their forces?" He will use her knowledge against her, if he must. And he must, because this is war.
no subject
There would never again be a mind like Tesla's. "He would make the Count such an artillery, as he deserves. Your walls would be nothing to it. He would ride with his cavalary with Nikola's arc guns and you would sizzle like the least of the Vampire-kindred." Her head turns away as she laughs, the painting vivid in her eyes. The bubble of skin at high temperatures and flash of searing flesh burning in her mind's eye. Inhales roughly on the wretched memory. "What I wouldn't give for something more, thermite at least. The Count could give you such nightmares then."
Which is to say, that of the things she thinks are important to warfare, the Count didn't have the heavy artillery that would change much of its scope. Yes, he needs something. Guns, gunpwoder, something to rip them apart by the dozens. A deep breath out of the battle-field smoke, wetting her lips, dry - she felt prickling dry like the worst of her homeland's summer.