barrayarmods: (Default)
For Barrayar mods ([personal profile] barrayarmods) wrote in [community profile] forbarrayar2017-02-18 03:21 pm

[ february ii log ]

Who: Everyone
What: Traitors exposed, celebrations had, sleight hands passing cards under the table. And so begin the preparations for what is soon to come.
When: February 18th - 28th
Where: Barrayaran camp / Cetagandan base
Warnings: Torture (interrogations thread)

Quick links:
Riverfall
Barrayar: Barrayaran camp / Party / Missions
Cetaganda: Cetagandan base / Moon-poetry party / Missions


The harsh weather rages on, which temperatures still averaging far below freezing, and the wind is still strong. But things are a little less dire for the outsiders, and for the exotics -- well, they have their own chills to deal with.

riverfall
Riverfall village is your typical Dendarii mountain village, which means it's small, humble, and mostly poor. This is the most rural of the rural around here, a little backwater even by Barrayaran standards. Most of the villagers live in houses of wood and stone built themselves or by ancestors. Despite the cold, there are plenty of people outside at any given time -- working, mostly, because the daily grind stops for no one, but even the occasional group of children taken over by fits of cabin fever. The village is built up against a rocky mountain face, from the top of which the eponymous waterfall flows into the river that borders the west edge of the village and continues down the mountain. The place isn't exactly hidden, but if you don't know your way around, it'd be hard to find without a native guide.

The villagers are wary of the outsiders at first, even more than the soldiers had been -- the rural Dendarii are as superstitious as they come -- but, slowly convinced of their good intentions, start to warm to them. They're a blunt, hardy people, largely uneducated and tending toward the most extreme of Barrayaran sensibilities, but they are undeniably fierce. The General Count trusts them, so they'll be more or less civil (by Barrayaran standards, anyway), but you might catch the occasional scrutinizing, watchful stare. With Cetagandans in camp and exotics among them, they border on hostile, especially those who are visibly nonhuman. They keep their heads down enough to keep from getting into trouble with the soldiers, but they do not like you at all.

Not everyone in Riverfall speaks English -- Russian is everyone's first language, and only about half the village has any passable command of English. Thankfully, the village's Speaker Yakiv Gura speaks English, if heavily accented. They're clearly stretching to the limit to help the camp, but to the Dendarii, there's no higher act than one in the Count's service, especially when it comes to fighting this war.

barrayar
Even after scoring themselves a little extra food, morale in the camp is at an all-time low. The miserably dangerous weather hasn't let up, food is still heavily rationed, and everyone is still at least a little tired, cold, and hungry all of the time. It doesn't help that they've lost a few soldiers in the last couple of weeks, and in Riverfall, too, some villagers have died of the cold despite their relative warmth and safety, mostly children. This is hardly the first harsh winter they've faced, but that doesn't stop the inexorable loss that comes with it. Some villagers may be somberly putting their loved ones to rest in the village graveyard when the outsiders are in town.

But Piotr finally calls Negri out as a spy sent by his aide-de-camp Captain Ezar Vorbarra, partly to deliver a message and partly to test Piotr, because Ezar loves coy bullshit. However, he does learn that both Ezar and Prince Xav Vorbarra, Olivia and Sonia's father, are en route to Vorkosigan's District with relief supplies from Beta Colony secured by Xav's ambassadorial connections and tireless lobbying. Once Piotr judges it safe to release this information, it bring with it a bit of hope -- and to seal the deal, Piotr and Olivia arrange a celebration of sorts in the village.

Finally outing the ring of reason in the camp helps to bolster morale, too. Vorhalas is interrogated, and the names of his co-conspirators are revealed: Lieutenant Boris Vortala, who killed himself in disgrace shortly after his fast-penta interrogation at ghem-General Zefyst's hand, and their commander Captain Aaron Vorbataille. Vorbataille has, of course, already started to make his escape -- but with the help out of the outsiders, he won't get very far. Once Piotr is satisfied with Vorbataille's interrogation as well, both men are put to execution, but not by beheading as Doctor ghem-Miko: the sentence for treason is death by public starvation and exposure, and in this weather, it doesn't take long. They are publicly and emphatically denounced as traitors with no honor to speak of, sending a very clear message. Although this might seem like a gruesome sight to the outsiders, to the Barrayarans this is simply how it goes, and very few of them are sorry to see these traitors suffer, particularly as Vorhalas was the one responsible for their food shortage in the first place.

Reports from those soldiers and outsiders who were in the village at the same time as the Cetagandan field science team present the General Count with another troubling problem, however: the implications of the Cetagandans building a device that could control this phenomenon are terrifying, particularly to this threadbare resistance movement. But sabotage seems hardly a worthy solution, either. This is the only lead they have on sending the outsiders home, and so many of them have already put their lives on the line for the cause of a planet that otherwise nothing to most of them. There would be no honor in robbing them of their only chance to return home. But whether they should continue to allow the Cetagandans to proceed with their research or try to find a way to copy their plans themselves, a dubiously possible venture at best, weighs heavily on his mind. It only complicates his strategic concerns further, but by his military orders in the next couple of weeks, at least one thing is clear: he wants Cetagandan bodies.

camp
Morale is critically low among the soldiers, particularly after a few casualties during a recent skirmish with a Cetagandan patrol, but spirits definitely begin to lift with news of relief. The soldiers are now more or less accustomed to the outsiders' place in the camp, and they're even starting to become a little friendlier toward them, particularly those who've been involved in the war effort. They might invite outsiders to play card or dice games with them, or share a conversation over an admittedly meager meal, or better still, bond with them in the true Barrarayan form: over a lot of alcohol.

Negri has more or less built himself a niche in the camp, and doesn't look like he's going anywhere any time soon. But he isn't the only spy around. They desperately need a man on the inside, particularly with the troubling news about the wormhole device, and right now, that man is Byerly Vorrutyer. Starting next month, Piotr is sending him on assignment to infiltrate the Cetagandan base under the cover of a cowardly collaborator.

party
By the time they have the party on the 21st, the villagers have warmed up to the outsiders a little, but they don't really bond until the party. With what little they have to share, they scrape together as much of a feast as they can: not much, but by this month's standards, any hot meal prepared with fresh ingredients seems absolutely decadent. And because this is Barrayar there is, of course, plenty of liquor, that Barrayaran moonshine maple mead not the least among them, and there's no shortage of wine or vodka, either.

The hillfolk light lanterns all around the village and raise large tarps to cover the open center of the village where they usually hold gatherings. Inside, protected from the wind and lit by the bonfire and braziers placed around the perimeter, it's actually almost warm. Every villager who's ever laid hand to an instrument seems to gather there to play music all night long, an energetic mix of lively folk music and raucous drinking songs. Anyone with any musical talent would be welcome to join them as well. There's plenty of dancing, too, very little of it formal or complicated, but everyone's having a good time for the first time in weeks, maybe months, and the mood is infectious. By the end of the night, morale seems to have risen overall, and people in camp have something real to look forward to. The partygoing visitors are put up in warmed tents within the tarped village center or in the villagers' homes where they have room. Come morning, they'll head back, but for just one night, it's almost like there isn't even a war on.

missions
Outsiders have been assisting with moving supplies between the camp and Riverfall all throught he rest of the month, and it mostly goes smoothly. Vorbataille is caught on the 20th, although he and Vorhalas aren't publicly executed until a few days later, when Piotr is satisfied with the intelligence he's extracted. By the time he gets Vorbataille's name out of Vorhalas, the traitorous Captain has already fled -- but thanks to Carolina, Duv and Zarya, he's dragged back to camp for his interrogation.

That evening, Maine and William have the misfortune of encountering a dragon -- Darkstalker is on a mission with a Cetagandan patrol, and they run right smack into each other. A fight breaks out, but ultimately Darkstalker and the Cetagandans come out on top, and the outsiders and Barrayarans are forced to retreat -- but not before managing to kill a Cetagandan soldier or two, just barely escaping with one of the bodies.

Miles finds himself in a terrible position when a guard patrol shift goes horribly wrong in a skirmish against some Cetagandans, resulting in the death of their squad leader and a very ugly aftermath.

Zarya, William, Beth and Miles are in Riverfall with some Barrayaran soldiers on a supply run when a Cetagandan field science team arrives with a few exotics in tow. This is a rare chance to learn more about the Cetagandans' scientific exploits, and among other things, they find out that whatever it is that brought them here, the Cetagandan scientists are convincede it has something to do with the wormhole that collapsed 700 years ago.

The unabridged mission writeup is here.

cetaganda
The Cetagandans are a notoriously tight-lipped bunch, but they're blowing away most of the smoke surrounding their wormhole science research. As has been alluded, they're currently working on a device to harness the phenomenon that brought all the exotics here in the first place, and hopefully find a way to send them all home with it. They invite any exotics with scientific expertise to a series of interviews about neurology, astrophysics, and mechanical engineering. None of the advisement they receive helps to solve one of their most critical problems -- that of generating a Necklin field to match the one that must have surrounded each exotic -- but it certainly puts them closer to their goal, particularly in the area of neurology, and they're hardly going to stop there. But it's clear that the mathematicians and astrophysicists on base don't have sufficient expertise to solve the most complex equations before them. But on the brighter side of things, in the interest of this scientific exchange, they're letting the lab techs help a little more beyond just grunt work.

Meanwhile, the genetics project that seems so strange and arcane to the exotic carries on, largely behind the scenes, although Diya is increasingly at odds with her husband and even some of her senior staff, particularly the precocious Amai ghem-Soren. But there is very real purpose behind it -- and far more than just one -- and Diya d'Zefyst is a woman of great ambition. And more than anything else, she is haut.

Unfortunately, the relative peace on base is abruptly broken when Daryl, Lakshmi and Wash all manage to escape in a wild breakout attempt on the 25th. York and Ratchet are left behind, and as a result, some of their privileges revoked. They're now being watched a little more closely as a result.

base
Overall, despite simmering tensions under the surface and the miserable weather, life on base seems to be going more or less smoothly around them. The Cetagandans have had some recent victories against the Barrayarans, so morale is high. Unfortunately, after the breakout they begin cracking down on security with the exotics -- going back to treating the exotics a little more like they did when they first arrived. They aren't under guard, but after the 25th, they are being watched.

They still maintain that insistent veneer of civility, however, breaking only in cases where they feel the need or security risk is significant enough. The ghem on base remain overall cordial and courteous to the exotics as they ever were, which is to say considerably and always with a touch of smug superiority. With her success at the party earlier this month followed by her performance in the moon-poetry garden, the often-sequestered Amai ghem-Soren is seen more around the base.

moon-poetry party
The moon-poetry party is about three hours long and steeped in ceremony, each participant taking their turn to recite. This is, apparently, not a recitation of one's own work, but rather selections of classical Cetagandan poems, and in so referencing something culturally ubiquitous, each makes a statement in its mere selection and juxtapositions. If you pay close enough attention, you might notice that each participant has very subtly coordinated their outfits to further complement the theme of their recitation. Although there is a definite dignity to the party, it doesn't take much to pick up on the fact that this is yet another arena ghem use to try and socially one-up one another. Among the participants are both the Chief Medical Officer Colonel Faro ghem-Naru and Doctor Amai ghem-Soren, whose performance was especially well-received, the theme apparently being something about subtle passions.

missions
The science interviews with the exotics go more or less well, although not quite so hopeful as the Cetagandans were hoping. They do, however, learn some things about FTL travel in other worlds as well as other kinds of neural implants.

On the evening of the 21st, York, Natasha and Kaidan accidentally bear witness to what is clearly some kind of travesty: clearly a human being, but both overgrown and underdeveloped, and exhibiting powers of hydrokinesis and psychic empathy, referred to only as a ba.

On the 23rd, Jasper, Lapis, Pearl and Darkstalker accompany some soldiers and a field science team to Riverfall village, coinciding with a visit from some outsiders and soldiers. They encounter some outsiders while there but also pick up a bit on what it is the Cetagandans are doing -- that the Necklin field problem still remains their biggest problem, and they've been getting conflicting orders from the higher ups lately.

The unabridged mission writeup is here.

Note: Negri and Zahal are available for threads by request only this round. Please hit up Madi or Ammay respectively if you want threads with either of those NPCs. You can also request a thread with Village Speaker Yakiv Gura if you want, in which case hit up Madi.
shri: (» sit and watch you wiggle)

[personal profile] shri 2017-03-09 01:17 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Caught her in that, but she doesn't mind so much, or at least, she's tired enough that she can't be bothered with summoning her ire. ]

Only on your better days. [ She taps her fingers to lips briefly, hiding a smile. ] But I recall I told you never to try to replace something you cannot be.
shri: (» sit and watch you wiggle)

[personal profile] shri 2017-03-09 01:34 pm (UTC)(link)
[ She can at least give her some solace in that regard, she can be most rest assured what happened to her would not happen to York.

Not for at least another forty years, give or take.
]

This was not their doing. [ she lifts a hand to wave it away, a brief bit of consideration. ] They like to make a show of their hospitality, their kindness, how superior they are. I am sure... Washington could give you more such information than myself. I certainly did not endear myself to them any.
shri: (» but if we go we go together)

[personal profile] shri 2017-03-09 01:54 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It's... childish, what he says. Yeah, well it sucks. It reminds her of her adopted boy, squalling for sweets, when she told him he could not grow strong enough to ride the war elephant if he refused to eat his whole meals. Beating his fists against something inevitable, then begging at her skirts, Rani - but he wants them now, he does not want eat the corn, he wishes for honey. How it seemed so pitiful, because at times, it took on a desperation that seemed nothing at all to do with eating, and more, more trying to stall on something that she could do nothing but pick him up and shush him, trying to dry the tears on his face by blotting them on her own cheek when she pressed in motherly close.

She might roll her eyes if she had not had them herself, when she had been young. If a great more privately. A girl and a queen and not understanding everything she had to do, she remembered sulking at the restrictions and freedom that rolled terrifying in front of her. At times, it was a yawning cavern below her, it felt, a nightmare she would have about the ground swallowing her up. Duty, duty was like drowning and starving at the same time.

Then years, years and years later, watching a burned city, tasting ash and smoke.

Don't you hate it sometimes?

The day her son died, small, quiet, and then suddenly gone in her arms. One day, the palace so filled with light on it's many paintings and full to bursting with the laughter and music, cast in dark. Standing there, stricken, looking at nothing, because what was there to look at anymore? Rooms that were once joy, now, all over again, just rooms. She is filled with such rooms. That she had to close the doors on because duty, duty always would come first. The fact that she could not grieve because her husband was falling apart and there were a thousand families that were dependent upon them to guide them and her husband could not stop his broken heart from bleeding enough to do so. He could not see to his duties.

So she did them. Bereft, fingers clutching at the ropes of flowers that hung over a little boy's crib. Tasting in herself only an emptiness that sounded like fate as the British informed her that it was not enough that she had lost her son, for such an unforgivable crime, she would lose her kingdom too.
]

Every night, I close my eyes, and I see those that would attend me, looked to me, clear behind my eyes. They have been dead for years, but they have never left me.


[ and she keeps scrubbing the saw. ]
vorrutyer: (whimsical (but smug))

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-03-09 02:04 pm (UTC)(link)
What -

[ He sees that hidden smile, and it redoubles his own. His eyes fairly sparkle. ]

I hope you're not accusing me of not truly being a scoundrel. I should be deadly offended.
vorrutyer: (punchable eyebrow)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-03-09 02:15 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He's getting the most uncomfortable feeling of deja vu. It all reminds him of that...Well. He cannot call it that unfortunate business with Dono, because Dono had triumphed and that hideous sadistic fool Richars had ended up in prison, but having blown his cover to both Miles and Ivan wasn't his favorite thing in the world. And Washington is eyeing him with a sort of suspicion that's an uncomfortable mirror of what By had seen on their faces.

But, well, what of it? Wash might have more wits than Ivan, but he has less access. Fewer strings to pull to bring Byerly's carefully constructed lies come tumbling down around him. No: his cover isn't blown as it was with Ivan. But it is all terribly uncomfortable... ]


My word. What are you suggesting - Oh. [ A laugh, as though of sudden revelation. ] Oh, that. Well, yes. You've caught me out. But a man needs to make his money somehow, and the Municipal Guard has higher concerns than who's selling what to whom. I don't exactly make a secret of my offerings.
symmetricks: (pic#11027285)

[personal profile] symmetricks 2017-03-09 03:45 pm (UTC)(link)
[ She could accommodate her, of course. Nowhere for her to sit to tell the same, but all the same her posture gives the impression of one settling in, her hand pressing against the cell. ]

When I was a girl, the world was recovering from the Omnic Crisis. Machines that had become sentient and risen against us. My family and I lived in the ruins of Hyderabad, in the south.

[ Satya shakes her head, disgust flickering across her face at the memory of home. Far from sweet, far from anything she has it in her to miss. ]

Everywhere there was...sickness. Ruin. We lived on scraps, like animals. Built slums out of trash and desperation. There was no other way out, no other way to survive.

[ The noise. The smell. It had been overwhelming even on the best days, too much for her senses. She remembers closing herself away in a pile of rubble just to have the quiet, the dark, the cold feeling of stone and nothing else. But they had thought it the best they could do. They had made do with it, having no other choice. ]

Then Vishkar came. They were building something new, something wonderful. They could weave constructs out of light and fashion anything they wanted with this new technology. Lights, streets, entire cities. I was one who had the potential to help them create their dream. So they came for me. They...rescued me, took me from my family to teach me what I would need. I was eight, at the time.
protocol: (► baby i master dominate excluded)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-03-09 04:11 pm (UTC)(link)
[ There's something. A crack, a slip, but too easy, Wash knows that tactic too damned well, but if that's what Byerly's doing then Wash has never done it half as well as he is. A man needs to make his money somehow, a Municipal Guard, playing at being some criminal, some dealer? Wash is a damned Outsider, wouldn't give a damn about whatever back-alley dealings Byerly may or may not have had in his that-a-ways. Byerly ought to know that.

He'll tuck that away, still. Something to remember. Wash's expression is completely unchanged, still watching him just as carefully, just as warily, completely open about how closely he's studying him, how much he's reading even the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs. Slightly nervous, but humored enough, god, he really is good, this could be fucking nothing, Wash, it's probably nothing, get over yourself.

This isn't nothing. It's something, something he'll remember and figure out and puzzle out, and after a moment to consider all he really does in answer is lean back just a little more, letting his eyes sweep over him, regarding him carefully, warily, with the same suspicious eye as before -- and careful, calculated, Wash allows himself the slightest smile, a satisfied little upward quirk at the corner of his mouth. As if he did find something.

He's a good enough liar himself. Not nearly Byerly, but he still spent years and years of his life playing the fool. ]
vorrutyer: (watchful)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-03-09 05:35 pm (UTC)(link)
[ And Byerly lets a little bit of strain creep into his expression. Just a little bit of wariness and distrust, like that smile is wearing away at him. Privately, he thinks this is a triumph, because that's a satisfied sort of smile - but By is every bit as paranoid as Wash is, spies in every corner, traitors under every rock. It's his job to find threats to the Emperor, to the Emperor's servants, and that means never trusting. So By looks at that expression, and he lets himself think for a moment I've convinced him, and then he considers all of the things that Wash might be trying to accomplish if he hasn't.

So he lets a little bit of mistrust and paranoia into his face. A little bit of nervousness, like that smile wears on his fragile nerves. ]


I'm not dealing here, if that's what you're smirking about. [ And then, a little ripple of interest, the hopeful eagerness of a shiftless, scheming addict looking for a little something on the side - ] Unless...I probably could get my hands on something. If you're interested.
protocol: (► ladderpoints is now upon us)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-03-09 05:52 pm (UTC)(link)
[ And again, Wash finds himself thinking, this could be all there is.

But no, there's something else here, he's damned sure of it -- Byerly is good and he's too fucking good to be just dealing whatever drug gets peddled under the tables of the well-to-do that pretend to be above it all in Barrayar. There's stubbornness here, a fixation. He feels like he has something, even if evidence suggests otherwise, and he won't let it go. He's never been able to let things go. Pulling knives on shadows. Wash has always known he's not left that behind nearly as much as he wants to.

There's one way he might have to let go, though, just out of necessary. He might have to admit that Byerly is good enough that he's not going to get anything from him. Not now, not like this. He needs something else, somehow. It's probably about time he actually left this, probably should have left this some time ago, now. ]


Byerly. [ A huff, amused, back to the first name. Deliberate. ] I'm not even from here. I really don't care what you may or may not be peddling.

[ Still that smile, though, still letting Byerly see just how closely he keeps watching him. Still trying to dig. Maybe he's smiling because he found something else, something deeper, see if maybe that's enough to give him something to jump at -- he doubts it. ]
vorrutyer: (wry)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-03-09 06:11 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, I don't know.

[ A simulacrum of theatrical exasperation covering a simulacrum of relief. Broad lifted eyebrows, a flutter of the hand. ]

I know all sorts of stiff upright types who get all huffy and offended at the mere thought that someone might be having a good time. And - hm - forgive me - you do seem a little stiff.

[ At some level, deep down, Byerly does wonder: why haven't I escaped from this conversation yet? That...is, admittedly, a little bit of a mystery. There's danger here, considerable danger. And every moment, every word, gives Wash a little more evidence of who and what he is? So why hasn't he made an excuse to get the hell out of here? The part of his mind that gives himself a bit of credit, the part of his mind that has a little more self-regard, thinks: if he's suspicious, then he'll really believe it when you go over to Cetaganda. The part of his mind that's a bit more accurate in its self-perception thinks: you silly little fool, you're taking this risk just because you're having fun. That little dig, that play, that give-and-take - it's exciting. It gives him a little thrill. He hates this job, but nothing sets his blood to racing like this does. ]

Won't even drink, why would I ever think you'd be able to properly party...Ah, well. Unless you do party...?
vorrutyer: (satisfied (but smug))

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-03-09 06:25 pm (UTC)(link)
He laughs in return. It...feels nice. It feels strange. He's not the sort of person who laughs when something is silly - his sense of humor runs to the nasty, the edged, because he is sophisticated and elite in his tastes - but some combination of the night and what lies before him and his drunkenness and the sheer exhilaration of music...

"As you say," he says, bowing to her. "I defer to your superior wisdom. Any other lessons I should learn, Grandmere?"
protocol: (Default)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-03-09 07:07 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Wash has wondered why Byerly hasn't left, either, and he thinks it might be for the same reason he hasn't left, even though he thinks he should, even though he thinks he should a long time ago. There's something here. There's something here, and Wash always has trouble letting go of that, even if there's always that nagging voice at the back of his head telling him he's seeing things, hearing things, it's fine it's fine you've always been paranoid, David, relax, but no. No. There's something here.

It's interesting. It's infuriating, frustrating that he can't puzzle it out, but interesting, and Wash always likes to be kept busy, hates being idle more than anything else, and here's something for him to pick into and try and pry apart. ]


No. [ Stiff isn't a poor judgment at all. He's always been called that. ] Sorry to disappoint.

[ That smile's gone, now, and he could keep it there if he wanted, but instead it's back to watching, back to being wary -- a tip of his head, to the side. Curious. Waiting. Did you have any more questions for him, Byerly. ]
omniavincit: (no offense but are you real)

[personal profile] omniavincit 2017-03-09 09:53 pm (UTC)(link)
Off in Daryl's periphery, William smiles—at the joke, the dumped-at-your-feet delivery, the man's accent. "Thanks for making an exception."

No hard feelings. It was a hell of an introduction.

"You're very good," he says in all sincerity. Cocking his head to the side, he asks, his tone a little more limber, more playful, "What's the secret?"
pigsfeet: (asskicker ko)

[personal profile] pigsfeet 2017-03-10 12:49 am (UTC)(link)
Daryl stares at the other man, wondering what he finds so funny. He only looks him over for a minute-- you never want to let people like him know how much attention you're paying-- before drawing the next arrow. "Practice," Daryl says like it's obvious. It really is. "Same as anything."
komarran: (slightly interested instead of resigned)

[personal profile] komarran 2017-03-10 02:05 am (UTC)(link)
I wouldn't be opposed.

[ Yes please. ]
protocol: (Default)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-03-10 02:43 am (UTC)(link)
It'd take a long time.

[ There's a bit of a smile, there. Doesn't sound like he'd actually mind. ]
komarran: (is he painting)

[personal profile] komarran 2017-03-10 02:55 am (UTC)(link)
So will all of your lessons. We can combine them.

[ A dual-purpose to their future meetings. ]
natalia_vdova: (dont know who i am)

[personal profile] natalia_vdova 2017-03-10 02:58 am (UTC)(link)
"I understand. If you think it's worth trying I'll help in any way I can," she offers easily. "The organization I used to work for was rather big on regular testing. I don't know my exact numbers, but I may be able to offer some general parameters if you would find it useful for comparison purposes." She's willing to give Diya more or less whatever she needs in terms of her physicals. It's only when it comes to her atypical neurology that she becomes less forthcoming.
protocol: (► baby i master dominate excluded)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-03-10 03:22 am (UTC)(link)
Notes and war stories?

I suppose I can do that.
komarran: (things are not as terrible as they might)

[personal profile] komarran 2017-03-10 03:24 am (UTC)(link)
It's a fair price to pay for a university-level education.
protocol: (► mr president i want a man from you)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-03-10 03:51 am (UTC)(link)
Should I be calling you professor?
komarran: (oh for fuck's sake)

[personal profile] komarran 2017-03-10 04:07 am (UTC)(link)
Doctor would be the more accurate title.
protocol: (► i have no pants)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-03-10 02:07 pm (UTC)(link)
[ His eyebrows lift slightly. Doctor, eh. ]

Doctor it is, then.
vorrutyer: (warmth)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-03-10 02:43 pm (UTC)(link)
I don't. I just want to knock you down off your fucking pedestal.

"Church," he repeats quietly. His voice is almost gentle in its softness - not quite sweet, stopping just short of that, but without stridency or any sound of cruelty. "Tell me about Church. What was he like?"
vorrutyer: (intense (but smug))

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-03-10 02:52 pm (UTC)(link)
You hardly disappoint me, dear creature.

[ A smile slides back onto Byerly's face. He doesn't crack still, but maybe there's just the slightest hint of something not quite right about the intensity with which his eyes sweep Wash's face. It's that slide back into seriousness, the intensity of Wash's own gaze, and Byerly wondering: what? It's there and then it's gone, and it's nothing real, nothing concrete, but just for a moment there's just a little crack in the facade of the fool.

How did I tip my hand? That he does want to know. Desperately. Where did he make his misstep? ]


You are remarkable as you are, and always shall be, I think. But yes, I suppose it is a bit of a pity. Were you always like this?