forbarrayar | [ february ii log ]

Entry tags:

[ 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Perhaps he will get consumption and every woman in the camp can mourn his pretty eyes, she thinks dryly to herself as she lowers her eyes away from his compliment as she adjusts herself in the blankets. An effort still, the shake that hasn't quite left her. A bare jut of her shoulders out from her blankets where her silk undershirt is tugged loose in her sleeping.

She's still, tired, she knows, still - damn them, far too exposed. ] Enough of that, I think I made it clear I am not a woman to play those games with.

[ Because right now, she definitely is not feeling remotely beautiful. Just tired, just old, old like stones are, all worn down into the earth. ]

You did.

[ He sweeps his eyelashes down at her. His lips curl up in a gentler sort of smile. ]

And so I do not play. I merely observe.

[ She wants to tell him she knows how she looks, that his words don't mean much like this. But that's all -- a great deal more than she thinks she's capable of. Exhausted, simply but and maybe that's what really says it, she doesn't rise to bite him for his smooth words like she might normally.

She shakes her head, catches the sight of the greyed hair for herself and sighs. ] Whilst you're pitying me, move the pillow up, will you?

[ Because even getting herself up slightly leaves her short of breath, a rasping ugly thing in her throat. ]

[ Obediently, he leans in to draw her pillow up. But he's laughing as he does. ]

Milady, you are gravely mistaking my meaning. This isn't pity or flattery. I mean it most sincerely. You survive what I'm sure was a heroic dose of fast-penta, suborn a healthy handful of Cetagandan servants, and come back transformed from your prior goddesslike aspect of vigor to a new goddesslike aspect of wisdom. I'm not pitying you. I am in awe.

[ She recoils at the word - fastpenta. What a noxious thing. It feels like learning to feel shame over a river, the way she had poured out words she hadn't given to anyone in years. ]

I would rather they had tortured me. [ It's bitter, quick, turning her face away as she adjusts herself into the pillow, supporting her back so it's a little easier to breathe. Her jaw clenched so tightly, it ached, like somehow it would take back the words she had spoken. Nods stiffly with it, as close as she can give to thanks before she lets her head fall back more comfortably, the blanket tucked under her arms to give her some freedom of movement. ] Why don't you tell me what I have missed, instead?

A bit of torture.

[ He says that easily enough. Casual. Cheery. ]

Too bad the Cetagandans hadn't found you first, and that you'd been captured by the Barrayarans. It seems that would have suited your temperament better, no? Though secrets always end up being let loose in the end, no matter how fond we are of them.

I can take blood, and most certainly do not care very much as to losing my own.

[ She says nothing of secrets - no doubt, given whatever has been discussed whilst she was... opting not to bother with the land of the waking - he had one or two of her own now. It was alright, she tells herself, it wasn't what mattered, her pride didn't matter.

She gives him a look, sceptical the most polite term for it. ] But you? I dare think you'd go pale at the sight of that much blood.

[ He smiles broadly, carelessly, flipping his wrist at her in a mocking half-salute. ]

Your daring is in vain. I'm Vorrutyer, milady. Vorrutyers are well-famed for their bloodlust. And so I was called upon to assist in the torture. I acquitted myself quite well, I think, on the whole.

[ She... really doesn't believe it. Whatever his perversions perhaps, a great many of them, enough to put most of the clientele of the La Belle Dame to shame. But blood, and the cruel shedding of it... for well, reason enough she supposed, but to revel in it?

He did not seem the type.

Or perhaps dealing with Lord Hastings and his ilk had skewed her image of such. A man revelling in the monster. Sprawled naked on his couch with Finley's blood on his mouth. A monster, not just because of his other form. She had seen plenty of them that just needed to eat. Dazed and confused and not understanding what they had become, at times clinging to her, at times crawling away in revulsion.

Lord Hastings, oh no, he liked the game, the playing simpleton, but one more British Lord. He did not talk about making a good showing, rather, he lapped the blood off a poor man's throat, he left the bodies of working women strewn as bloody decorations. He laughed and gloried in what he was but not in

Her mouth sets flat as she looks over him. Pushing herself up takes an effort, but this matters more and it's not intimacy, as she catches his face in her free hand to turn it towards her. No, not intimacy, so much more than that. She looks to his eyes, and to nothing else. Not because they're beautiful eyes, but that's where it'll be. Flat, like mirrors, empty and sharp all at the same time. Her calloused fingers rough as this frame his jaw. Expecting, waiting. Looking for it, looking for that coldness, that slick wet slice of seeing people not like people, but meat. Like she could pry apart his mouth and find the bits of flesh in between his teeth.

She cannot believe he is that kind. Either because she likes to imagine she can pick such a thing, or that she cannot allow herself to be party to that. Even so, she's not grit with it, rather she's soft, quiet, a murmur of seeing too much, too often. ]

No, no you are not. That might be the reputation that your family has, and many wretched things you might be and things far greater, but not that, Byerly. Never that.

[ If he were, she would kill him. Nothing grand, nothing dramatic. She would wait, and she would slit his throat quiet as the kiss he gave her. ]

Edited 2017-02-22 04:53 (UTC)

[ That...Well. That takes him by surprise. That's a rather rare thing, all things considered: Byerly tends to be hard to ruffle, hard to catch completely off-guard. But Rani's unpredictability is what drew him to her in the first place, wasn't it? So he should hardly be surprised when she surprises him.

But even so. That firm affirmation of his nature...For just a moment, his face goes immobile, frozen, focused. Surprise on him looks identical to intensity on other people. Something flashes in his eyes, something a little...uncertain, maybe even something a little frightened. Something deeply unhappy, in any case.

And then the moment passes. Then he's moving again, flipping up his hand, his expression going droll and wry. But while he says this in a cheerful chatter, his voice camouflaging that hurt, the words go right to what had caused him to wear that expression. ] Well. Maybe not now. But most of us end up going mad in the end. You're quite right, though, that there's no guarantee that I'll turn into the violent sort of madman. There are all sorts of types of madness for me to choose from. So exciting.

[ He laughs, and then transmutes that laugh into a sigh and a pout. ] Still. Old Vorkosigan decided I'd make a handy prop in his torture session - intimidation coming from the family name, all that. It certainly wasn't my favorite thing that I did while you were gone, I can assure you. [ Oh, and speaking of his favorite thing that he did while she was gone - ] I really must thank Maine, by the way. It really is a pleasure having you back.

[ It's just a moment, where it's just him and just her. Nothing else between and her fingertips draw soft on his cheek. He's brighter like that, she likes him more like that. Not his laughter, or soft touches. Him, all beautiful eyed and somewhere between focused and curled in and away from her.

Hadn't meant to hurt him, at least not that way, but she had what she wanted. No, no, he was not lurking deep that kind of killer. His revelry was wrong for what that usually was.

Just a moment and he slips away, her fingers curl, a brush of her knuckles against his cheek before she settles back and he pouts. Her eyes slip closed, brow pinched as she takes a pained breath. Shakey on the exhale and damn - she can't wait for her chest to stop aching. If it ever did. ] He should not have. Nor should you let anyone do such to you.

[ Something she'll say to Piotr then, frame it differently, of course. Say it in terms of finding the right man for the job. Not, don't twist them, win, but do not be your enemy. Not, don't push him to become such a thing.

Thinking on it, hearing the last part and she opens her eyes again, frowning at him rather this time. ] Maine and Miles.

A Vor serves, ma reine.

[ He says it ironically, but it is true. A Vor serves. Even a dissolute, disgraced Vor serves. That's why he spins his semi-truths about Piotr demanding his presence - because he needs to lay the groundwork for his eventual betrayal, because he needs to offer a reason for his defection. Because when he goes, people need to say, Yes, that makes sense. And so he flutters his hand, and grimaces, and makes general faces of dismay and disgust even as he offers his faint reassurances.

I must serve.

He moves on a moment later, though, saying - ]

When you say Maine and Miles, you of course mean just Maine. I can't imagine that Miles really brought anything of substance to the equation.

[ She means to catch him on that, even if there's a displeased purse of her mouth when he insists on reine, still. It was inevitable, but he was going to be a dog with a bone about it, wouldn't he?

Rather she waves her hand in brief dismissiveness to his words. She won't hear a word against him, now or ever. That much is set. ]

Whatever squabble between you two is between you two. He came to my side, he saw to my safety and my care just as much as Maine did. I hold them both in esteem.

Oh, there's no squabble. I just detest the dwarf, that's all.

[ Truer in the past week than ever before, regrettably. He's saying this mostly for the purpose of camouflage: he will, after all, be answering to Miles, the two of them allies in his mission, and so distancing himself from the man is good policy. But right now, truthfully, he does detest him. Powerfully. ]

And did you actually see him do what he said he did? He has a habit of exaggerating his involvement. Don't buy into everything he says.

[ And she falls into it easily. She can't imagine where it's from that the irritating between them, but Miles hadn't exactly been fond of Byerly, if understanding. Still, it's not her business. The only thing that matters, as of this moment at least: ] You will keep a civil tongue in your head about Admiral Illyan in my presence. Nor call him that again.

[ She won't have it. Not now or ever, not about Miles. ]

[ A laugh - ]

Admiral! He hasn't had the audacity to pretend to be that in my presence. But yes, all right. He's a giant amongst men. I love him. Better?

[ Her eyes roll. He really couldn't resist, could he? It's one thing when it was just between them, and their quick words. But things dear to her, precious to her, she will never allow to be hurt.

Nevermind that it piques the question of why Byerly is so dismissive of the notion of Miles being an Admiral. But if she has to have that conversation, she will have it privately. ]

Enough, Byerly. I owe him much, and he has my loyalty for it.

Of course, ma reine.

[ He presses a hand to his heart and bows mockingly. ]

Henceforth, I shall kiss his giantlike foot, if that is what will bring gladness to your heart.

[ Oh she is going to throttle him when she gets out of these blankets. Scowling at him something fierce. Perhaps she should have thrown him into the wall instead. It might be easier than trying to decide if she wants to laugh him or smother him with her pillow. ]

And enough with that ridiculous title, least of all in French of all things.

Ah.

[ His eyes narrow in amusement. ]

Then perhaps we will stick with Rani, instead? It's a name you gave yourself, after all. I was just calling you by your name in another tongue.

[ She levels him a look then, even as he's amused, but she - is wary and obvious as to why. It's nothing to be joked about, in the end. Even if he always made it easy to be light, to be played about. That, too, was dangerous. He had such a slick habit when it came to tone. Never serious for long. ]

As I told you: I gave you the truth.

[ Pulls, mild, and her head turns away briefly to cover the way she smiles. There was her favourite joke when Miles had dug in interest and others besides.

Sobers though. On one point, because it seems all a game, except to her, it isn't. Not about that. He is not her subject. She had not been some far removed thing from her people when she had ruled. She preferred always to be amongst her people. Always to see to them, and if she had any love of her title, it was in their affection for her as their Queen, not of the position itself.

She won't have that change now. ]

Nor am I your Queen. Lakshmi Bai will do, if that's your want.

Hm. [ He rolls his head back and to the side, studying her from beneath long eyelashes. ] Well. I'm a fickle subject, anyway. I doubt you would treasure my fealty.

[ Laying the groundwork again for his betrayal and abandonment of the Barrayarans. Little comments here and there so that when it comes, they'll say, yes, this seemed inevitable. He felt like someone who'd betray us. Then he tilts his head forward once more and tests out her name: ]

Lakshmi Bai. Is that your true name, or simply a different alias?

[ Her teeth grit there a little. She's still not well. Still sore at all her edges, still nursing her pride after being captured. Puts her off for where she's normally happy to take his bait. ]

Don't insult me, Byerly, I am not that kind. Our enemies know my name, their poison saw to that, you may as well too. I am sure you are enjoying being right, is that not what you wanted? [ Stiff, there now, he found something out. He can savour it, nurse it like he did his drinks. How pleasing for him. ( perhaps later, she will regret the thought as being unfair but - ) ] Be content with it.

[ But Byerly, unoffended, responds honestly. ]

Of course it is. And of course I am. [ He offers her a small grin - but there's no venom in it, no cruelty. Just a bit of playfulness. A little laughter and warmth, to take the sting out of this conversation. This isn't so serious, milady. ] A strong man enjoys winning fights, and a clever man enjoys being right. In each case, it's an affirmation of his skill. And I am not strong, but I am clever.

[ He lowers his lashes at her flirtatiously. Then: ]

May I have the kindness of knowing why you hid it in the first place?

[ Not so serious, and then he asks the one thing that is. Fine then, let him have it. Her face lifts, stubborn, not taking the bait of his teasing. It is no game to her. It is everything, everything she has fought for her, everything she would gladly die for.

Many things she would laugh about, but her position had never been one of them. ]

Because my people were fed upon by monsters that the invaders had brought, and when I could stand it no more and when my people cried out against it, we fought for our independence. They were slaughtered down to the last man, woman and child. By most accounts, I was killed on the battlefield, and my name made a crime in every corner of their Empire.

[ The shot aches, either from memory or that the blackwater cannot fix everything anymore. Her hand comes up to it that spot on her shoulder, where the Hessian had shot her through. Digs the heel of her palm into it to try and take the pressure off it. ]

As the sun never sets on the British Empire, it is prudent to not give it anymore.

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