[ february ii log ]

[barrayarmods]

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.

Comments

washington | barrayar

[protocol]

MEDICAL TENT | ON ARRIVAL;

[ Wash is unconscious when he first arrives at the Barrayar camp, and so isn't really in much of a position to protest the way Maine carries him unceremoniously through the camp to the medical tent, slung limply over his shoulder like some prize from a hunt.

Maine hadn't really hurt him, not more than he had to, he's precise enough, but it takes Wash a good few hours before he starts coming to, slowly and dazedly at first, confused and then immediately sitting upright in his cot, instinctively starting to reach around his back for some kind of weapon before he realizes where he has to be. The camp, the Barrayan camp, and he looks around, processes the other cots around, understands that he's probably in a sickbay of some kind, and then he remembers, crystal clear, arguing with Maine out in the mountains. He has to go back. He has to go back, leaving him isn't an option, he has to go back and Maine couldn't fucking stop him.

So much for that.

Maybe this is the first time he's woken up, or maybe you've only decided to drop by to see him later. The only reason he's still laying in the cot is at some medic's insistence, maybe keeping an eye on him before he's well enough to be sent off to be questioned. Either way Wash doesn't look all that happy to be stuck where he is, clearly restless, agitated, slightly wary around the medics -- but he's cooperative enough, seems to bite back any protests he has, nodding along and doing as he's told, asking after some information here and there. If you've come to see him earlier, he's likely still lying down, otherwise he's probably sitting on the edge of his cot, watching everyone as warily as he always does, but he'll respond readily enough to anyone who tries to make conversation with him -- especially if you're a familiar face. ]

STABLES | A FEW DAYS IN;

[ Horses.

Wash has never seen horses before. He's heard of them, of course, seen holographic projections, remembers how important they were to human progress when he was still studying Earth history in school, but Wash was born on an outer colony and has never seen Earth, and just plain old horses aren't something he'd ever thought he'd see in person. He's passed by the stables more than a few times as he'd moved around getting to know the camp, but maybe three or four days after he first arrives curiosity gets the better of him and he decides to maybe actually take a good proper look at the stables. The tent's in about the same condition as the rest of the camp, but he's still impressed in some way at how they've carved out a base of operations despite their obvious lack of supplies and technology, and how they're apparently capable of holding and caring for a good amount of horses. Essential to living with this kind of technology, from what he understands, trying to remember everything he'd learned from years and years ago, for transport, as a mount in battle, for work. There's almost always someone in the stables tending to the horses, Wash watches them, curious but quiet, saying nothing, observing.

So yes, he is basically just standing there staring awkwardly at the horsies. Maybe come say hi. ]

OUTSIDERS TENT | WHENEVER, AT NIGHT;

[ Wash still doesn't really sleep.

He gets as much rest as he can, and it's the same as always -- he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss some of the comforts of the Cetagandan base, but whether or not he was back in those barracks or here in this overcrowded tent largely unprotected from the winter cold, as much rest as he can is never all that much. For years now he's very rarely had a good night's sleep, has grown used to either sleeping for a few hours at a time at most or simply staying up through the night, and since he'd first arrived on this planet two months ago that's only gotten worse. There's so much more on his mind, so much more to pore over in his head, so much more to mix with all the worries and guilt and echoing memories that had already been plaguing him for years.

This was just another one of those nights when Wash knows he just isn't going to be one when he's going to get any kind of sleep, and he tends to prefer spending those not just staring blankly at a the inside of a tent, listening to a dozen different variations of snoring. He end sup outside, wandering a little around the fringes of the camp near the outsider's tent before he settles himself down near the small campfire, tending to it in silence, watching the unfamiliar stars stretch out overhead, frowning at them like he's trying to see if he can pick out anything familiar at all even though he knows he can't.

If you happen to join him, whether he woke you when he left the tent or you were already awake to begin with, Wash will do as much as to give you a brief, friendly-enough nod. Whatever tensions and thoughts might be keeping him awake, he seems relaxed enough, at least for now. ]

WILDCARD | ALSO WHENEVER;

[ Wash can be readily found wandering around camp and helping where he can to keep himself busy, awake at the equivalent of 5AM running fucking laps and doing exercises, and practicing with a rapier or yoga or something.

Feel free to run into him, or hit me up for something specific @ dragonpunch or valonqar#1048 on disc! ]

Nighttime!

[vorrutyer]

[ Byerly was awake to begin with. His sleep has been disturbed of late, pre-mission terrors keeping him from even being able to close his eyes, and so he's taken to wandering the camp and surrounding area. Wandering the camp with a bottle of maple mead in hand, from which he takes periodic slugs, the alcohol acting to soothe his nerves.

It's during one such sojourn that he spots the newcomer. This one, he can't help but be curious about. Charming face - very charming - nicely broad shoulders - pretty eyes - charmingly mysterious relationship with the charmingly mysterious Maine. A suitable diversion for a sleepless evening indeed. And, potentially, a source of intel, someone privy to the latest developments in the Cetagandan base.

And so he sits next to him at the fire. Ritualistically, in Barrayaran tradition, he takes a slug first from the bottle to prove that it's not poisoned, then wipes its neck with his sleeve, then offers it to Wash. ]

[protocol]

[ Wash is still getting used to the Barrayar camp but he's become accustomed to having some company around on restless nights, a Barrayan soldier on guard duty at night coming to check the tent, another maybe coming by to sit in the warmth of the fire for a while. This one's different, though, just because he's sure he's seen him around the Outsider's tent sometimes in the day -- and because he brings a bottle, the same kind he's seen soldiers occasionally carry around camp. Maple mead, he remembers someone saying.

There's a practiced quality to the way the man drinks from the bottle and offers it to him, and Wash is sure that this is probably something that he's expected to accept. But, well, Wash doesn't drink. He never really has, not that he hasn't tried it or thinks poorly of people who do, he just doesn't like it, hates the thought of being at all inebriated and not having his wits about him, about something that makes him more careless and prone to slips of the tongue. He's far too careful and far too cautious, has spent too much of his life needing to make absolutely sure that everything he knows will stay a secret, and he's only ever drank in very exact circumstances. Being in a military camp on an alien world in the middle of some civil war in the dead of winter isn't one of them.

He -- tries to be polite and friendly about it, lifting a hand to indicate he doesn't want it with a slight shake of his head, tipping his chin towards him. ]

All yours. [ He's good. Hopefully refusing a drink wasn't seen as some incredible slight in this culture or something. Back home, it just mean that he wasn't a whole lot of fun, as other people defined it. ]

[vorrutyer]

Oh?

[ By turns a curious glance on the man beside him. ]

It's not poison, you know. That's why I drank first. To prove it. [ A little half-laugh. ] Old Barrayaran custom, that.

[protocol]

[ It's an assurance, but not exactly a guarantee it isn't poison.

He doesn't say that, though, just kind of shakes his head again with a slight smile, lifting one shoulder in a half-shrug. ]

Just not much of a drinker. [ AT ALL. ]

medical tent

[startpoint]

[ Carolina is there when Wash wakes up, sitting on a chair near his cot. She's not pleased that Maine went behind her back and didn't try to include her in his little mission. Between the trouble with Tucker and now this it's a miracle she hasn't blown up. And while she's still angry it's cooled down in the time she's spent waiting for Wash to wake up. This isn't his fault and having him there is a relief. Maine is his old self but it's hard when she hasn't told him anything about what time she's actually from. But she can't help the knot of worry that's made its home in her chest because even though Maine said he'd seen York... he's not there. And she knows Wash would never leave any member of their team behind.

When he opens his eyes and immediately reaches for a weapon it's a relief. ]

You're up. I was starting to think Maine might have overdone it.

[ Her voice is... oddly calm considering the circumstances. It's easier to push everything down, wait to see whether or not she might need it. ]

[protocol]

[ As Wash starts to realize where he is, remembering what'd just happened, turning away from Maine with an ache in his chest and telling him he had to go back, feeling Maine's arm slip around him and then -- then there's a voice, familiar, and he turns immediately. His vision swims a little in front of his eyes, but even then, the sight of her, even blurry and vague, is enough for Wash to immediately relax. ]

Doesn't he always? [ A smile, a grimace, and he braces an elbow against the cot to start pushing himself up. ] Hey.

[ It's good to see you, and boy is there a lot we have to catch up on. Wash is still more than a little dazed, still processing what's around him, and there's something he needs to tell her, something important, and suddenly he's jolting upright, wide-eyed, twisting around and reaching out to squeeze his hand over her forearm. ]

-- He's still back there.

[startpoint]

[ He's still back there.

There's no question of who he's talking about. York. She's been twisted into knots for the past month since Maine told her that he'd seen both of them. The knots twist tighter and she puts a hand on Wash's, forcing her voice to stay calm and quiet. Yelling isn't going to do any good, in fact it would just share their business with the entire camp. ]

Is he still alive, Wash?

[ It was the fear that had gripped her when Maine returned to camp with only Washington. That she'd lost her chance yet again. But if he's alive... there's still a chance. ]

[protocol]

Alive. And --

[ And well, he wants to say, but he can't. In the moment of waking up, there's a rush of memory, remembering things as well and closely and vividly as Wash always does. He saw York go down, heard him screaming, and he hadn't been able to see how injured he was, but he knew he couldn't really get back up, knew that York wouldn't be able to fight for long.

He shakes his head. ]

I shouldn't have left him. [ His grip tightens over her arm, enough for it to hurt slightly. He shouldn't have left him, how could he have fucking left him? But he had to, god, he had to. Breathe in, breathe out. ]

closed to maine

[protocol]

[ He needs to see Maine.

Carolina had been there when he'd first woken up, and it'd been good to see her again, to talk to someone a little closer to home, even if he hated to tell her that he'd left York behind. There's more for them to talk about, and he should look for her again, but first, but first -- he needs to see Maine. He needs to see him, needs to talk to him, needs to just make sure he's real just to quiet the incessant murmuring at the back of his mind, and he just.

It'd taken a while for him to be let out of the medical tent, and even then he's taken straight in for questioning, which -- is understandable, but that doesn't make it any less frustrating. As much as Wash might not want anything to do with the war he still wants to be seen as an ally, as an asset more than a risk or a liability, and he gives as much information as he can in all the detail his memory allows. It takes longer than he'd like, and it's starting to get dark out, once he's finally allowed to move through the camp without being marched off somewhere else. A soldier had shown him where the exotics -- no, outsiders, now -- lived, a single tent near the fringe of the camp, and Wash had just asked one thing. If there was anywhere where people fought, and trained.

And of course, there he is.

Maine is intimidating just by virtue of standing there. There's a Barrayan soldier, wary, uneasy, trying not to look nervous and afraid but Wash can tell just from the way he shifts his weight from foot to foot, from the tension of his shoulders as he moves. His eyes are fixed on Maine as he circles him, anxious, and Maine is just fucking standing there, not even in a ready stance, and there's something about the way he stands that just sends a clear message, that he's unstoppable, invincible, completely unmovable. There's a familiarity to this that makes him ache, and that's happened a lot in these past weeks, memories too vividly remembered echoing through his thoughts. The soldier moves forward, strikes, and Maine throws him so easily and so quickly to the ground that that it'd be difficult for his eyes to follow the movement if Wash wasn't already so used to it. He moves just like he remembers, deliberate but effortless in his application of raw, unrelenting strength, completely brutal, not exactly fluid but not without grace. It's all familiar, how quickly and easily he'd taken out his opponent without even looking like he was ready for it, how he stands there towering over the Barrayan soldier, stepping back and glancing away with the slightest, subtlest downward twitch of his lips. These kinds of spars were never for Maine. They were never challenging enough to be any real training for him.

( Wash remembers scrambling to his feet, the first time they'd really trained together, one of his first days on board the Invention, after Maine had thrown him halfway across the room for the third time in a row. New record, this time, he remembers laughing, his voice shaking with the effort it took for him to breathe. Might've lasted a whole quarter of a second longer. Maine had already turned away from him, growling, impatient, just barely turning his head enough to catch his eye over his shoulder. We're done, rookie, he'd said. Don't ask for another spar unless you're going to fucking fight me. Wash remembers staring, uncertain as Maine walked away, uneasy because he isn't used to this, because he was always used to the role, to the pretend, but he'd taken a deep breath, called out Maine's name.

He lasted almost three times as long, the next time. Still counted in seconds. But once Wash was ready again, so was Maine, something almost like approval in his eyes. )

Another soldier hits the dirt. He's breathless, hauling himself to his feet, someone else congratulates him for so much as even trying to go up against Maine. Someone else steps forward from the loose collection of men scattered around the makeshift training ground, and Maine turns to look at them, his expression unchanging -- and Wash moves forward, reaches out to clasp a hand over the Barrayan's shoulder, gesturing with a tip of the head. He seems surprised, uncertain, but he steps back anyway when Wash pulls his hand away, when he walks forward and turns to face Maine, and god, he really hasn't aged at all, really is the same man he remembers.

Wash doesn't say a word. He just meets his eye, maybe gives him one nod, easing one foot forward as he shifts into a ready stance -- and then he's already moving, faster and more focused than Maine's probably ever seen him, shifting to side and whipping around behind him to aim a strike right at the side of his neck. He won't manage to hit him like this, Wash already knows that, but there's a well-honed intent behind the blow, a determination in his eyes, the message loud and clear.

He's come a long way these ten odd years, and right now, he isn't holding back. ]

stables

[littlemissfutility]

"You can say hi, if you want." Beth's a few steps behind, watching him watch the horses. It's a familiar stance to her, of somebody who doesn't quite know what to do but wants to do something. "Most of them are pretty friendly. You just gotta be gentle."

To demonstrate, she goes up to one--Moonfire, Sonia's horse--with steady, slow steps, and holds out her hand for a sniff before reaching up to stroke its neck. The whole time, her gaze drifts from horse to man, keeping an eye on whether he's watching.

[protocol]

He is watching, and he doesn't exactly look afraid of the horses, but he is very, very uncertain. He's a little startled by the sound of her voice, turning around sharply, just kind of nodding and watching as she moves up to one of the horses. Slow, careful, holding out a hand. Letting the animal learn her scent, he supposes, that sounds like it makes sense.

Wash does start moving forward, to the same horse that she'd approached, though he doesn't offer a hand just yet. Maybe he doesn't want to crowd it, or maybe he's actually a little nervous. Probably a combination of both.

"Thanks." For the advice, he means. He was probably just kind of standing there staring for. Quite a while. "I've just never really seen one of these in person, before."

[littlemissfutility]

It's okay if it takes him a little longer. He and the horse will both be a lot happier if he waits until he feels ready to reach out for it, rather than just jumping in. Beth's content to pet Moonfire while the man decides just how close he wants to get.

"City boy?" she asks, curious. It's the obvious explanation--plenty of people never see horses in their lives, or only from a distance--but for all she knows, he comes from a planet that doesn't have horses. Everything seems possible at this point.

stables

[komarran]

[ He doesn't know the man well, having only spoken to him the brief time he was at the Cetagandan base, but that doesn't stop the news of Wash's arrival from catching his attention. Duv holds off until he knows the man is able to move, listening intently to camp news until he knows for sure that Wash has recovered somewhat. What the hell had happened exactly? He's pieced some of it together from what's floating around camp, but he's always been a man interested in going directly to the source.

Which is why when he sees Wash staring at the horses, much like he had upon his arrival to this camp, he heads for him. ]

I'm glad to see you're up and moving, [ he says honestly as he glances over the man for any visible injuries. ]

[protocol]

[ Wash recognizes the voice.

Duv, one of the first people he'd spoken to when he arrived here -- Duv Galeni, Komarran, he remembers. He'd been helpful, friendly enough, and they'd spoken quite a few times on the Cetagandan base, enough for Wash to have worried about what might've become of him when he'd been captured that night. Wash hasn't been here for long, not enough that he felt like asking after someone taken prisoner was a good idea. He's surprised enough, turning to look at him. ]

Hey. [ The greeting's warm, genuine. Wash himself would look well, aside from his usual sense of wary fatigue -- he'd been knocked unconscious, yes, but Maine hadn't really meant to hurt him. He wouldn't be walking right now, if he had. ] Could say the same for you.

[komarran]

[ Duv's grateful he doesn't look fresh from the prisoner's tent. Had he really been the only newcomer to receive that treatment? Willing defection, but from the wrong planet. ]

I've been making do, [ he replies dryly as his gaze drifts towards the horse. At least Wash is happy to see him, he wasn't sure if he'd made that much of an impression on the other man. ] Have you made a new friend?

HORSIES

[dendarii]

[ Well hey, it's one of the outsiders Miles hasn't met yet. One of the ones who'd helped rescue Rani ... He's out with the horses himself, happily saddling up one of them for a quick ride. He pauses when he sees Wash, though, and grins. ]

Come closer. They won't usually bite.

[protocol]

[ DO HORSES BITE?? Probably not, they eat like, grass and stuff, according to what he knows, and judging by that big ol grin you're probably giving him shit. Probably? Look he doesn't know anything about horses.

He recognizes Miles from the rescue, from stumbling into them out in the mountains on their way to the camp. Lakshmi's sword and shield, he remembers her saying. Wash had been watching him saddle up the horse, curious, he's watched a few people do that over the past few days, and he's surprised when he's called over, hesitating for a moment before he actually does. ]

I didn't think they did. [ He's not scared of the horses he just doesn't want to upset them and doesn't know anything about them okay. And maybe he is kind of used to alien animals mostly wanting to kill him. ]

[dendarii]

[ Some shit, of course, but perhaps slightly less than Wash thinks. He keeps his seat atop the horse, enjoying (as always) the opportunity to be taller than someone else for once. ]

Not unless they really dislike you. Leaves a nasty bruise, but it won't kill you. [ He speaks from experience. ] Now, you will want to stay away from their rear. Being kicked in the head is no joke.

Med Tents - AKA "Miss me, cockbite?"

[lovernotafighter]

[Tucker had seen a lot of frightening things in his life that he didn't let bother him: being told he was pregnant, run-jump-stabbing the Meta in the chest and that bastard acting like it was a mosquito bite, Felix's little asshole smug way when he sunk a knife into Tucker's stomach a few inches above Junior's scar, Hargrove's creepy-ass trophy room.

None of that shit had anything on watching the Met-- Maine bringing an unconscious Wash back to the camp.

When no one told him shit, he went in to find out for himself by storming into the med tent. It lasted all of two minutes it felt like, but Wash had been awake so while Tucker hadn't been happy to be kicked out, he did it with less of a fight than he normally would require. Whatever. Wash was back and that was the most important thing, so Tucker waited outside the tents without trying to look like he was waiting outside the tents, an act that he was utterly failing at. Subtlety wasn't his game, never had been, never would be.

When Carolina finally left, he went in and stood at the foot of the bed. Fuck. Fuck. Tucker had never been so happy to see someone in his life, whole, in one piece, not dead by Giant McSuperSoldier, not dead by a mass of Mantises, not tortured. Just...just in one fucking piece.

He reached down and smacked one of Wash's legs.] It's, like, really you, right? [But then he remember what Carolina said, remembered this weird timeline shit, and he narrowed his eyes a little.] What's the last thing from home you remember?

[It was the little things that were important, after all; stuff like coordinating timelines and shit. Who knew?]

m a y b e

[protocol]

[ Tucker is the last person he'd expected to see here. He'd known of Maine, of course, of Carolina from Lakshmi, but Tucker as a surprise. Wash had been worried, of course he'd been fucking worried, the Reds and Blues can be a helpless mess without him or Carolina to watch after them, but he'd found some relief in the idea that Tucker was there, at least, and well. So much for that.

But selfishly, there's a relief in seeing him here. He does want to speak with him, but he needed to speak with Carolina, first, needed to tell her about York and the Cetagandans, needed to talk about -- so much. He covers as much as he can as quickly as he can, tells her he'll look for her again later, and when she leaves he's ready to get out of bed to look for Tucker when he comes storming back in. Of course. He should've probably expected that.

Tucker seems relieved to see him, standing there at the bed, not saying anything for a while, and Wash is about to say something before Tucker reaches down and smacks him on the leg. Ow. It's not like he's paralyzed or something. ]

It's me. [ Pushing himself up, moving so he's sitting down at the edge of the cot, motioning for Tucker to sit in the chair Carolina had dragged up earlier. ] We were on Chorus.

[ Smart things to ask, Tucker. He assumes Carolina's given you a rundown on the dimensional fuckery that seems to be happening around here. Still though, Wash has a much more pressing question, just looking Tucker full in the eye. ]

You okay?

[ He's the one who just got knocked unconscious but damn if he isn't more worried about the wellbeing of everyone other than him. ]

y e s

[lovernotafighter]

[Of course he's not paralyzed; if he had been, Tucker would have smacked him in the shoulder or something because he wanted him to feel it. He wanted him to know that Tucker wasn't happy with all this bullshit, that this wasn't supposed to be happening again. Split up. Caught. Opposite sides.

Just when he thought he was done with that crap, and here it was again.]

Way to be totally fucking vague, dude. [Tucker looked at the chair, rolled his eyes and sat on the edge of the cot instead, next to him. ] Like, specifics. What was the last thing you were doing on Chorus?

[Because Carolina had been on it, too, just earlier. And Tucker was from later, so...so. There were still things he hadn't told her, the stuff about the ship and Epsilon and-- well, if Wash wasn't from them, then maybe...

Whatever. Palms found the cot behind him, and he leaned back, stretching out because fuck, fuck it was good to be here, good to finally see him, good that there was someone else that had a familiar face. Something flickered over Tucker's eyes as he looked at him, though, a moment of guilt that came and went as he chose that second to look up at the tent's ceiling instead.]

So, you know, what the fuck was up with the Meta bringing you back like that? [His fingers tightened a little, digging into the things underneath. Not Maine. Not when he was carting back unconscious bodies. Nope.]

Dude, I totally should have been there.

[I'm fucking sorry. You're my teammate, too., and I didn't go. Fuck, I didn't go.]

HORSES / LATE NIGHT TIMES

[shri]

[ She'd finally been let free of the medical tent some time after their escape. After her week long of sleep, and the week after of watched recovery. She's doing better, or at least well enough that they finally let her free.

But she still wakes up late at night, coughing. It's not as awful as it was, but it definitely isn't anything enjoyable. It pulls on her old wounds something fierce. Thankfully they'd stopped hurting as constantly too with the blackwater back. Thank Gods for small mercies. After this, though, she can't seem to fall back asleep. Tosses herself about in the bed roll for awhile, trying her best to find rest again. When it doesn't seem to come, she elects to take a walk instead, wrapping the heavy Barrayaran coat around her and yanking on her boots. A heavy walk into the cold ought to tire her out.

Or at least that's the theory. The wind is biting as always as she takes something close to the guard pattern she'd been set. Though half not so determined or purposed a stride. Nodding briefly to the guards she strolls past. Her red scarf where Maine still has her other one is pulled around her head, wrapping to keep the heat in from the shared Tent as she holds it up and around the lower part of her face in an old habit.

Makes for the stables, because at least it's warm and familiar. The animals will be quiet, not mind so much an old woman taking solace for awhile which is - where she runs into him.

Him, Washington. In her week long sleep she hadn't seen much of anyone, and since then - well, they had their reasons to not interact, did they? More than enough. Had he told Maine, Carolina, what had passed between them? Or would he keep it to himself? She supposed she did not mind so much with Maine. But that was different again. But they were to fight together now, she could not avoid him forever, no matter how much he comes with a memory she wants to do her best. ( How laughable, that so many insisted that the drugs given to her would be better. But oh she would rather the pain, rather the choice it presented than once more being stripped down to being helpless to the evils done around her. )

Nothing for it, she swallows as she comes up behind him where he's eyeing the horses off like he's worried even now where they are still with sleep that they might leap out at him. ]

You will never learn mounted combat if you spend all your time staring at them and not getting used to them.

[protocol]

[ Wash had spent a lot of time by her bed when she was sleeping in the medical tent -- not that she would know that, because whenever she stirred even slightly he'd made sure to slip away. He wants to check in with her, make sure she's recovering well from whatever this is, and Maine was often there, too. The first time, Maine had asked him, again, what happened to her, and Wash had said that she was ill, though he didn't know much of it. Maine had been asking about something else, Wash knew. About what happened to her as a prisoner.

He doesn't answer that.

There'd been a definite relief when Wash saw that she'd been released from her tent, and immediately he pulls back, and if Lakshmi never asked anyone, there'd be no way for her to know about the days he'd spent by her side in the medical tent. He goes back to watching her from afar, keeping an eye on her from a distance, just like he had at the Cetagandan base following her ( sitting in the chair, arms strapped down, spitting venom at stone-faced Zahal ) interrogation, and he still feels that same guilt like he's still intruding even if all he's doing is occasionally watching her from afar, seeing how she moves, if she has trouble with it, if she seems injured, if she's in the mess as often as a healthy person should be.

He practices what she'd taught him, in the mornings or sometimes in those restless nights, remembering the rhythms she taught him, the movements with the blade. A few times Wash had considered going to her, to ask her for more lessons, but. He can't bring himself to go to her. It weighs too heavily, still.

Wash isn't expecting it when Lakshmi's the one who comes up to him, on one of his restless nights, where he'd found himself by the stables, watching the horses. He turns at the sound of her voice, surprised, maybe staring back at her for a few moments before he nods. ]

-- Rani. [ Not Lakshmi. Rani. Another memory of her in the chair, proud, relaxed, like a queen on her throne, Maharani Lakshmi Bai, Jhansi ki Rani, Wash hates and hates that he remembers so well. He may know her name, but like with York back in the Cetagandan base when he'd spoken to him about her -- he will not use it. It's not his to use. She'd never given it to him, not freely. He's glad to see her, might have a slight smile for her, but there's some faltering, there, before he turns back to look at the horses again. ] Others around the camp have shown me a little.

[ Beth, and -- Miles, though he hadn't really shown him all that much, but it was still enough to learn something from. ]

I worry about upsetting them. [ Admitted a little sheepishly. He's not afraid of the horses, they're tame, and as long as he apparently approaches them from the front ( thanks, Miles ) and stays to their left ( and thanks, to Beth ) he knows he should be fine, but Wash is so unused to animals like these that aren't hostile, doesn't want to do anything that might startle them. ]

[shri]

[ Confident in herself, now, she's doing better - not that it was hard after what she had been. The stiff coat of the Barrayaran's wrapped around her to keep her warm. Given Maine his back for all it kept her comfortable, it was a touch ridiculous on her. ( the man knelt in front of her and he was still up to her chest, really, what did they feed him as a young man, and how badly did that poor mother waddle carrying such a giant of a man? )

Questions for another time. Rather, she is dealing with presently. Or his... odd notions about horses. Fair, she supposes, and what would he do with an elephant? An amusing thought for another time as she goes into the stables, pausing a step into the room, to turn back. Jerking her head for him to follow.

She will have his presence, now, and let him not balk at it. After all, they share at least a few friends and this camp was not so large as to avoid each other completely. No, they need to strike some kind of cordial tone between them that wasn't full of secret-tainted silences. ]

They have seen worse things than you, come on.

[ She strides forward again, plainly expecting that be enough for him to follow without question. Perhaps he would, or he wouldn't.

Mostly, though, they sleep now. A few startle at the steps and intrusion, but mostly, they are head's down in sleep, at this hour. A good time to walk among them to get comfortable. ] You'll find them just like men. Each has a temperament, but more often than not, they simply want to eat and be treated well and they are content in that.