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: (» tragically we fall like the arrows)

[personal profile] shri 2017-03-13 04:38 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It takes her by surprise, of all the things she expected. It was not his mouth catching against hers and him breathing hot against her skin like he needed this. Her eyes lowered to watch him, a baring of her teeth. Her hand slips, scratching against his neck in the half always near paranoia of something more. Like he will become what she knows best, the kind of monster for all they tell her are folktales but are as real as the slaughter they leave behind. That she will never stop truly suspecting lurk in the corner of these people she has come to know. What she knows, perhaps what she prefers at times: where she is to stand, where to strike each and every time.

To that, maybe she needs it too, a desperation and cruelty and needfullness that only time could make. It's been so long, since she had even half this and she is as mortal as the rest of them now. She can have, for just awhile, what she prefers. No, not that soft thing, not how he pressed his mouth to her chastely like he was asking for forgiveness in every light touching. The sort of thing that is discussed in garden parties and chastely between tightly laced ladies.

It hadn't felt half so real as this. He didn't look like a man dancing on a tightwire that she's strung for him between her fingertips, and oh, he looks more beautiful to her now, than any time he was clean and eloquent with her.

That she was more than glad to tear him to pieces over and she still is. This isn't different to running him through, to darting sharp and scathing, she gives only so much as she takes and takes and takes until she has had her fill. Latching back to him even as she adjust from defence to attack. The slant she presses into, the way everything is a weapon if you mean it enough. Her fingers find his hair, gripping at the nape of his neck, thick and dark against her marred hands as she holds fast to him. He doesn't get to go back from this. It's too late for that now. No, no, he will give her all of it now - because give and take, her own vulnerabilities, that is what she wants.

Grips him like a blade. The after-taste of blood in her mouth from a stolen moment of blackwater, all borrowed holiness and old that she scrapes against his bottom lip wih her teeth. Her other hand finds his jacket, curling over where his heart thuds in his chest, bracing herself as she pushes up, tilts her head and kisses him. Her teeth scrape, murmured stillborn word that might his name. Might be calling him hers. There isn't a difference, right now.

( Would never take anything but all, and she would never have him as anything less than this. He's given her it now, he couldn't have it back, and she wouldn't accept anything else from him. )

The blanket is pushed down to her waist from the effort of sitting up to meet him, forgetting that they're in a medical tent - perhaps all the soldiers are asleep, perhaps the medical staff busy - or perhaps she doesn't have to care or worry, she is no one's queen anymore to give half a damn about propriety. Her thin undershirt bunching and shifting as she moves with a jut of shoulders, ribs and hips bones up under them. All white scrawled scars that define her edges, battlefield body covered in mortal wounds and near brushes and childish scrapes at the edges.

Has him until she's sated and empty all at once from this promise, until she can't breath as the price for indulgence, and she takes a deep lungful against his mouth. Borrowing his heat where her aching bones feel freezing still. Kisses him until - truly, her breath comes short she feels a pang of dizzy desperation. She tilts her face up, but not back as she tries to tether herself. Rasping on the inhale in a way that's brittle, painful as she looks at him through half-lowered lashes. Half dead and utterly alive, ancient and young and still promising. A mimicry of how he had looked at her, with her hand around his throat, offering hers in the way of that fullness.

Too late, she thinks idly, he couldn't take it back.
]
vorrutyer: (warmth)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-03-13 06:19 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He breaks off the kiss when she turns her face away. Even in this fit of passion, he's very aware of her fragile condition, her ill health - not out of kindness or concern, imagine that, but simply because he always is cognizant of weaknesses in case they are exploitable. That's all. And so he pulls away, his breath coming quick between his parted lips, and studies her face, his eyes languid and brimming with desire and admiration. ]

And with that your oath is sealed, Queen.

[ Maybe it's the Vorrutyer madness that runs through his blood. His great-great-great-great-something grandmother killed virgins and bathed in their blood to keep her youth and beauty. There's a joke in the Vorrutyer family that the reason that she looks so withered and old in the only surviving portrait of her isn't because her foul witchcraft failed, but simply because you try to find a virgin amongst the hill-folk. His great-great grandfather, the Prime Minister, built his bedroom so that it shared a wall with his torture chambers so that the sounds could lull him to sleep. His uncle, the Admiral, fucked his way through all the prisoners of war Barrayar had taken, hand-reared pets who'd do the fucking for him.

His cousin, the Emperor, would one day kill Olivia. Would try to kill Sonia. Would kill their children.

So if this is his Vorrutyer madness, what of it? Surely there are worse ways to be mad than to have a bit of death-drive. Worse ways to be mad than to betray, to break, to torment your friends. If he is a monster, and she will cut his throat, at least this little drama will play itself out on a small stage with few players. Byerly is not a Vorrutyer to leave behind a field of corpses. He is just a Vorrutyer to leave behind a single corpse. He has the madness and the malice of the best of them, but not the ambition. So that's not so bad, right? The worst of the Vorrutyers have had their vices hitched to the virtue of ambition; he has no virtue, and so he's not so bad.

He caresses her face lovingly, affectionately. His hand curls around the back of her neck to help hold her up. And he murmurs, warmly, lovingly - ]


My beautiful queen.
shri: (» I turn my back while)

[personal profile] shri 2017-03-14 12:20 am (UTC)(link)
Don't make me rush to exact it.

[ Her lips press together in savoring, stretching out into his hold where she might not trust him with any other part of her, but languid this, where she's sure on the taste of his death, it is beyond something as simple as trust. Lets him look, lets him know. Her fingers easing their grip ever so slightly as he roams across her, supports her.

Foolish man, if nothing else, she will make him ill as she has been. All deep dark merciless slumber.
]

There now, you look like you mean it for once. Stay that way.

[ Her fingers curl around in turn, to press against the bottom of his lip, dragging across his chin. All one last fondness - this, this is how she likes him. She likes him: untethered and all barely held together and pressing his desperation into her skin like wedding vows.

But she cannot hold herself up for long, her head turning away from him as that pain takes it toll. One moment alive, the next racking something like death and never quite all of one or the other. In his hold, she wracks with the shivers of not quite gone fever, heaving up desperate coughs out of her lungs like something trying to get out of her. Nothing glamorous or remotely regal to that, she pushed herself too hard and she pays for it now. Heaving, shaking in the catch of his hands holding her up where nothing much else at the moment.
]
vorrutyer: (god honestly what is this guy's face)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-03-14 01:00 pm (UTC)(link)
[ His grasp strengthens. It turns from a loving, possessive grip into something less intentional - becomes just something to support her, to hold her up, altogether without ulterior motives. If Byerly is a liar, at least his hands are truthful; they're truthful now, holding her with open and honest concern. His face, in contrast, remains opaque, guarded, nothing of his worry peeking through, but his hands worry openly.

Gently, he helps her down again, careful and kind. His voice is soft as he says - ]


I've overtaxed you.
shri: (» and we don't mind the flames)

[personal profile] shri 2017-03-14 05:09 pm (UTC)(link)
[ How she loathes it, that vulnerability his hands are minding so very carefully. Not because it is him, but that anyone should. She has no time nor want or interest in being minded like there's glass in her. She would take her own vulnerability and burn it first.

Wants to now, where she is so aware of it. Where her heart beats feels like it's trying to burst out of her ribs, where she feels bird-light in his hold, a bundle of kindling that is being carted about for him to guide her so easily down, her eyes dull with the pain of it all. I am tired. Already said it, and that is a truth too. That she puts up not much fight to it, as she tries to preserve some scrap of dignity. Slowed down for a second as she does nothing else but lay still where he settled her, his hands so at odds with his expression but she can firmly say now, she doesn't care which is the truth of it.

God, what peace. Swallows, then rasps on that sore throat. Couldn't let him have all the credit, now could she?
]

I overtax myself.
vorrutyer: (genuinely affectionate?? nah)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-03-14 08:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Of course, my queen.

[ His eyes crinkle in warmth. His voice isn't not mocking or patronizing; it's inviting her in to a private joke. Warm in truth. His gentle hand caresses her cheek. ]

I hope you'll allow yourself to recover soon, too.
shri: (» oh tell me then)

[personal profile] shri 2017-03-15 11:11 am (UTC)(link)
Not - [ another cough, but at least this wasn't quite so brutal to her, just something stuck and her voice grows thick with it. Hard to form a word through that, so she swallows and tries again. ] - like I have much choice about it, it seems.

[ She wants to take his hand, she thinks, she wants to but she won't, she never does often unless it matters more than comforting herself. She wants to set his fingers to her hair, and let him indulge himself for awhile in his apparent besotted adoration, she's sure he would have a bright little light of victory, or maybe she would surprise him and that would be twice a reward to her, but -

- but then she wouldn't be herself, would she? So she stays, and she does the only thing that comes as almost everything, almost like giving in, but not quite, is that she lets him just keep his hand there. It's almost nothing, except that it is everything.
]

Tell me what else has passed? The Count, the Countess, they are well?
vorrutyer: (wry)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-03-15 03:33 pm (UTC)(link)
The worse for your absence.

[ The Count is a vile man, a foul creature, a monster. Hateful and cruel. The Countess is his creature. And I am theirs, body and soul, and so I must bow to their desires. ]

But only spiritually, I suspect. Physically they are whole and healthy - if a little thinner, admittedly. They have taken rations scarcely better than what the rest of us exist on.
shri: (» when the freedom breaks)

[personal profile] shri 2017-03-16 04:08 am (UTC)(link)
As they should. The food must always go to your people, first.

[ It's firm, said without wavering on the point her sheer approval that they should not eat better than those serving them. The silly rhyme her soldiers chanted that was more flattering to her than half the poetry given in her honour. Who gave her sepoy cream to eat, but herself took gurdhani. ]

I will need to speak with them, to... resume my duties. Beth? - is - is she well? Have you seen her?

[ Someone stop her now, she stirs a little, what is she doing here, taking rest? There are things to be done, so many things, she needs to get up and do them. ]
vorrutyer: (world-weary (and smug))

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-03-16 01:02 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He reaches out and presses at Lakshmi's shoulder, pinning her gently down on the bed. ]

She's perfectly well. I'll ensure she'll come to see you.
shri: (» the gravel and the stone)

[personal profile] shri 2017-03-16 02:39 pm (UTC)(link)
[ She puts up a fight, marginal as it is. Pushing up into his hands so briefly as if she really would haul herself up out of this bed. Right up until he says that he's going to make sure, then she cracks a yawn and settles again. ]

Have you been keeping an eye on her then?
vorrutyer: (attentive)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-03-16 02:46 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Ah. There's a flicker of self-conscious surprise in his face - this, for once, completely unfeigned, completely unplanned and uncalculated. Rather than his usual process (feign an "unanticipated" emotion, then grimace in embarrassment and look away, then theatrically slide his previous ironic expression back into place, piece by piece, like it's being built from the ground up), the surprise gets frozen, his face going expressionless for a full heartbeat before instantly transforming back to its previous irony. It's a subtle difference, easy to miss. That's the full extent of the difference between being actually being caught off-guard and pretending to be caught off-guard. ]

Well, dear girl. Someone has to, right?
shri: (» and if that's true)

[personal profile] shri 2017-03-16 03:04 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Hard to discern, even for someone whose gotten into the habit of surprising him, and on anything else, he's hard to read even now. But she's caught him enough unguarded, that she accepts his concern as truthful, and for that, not for herself, she catches her hand this time. Laying her fingers over his and squeezing briefly. ]

You care for her a great deal, don't you?
vorrutyer: (watchful)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-03-16 03:09 pm (UTC)(link)
What?

[ Again, pushing into territory that's a bit genuinely uncomfortable for him. His eyebrows draw together, and then he pushes that question aside with a gesture of his hands, trying to turn the conversation away from him and towards her. So: ]

Dear queen, it seems you look for the best and kindest in people. How good you are.
shri: (» tragically we fall like the arrows)

[personal profile] shri 2017-03-16 03:19 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Oh that is not working this time, Byerly. She might not as well versed in subterfuge or ever learned to truly flatter as well as he did so very effortlessly.

But she is doggedly stubborn.
]

Mm, I look at people for what they are. [ So he can keep that thought, because she looks for the best perhaps, sometimes - but what she expects in truth, is not so kind or generous. ] Uncomfortable with the notion, are we? Or that I guessed?
vorrutyer: (Backpfeifengesicht 4)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-03-16 03:22 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He smiles, but it's a rather flat expression. A bit thin. ]

I hope you will not think me coarse if I address your question directly, without any ornamentation. But care isn't something I do.
shri: (» now we've become the ghost)

[personal profile] shri 2017-03-16 03:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Well - that was a bit different to normal, wasn't it? But by the same she doesn't find it displeasing that he isn't trying to placate her with flattery. Rather like a great animal that is satisfied in taking a bite and being fed, she savours it. The press of her tongue to the back of her teeth in her mouth before she goes on.

A press of her lips together, still warm from his kiss.
]

Oh yes it is. I suspect you care very deeply, though I cannot prove it by very much.
vorrutyer: (watchful)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-03-16 03:32 pm (UTC)(link)
Well. I suppose you're not wholly wrong.

[ He gives a little flourish of his hand. ]

I care for having a good time. That is a sort of care, no?
shri: (Default)

[personal profile] shri 2017-03-17 08:48 am (UTC)(link)
[ Too late for that sort of pretence, she had him now. On his back foot, upward strike and his reflexes were good but - ]

If you ever wanted me to believe that, you should never have kissed me, Byerly Vorrutyer.
vorrutyer: (I'm honestly having a time telling)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-03-17 12:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[ His head twitches slightly to the side. Defensively: ]

Very well. Yes, quite right, dear lady; that is caring after a fashion. That is what I do - that, and no other.
shri: (» and if that's true)

[personal profile] shri 2017-03-17 01:30 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Byerly, you're trying her patience here. She'll -- well, aggressivelly cough on his feet at this point. ]

That is not at all what I mean. Don't be dull.
vorrutyer: (confused)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-03-17 01:43 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Hey now. His eyes widen with real outrage. ]

Dull? Me, dull? I'm not dull!
shri: (» you were sharp as a knife to get me)

[personal profile] shri 2017-03-17 02:07 pm (UTC)(link)
[ She starts to laugh - which is an immediate mistakes when she starts to rasp on the breath she draws in to do so. ]

You are when you insist on such matters.
vorrutyer: (shocked! and! appalled!)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-03-17 02:09 pm (UTC)(link)
I am not, never, under any circumstances, no matter what I'm insisting on.

[ And a bit stung - ]

And don't laugh!
shri: (» I'll leave with your head)

[personal profile] shri 2017-03-17 02:20 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It's hard to tell if it's coughing or laughing at this point. Oh no, definitely, definitely laughing. She might need this. ]

The mighty Byerly Vorrutyer, seduce a woman with a bat of his eyelashes, quick with words and touches, but cannot stand to think he might ever be found dull.

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