[ It doesn't help that he's not actually told this story much. To Simon while he was half out of his mind on painkillers, yes. To his mother after, in pieces. Otherwise ... he tends to focus on the dramatic bits and not this personal, scarring bit of tragedy.
(Red hair, tall and fierce. Kicking at the ramp with sheer bloody determination and frustration, and then the lurch after.)
Dimly, he's aware that Wash has shifted closer to him; mostly he holds onto Wash like he's a lifeline, or Miles is his. The only thing preventing him from dropping into the abyss. But - there is no abyss here, is here? Just the log and the snow and the rolling mountains of Vorkosigan's district all around them.
Slowly but surely, his breathing begins to ease. Not quite so ragged and agonized. ]
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(Red hair, tall and fierce. Kicking at the ramp with sheer bloody determination and frustration, and then the lurch after.)
Dimly, he's aware that Wash has shifted closer to him; mostly he holds onto Wash like he's a lifeline, or Miles is his. The only thing preventing him from dropping into the abyss. But - there is no abyss here, is here? Just the log and the snow and the rolling mountains of Vorkosigan's district all around them.
Slowly but surely, his breathing begins to ease. Not quite so ragged and agonized. ]
I - I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me.