[ january i log: barrayar ]

[barrayarmods]

Who: Everyone
What: Arrival on Barrayar and what follows
When: January 2nd - January 17th
Where: Barrayaran guerrilla camp
Warnings: None (at the moment)


welcome to barrayar.
It's the dark of night when you come to in the foothills. Snow on the ground, chill winter wind whistling. A steep mountain range towers just ahead, its peaks illuminated by the light of two moons. Whatever you last remember, it isn't how you got here, and you feel oddly jetlagged, slightly queasy.

And you're not alone. There are nine other people close by, all looking equally lost and confused. But before any of you have a chance to figure out what's going on, the soldiers arrive.

They're dressed in weather-worn green uniforms, bearing swords and bows, and they surround you immediately, poised to attack. But they quickly realize you're not their enemy, the ones they call Cetagandans. They're just as confused as you are, but rather than hanging around to puzzle it out, they start shepherding you toward their camp in the mountains while it's still dark. There's a war on, they say, and you unlucky bastards have just been dropped right smack in the middle of it.

the guerrilla camp
It's a few hours' hike through the mountains to get to their hidden camp, set up in a clearing framed by dense, hard forestry and backed against a rock face. Daylight is finally dawning when you make it there. You and your fellow sudden arrivals are ushered to an empty tent on the far end of the camp, just big enough to fit all ten of you. You can't help but notice they've posted guards all around it. You aren't under arrest – they just don't know what else to do with you.

You are able to glean, from hearsay and what the soldiers are willing to share with you, that you are on a planet called Barrayar, and this is their home, and ten years ago they were attacked without warning by the Cetagandan Empire. They've been holed up in the mountains fighting against their invaders ever since, outgunned and outmanned, but scoring little victories where they can. They don't tell you much more than that. Some dialect of Russian seems to be one of the predominant languages of the camp, but for the most part they all speak English too, if with an accent. They're gruff and wary, and if you look a little less – or more – than human, they'll eye you with suspicion, maybe even make obscure hex signs at you that seem intended to ward off evil or disease. But they aren't hostile to you, not unless you start something with them.

the outsiders' tent
It's not in the greatest shape, but if you look around the camp, the rest aren't much better off. It's cramped, but you've at least been provided with bedrolls and heavy wool blankets to ward off the frozen chill, and if you're in need of clothing, they'll provide it, although it probably hasn't been washed in…a while. The soldiers bring you food at mealtimes -- not very good food, mostly tough meat and groats, and they keep you your own campfire, just to keep you warm. They've also hastily dug you your own latrine area at the edge of the perimeter, just behind the treeline. No private bathroom stalls in this outfit, unfortunately. The entire camp seems tense and wary, and the soldiers are alert, but they don't talk much. You could try sneaking past them, but you probably won't get far.

Well, at least you've got each other for company: the outsiders on Barrayar.

Comments

[dendarii]

Much easier to just kill you, in that case.

[vorrutyer]

Oh, no question. But then there would be questions. Why, what reason, what did he do, and then the story starts to come out. This would be clean.

[dendarii]

[ Miles just shakes his head a bit at that. ]

You're too damn twisty for your own good, Vorrutyer.

[vorrutyer]

Mm. So I've been told. I note you haven't denied it, by the way.

[dendarii]

[ Miles lifts his chin defiantly. ]

What do you want, Vorrutyer? An oath? Fine, then. I swear that any historical information I give you is accurate to the very best of my ability and recollection. My word as Vorkosigan.

[ A beat. ]

And I have no intentions of attempting to murder you, you pompous ass.

[vorrutyer]

You do know how to sweet-talk, Illyan.

[ By flutters his eyelashes at Vorkosigan. ]

Keep it up and I'll start to wonder just how deep your feelings run.

[dendarii]

[ Ugh. Miles just makes a face. ]

Go flirt with anyone else, Byerly. They might actually appreciate it.

[vorrutyer]

And you don't?

[ His smile turns a little slyer. It's time to play the let's-see-how-much-we-can-make-ourselves-feel-better game. ]

I've always had my doubts.

[dendarii]

[ This is a rude and dangerous game, Byerly. Needling Miles can never end well. ]

About what? My sexuality? You must be joking.

[vorrutyer]

Oh, not yours specifically. I certainly haven't given that much thought to you personally. [ A theatrical little shudder. ] But those men who aspire to the regular military...I don't know. It's at the very least deeply homosocial, don't you think?

[dendarii]

[ A flare of color in Miles' cheeks. He doesn't like either of those implications, dammit. ]

Funny coming from you, given the nature of your job.

[vorrutyer]

I - [ He spreads his hand over his heart. ] Have never claimed to be anything less than flexible. And do remember that my sole job is drinking and lounging around town and being a disgrace to my family name.

But I'm hardly talking about the ImpSec irregulars - bless them, they take on both women and men. No, I'm talking about you barracks-mad lot. You and your cousin Ivan both.

[dendarii]

[ Oh no. This man cannot possibly be implying what Miles thinks he's implying. Ivan? Seriously? ]

What the hell does Ivan have to do with this.

[vorrutyer]

Oh.

[ He hastens - overhastens - to wave his hand. ]

No, no, don't think for a moment I'm casting aspersions at Ivan. I wouldn't ever. Not after all I've been through with him.

[dendarii]

[ Miles senses a weakness and presses his advantage. ]

Oh? You sound very certain of that. Made a pass at my cousin and failed, did you?

[vorrutyer]

Please.

[ He presses his hand to his heart. ]

I owe him too much to disclose any secrets that might embarrass him.

[dendarii]

Nonsense. Everyone knows Ivan is denser than a brick. Except you, apparently. You poor bastard.

[vorrutyer]

[ Speaking of dense... ]

I meant any sexual secrets, m'lord Illyan.

[dendarii]

[ Miles got what he meant, jeez. Quite a flat look in return. ]

Of which Ivan has none. Much to your dismay, I'm sure.

[vorrutyer]

You're sure?

[dendarii]

What else could you possibly be implying here, Byerly?

[vorrutyer]

[ A windy sigh. ]

Never mind. There's clearly simply no room in that small package for imagination, it seems.

[dendarii]

I don't care to. You may take yours elsewhere.

[vorrutyer]

Anyway, I thought you'd be gleeful at the thought of Ivan having a dirty secret or two. I've seen the two of you interacting.

[dendarii]

[ Miles rolls his eyes a bit. ]

He's Ivan. The man is more transparent than a glass of vodka.