[ 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

[shri]

"At your leisure." She falls into step beside her, her eyes up, keen, observing the camp life as it goes on around them. She has been careful not to stray too far from the tent to begin with, for all she eyes at the guards like a half-starved animal for their weaponry. ( Too much she reaches for own blade to find it absent. )

Begins, again then, once they're moving. "I do not mean to mistrust you, but I think neither of us in our positions can afford much in the way of easily given words where others are listening." Once said, nothing can be unsaid, especially where power was concerned. Or when you were a captive, either.

Really, how did she end up winding up at this side of things?

At least no one was snarling as to why she shouldn't just be shot, so it was off to a better start. "I should suppose pleasantries are first, I am Maharani - or, Rani, if that is easier." If nothing else, her first, more, private concern - if the other woman knew what that meant, then she was in trouble, if not - then she could just carry on forward.

[truevor]

"Trust," Olivia says, "is a rarity in times like these. You are well within your rights to approach the situation with skepticism. After all, it is only what we've done to you." A careful dance of wariness -- one wrong foot and they lose. Their lives, the war, Barrayar. They know nothing about the outsiders, and in turn, they know nothing about them. "And words are easily used and easier overheard."

When the other woman -- Maharani -- introduces herself, Olivia lowers her head again in greeting and acknowledgement. "Well met," and that's said with a twist of her lips, because both of them know it's hardly that, "Maharani." But there is no spark to signify Olivia recognizes or knows it's anything other than a name. "I am Countess Vorkosigan." The whole weight of her title, Princess and Countess Olivia Vorbarra Vorkosigan, seems pointless to use with people who have no knowledge of their system. Just the most relevant one will do.

Reaching her tent, Olivia pulls and ties back the tent flap -- for her safety as well as the other woman's. Olivia has no plans to make the other woman feel as if she's being led to a trap.

[shri]

"Your grace," she tones it back with a bow of her head in respect for title. That would - explain a great deal. She hadn't seen many other women here, and Zarya had told her how they weren't inclined to let women fight.

She waits for her to walk forward first, before she follows in under the tent flap - and she has not adapted well to the cold, that stepping to be shielded even slightly from it is a relief. "Are you solely in command here ?" A woman she might be, but higher rank, and being told that they couldn't, didn't mean it didn't happen anyway.

[truevor]

Solely in command? That causes a small, ironic smile to flit over Olivia's face. "That depends," is her response, eyes bright as she gives the other woman a more searching look, "there are none here who can rival my social ranking, but there is very little in the way of parties to plan and events to attend. My husband, however, is the sole military commander of these forces."

She's long since come to accept Barrayar's antiquated gender roles, although they pull and chafe at her still -- she's grown thicker skin, and found that there are more ways than just wielding a sword to get things done. Although there were times that, Olivia had to admit, a blade was the better option.

[shri]

She stays impassive and calm, simply content to learn and to keep asking what she needs to know and what was within reason. Not so much to put the Countess on her backfoot. So she nods and listens.

A brave woman, nothing less than to stand here in a war camp and face such things when it seemed no one thought a woman capable of that. A smile parts, brief and understanding for what it's worth. "And in his absence, it falls to you?" Or is she simply to abide where it is safe? Couches it carefully, to see what there relationship was like. If she was here simply because he preferred her where she was safe. "I ask only as things are... different to my home. I would not wish to risk offence by misunderstanding who I am to offer my services too."

[truevor]

"In his absence it falls to his officers," for a moment it seems as if that's all Olivia will say as she studies the woman before her. Different? Possibly like Beta Colony, then -- but if so, then she's right to be cautious -- Piotr's soldiers are hardly as forward thinking as their general, and even then her husband only bows to reason and not to galactic example. Ah, Barrayarans. The hint of a smile becomes stronger still, although her face remains carefully neutral. All of those officers are susceptible to a certain amount of pressure, if it comes from a particular source.

So instead she folds her hands in front of her, and continues. "I assume the services you offer are military in nature? Why else would you be so curious as to the structure of command here?" That would be a fight that would take more than the power Olivia has at her disposal, but-- "General Count Vorkosigan has the final word on those matters, and if that is your wish it will take more than one audience with him to accept your offer." If it's something the other woman truly wants, Olivia will do her best to see that Rani is given the best chance, but she will only offer if the woman is willing to accept a difficult fight.

[shri]

As much as she needs to see. She nods, again, and taps her fingers idly by her side.

"I suspected so much, the men that I encountered so far... did not seem taken with the notion of a woman who knows their blades as well as they do." She tries not to be - to dismissive. It's nothing she hasn't heard before. Perhaps taken for granted when she ruled. But her men had seen her in the lines with them, day in, day out. Blade in her hand, eating as they ate, bleeding as they did.

All she supposed she asked, is the chance to do the same, now. Her smile pulls. "My father is the one who put the blade in my hand as a child to teach me, and it is he who told me that perseverance is how such things are truly won. I do not see why that will serve me now." Yes, she will fight for her right. The thing she was so wholly turned into. If they wouldn't let her, she would dress herself as a man, and she would do it anyway. Her words to Zarya - men were fragile things, at times, best to do what must be done and sort it out later.

Because Miles had made it clear to her, this war must be over and she must be able to go home. That was it.

She clears her throat a moment, considering. It depended on their relationship, in truth, but... if there was any amount of respect between husband and wife. "Whatever you can do to assure that, my lady, I will be in your debt for such." An offer, that if she needed her, she would give it in turn.

[truevor]

Olivia truly smiles then, and gives Rani a small nod of her head. "It is a shame they never stop to consider who is left behind when they go marching off to war, or they would not be so surprised or insulted. It is their great hope they have something to come back to once it is all over, and yet no thought to who's responsibility that is."

As for the matter of Piotr, well.

"He is not so unmoving in the face of facts and reason. Showing him that your skills are to his benefit, and to the benefit of Barrayar, will mean he cannot argue against you. The difficulty lies in proving to him your value as a soldier when he will not give you the chance at all." Accident is not a way Olivia wants this to come about, for memory provides her with the images of dead armsmen, traitors, and the frightened face of her sister. "On that point, I am open to suggestions."

[shri]

She takes a moment to consider, a shift of her weight on the balls of her feet. There's a half dozen things she's been worrying about in regards to this anyway. There were more women here than just herself, and more than a few that were willing to fight, - and needed to. What they were trained for. Zarya, Carolina, that little wisp of a girl that was terrified of accepting even a breath of kindness. The older woman who she'd seen.

They were women, alone, with no one to speak for them, no one to protect them. If she were still in a place to have her rank mean anything, it might be different, it would be easy, she would take them all into her durgadal, arm them, and keep them in close where they could never be -

Ah.

"My lady, I can only think how difficult it must be to be a woman alone of your position in this camp, and both need to be guarded and to preserve your modesty when your husband is not present."

[truevor]

It takes a moment for Olivia to catch the beginnings of Rani's drift, mouth opening to counter with some pointed remark about a Barrayaran interpretation of modesty. But if her suspicions are true, the other woman could be onto something -- her marriage to Piotr only gave her a new last name; Princess still came first in her full title. Surely she has some option here that could circumvent the Emperor-her-Grandfather's rules regarding Armsmen. They would swear no oath to Piotr, nor to her.

Her eyes light with a small fire, burning intensely as she gestures for Rani to continue. "It is true that we cannot spare personal for any sort of staff, and even the number of our Armsmen is low now that we cannot seek replacements out amongst the District. Furthermore, the Armsmen sent to protect my sister and I no longer consider me their responsibility since my marriage; no longer Vorbarra, they cannot do so without risking being seen to overstep." What the other woman says is true, at least on the surface -- that's all the would need. Olivia had once made a case to Piotr among the same line ages ago, and while she has been an exception in ways that do not extend to others, she can make it work for them all the same.

[shri]

"It is a difficult position to be in, of course. As much as I am sure your sister is your first priority - "

She seemed a sweet girl, where Lakshmi has seen her from a distance. Full of curls and laughter and light. A hard thing to be, in a situation this dire and unforgiving. "You should also look to yourself, as I am sure your husband must worry."

A press, of her tongue to the bottom of lip in consideration. In how to form the words. "We have, in my home, a custom. It is not always fitting for a man to be in attendance of a woman, especially in her quarters and when she is sleeping. Especially if she is of a lineage such as yours. So instead, women who are inclined to, are invited to take up arms in ... service. They see to her interests in all matters, as well. Her messengers, her devotees."

[truevor]

They do not have the luxury of worry for each other; they would spend too much time on it and none on what needed their attention the most. Piotr is Vor, as is she -- they know what is required of them. "If he gave it thought, I am sure he would. But we are Vor." Her sister is Vorbarra, it's true, but she's far more Betan than Barrayaran, and Olivia has given her all to protect that innocence from the demands of war. Yet Piotr is not wasteful in spite of his stubbornness, and that can be exploited. Free up Armsmen to fight instead of guarding her -- how could he argue against that?

The image that Rani paints is perfect; Olivia's lips flatten out in an attempt to hide a smile. It's only half successful, her eyes sharp. "A Vor lady's maids are rarely armed here on Barrayar, and Vor women are only given a knife to protect their honor and their genome. But better all to have blades of their own than to chance them ending up at the mercy of Cetagandans." Olivia presses her hands together, over the middle of her stomach in contemplation for a long moment before she nods again to the other woman.

"If that it is amenable to you, I will do my best to make him receptive to the proposal. But you must be the one to sell him on it." She would not rob the woman of the final victory over her husband. To be given something you have wished because someone else told them to is a victory that is hollow and empty. Knowing that you have earned it, no matter how hard the battle, makes even the smallest gains worthwhile.

[shri]

She bows then, deeply, and it's to hide something all sharp, pointed in her gaze and in her gestures that is just there, this victory will be hers. With all respect to her husband, of course, but nothing would keep her from putting a blade in her hand, one way or another. If she found anything to serve in him, in turn, it would be because of her, and no one else.

Wielding in service for such a lady was more than a worthy pursuit.

"I am Maharashtrian. We know a woman is equal to the work of a man. I thank you for allowing me this chance to show it."

Breathless, eager, she is better in the fight than she is standing idle. It's bright and smiling in her eyes, for all she keeps everything else tempered. Has something to latch onto now, a chance. She has been a tiger prowling in a cage looking for a way out and now she had just a breath of it, it flooded her lungs with purpose.

[truevor]

"I did not grow up on Barrayar," Olivia tells her, returning the bow with a shallower one of her own, but no less lacking for the amount of respect she extends to the other woman. "But every Barrayaran woman knows this to be true -- Vor and prole alike. It may be too much to ask, but every moment you show it, it is my hope that Barrayar as a whole comes closer to recognizing it."

Her father is the accursed progressive in government, but those that assumed his politics -- and those of his Betan wife -- didn't trickle down to his children in some form or another were only deluding themselves. Olivia will compromise much for the occupation, for there is nothing if they don't win. But that does not have to come at odds with dragging it all towards some sense of equality. After all, Piotr had been the one to suggest that not all officers had to be Vor.

The look in the woman's eyes is one that gives Olivia heart, and her own smile back at Maharani. She will do what she can to help the other woman, in whatever way is possible for her to. It is the least she can do. "Good luck to you, Maharani."

[shri]

She squares her shoulders, broad breath across her chest where the old and well worn blue jacket pulls with the familiar stretch - like she readies, even now, for battle. Though, of a different sought.

"I did so for the women of my homeland, in the ways that I could, and I am humbled to do so now for you. As I am sure the other women will be."

She cannot trust a noble, she knows, in the same way, she could not be trusted as Queen, either. One's home, one's family, one's people, always - bar no one - came first. In the same way, her loyalty, would always be to her cause. It was how it had to be, to be anything else, was a betrayal to the name - whether that was Jhansi ki Rani or Vorkosigan. So she hovers on the edge of leaving, edge of something else, lips parting on something softly, before it resolve first in her eyes, then her hand as it sweeps before her, then in words.

"As long as I am here, I shall serve you first, in all things, my lady. Only ask of me, and I will do what I am able."

[truevor]

There are no laws, it occurs to Olivia, that make Rani's words treasonous -- or rather, Olivia's acceptance of it. No one thought to rule on a woman's ability to keep armsmen and oathsworn; always preferring it to filter through one's husband or father. She is not undermining, they are playing the game by the rules set before them.

If she could, she would take the offer, the almost-oath, into her hands and cradle it to her chest as if it were a physical thing that mirrored its value. Barrayar has no currency as valued as one's word, nothing more precious as honor. It is a funny thing, Olivia thinks, that she prefers that to Beta Colony. Her childhood home offered truth and transparency for security; and after a decade on Barrayar, she thinks she would take Barrayar over whatever Beta has to offer her.

"May I never cause you to waver, doubt, or become forsworn."

It is no formal oath -- no one is putting their hands between her's -- but it is enough. Olivia knows her responsibility with Rani's words, can feel the weight settle in her bones alongside those of a Countess and a Princess. A burden, maybe, but no less than any other she has had to carry. Willingly, and with honor.

[shri]

It doesn't have to be too late for them. Her mind is full of it, as she watches her. It is too late for her. The world she knew was gone. A feudal Queen, the oldest customs that had set her in place, were swallowed up, eaten by beasts, drained of life by awful creatures. Gone, gone, gone to the empty maw of am ever hungry Empire. Like the demons created that had given her nightmares as a child, gnawing, consuming, even of which that created them. She doesn't think they know how to stop. She too, has been torn to shreds by them.

She bows again, stiff, her own people's custom - she kneels on one leg, and touches the ground just in front of her feet. A gaze up, soft and harsh in the same instant. How she might have been, when she had so desperately whispered the words. they will not take my Jhansi from me. She swallows on something old and painful in the throat that has clearly never quite healed.

"Blessings upon you and your husband, Countess. Long may you fight, and may you never know what I have." It means everything, nothing, losing a war and forgetting what life could have been, even in fond thoughts. She is tired and - it's too late, for her, she knows. She will never be the woman she was.

It doesn't have to be too late for them.

She rises again, still head down. Amusement rich in her tone. "If you will excuse me. I must go tend to my own war preparations, it seems." She's sure it'll be nothing less than a battle to get what she desires.