For Barrayar mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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forbarrayar2016-12-19 09:43 pm
barrayarmods) wrote in forbarrayar2016-12-19 09:43 pm
Entry tags:
- !event,
- #barrayaran camp,
- *olivia vorkosigan,
- *sonia vorbarra,
- adrien arbuckal | prorenataa,
- agent carolina | startpoint,
- agent maine | traitorous,
- arthur pendragon | changeth,
- beth greene | littlemissfutility,
- byerly vorrutyer | vorrutyer,
- elsa mars | starsneverpay,
- lakshmi bai | shri,
- miles vorkosigan | dendarii,
- zarya | sibearian
[ january i log: barrayar ]
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.
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.
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He holds out his hand to her, then. It's a clear and rather courtly request for her wrist.
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Regardless, for most people, the wrist is not so intensely erotic - but if you treat it right, you can make them shiver. It has to do with timing, the precise length of each pause as you touch, press, meet their eyes, dip your head. It has to do with the exact pressure on their wrist. It has to do with the intensity of your own gaze as you meet theirs, the way your fingertips find beneath their glove in the split second before you lower your eyelashes. It has to do with ensuring there's just enough gap between glove and sleeve that they can feel, faintly, the butterfly-soft touch of the skin of your lips. And it has to do with the withdrawal - with the way you look at them after, the blend of admiration and longing and appreciation with which you meet their eyes.
"Milady," he murmurs, waiting to see if he's timed everything perfectly enough that she'll shiver bodily, or whether being unbathed and ungroomed has reduced his power.
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He hits every note just right -- and it really is at least partly because he is that good, but part of it, too, is how very ready Sonia is to accept it. Even this brief bubble of romance, however played, is something she'll take, almost greedy for it, and all the better for that she actually enjoys Byerly's company. Her eyes widen slightly, cheeks turning pink, and her lips part, an expression of soft, pure delight.
Her lips quirk into a smile, and she lets out a warm hm, turning over the sugar in her other hand. She peels back the rough paper with her thumb to reveal the soft wad of sugar inside and breaks off just the smallest bite before holding it out to Byerly. She hasn't quite withdrawn her other hand.
"You earned it," she pronounces, looking deeply pleased.
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"I'm grateful," he murmurs, and then reaches up to just touch the sugar to his lips. A clear indication that he's going to savor it over the long run. Then he meets her eyes and says, "And I think you've earned your secret. You have to swear that you'll keep it for me. From everyone."
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"Oh?" Her eyes are alight. A lock of hair comes loose from behind her hair, but she doesn't bother to tuck it back. "It sounds like it must be an awfully big secret, then."
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Time travel, he'd decided, was a bit...too much. So he starts with a smaller truth. "I'm from Barrayar, yes - but not this version of Barrayar." He looks at her, his face serious enough - no hint of irony or mockery or pranking on it. "The world I know is another version of this one. From another dimension. That zapping from there to here - it wasn't just a change in location. It was a change of realities."
Fifty-fifty odds, he thinks, on her just laughing in his face. No...seventy five-twenty five.
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"Are you funning me?"
Byerly, she gave you her sugar for this.
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"We had a bargain, Sonia. Sugar for a secret, and truth along the way. I wouldn't cap off all of that truth with a lie. My word on it." He lowers his head. "I promise you. I'm not completely sure that this is truly what's happened, but it's the only explanation that seems sane." He lifts his head to look at her once more. "It should be sane to you, as well. You cannot doubt that I am a man of Vorbarr Sultana - but when was the last time a Vorrutyer was allowed in that fair city? With the ferocity of Le Sanguinaire's fight against them? Cetaganda has no hold on my version of that place."
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She bites her lip at this fantasy he's painting for her -- Cetagandan has no hold on my version of that place. The thought is almost too painful to entertain, for how much she wants it. She blinks rapidly for a moment, her face wary, gunshy, but she hovers on the edge. "It sounds like you're trying to sell me a fairy tale," she says accusingly, but her voice is smaller.
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He meets her eyes and hesitates a moment. He thinks about taking it back, saying that it was a joke indeed. Instead, though, he lifts his chin just a bit, and meets her eyes, and responds firmly. "A fairy tale?" he scoffs. "Hardly. It's Barrayar's fate to be free and independent. These face-painted idiots aren't going to interfere with that - not for long. Not in this Barrayar or any other one of her iterations."
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"How do you know?" She's almost whispering now. No, it's seeming less and less utterly farfetched, but the idea makes her reel. "How do you know it'll be he same here?"
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It's not often that he lets this sort of thing loose from his lips. Town clowns tend not to be the most patriotic sorts, and so this sort of sentiment wouldn't be excellent for his cover. And even if that weren't true, it'd still get him laughed at, no doubt. But he can't fully help himself. Especially not with her looking at him like that.
And so he leans forward and says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, "This is still Barrayar, isn't it? We don't surrender."
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"No, we don't." She looks like she might reach out and touch his hand for a moment, but she stays still. But her smile brightens. "I'll bring some of my photos by soon."
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