[ april ii log: here's unbroken bone ]

[barrayarmods]

Who: Everyone
What: The sun finally comes out in proper spring, the labs are full of excitement, and Piotr prepares for real war. Your princess is in another castle.
When: April 18th - 30th
Where: the Barrayaran camp, the Cetagandan base, Riverfall Village
Warnings: TBD

Quick links:
Riverfall
Barrayar: Camp / Missions
Cetaganda: Base / Missions

TIMELINE
4/18 Fast-penta interrogation: Sonia
4/19 Eavesdropping Alpha (Barrayar)
4/21 Eavesdropping Bravo (Barrayar)
4/22 - 4/23 Vorkosigan Vashnoi trips
4/24 Eavesdropping (Cetaganda)
4/25-4/26 Satellite launch
4/27 Flower-viewing party


barrayar
Morale is still recovering after Princess Sonia's capture and the deaths that resulted from the ensuing battle in Riverfall, but at least they were able to make contact with Colonel Vorvolk, the leading officer of the other half of Piotr's army, and reunite the guerrilla army for the first time since their last camp was discovered several months ago. Their discovery is not only timely, but critical -- Piotr intends to launch an attack on the Cetagandan base next month, before any reinforcements can arrive, in order to force Zahal to recall at least part, if not most, of the occupying force in the capital city, so that Piotr's army and the civilian underground resistance can work together to retake Vorkosigan Vashnoi. If they can take back the city and continue to defend it, they might even stand a chance at pushing Zahal's forces out of the district entirely, and considering that Vorkosigan's District is one of the hot spots of the invasion, this might even turn the tide of the whole war in their favor. They'll also be attempting to rescue Sonia during the attack, making the most out of the chaos, but that is their secondary objective.

Zahal, of course, means to make the most out of his new hostage. Knowing for certain now that Piotr's army has contact with the Riverfall villagers -- a fact that puts the camp at risk for discovery once again -- Zahal sends a missive to Riverfall with instructions to pass it along to Piotr. His demands are simple: they'll guarantee the safety and return of the Princess on Piotr's complete surrender. Piotr responds by scrawling a particularly rude and short-worded rebuttal over the original message and has it returned promptly -- stuffed inside the mouth of some poor beheaded ghem soldier, left at one of the base entry gates to be discovered by patrols.

Hopes for a successful attack are bolstered still when word comes that Emperor Dorca and Crown Prince Yuri are on their way to the Dendarii mountains. On the 18th, a courier from Dorca's battalion arrives, only to discover that the first courier sent by Dorca some weeks ago never made it to Piotr's camp to deliver the news. Dorca and Yuri bring with them another 200 soldiers when they arrive on the 20th, which nearly doubles their forces, and, like Colonel Vorvolk's half of the army, they set up camp in another part of the mountains nearby, connected by the cave netwrok that runs through the Dendarii mountains. Unfortunately, the occasion isn't entirely joyous, as Crown Prince Yuri recently lost his only remaining son and heir in battle shortly before departing for Vorkosigan's District. This is not only a sad occasion, but a politically uneasy one: Yuri's wife died some years ago, and while he is next in line to succeed his father as Emperor, the lack of an heir to his own makes for a politically shaky situation. Should he die before producing another heir, the title of Crown Prince will fall to his half-brother Xav instead, and that…brings a whole host of other political issues to the table. Needless to say, while Yuri's succession isn't an immediate issue, the politically savvy are feeling a little nervous about it.

But the war marches on, and preparations must be made. Their odds are better, but they're still vastly outnumbered by the Cetagandans. They'll need the help of the underground civilian resistance to prepare to retake Vorkosigan Vashnoi, as well as some supplies. After all, they'll have an easier time infiltrating the Cetagandan base with a larger force if some of them look enough like Cetagandans.

camp
Although the army is stronger than it has been in months, not all is at peace. Colonel Vorvolk has always been a trusted member of Piotr's general staff and a loyal officer, as well as a long-time acquaintance. However, his views on the outsiders don't exactly align with Piotr's: he thinks Piotr has been much too quick to trust them, especially given that several of them came over from the Cetagandan side, and Duv Galeni hails from Komarr, the planet that sold Barrayar out to the Cetagandans. Vorvolk doesn't believe that the outsiders should be given such freedom or privilege, let alone allow them to participate in critical military operations. Most of his own soldiers seem to share the sentiment, as do the Vorbarra soldiers -- in fact, Yuri vocally agrees with Vorvolk, and those outsiders who have been in Piotr's camp from the very beginning will feel an uncomfortably familiar air of suspicion and mistrust settles over the camp. While nothing has effectively changed -- the outsiders are not segregated away from the camp again as they once were, nor put back under guard -- the Barrayaran soldiers who are comfortable with and even like the outsiders are suddenly in the minority.

While few are foolish enough to disrespect the outsiders where Piotr can see them, some of the soldiers from Vorvolk's and Dorca's camps are borderline hostile toward the outsiders, jeering, taunting, even making hex signs or spitting in the most extreme cases. There are still plenty of soldiers who remain friendly towards the outsiders, but it's leading to friction between them and their other Barrayaran comrades as well. After several days of tension, a major fight breaks out in Piotr's camp over the outsiders' presence, and a few outsiders might even be dragged (or throw themselves) into it. Everyone involved in the fight gets a firm reprimand and then some, and worse still is that the fight does little to ease the tensions -- if anything, it only makes them worse.

Dorca and Yuri's mourning casts a somber air over the camps, and both Emperor and Crown Prince are in grave moods, Yuri's especially prickly. As his son was a public figure, they hold a public burning of death offerings on the 22nd, so that Imperial subjects may pay their respects to the recently deceased Prince. A large pyre is set up within one of the larger caves, so that the smoke will be less conspicuous, and any offerings submitted in earnest will be accepted. Typical Barrayaran death offerings consist of a small lock of one's hair, or, if none is to hand, any other personal object they might have on their person that would burn, such as a piece of clothing.

missions
With contributions of…mixed success from the outsiders, as well as help from the soldiers, the villagers are able to repair some of the homes damaged in the recent skirmish. Some of them are too far gone for repair, and so are broken down to salvage whatever materials they can for other repairs. Considering the village now houses fewer than fifty people, housing space is not a concern at the moment.

Preparations for the coming attack on the Cetagandan base go well overall. The raiding parties manage to steal uniforms and face paint for about 50 soldiers to disguise themselves, and parties sent to Vorkosigan Vashnoi successfully make contact with civilian resistance cells to pass their plans along.

The unabridged mission results can be found here.

cetaganda
Zahal sends his terms to Piotr for Sonia's release, and the gruesome rebuttal -- a crude message scrawled over Zahal's own hand-penned calligraphy, the delicate paper shoved into the gaping mouth of a dead ghem soldier, his head left to be discovered just outside the best -- infuriates him. He's known Piotr for too long to expect him to give in right away, but this is just sheer insult. He's well aware of just how vulnerable the base is right now -- the epidemic has mostly run its course, but their total forces are down to about 6,000 soldiers, and there are only about 100 ghem scientists left. His requests for reinforcements have been delayed by Cetagandan central command -- they have no extra troops they can spare on planet, and it will be another month before more ships arrive. Zahal is struggling to balance out his forces, split between the base and Vorkosigan Vashnoi -- right now binternal base security is badly undermanned in favor of increasing the occupying force in the capital city. Piotr Vorkosigan is too smart a man not to take advantage of an opportunity like this -- Zahal just doesn't know exactly what he's planning to do. The Cetagandan base is in a vulnerable state.

However, there is one edge they have: Cetagandan intelligence knows that Emperor Dorca and Crown Prince Yuri are in Vorkosigan's District. The courier who never made it to Piotr's camp was intercepted by Cetagandan intelligence before he even made it to Vorkosigan's District, and the information was sent accordingly to Zahal's outpost. Piotr might have rejected his first demand -- but would the Emperor, the Princess's grandfather, respond the same?

But as the trials of war marches on, so do the advancements of science. Micah is still hard at work in the labs working on the Star Gate Project, but the data they've been able to gather is incomplete and insufficient. They have convinced the Cetagandan science officers to send a scientific party, Micah included, off-planet to take a closer look at the collapsed wormhole and launch a satellite to record more data. They've made a fair bit of progress in discovering the new type of field generated by the collapsed wormhole, tentatively named the Niadem field after its primary discoverer, but they still know too little about just how and why the exotics have been brought here to complete their designs.

base
Despite the military tensions, the Cetagandans work hard at maintaining a lighter atmosphere around the base. Since the weather this month has finally given them some real relief -- and the epidemic raging the base has been quelled -- the Cetagandans decide to host a flower-viewing party on the 27th in the gardens adjacent to the Grow Labs. It is explained to the exotics that such events are regularly held to herald the coming of spring, although emphasis is placed on the fact that the viewings are usually much more sophisticated and lavish than the 'meager' offerings of the lush gardens on the base.

Typical of Cetagandan functions, it is elegant, overwrought and full of a lot of needlessly artfully crafted food and drinks -- many of them intoxicating, so take care what you drink. Sonia and Micah are both in attendance, although Sonia doesn't look particularly happy to be there. The party is celebrating in particular some of the genetic-botanical achievements of some of the ghem lady artists on the base, as well as some recently genetically engineered koi, to update the atmosphere of the garden to proper spring. However, the real show-stealer is the debut of Amai's personal project: an elaborate zoo-biological sculpture designed as tribute to the Star Crèche itself. It takes up a considerable portion of the back wall of the garden, vinelike branches woven into the trellis, curling and spreading in elaborate patterns, and flowers bloom along the lengths in clusters, each a different color. On a closer look, they can be identified as asters -- but some in colors no one's ever seen an aster before. The vines themselves are ridged with what looks like some kind of delicate fin that sways softly with the slightest breeze, a shimmering dark blue. They look more like koi fins than anything botanical, and with the groups of flowers set over them, it looks something like a night sky. In the center is an elaborately crafted flower sculpture of the Star Crèche's screaming bird insignia in minute detail. And though it is rooted to the rest of the sculpture, it seems to move at times -- the slightest flutter of its wings. The placard placed with it explains that each colored cluster of asters is an artistic representation of one of the Constellations that make up the haut caste. The Navarr constellation, from which both Diya and Sei hail, is flowered in asters of a striking violet color.

As time passes, Haut Sei's presence becomes more palpable on the base, and her force bubble is seen more frequently outside of the science/medical complex. Though she and Diya are working closely together, it's clear to anyone who spends enough time around them that there is some tension between them. Ba Talim is almost always present when they are together, although it can at times be found on its own around the base.

missions
The gene therapy trials take a turn for the worse despite glimmers of promise earlier on, and all three subjects suffer from complications with no progress made.

The investigation into the weapons smuggling operation is ultimately a failure -- while they are able to track down one of the resistance cells, the civilians involved manage to get away before any useful information is extracted from them. The next time Cetagandan soldiers return to the place where they'd been discovered, the establishment has since been boarded up and closed down.

The unabridged mission results can be found here.

Note: Gavalas, Ezar and Gail are both available for threading on request. Hit Madi (Gavalas) or Ammay (Ezar & Gail) up if you are interested!

Comments

MISSIONS: BARRAYAR

[barrayarmods]

EAVESDROPPING

[barrayarmods]

On the evening of the 19th, Wash and Miles will overhear two night guards talking about the political unease around the Imperial succession, and on the night of the 21st, Lakshmi and Nash will listen in on Piotr and Vorvolk arguing about the outsiders. At least the weather makes for nice nights for spying!

RAID: CETAGANDAN UNIFORMS

[barrayarmods]

Tucker, Carolina, Wash and Miles will have to work together as a team to coordinate their own squad's infiltration operation and get what they need -- luckily, they've all been to the base before, and there's more than one way they could run this.

THE RESISTANCE

[barrayarmods]

When you get to Vorkosigan Vashnoi, look for the sign that says Madame Antoinette's, because she's the lady you want to talk to. This isn't a bad time to try and talk to outsiders on the other side if you happen to run into them, but be conscious of who's watching: even if you're not detected by Cetagandan troops, if one of Vorvolk or Dorca's men sees you talking with someone from the Cetagandan side, they're liable to get suspicious.

MISSIONS: CETAGANDA

[barrayarmods]

EAVESDROPPING

[barrayarmods]

On the night of the 24th, Deanna and Lapis will overhear Diya and Sei talking -- and witness firsthand some primo, juicy haut drama.

SATELLITE LAUNCH

[barrayarmods]

It's a nice day for a space trip, isn't it? Over the course of the 25th to the 26th, Kaidan, Natasha, Pearl and Symmetra will have the privilege of joining Micah and the ghem science team on a trip to the collapsed wormhole to launch a satellite for data collection. The sight of Barrayar from orbit is breathtaking, for those interested in planetary scenery.

There's a hiccup or two on the way, of course. Before they can launch the satellite, the ship experiences a power surge, temporarily jamming some of its systems, and causes the airlock for satellite launch to malfunction, posing a risk to the crew inside. Better fix that quick before the whole mission is botched!

INVESTIGATION: WEAPONS SMUGGLING

[barrayarmods]

The sunny weather makes for a nice trip to Vorkosigan Vashnoi from the 22nd to the 23rd. Perfect for shaking down civilians for info! Vex, Byerly, Whirl and Natasha will find one of the weapon smuggling contacts the Barrayarans met with earlier in the month, but they'll get away before any real information can be wrung out of them. But hey, you might bump into an acquaintance from the other side while you're in the city.

FAST-PENTA: SONIA

[vorbratta]

Sonia is trying to put on a brave face as she's escorted into the interrogation room, a Cetagandan guard at each elbow, but she isn't nearly as good at putting any face on as her sister is. It's clear that she's afraid despite her attempts at composure -- throat tight, eyes wide and nervous, shoulders stiff. She knew it was inevitable, it had to be. When they hadn't at first, she'd thought, maybe…maybe she wouldn't be important enough to fast-penta. But the Cetagandans are determined to extract every use they can out of their hostage.

Her face goes white when she sees Tarn, the first face she lays eyes on when she walks into the room, and she freezes, enough that the guards have to jostle her to keep her walking. Her mouth is suddenly dry. What is he doing here? She'd only been expecting the ghem-major next to Tarn at the interrogation table, just the one interrogator. And then she sees Byerly sitting at that table, too, and confusion mixes in with the fear.

"Princess," the ghem-major says shortly, but politely, and he doesn't take a seat until she's been gently forced down into a chair across from him -- always polite, the Cetagandans. "I am ghem-Major Yulang. Ghem-General Zahal wanted very much to be present for your interrogation, but I'm afraid he couldn't make it. I'll be conducting your interrogation today."

All of it said crisply, cleanly, as though he's a doctor talking to a patient, rather than a captor to his prisoner. Sonia looks frightened and wary and resentful all at once.

"I believe you know Tarn and Vorrutyer already," ghem-Yulang says, gesturing at the two exotics, "so I think we can begin." He nods at one of the guards at Sonia's side. "Lieutenant -- allergy check? We always check for allergy first," ghem-Yulang says to Tarn and Byerly, his tone still so clinical, as the guard opens a case on the table. Tarn could have no familiarity with fast-penta, and Byerly…well, Barrayarans are typically undereducated. It doesn't hurt to explain. "Most allergies to fast-penta are fatal. But a naturally occurring allergy is rare, and otherwise the drug is quite harmless."

NPCS: BARRAYAR

[barrayarmods]

Emperor Dorca/Crown Prince Yuri

[madvor]

Emperor Dorca the Just is an imposing man. It's hard not to be an imposing man when you're the political monolith of the last half-century -- united the Counts into a cohesive Imperium and ended the Bloody Centuries -- his hair is streaked with gray, his face marked with scars, tall and barrel-chested and built like a brick wall. His son Yuri slightly less stocky, but just as tall, with a grim face quick to anger and slow to smile.

The both of them are always busy when they're in Piotr's camp, rarely at rest, because there's too much to do, too much to prepare for. And Yuri would rather think about the war than his son, and Dorca rarely thinks about anything else at all. But one or the other can be found in a few idle moments, after meetings in the war tent, or later in the evening, Dorca sharpening his sword, Yuri doing target practice on a tree with a worn but finely carved bow.

NPCS: CETAGANDA

[barrayarmods]

Botched escape and rescue - 4/27

[vorbratta]

"I'd like to leave the party now," Sonia says abruptly to a guard. None of them have been hanging off her elbow exactly, but there are enough of them that it's easy enough to locate one and walk up to him. She didn't want to come to this stupid thing in the first place, and she's tired of the stupid robes they made her wear -- more diplomatically worded, of course, as a strong suggestion, that wearing her fatigues or anything else to a Class 3 formal event like this was culturally unacceptable, and Sonia had nearly told him that he could take his unacceptable and shove it right up his ass, but it didn't seem worth the effort. But she's been here long enough, let the ghem gawk at her and make diplomatic conversation in which Sonia tried to be as innocently tactless and insulting as possible, and she's tired of it now. She's sick of her cell, but she's sick of this party more.

The guard looks down at her, reluctance tugging at his mouth. "I think the ghem-General and his wife would prefer that you stayed a little longer, Princess."

"My feet hurt."

"Then perhaps we should find you someplace to sit for a while."

"I think that the one freedom a prisoner on parole should have is to go back to her cell whenever she wants to," Sonia says crossly. Eyes narrowed, lips pursed, jaw set, she is ready to throw a spectacular adult tantrum right in the middle of their fancy party. The guard seems to sense this, because he sighs and waves at one of his comrades.

"The Princess would like to leave the party," he tells the other guard, who opens his mouth but then quickly closes it at the look on Sonia's face.

Sonia is determinedly silent on the walk back, though she makes a great show of tearing the decorative combs out of her hair as soon as they're outside and dropping them pointedly on the ground. The guards choose not to react, not stopping or slowing their pace, and for some reason that only frustrates Sonia more.

The corridors of the barracks complex are only half-lit at this hour, and nearly deserted, almost everyone either on duty or at the party. Even the lift tube down to the lower level is dimmed down to just its emergency lights, and as they approach Sonia wonders if she could goad the guards into some reaction if she just kicked off her shoes right here.

Byerly Vorrutyer, both undercover and post-cover

[vorrutyer]

Before capture
[ Byerly is his typical self in the days leading up to the escape attempt. Wry, sardonic, casual, he spends much of his time in Cetagandan aesthetic pursuits and in lazing about. Particularly the latter, nowadays. It seems he's become quite content that the Cetagandans aren't going to boot him off base, and so instead of looking to impress them, he seems mostly to be looking to nap.

Ah, sweet napping. ]

After capture
[ The escape attempt was rather noisy and public, and so news of it spread pretty easily throughout the base. By the time his cell is opened up to visitation, everyone probably knows what he was up to.

And the escape attempt was not the only thing, dear God, that's noisy. Byerly, after the defeat of his attempt to rescue Sonia and the revelation of his status as a Barrayaran spy, is in a great mood. He's whistling and cheerful from within his locked cell - literally whistling, whistling tunefully, the sound absolutely piercing and incredibly obnoxious to anyone posted guard nearby - hell, to anyone passing by in the hall. Or he sings, sometimes, in an operatic baritone that similarly carries irritatingly. It's clear that Byerly, after his capture, has made it his personal mission to annoy the hell out of the Cetagandan base, and he has thrown himself into that mission with zeal. ]

after capture

[durango]

[Deanna is more than sympathetic to Byerly's cause, and definitely to Sonia's, so while she is not yet willing to commit to one side or the other, she's willing to provide him with some company, if he wants it.

She hears him before she sees him, hiding her smile from the wincing guards as they wave her on by. Once she's at his cell, she waits politely for him to finish his song. In a strange way, it reminds her a little of Klingon opera.]

Miles Vorkosigan | OTA

[dendarii]

New Faces

[ So that's what Yuri Vorbarra looks like. Yuri Fucking Vorbarra, the madman who will go on to murder most of his house. The one who will accidentally ensure that Miles exists at all, at least in the form he knows now ...

He's smart enough not to stare while Yuri (or anyone who might care) is looking at him. But when the man's back is turned ... Miles looks as though he'd like to burn holes in his back with his eyes. The man is different from what he was expecting, but - what else was he expecting, really? Some obviously insane maniac? No, he's not at that point yet. Not for a while. And damn it, he has to wait if he wants to change any of this. There's no way in hell Barrayar gets through the war if the succession goes up in flames now...

It's still enough to make a man nervous. And Miles is nervous under everything, a ball of energy with no walls to hurl himself at. So he mutters to himself instead. Recalling what he'd overheard not too long ago. ]

"Quiet," my ass ...

Death Offerings

[ Miles is front and center at the public death offering. Not because he's loyal to Barrayar - though he is - but rather because he has something different to mourn. So this is why Yuri tried to kill all the other Vorbarras. Because he lost his son after his wife had died ... If that son hadn't died, then maybe the massacre wouldn't have happened at all. Maybe Mad Emperor Yuri might have been remembered as Paranoid Fuck Emperor Yuri instead.

So Miles adds a lock of his own hair to the pyre not for the son, but rather for the destabilization his death represents. For the deaths to come. ]

You can add cloth if you'd prefer.

[ He murmurs gently, in case you're here too and completely lost. Or just not feeling the impromptu haircut. ]

Fights n' Shit

[ Hell. It's a testament to how good camp has been recently that Miles didn't even think about how the influx of new soldiers might affect him personally. At least he's not Komarran, but the new soldiers don't consider a mutant to be much better. At best he gets hex signs constantly. Being spat on is more common, often accompanied with a jeer about how easy it is to hit the top of his head when he's that short.

And today - Miles gets into a fight. It's a small squabble, not his fault really. He'd been requested to take a message to Dorca's camp. Had done so more or less safely, as the soldiers hadn't touched him while he still had a job to do. But as soon as he turns his back, one of the soldiers knock him to the ground. A jeer about how desperate Piotr must be to have muties in his army, look how puny this one is - and then a sharp kick to his ribs that makes him cry out. The bruises from Tarn still hurt like hell; he has to blink back tears as he sits back up again, cradling his injured side. ]

Better - better a useful mutant than an empty meathead.

[ Wrong answer. So was the punch he was halfway through throwing. This is not going to end well. ]

OTA

[ Miles is also going to be around camp and Riverfall! Trying failing to help out with the construction efforts mostly. ]

fights n' shit

[traitorous]

[ it shouldn't be maine's business — it's not maine's business — but miles is about to get his tiny ass trashed in a fight that was never going to be fair one-on-one, let alone several-on-one, and he just happens to be in the area, so.

in the half-second it takes miles to throw his earnest, clumsy punch, maine is there to meet it, curving a hand around his wrist to stop him mid-swing. he gives his arm a surprisingly gentle squeeze as he lowers it back to his side ( not today, miles, sorry ), and then turns and catches miles' potential target by the throat when he advances closer. if he wanted to, he could crush this asshole's windpipe with a quick flex of his fingers, but all he does is nudge at him lightly, putting space between him and miles. back the fuck up, more, more, good.

even when the man pulls away with a frustrated grunt to rejoin his friends, maine's shoulders stay tight and tense, ready for a fight. the soldiers disperse, muttering decidedly impolite remarks beneath their breath, and maine's expression shifts from bored and disinterested to sharp and critical as he looks down ( and down ) at miles.

really. were you going to take them all on by yourself. ]

lakshmi | barrayar | ota | cw: violence

[shri]

STANDING STILL

[ She's on shift, her arms stiff by her side. She takes it seriously as she ever does. Never would dishonour the uniform she had put on.

The men behind her not on duty - ? Not so much.

She can hear them jeering, her Russian barely crosses passable, but she doesn't need to know it to understand whore, bitch, she wants to use a sword, they can help with that - . Her jaw sets, her face is blank and her hands stay by her side. The apocalypse could be passing behind her but she doesn't look and she doesn't acknowledge it as happening.

But when someone else does? She cuts it off immediately. ] Do not do so on my behalf. I will not be the excuse they want.

[ But there's a twitch there, maybe a little, if someone's going to throw that first punch, it will be her. ]

RIDING

[ She keeps it to herself, when someone comes back to tell her Beth has gone missing, goes to find Daryl, and when she can't find him -

Idiot. Damned idiot. This isn't either of their homes, for him to be taking off without help -

At least with these extra soldiers crawling everywhere, it both makes it not so much a burden for her to be looking, and an utter relief to be out of there. Saddling up a horse to ride after her shift, she wants out and away from this, from all of it. That when she finds someone in her way, she doesn't even bother to look. ]

Saddle up or get out of my way.

[ And she marches back to the horse with the bridle in hand to finish. ]

Riverfall

[ When she can't find Beth or Daryl and can't stand around in camp to be insult to the end of her patience, she is at Riverfall, usually just milling about, doing nothing too much in the way to draw attention to herself, but sit at times to have a quiet drink. Her mood still sour but at least where she isn't being insulted, she can at least nod civilly to anyone nearby and be coaxed into a conversation. ]

GO DOWN SWINGING
cw: violent assault

[ She endures it for as long as she can, as long as she has to - she isn't going to start that fight, she swears it to herself. Goes about each day in the same flat determination she has every other day before it, if somewhat more deaf to half the noise going on around her.

Right up until she can't, right up until she's going between the Countess's tent of an evening and the mess tent. Minding her own damn business, how old does she have to get to not deal with this anymore? Her first century, her second? Then again, she hadn’t heard anything better of how Lady Igraine was treated, did Carolina have to stomach this -

The arm that loops her waist takes her by surprise. The hand that grabs her by the ass is slightly less of a surprise given how they liked to catcall. The sneering face that accompanies both is practically routine at this point. ] Unhand me, immediately, or you will regret it.

[ It's laughed away from the man that's grabbed her jostles, laughs back to the men that have clearly put him up to it. 'She thinks she can give me orders. What are you going to do, cry to the mutie?' He leans over her, pointed use of the foot of height he has on her.

Honestly, it's almost relaxing when she yanks him down by his coat lapels to smash her forehead into the bridge of his nose. Smash him again to make him hit the ground when he stumbles, landing heavily. His friends react, lurching forward where they're drunk. Doesn't see them, too focused on the man that she kicks hard once between the legs, the boots her prefers were for this after all. Even if her targets were usually hardened muscle three times her size. Then she slows, a sneered breath in as she shoves her foot up between his legs, gets his manhood under the ball of her foot. Heel-digging in as a lever and leans with all of her weight. The blood from his broken nose wet on her face, curving around her cheek and she never looks away, breathing in slow and calm as she watches for that flinch.

It's then that he starts a making a wet, shrill, gargling screaming into the night air. Desperately, thrashing trying to get out away from her but pulling away only makes him scream louder in pain. The vicious thought, silly man, squealing like a rabbit in a trap, shouldn't have gone for the hunter that takes far bigger prey then men. It's cold, it's removed and she doesn't let him stop with a clinical satisfaction. Been awhile, since she got to take that satisfaction, Cetagandan's kept their distance for her to allow this.

But more than that, her point was to end it as quickly and bloodless as possible so that no one tries it again.

She forgot about his friends standing right there. ]

sugar we're going down swinging...

[protocol]

[ Lakshmi can take care of her damn self.

That's how Wash holds himself back, hearing the way some of the soldiers around camp call and jeer at her. She's strong, capable, doesn't need someone to defend her pride or honor, least of all him, but he can't help but keep an ear open anyway, can't help but feel an awful lurch in his gut and a twitch of his fingers against his side when he sees a soldier loop an arm around her waist. The way they talk to her, the way he leers, not to mention what he says. Cry to the mutie. One fucking guess who that means. Wash is already not quite in the mood for diplomatic talking-down, but he keeps an eye on them from where he is, and it seems like that's crossed a line with Lakshmi with the way she reacts, all that coiled tension releasing all at once, the eye of the storm passing over until this poor soldier's caught in the hurricane. Part of him might be thinking of stepping in to try and pull her off of him, but, ah. Not just yet. Lakshmi is hardly someone he can really make that demand of, for one, but most importantly? Hell if that bastard doesn't deserve at least some of what's coming to him.

Wash's attention is elsewhere, anyway, doesn't linger long on the man on the ground as he makes some awful gurgling almost-scream, instinctively watching for his friends. They do stagger forward, wide-eyed, some of them in surprise and uncertain fear and others in anger. Still, Wash holds his distance, right up until they start to move towards her, right up until there's a flash of steel, a gleam of it in the night, some idiot fucking drunk soldier actually drawing a sword on her.

Forgive him for interrupting, he has little doubt she'd have been able to handle this on her own, but Wash is immediately there, standing at her back. Unarmed brawls between soldiers are one thing, drawing a fucking weapon is another, and Wash answers it in kind -- the soldier was clearly drunk and unsteady on his feet, had just swung his blade in some clumsy arc, some attempt at intimidation more than an attack, yelling out at that damned bitch to back the fuck down. Wash had been more than fast enough to step in and catch the blade, not with his own sword but with a knife he always hides on his person, steel against steel, his gaze narrowed. ]

Are you all really so pathetic that you're only able to fight her by drawing a sword at her back? [ Cold, sharp, turning the knife in his hand, the blade catching against the soldier's sword just enough to give him a bit of purchase as he shoves him back, forces him a few steps away, back towards his other friends. He spins the knife in his hand, a clear gesture, showy. He knows what he's fucking doing. If it's a fight they want, they'll get it. ] Get in line and wait your damn turn. I'm sure she'll be happy to see to you, too, once she's done with your friend.

[ Another gurgling, pained cry. Wash turns his head slightly, not quite enough to look back at her but enough to see her out of the corner of his eye, still watching the soldiers, mostly. Fucking idiots. They should back down while they can. ]

Take your time. [ Directed at Lakshmi. She's already started, there's no point in trying to stop her even if Wash wanted to. Might as well take the chance to make a point with these Vorbarra soldiers, and well, maybe he might be able to stop this from breaking out into a larger fight. That one soldier might have to suffer plenty for it, but, ah. Wash isn't really that much of a saint and can't exactly bring himself to feel too bad about it, right now. ]

washington | barrayar & riverfall

[protocol]

i - riverfall | build 'em up, break em' down. also kidnapping or something

[ Wash isn't of much help when it comes to helping to rebuild the village, but he damn well tries. Eventually his lack of familiarity with doing this kind of hands-on work kind of wins over regardless of how earnest he is in his effort, and he just relegates himself to doing what he can, which turns out to mostly just be manual labor and helping to move heavy things around, salvaging building materials from the houses too ruined to repair. Regardless of how unhelpful he is, Wash at work is surprisingly calm and relaxed, and even if it doesn't help much to busy his mind, something to busy his hands is appreciative enough. He pushes along another load of salvaged stonework in a cart the villagers have provided, wiping the sweat from his brow, nodding a little in your direction and just gesturing with a hand. How's the work coming along?

Whoever happens to be around a little later in the day might happen to see something interesting, though. Wash is working away, dismantling a wall from a ruined house because if he can't help build he might as well help take down, when someone comes up behind him, immediately puts him into a headlock. The gesture is aggressive, but Wash seems surprisingly calm, even when one hand moves up to curve over Maine's arm, even as Maine makes that strange harsh, growling-hissing sound right against his ear. Wash does answer him ( not that old just yet, kiddo ), but then he's being literally dragged off, and even if you attempt to follow, Maine's apparently much faster and sneakier than he looks, even hauling Wash in tow.

After that? He turns back up at the ruined buildings, a few hours later, and gets right back to work. He doesn't look injured or hurt, but there's something in his eyes, distant, quiet, and he doesn't look up to meet anyone's eye. Approach him then if you want, but he sure doesn't look like he's in much of a mood to talk, anymore. ]

ii - camp | what do you mean violence is not the answer

[ Over the years Wash has gotten quite a lot better at not letting himself be easily provoked, at not letting his anger get the better of him. But it's the way these soldiers tend to insult not just him but the outsiders altogether and even the General along with them that has Wash on edge, that has him whirling around and standing his ground a lot more often than he usually would. This isn't the first time he's ended up in some altercation or the other, and this one had maybe been a little his fault, because he'd noticed that the group of soldiers wandering around camp had to be Dorca's or Vorvolk's, and he'd been lingering close, watching them, trying to listen in.

He looks unarmed, but he really isn't, and those soldiers staring him down are definitely armed, too. The one particular soldier he's looking at just sneers, remarks something about how these damned outsiders should mind their own fucking business, should've been left out to die where they found them, some of them even came from the Cetagandan base, women and mutants, was Piotr out of his damn mind. ]

We've done a lot more to help than you. [ Just so pointedly, and he looks calm enough, but anyone who knows him well would be able to read the tension in his shoulders, the slight tick in his jaw, the way his fingers twitch slightly at his side. This could really go either way, and Wash might be glad for the release of an actual fucking fight but he'd be glad to be talked down from something, too. ]

iii - stables | horsies aren't kitties but they'll do

[ The more comfortable and familiar he gets around the horses, the more he's started to find spending some time with them helping around the stables a welcome respite from everything else in camp. Mostly, though, he slips over when he has some spare time, with some treat he'd managed to get from the village or the mess. Moonfire's the horse he tends to spend most of his time with, Sonia's own, stroking a hand down her nose and offering her a treat, and with Beth missing from the camp, too, Wash figures that Moonfire could use the company.

He doesn't usually take a horse out from the stables all that often save to practice a bit of riding, but this time especially with the warming weather he decides that Moonfire could do with a slight walk around the yard. He's quiet when he leads her out into the yard, staying on her left, just like Beth had taught him to. ]

Easy. [ Soft, gentle, holding out a hand to let the mare lip at some treat he has in his palm. ] I'm worried, too.

iv - camp, late night | still mostly a huge nerd in his late nights

[ Wash is back to his regular pattern of not-sleeping rather than the distressing-even-for-him lack of sleep, but that still does mean he spends a most time at night idly wandering around the camp or settled next to a quiet fire. There's a lot on his mind these days, isn't there always, but with Yuri and Dorca in camp he can't help the constant tension in his shoulders, not to mention how he casts a wary eye at every soldier who wanders past.

Not enough just to be alone with his thoughts, this time, and no practicing cyrillic in the dirt, either. Instead you're most likely to find him hunched over a foldable chessboard he'd managed to bargain out of the villagers some time ago in exchange for help, and yes. Yes, he is just playing against himself. Quite intently.

Sit down and play with him so he'll be less pathetic. Or make fun of him. He's apparently surprisingly engrossed, brow creased in thought as he taps his fingers against a white rook already taken from the board, and he might not actually say anything until you do, though. ]

v - wildcard | it's a wildcard ok

[ As always Wash can be found wherever around camp and the village, still looking tired as fuck and also looking warily at things. Hit me up at dragonpunch or disc@valonqar#1048 for anything specific! ]

i - eavesdropping with miles!

[lovernotafighter]

[W-The-F.

These buildings weren't going to build themselves, and while work gave Tucker something else to focus on, his mood was still resting somewhere between "annoyed" and "shit". Helping the people and eating weirdly cool meat bun things was making it bearable, but hardly fun. He shifted the plank of wood in some villager's bedroom, trying to patch a hole in the wall and grunting a little as it started to slip from his fingers.

He wasn't good at this sort of manual labor. He just...wasn't. But hey, anything had to be better than a gaping four foot hole to an exterior wall, so there was that at least.

It was luck and strange timing that had him peeking through a window at the exact right moment to watch Maine drag Wash off, looking shady as fuck. Trust him everyone said, but Tucker didn't. Couldn't. Not yet, maybe not ever, and this was hardly making shit easier on his hangups over this. Dropping the hammer and ignoring the confused and accusatory Russian dialect following him, he ran outside to see where they were going.

Fuck this shit; he was going to spy make sure Wash didn't need any privacy help.]

Tarn [Cetaganda]

[sparkwhisperer]

[A. Flower Viewing Party]

Tarn is standing in front of Amai’s botanical piece. hands neatly laced behind him. He doesn’t understand it. He’s trying very hard to see the art in it as he watches the delicate fins sway. It seems rather pointless.

Looking around the room he takes in the sea of opulent clothing and painted faces. He’s been granted a robe of his own, but its not nearly as ornate as the ghem women flitting about. Looking down, he runs a hand over the purple and golds woven in simple patterns. He sighs feeling rather ridiculous.

Tarn’s body is strung tightly as he makes his way to the refreshment table to get himself a beverage. It’s unclear if he knows that there are intoxicants in them as he easily drains his first glass, reaching for another



[B. After Saturday Night Smackdown]
That hadn’t gone as he had anticipated.

Tarn’s face is streaked with blood and bruises as he limps to find a quiet corner to lick his wounds in peace. Natasha had been vicious locking onto him and tearing into him before he could even get a good blow of his own in.

Stumbling toward the barracks, he tries to shield his face from passersby, though his standard uniform is noticeably torn and bloodied itself.

He is mortified. He should have been able to hold his own— or at the very least protect himself from the assault. But in the end, this sad, weak, fleshy body only ended up disoriented and locked up under Natasha’s blows. He’s Tarn, Commander of the Decepticon Justice Division. He’s taken down Cybertronains so strong that they are sent to wipe planets clean in preparation for total takeover-- Decepticons twice his size!

But,that was with a team of five, each meticulously trained to be as vicious and thorough as possible. That was when he had a a durable frame capable of taking an explosions and blaster fire with little damage. That was when he had his outlier power to fall back on. Perhaps without those he is nothing. Maybe this was why Megatron chose to keep him from the front lines, putting him behind a desk to do the administrative upkeep for the cause. He would never complain, of course, the internal administration of the Decepticons is what keeps it afloat. But, a thought drills itself into the forefront of his mind. Maybe Megatron knew all along just how weak his was without his voice to hide behind.

He stops in a corridor, breaths coming in quick pants as he tries to wipes some of the blood leaking from a cut above his eye. To those who might catch a glimpse, He may seem more reserved, locked in his mind-- subdued.

Gonna go with OPTION A FIRST

[terrifyingrenegade]

"I'd be careful with that stuff if I were you... I've been warned against drinking it. Apparently it's very intoxicating."

Pearl has emerged from the crowd, similarly dressed up. She sidles up to the other end of the table, casting an amused glance at Tarn.

Kaidan Alenko | Cetaganda / Village / SPAAAAACE

[standsentinel]

a. Riverfall Village:

To say that Cetagandan visitors, or their outsider affiliates are not particularly welcome in the village is to say that water is wet, the sun is hot, and that the native vegetation is noxious. Nevertheless, the fact that members of the resistance are known to pass through is reason enough for Kaidan to insist on making himself helpful, even without the not so veiled boyscout tendencies in his nature.

He's gotten a wide range of denials, in a wide range of hostility levels, but one soul with an acerbic sense of humour has finally given him something to do. The metaphors inherant in handing one of the scrubbed clean faces of the Cetagandan contingent a pitchfork and pointing them at an empty cart and an over-full manure pile are not exactly the subtle stuff of moon poetry contests, and there's a little appreciation beneath Kaidan's saturnine expression as he rolls up his sleeves and gets to work. A very, very little bit of appreciation. Very.

b. SPAAAAACE:

The engine noise is alien, and even without his implant's failed state he knows there would be no subtle interplay between his biotics and an eezo drive core here... but Kaidan Alenko is looking more at home aboard this small craft than he's been with an entire base and planet at his disposal. There are scents and sounds that are universal to human spaceflight, and beyond all of them, out the viewing port in the tiny crew's mess, there is The View. He can be found there during the off hours with an introspective look, when science has to subordinate itself to the reality of in-system travel time and when the limited work space has been co-opted by another of the science crew.

c. Flower Viewing:

Another day, another party, and while Kaidan has once again assented to wearing Cetagandan party dress, still in subtle shades of blues that the ghem ladies have apparently decided are his aesthetic, he's waved off any attempts to suggest perfumes or other possible migraine hazards with wry apology. This attempt to avoid finishing the evening in the fetal position is probably also why he's facing the combined genetic pageantry of the event with nothing harder in the glass in his hand than some fruit juice, lightly carbonated.

He still looks like he's got a slight headache all the same, but this one's likely from trying to follow the ghem-versation about floral signifiers he's just politely extricated himself from. Signifiers or no, the centrepiece of the exhibition is impressive. The man and his robes opt to amble over for a closer look instead.

d. Wildcard: Around the base, out at the village or anywhere else, if you've got an idea go for it!

a!

[protocol]

There's a familiar face. Wash doesn't forget, of course, which means it's impossible for him to forget one anyway, but Kaidan Alenko he remembers from his time on the Cetagandan base. They hadn't managed to speak all that much, but what Wash remembers learning about him, he liked. He seemed practical, dependable, had a good head on his shoulders. Wash had introduced himself as Washington, talked a little about Chorus, and now he's with the Barrayarans and Kaidan is still over there.

Which might make them enemies in some ways, maybe. But outsiders and exotics should stick with their own, right, not to mention how complicated Wash's loyalties are now, regarding the entire conflict. Besides, that Kaidan manages to be in the village so soon after the attack does take a kind of boldness that Wash might be curious about.

And the work he's ended up with, well. Wash sympathizes. It's there in the slightest quirk of a smile in his expression as he goes up to him, wiping the sweat from his brow -- he's taking a break from the construction efforts.

"Guess the villagers had to start you somewhere, huh."

Lavernius Tucker | Barrayar

[lovernotafighter]

A. Camp - Who Let These Jerks In?

[Self-control wasn't exactly in Tucker's wheelhouse, but he managed restraint somehow. He was trying so fucking hard not to run off and just fix shit, trying not to have a stupid plan and make it work like he always did, trying not to pick a fight with these asshole fucksticks that came in and kept making comments. So far? So far he had succeeded.

But everything was tense because waiting wasn't his strong-suit, leaving him feeling like a bullet in the chamber. The looks he kept getting from some of these soldiers were enough to get the trigger squeezed, and his mouth was sore from where he kept biting the inside of his cheeks. He was on thin ice to start with, though; he knew it, which meant behavior was mandatory.

Of course, then he heard one of them laughing and pointing at him, and he couldn't--]

Yeah, who know who wasn't laughing last night? [And someone please stop him before he finishes with a Your mom, because I was making house calls. Or don't. Fights could be fun, but outnumbered odds? Not so much.]


B. Repairing Houses - Let's Just Not.

[Coming back to the village was hard, his eyes always drifting to the place where she had been taken and the blood-soaked ground that had been turned over to get rid of the stain. Guilt was smoothed over by actually helping to rebuild some of the houses, and while he sometimes took breaks for pirozhki, he was finding out one important thing:

He wasn't very good at this.

Seriously, he wasn't. Sure, he was trying, but he had a habit of using the wrong tool for the job, for bending nails with too-hard hammer strikes, for putting wrong boards in wrong places and making cuts that were way, way off measurements. In effect: he sucked. He probably shouldn't be doing this, for his sake and that of everyone else.

But hey, roof. He could work on the roof, right? He was almost done for the day and he was actually putting effort in, which was more telling than other things. The support beneath him whined a little, but he didn't pay attention; he was trying to get this row of patching done so he could go back to camp and sleep for a week.

Trying to repair houses and effectively failing was a more lot hard work than he planned on.]


C. Med Tent - Ouch, MFer. Ouch.

[Tucker should have stopped while he was ahead. Maybe dropping the hammer on his foot was the hint that he shouldn't have ignored, but no. He kept going, kept building, kept trying to help.

Until he fell through the roof, feeling it cave out from under him with a deafening crash. Until he landed. Until he woke up here, in the stupid med tent, stuck in bed, bored out of his mind and in enough pain that he wanted booze or meds or something to take the edge off. This sucked; he hadn't been stuck like this since he had been stabbed by Fucklix, and by the end of that, he had gone stir crazy, too.

At least he had Epsilon to talk to back then, checking on him, constantly there while he mended. Worried, even if he wouldn't admit it, covering it up with a bullshit line about how he had nothing better to do.

Dammit, he wished Church was here.

Grunting a little, Tucker tried to sit up, to slide his legs to dangle off the edge of the cot, to find his feet even if he wasn't supposed to. He needed to get up, to do something before he just lost it. ]


D. Wildcard

a

[protocol]

[ And who's right there to stop him other than Mr. Killjoy himself. It's the sixth sense in him honed after looking after Tucker for so long, because he's right there at the right time and before Tucker has the chance to finish his scathing insult, Wash is right next to him, clapping a firm hand over his shoulder. His grip is tight enough to hurt for a second before he relaxes slightly, pointedly tugging Tucker back, enough to force him back half a step.

He doesn't say anything. It's all there in his expression, the hard set of his jaw, his lips pressed into a thin line. You know better than this, Tucker. A jerk of his head off to the side, away from the instigating soldiers. Leave it. Let's go. ]

nash | barrayar & riverfall

[latkje]

I. riverfall

[ Nash doesn't usually enjoy manual labor, but he certainly preferred it to violence. It was nice to build something instead of tearing it down, even if he didn't know how long Riverfall could hold out. He's never been a carpenter, so Nash is going wherever it seems he's needed, carrying stone or lumber, holding planks in place when they need to be kept steady.

He's in a pleasant enough mood, which is unfortunate for anyone who wanders near him, since this means he will either:

a) Complain loudly about how much whatever he's carrying weighs.

b) whistle while he hammers something to something or other. ("It helps to keep yourself in a rhythm.") ]

II. camp

[ Nash is mucking around in the stables. Literally, mucking around, cleaning the horses stalls. This, he figures, is something no one will begrudge him, not even the new soldiers who make the evil eye whenever one of the outsiders passes. In fact, no one has tried to pick a fight while he's shoveling manure. It's the kind of work that makes a person invisible. And, if you asked him, he'd tell you that's why he was doing it. Better to do something low and useful than stick his face where someone will punch it.

But if someone were to be in the stables, and were to watch him, they might notice a few things. First, that he does a regular, if not regulation job, scrubbing out the water buckets with hay. And second, he's sorting the horse shit into two buckets, one of which he's keeping for himself. ]


III. Wildcard

[ Choose your own adventure. I am at latkje if you want to plot.]

Riverfall!! hi

[vorrutyer]

[ Dear lord. That's some horrendous whistling. Byerly is on his way out of the village, but he simply has to stop short to comment, to call up at the man - ]

I've always found something intensely irritating about someone who's relatively good at whistling. It's one of those skills where the better you are, the more the people around you want to strangle you.

sisko • barrayar / village / etc.

[thesisko]

𝑎. 𝑣𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑒 ; 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛

There are very few things that Benjamin feels comfortable diving into upon his arrival in the middle of a conflict between two peoples he knows precisely nothing about. One of the few things he is comfortable with is helping those who have been affected by it.

Besides, it's been a long while since he had the chance to build something, particularly since he'd gotten to do so with his own hands. It's one thing that doesn't feel completely off in a place where he certainly doesn't belong, grabbing hold of things, working to accomplish something, making a tangible difference. He's pretty good at it, and now and again you might catch him with a rare, brilliant smile on his face as things come together.


𝑏. 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑝 ; 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛

The lone new arrival in camp, he's been fairly quiet during his first days here. He may look slightly out of place, wearing his uniform around camp, the jacket most frequently hanging open over the matching vest and his red turtleneck, though he typically wears it only zipped to his collarbone. His combadge remains in place, gleaming upon his chest, though of course it doesn't serve any current purpose - still, he keeps it, knowing perfectly well that even its components could prove useful down the line.

Unprepared to throw himself into the battle but always listening, he focuses on observing and gathering information, forming impressions he keeps entirely to himself. He's almost always impassive, even in the face of the soldiers who do nothing to make him feel particularly welcome. Having just arrived, he has no reference for whether this behavior is usual or not; under the circumstances, he can't entirely blame them for it, even as little as he appreciates it. After all, he's got his own fair share of suspicion about these people and the war he's been apparently tossed into.

But, he is granted a place to stay, he's fed, and so he does what he can to help without involving himself in their war. Of course, he can't entirely help that when he does sit down to his meals, he tends to regard them with a touch of skepticism.


𝑐. 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 ; 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎

Eventually, he does venture beyond the perimeter of the camp and into the woods, getting a feel for the lay of the land at large, the depth and density of the wilderness, and some idea of what may be growing or living beyond the line. He doesn't go far, hardly wanting to run into the middle of a skirmish or soldiers who are even less happy to see him, but he can't be stuck in a place where he hasn't even begun to grasp the terrain that lay around him.

It's when he's just about as far as he's likely to go that he hears a noise from deeper into the growth. It's something that isn't easily mistaken, the cry of a child too young to form words asking for help. Not knowing what else is present in the woods, what dangers may be posed or if the child - the baby, really - is alone, he takes off more purposefully in its direction. He's not careless, but his own safety has become secondary.


[ HI so you can really grab him just about anywhere i'm down with whatevs, & feel free to hit me up for specifics ]

C

[durango]

The Cetagandans are not exactly... thrilled to let Deanna venture out on her own, given the various escape attempts from other extrauniversals, as Micah would call them, but eventually they seem to decide she's not much of a flight risk. And indeed she's not, not right now, despite the information she learned from Byerly. All she's wanting, really, is some time away from the base, time to breathe, and time to think.

Except as she walks through the nearby woods, there's something else that catches her attention: the cry of a baby. All else is forgotten as she follows the sound, which leads her deeper into the woods. At last, she finds a small, squalling bundle of cloth resting at the base of a tree. Even if this baby, pink and feverish, looks nothing like Ian, she can't help but be reminded of him. With no hesitation then, she carefully picks the baby up and cradles them in her arms.

Lapis Lazuli | Ceta

[mirrortide]

[Flower Viewing]

As of the current moment in time, Lapis is neither suffering from a headache or particularly moody. Surprisingly the strong aromas don't trigger any headaches, and as there isn't really any good reason to splash people at the flower viewing, Lapis is free from those types of headaches as well. She's also back to wearing her skirt and crop top (which are clean this time around, thankfully), and she's avoiding anything that even vaguely smells of alcohol.

Lapis might not be the one to initiate any sort of conversation, but she does look surprisingly contemplative, like she's trying to work something out and just can't seem to.

[Here and there]

Her migraines haven't gotten any better, but right now she's trying to ignore the growing throbbing in her head. Ever since the migraines have started coming on when she hasn't even been using her powers, it's been making it hard to use them in the first place. But Lapis is nothing if not patient and most importantly skilled. Despite everything, she's trying to manage balancing a small, baseball sized sphere of water in the air.

She needs to know how long she can last like this. The water shakes and malforms, threatens to drip every now and again, but she's managing to catch it before it can completely disperse. It unfortunately won't take much, only a small surprise or perhaps being bumped into gently to make her drop it.

[Closed to Pearl]

As soon as Lapis spots the other Gem, she follows her, just a small distance away, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Which is to say as soon as Lapis sees any sort of clearing of people near somewhere she can grab Pearl and drag her off to somewhere more secluded so they can talk, Lapis will absolutely do it. Sorry Pearl.

... Then again, Lapis is a little more frail than Pearl is at the moment, so if Pearl resists there probably wont be a lot she can do about it.

[terrifyingrenegade]

Honestly, it's not hard to get Pearl alone. For the most part, she has no interest in talking to the other party-goers, since she's literally only here to look at the flowers, so the rest of this event holds little interest for her.

She's off in her own little world admiring a particularly opulent display when Lapis decides to get grabby. Feeling the tug on her arm, she instinctively digs her heels in and turns to face the offender.

"Lapis?" she hisses with surprise. "What--"

Lapis why can't you just use your words.

Deanna Troi | Cetaganda

[durango]

down in the valley
One morning in the middle of the month, Deanna goes out for a hike near the village, simply to clear her head, only to return with… a baby. Not her own, obviously, but from the way she fusses over him, he might as well be. The baby is thin and sickly, so she and Sisko decided for the time being that it was best for her to bring him back to the base, where there is plenty of food and medicine. However, that certainly doesn’t mean she trusts the Cetagandans with him, refusing to let him out of her sight, even when - or especially when - the doctors are examining him. Have fun keeping her out of sickbay, everyone.

Once the baby is medically in the clear, he’ll spend most of his time riding in a carrier on Deanna’s back or slung across her front as she goes about her day. As long as he’s there, warm and fed, he’ll stay quiet - for the most part anyway. At night, he’s more likely to start crying, so you might catch her in the corridor outside the exotics’ barracks, rocking him and singing him an old lullaby to calm him down again.

flower viewing party
Deanna once again submits herself to the fashion whims of the ghem ladies, though now Byerly’s words about her being in the pocket of the Cetagandans are unpleasantly ringing in her head as one of the women paints a delicate design of purples and greens across Deanna’s brow. Uncertainty about her next course of action plagues her, but now… at least there is Captain Sisko, someone who will understand and whom she can trust. For now, she thinks, it is better if the Cetagandans don’t view her as a risk, until she and Sisko can talk again.

So, here she is at the the party, engaging in polite mingling and people watching. Despite her internal struggles, events such as this come easily to her, like breathing almost. If you don’t know her well, nothing in her manner would suggest anything was amiss. Perhaps she’s a little quieter, asking fewer questions and spending more time at the edges of the party, but that could easily be chalked up to the sleepless nights she’s spent up with the baby, rather than anything more alarming. If you approach her, she’ll still greet you with a warm smile and an interested tilt of the head.

down in the valley

[sparkwhisperer]

The past few weeks have left Tarn's nerves feeling raw. He hates how many compromises he's had to make in an attempt to win Diya's favor. He's betrayed his very core beliefs in an attempt to qualify for gene therapy and he can only hope that it will be worth it in the end.

Lately he has taken to late night walks around the barracks in an attempt to calm his turbulent mind, but today he is disrupted by a sharp wailing unlike anything he's ever heard

"What is that?"

Tarn approaches Deanna, staring at the child in her arms. He's never seen a baby before.

BARRAYAR | fight fight fight

[shri]

[ Everything gets more strained in shared spaces. At least in the tents at night there's something measurably quiet. In the Mess Tent? No such luck, where everyone is piled in together, and half at each other's throats, it's bound to go one way or another eventually - either they all start getting along or - well.

Lakshmi is lining up for food the same as all the others. Minding her own business, or so she hoped. Right up until she's not. There's no helping it really, and shorter than most of these men that it makes it apparently too easy when she gets clipped in the jaw hard enough that it snaps her head to the side, stumbling out of the line. Closed ranks immediately on the space she had occupied to make it clear that she would have to go back to the end again. Could almost, almost be an accident as she spits up the mouthful of blood from where her lip is split, swiping at where it curves down her chin. Looking up the man that's laughing and it becomes all very clear that this isn't an accident.

Looks up brief at - well any of the other outsider's that she can see in the tent with her. Give them half a second of notice, apparently, for what she plans to do. Obvious, really, given who she is. She takes the tray that gets thrown at her feet. Picks it up with both hands until she has it gripped by both sides. ] You really had to do this here, didn't you?

[ And she smashes the flat of it straight across his face.

After that, well, it's everyone for themselves. Anyone who steps up into it has a dozen happy opponents and they clearly have targets that they are aiming their punches for. But anyone else that gets in the way is just as happy to be dealt with a similar punch to the face. ]

-

( ooc: the plotting for this is over here. this open to anyone that wants to get in on it. whether that's breaking up the fight or defending someone else that gets thrown in. go nuts! )

[dendarii]

[ Miles doesn't want to be in a fight, god damn it all. He hasn't had much of a choice in his previous ones - and he doesn't have a choice here either, does he? He catches just enough of the exchange to get furious, get closer. Lakshmi can take care of herself, he knows it, but goddammit these fucking assholes ...

He shoves his tiny body up close enough to see her go after the soldier who'd grabbed her. Enough that the one nearest to him jeers about coming to save his lover with that puny frame.

So Miles punches them. For the jeer, for insulting Lakshmi, for - everything else, really. And thus he's in the thick of it too. ]

You all - ought to have more - goddamn discipline than this --!

[ The next hit knocks the wind out of him, sending him reeling before he can finish his statement. ]

CLOSED TO JASPER

[terrifyingrenegade]

Honestly, that one conversation with Lapis was heavy enough to ruin the tone of the whole evening.

Before that-- before she'd found out the truth of what the Cetagandans were up to-- Pearl had been having a reasonably nice night. Sure, the atmosphere had been a bit cloying, what with all the Cetagandan's usual pomp and circumstance about these sorts of functions, but Pearl hadn't come to this party to socialize. She had come here for the flowers, to admire the gardens and see the best of what these scientifically gifted humans could cultivate.

Most of all, she had come in the hopes of finding a moment to sit among the greenery and just... forget the situation, if only for a little while. It's more difficult, of course, now that she knows the situation has escalated... But she still needs to try.

Naturally, she'd been drawn to the roses; when she sits among them here, closes her eyes, takes in the flowery scent and really concentrates on tuning out the bustle of the party around her... Pearl can almost forget where she is. She's gone, far away from this planet, this dimension, and suddenly she's back on Earth... back home. With her friends, her family, things that gems are never even supposed to have.

And if she dares to dream a little harder? Pearl can almost imagine that she's back with her, in the early days of the rebellion, just the two of them, even before the day that Garnet stumbled into their sanctuary, before nearly everything else.

The thought of going back that far almost makes her feel guilty now. Or maybe... Maybe that twinge in her gut is from something else.

Wait. Is she... being watched...?

[stompadour]

SURE IS. Jasper is standing a little way off, one hand on her hip under her robes (not especially extravagant this time, having been more the result of her own efforts than anything else, but still gently fancy), her yellow eyes narrowed as she watches Pearl. She hasn't been there very long, but she has a really intense gaze.

"Pearl," she says with a curt nod. "What were you and Lapis talking about."