[ 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

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. ]

I’ll be your number one with a bullet

[shri]

[ Her head snaps when she hears the slither of snake-like metal, vipers are her back that are interrupting her teaching them exactly why they had best keep their hands to themselves.

Save for the change of her direction. Nothing changes in her face, the woman he'd seen in the chair where it's stripped back, stripped away, nothing else left, when she's pushed back - it's not her fault, she might say, no one left her with much when they stripped her down to the bone. Her eyes fix first on Washington, when he speaks to her, then the soldiers as they turn between crude insults instead of getting on with it like they should and skip straight to begging. Her foot doesn't lift, her gaze doesn't flicker from disgust to pleasure to anything at all.

He screams and screams and screams. It's going to start getting more attention, soon. She doesn't so much as blink. ]

Thank you, Agent Washington, I was hoping to give a demonstration. [ Her voice is even, measured, because in the same way she had carried Washington back to camp, so she trusts him to stand beside her now, no matter what her personal opinion was.

No, if she had a problem with a situation, she dealt with it directly. She always has. ] Have I ever told you, Agent, I once saw a man crushed by an elephant? Not just in battle where they are often used, but to execute a criminal. It was both slow, and then quick. The pressure built and built and built, then his head simply ah - how would you put it? Splattered.

[ The men watched her, then their friend who is somehow hearing her over that din, as her heel pushes up that little bit more on his cock and he begins to thrash in true desperation as she hoped he imagined his lack of future children if she had her way. ] Of course, as Queen, I never ordered such a death, but I was the only one allowed to do such a thing. I thought I would keep it in reserve for particular crimes.

[ The man on the ground was starting to muddle himself through the pain, and he was particular in his request: 'get off my dick, you bitch'. ]

[protocol]

[ A different kind of man would be bothered by the screaming. Wash has been through too much for it to really bother him. Still, he's never been a saint but he's never been cruel ( most of the time, anyway ), and he'd stop Lakshmi, he really would, if not for the knowledge that she's likely not to listen, if not for the part of him that's glad to see at least one of these soldiers really pay a little for some of the shit that's been coming from their mouths. Wash has been holding himself back, no doubt others are, too. Fights among an army tend to make things worse.

But damn if it isn't nice to get a little release, even through someone else, and damn if it isn't nice to see someone get a touch of what's deserved.

He keeps his head slightly turned in her direction, enough to see her and what she's doing ( and to keep an eye on the soldier she has trapped there, even if it's likely he can't do anything, he's still trained to keep all possible threats in sight ), his gaze still mostly locked on the poor man's friends in front of him. And he listens, his expression not shifting even slightly with what she says, even as he reads uncertainty and fear mixed with anger in the faces of the soldiers, holding their distance, now. He's heard her talk about what she's done, after all. How ruthless she can be doesn't surprise him. The only thing his mind catches on is, well, elephant, taking a moment or two to conjure up the exactly right mental image. He straightens slightly, shifting to something more neutral from his fighting stance. If any soldier attacks again, they'd be starting something all on their own. ]

No doubt only for those that deserved it, Rani. [ Title, here, not that the soldiers would know the word. They might guess from context maybe, or from his tone. ] What crimes would call for it?

[ He doesn't need to say too much, he thinks. Just being the ignorant foil for Lakshmi would be more than enough for these idiots to get the idea. ]

[shri]

Disloyalty. Defilement. You see, anyone who commits such an act has no honour. So they do not deserve to know a good death. They deserve to have done to them what they do to others.

[ The disgust in her tone says that if she had her say, she would consider this as one a cause of another. She would never have accepted this kind of infighting. Yuri should be chastising his men for this. A divided army was a lost army, and she would know that better than anyone, and him allowing it only gave her a clearer image of the kind of man he was. As if Miles hadn't done that already.

She was too old for this. Her mouth sets to an unforgiving pause. ]

They deserve to be reminded that men are fragile.

[ He's crying now, and her head turns back and lets out the softest - Ah. Like she's so taken with his misery, poor rabbit, no way out of his cage. He might do anything, she supposes. Purr to her voice, her rage never bursting, not like Galahad's lashing out, but low and cool, lightly with it. ]

[protocol]

[ For as much as he's inevitably found himself throwing his lot among the Barrayarans, there is so much they do and so much about them that still stirs a distinct -- not just dislike, but disgust. Infanticide. The horrors that Piotr would go on to permit, not to mention Yuri. Their cultural attitudes on sexuality, on women in particular, are especially ridiculous to him. It's not like biases are completely erased in his own world, far from it, but while Carolina wasn't technically his commanding officer she was still the finest leader and fighter that Wash has ever known. Not to mention, most of the women Wash's happened to get to know in his life are entirely capable of kicking his ass.

Things have been bad in the camp, yes, but not quite so bad. Carolina's been allowed to fight, in some regards. Lakshmi has as well. Lucy was with him, when they raided the Cetagandan base. But of course, these have always been exceptions, not the rule, and the Vorbarra soldiers have been a very stark reminder of that. No honor, well, Wash might disagree with that, still sees honor as some intangible, impractical thing, but that men are fragile? That's definitely true.

He hears that crying, too, doesn't turn his head to look down at him, still keeping his eyes trained on the others. They're nervous now, angry and anxious, trying to hide their obvious embarrassment, but still perhaps drunk and foolish enough to think they could still try at something, and Wash doesn't mean to let them out of his sight until they're turned away and whimpering back to lick their wounds. ]

More and more are in need of reminders like that, these days. [ The Emperor's own soldiers, weren't they? Not all of them, but some, and doesn't this reflect well on their officers. An idle spin of the knife still in his hand. ] Do you think that one remembers, yet?

[ Just the lightest push. She's probably done enough. ]

[shri]

[ The sobbing peaks to somewhere near hysterical and still her expression remains perfectly empty, perfectly bland. Her heel pressing that little point until he firmly crosses his that point and she turns back to Washington with an utterly demure expression - like a woman should, they insisted - save for the prickle of a smile even as her eyes are lowered. ] I think you're right - what do you say, young man?

[ She pulls back and immediately the man shrieks, blood flow rushing back. Not even trying to get up, he just scrambles on his hands and knees back to his friends.

In utter trust of Washington, and in her complete disregard of them, she pointedly turns her back to them. Predator who knows her prey is nothing at all to her. Not ability at all to tear her down. Not in this life, or the next. Looks up to Washington and keeps her voice like nothing had happened of particular note. ] Shall we? I find myself hungry.

[protocol]

[ There is some sense of relief in him when Lakshmi finally relents. Not so much out of sympathy for the man under her heel, because well, he'd deserved that, hadn't he, and she could be doing so much worse -- but for the same reason he holds back, why he's trying to get Tucker to hold back, Miles and the rest. It would only reflect poorly on them, the same way this reflects poorly on Dorca and Vorvolk's men. Not to mention, Piotr would hardly be pleased.

Any further and the men in front of him did seem like they'd be ready to pick a fight, anyway, if not with Lakshmi then with Wash himself. A small part of him might almost be disappointed, because by god is he itching for an excuse for a fight, for just one person to push a little too far and give him a fucking excuse to break an arm or two.

But Lakshmi pulls away, turns to look at him as if nothing happened, and that helps him make the decision, his own stance easing. He doesn't put away the knife, spinning it idly in his hand as he casts a glance back at the man scrambling and crawling towards his friends, watching as the soldiers reluctantly draw back a little. ]

Sure. [ Turning back to her, now, gesturing with a tip of his head. ] Lead the way.

[shri]

[ They're still spitting insults behind them as she walks away - that she's a bitch, that she'll pay for this, probably something equally as foul in Russian. Loud and hissed at her back and she lets it roll off her like water. Gone from vicious to taking a polite stroll with him at her side as easily as that, any ire that she might still possess shoved deeply enough as to appear as if nothing had bothered her to begin with except for the shift of her fingers in the readiness to have to pull a weapon. ]

You are better with a knife than a sword.

[ She ventures as they walk, stiffly for her. Still unsure that she wants to speak with him at all outside of the dictates of necessity. ]

[protocol]

[ Wash has been learning enough of the language to understand the insults, but he's practiced at letting people say what they will about him behind his back, and Lakshmi, well. Lakshmi's clearly used to it, too. The way she draws that anger back in her is -- familiar, reminds him of himself, all gathered up again with not even a ripple on the surface to show what'd broken through before. Wash himself is the same, calm and easy, now, as if he hadn't been ready to open a man's throat just moments ago if his hand was forced.

Her voice is stiff, but he's a little surprised to hear it at all, had expected that once maybe after they walked for a while they would find their way apart again. Wash readily assumes that Miles had eventually asked her about what he'd said -- if only because if there's one thing reliable about him, it was his insatiable curiosity. He had maybe purposefully pointed him in her direction, the closest thing to a distant nudge at the walls built up between them that he could manage. Still might feel a little badly for that, but well. Whether or not that'd made it through, he's sure that Miles at least thanked her for him -- and she's speaking to him now. ]

I've been training, with the sword. [ Intensely, with practice and discipline, she might've seen him. ] It's still only been a few months.

Knives I've been using most of my military career. [ And while he wasn't often without his guns, when he was, he preferred a knife. Or five. ]

[shri]

[ She sighs a little -- well, the grandmother she is. Watching them and their weapons constantly, how they talked about them. Seemed there was a great deal of firepower and no finesse, to her mind.

But then, she grew up to a different idea of war, no doubt. ] I am sure something will be made decent of you, yet.

[ But all the same, she leads them through the camp, her antiquated notions aside. Straight to where she said she was interested in going. But it's late, most of the older women that worked here had cleaned up for the night and the few soldiers that sat talking were stragglers. Easily ignored and not looking for a fight. She bypasses them anyway. No want to have another meal of groats and syrup yet again. But there were other things that she knew about from working in the kitchens so long.

She waves him to follow her to where the food was prepared, as she begins to gather a few ingredients. Not him though, him she directs to find a seat or lean against something out of her way as she begins her work. ] Do you like sweets?

[protocol]

[ He can't help the slightest smile at her words. To anyone else, the idea that something only decent might be made of them sometime in the future might be, ah, less positive, but Wash has never been in denial of his own lack of ability. If anything, what she says brings back fond memories, always the worst in the squad, always the rookie. Wash has always favored finesse over power, really -- partially because he's never been that strong. He's a capable, able-bodied soldier, yes, but he was just like any other, and when he became a Freelancer alongside the likes of Carolina and Tex and York and Maine, when it comes to power and raw ability and talent he always fell so terribly behind. The thing that made him stand out was nothing but hard work and discipline, but the willingness to push himself and practice and train. He's not as flashy, not as effortless as the others, but he gets things done.

Boring but practical. He misses guns, but the ones he used were always plain compared to the rest. No shotguns, no sniper rifles. Just marine standard issue. ]

Eventually. [ Is all he answers, but that shortness isn't unfriendly, there's a touch of warmth, there. A quiet confidence, but nothing smug or self-assured. Eventually, he's sure, he will be decent. He follows her quietly through the mess, instinctively moves to try and help her when she starts gathering things only for her to pointedly direct him away, and he does step back, though reluctantly. ]

Sweets? I mean. Sure. [ As briefly surprised and taken aback by the question as he is, Wash does have a quite a bit of a sweet tooth. It's a nostalgic thing for him, reminds him of the treats he'd get for his sisters, about how they'd insist on sharing with him. He is still lifelong military, however. ] Though there usually isn't much in the way of sweets when it comes to rations.

-- Are you going to make some?

[shri]

That is because you don't know how to cook. [ she mutters back and the fires are always kept here, in one form or another, she's familiar with this kind of kitchen over almost any other she's seen - England's newly made stoves that were beginning to be set up in the great houses and slowly filtering their way down. For baking and the like, no different to a forge having to be kept at a great heat. So too did bread ovens. ]

I have always had a theory that the cold makes people lazy with their dishes and preparation. [ She tells him as she moves, and she's not taking from a fresh supply of anyone else. She finds the cut-offs that would be wasted regardless, not enough to be thrown into the large meals that have to be prepared en masse, but for two people? Just enough.

The way she had been raised to this kind of work from the time she was married. ] You salt meal, keep it somewhere cold, and it can be kept for an age. But Jhansi is on the edge of a desert and is so hot come summer, that we have to do all sorts of things to food to keep it. You can't leave things to waste, or wasted they will be. Especially not in a royal kitchen, where there are thousands of mouths to be fed every day.

[ This is entirely biased of course, she hasn't had much in the way of european food outside of the blandest English meals. No wonder she thinks it dull, as she gathers up her ingredients. All in a row, nuts, oats, honey and that same syrup they eat every day, a heavy knife in her hand as she begins first with the nuts. Her movements are quick, practised, learned as a newly wed and never quite lost the skill. Scooping up the handful into , lining up the blade against curled in knuckles as she begins to cut them. Crushing them up in short little motions, in diced little chips with a steady thunk,thunk,thunk of the blade against the chopping board. ] And if your cooking skills are anything like Miss Carolina's sewing skills, my surprise would be non-existent that you do not know how to do anything else with your rations.

Riverfall, this is the plainest tag ever let me know if you need more

[vorrutyer]

[ He watches her through narrowed eyes. He's sitting himself, a bit off to the side, far enough from her as she walks past. He doesn't hail her, doesn't do anything to draw attention to himself; strong as his death-drive is, he's not exactly ready to die today. Instead, he just observes silently. ]

[shri]

[ It takes her a minute to see him, making her way through the village, even as there was repairs going on, life as ever goes on in them. It must. Busy herself, or at least forcing herself to be, to keep herself out of a yet another fight in the camp. The bruise that is blotched on her cheek bone from the last attempt someone made to show her 'her place'.

His arm would heal, it was at best a fracture. He screamed more than she thought he would.

A minute to notice him, a minute to stop and do nothing but let him see that she has and in that time, make up her mind what to do with that at all. Then to walk across the street to him, her hand off her sword in the most direct form she can to show that she isn't a direct threat to him, right now.

She says nothing, she sits, reaches across the table and takes his glass as her own. Methodical, almost, like a battle line she is pushing across as she puts it to her own lips. Drinks from it, without taking her eyes off of him. Until she's downed the whole thing and pushes the now empty glass now back across. ]

[vorrutyer]

[ He watches her, tense and wary, his eyes unblinking and his breathing shallow. He doesn't move - doesn't run away - but he is clearly well prepared to if necessary. He knows damned well she could kill him. He knows the odds are that she will.

He doesn't relax after she drinks. The fact that she's downed his drink doesn't mean she won't still murder him. Perhaps if she were a Barrayaran, yes - a very old-school sort of Barrayaran - but she's not. He does, however, unbend enough to quip - ]

Wouldn't you feel the fool if someone had decided to poison me just then.

[shri]

[ She settles back into the chair, arm hooked over the back of it. Hand sitting loose, the other flat on the table in front of her. ]

I have had the occasion and misfortune of being poisoned once or twice before.

[ Of course she has. ]

I will still have time to slit your throat before it takes me, if it comes to that.

[vorrutyer]

What, and fulfill the desires of your killers? Even as you die, doing their will and killing me.

[ He sits back, his eyelids sagging. His eyes look nearly closed - but from under those lashes, there's a little gleam of his eye. He's watching her intently. ]

How tenacious you are, dear Reine. Truly, nothing will stop you getting at those you hate.

hdu use sexy time icons at me for this

[shri]

[ She tilts her face up, that faintly challenging press, the rake of her fingers through her hair. Sliding against the gold where it sits bold against the dark thick of it. ]

Miles told me of the Vor. You should thank him next time you see him, he is the one that made me promise that you should face your own kind for what you deserve, rather than taking it myself.

[ She turns away from him briefly, let him look, let him look as much as he likes. For scrapes and cuts, new and old, there the flat discs hang by her ears and chime slightly. The purposeful way she lifts her fingers to call over a maid to get them both another drink. ]

He told me that you are bound body and soul to this planet. That it is the whole of you, and that is what it means to be Vor.

every time is sexy time with byerly

[vorrutyer]

Miles is so quaint and charming, isn't he?

[ What the hell was Miles thinking, saying all that? What, more of his attempts to rehabilitate Byerly in the eyes of others? Damn the man - his job is a damned sight easier if people just hate him - But, admittedly, Lakshmi isn't trying to kill him, here. So...well done on that front, Miles. Not that By would ever actually admit that Miles had done well. ]

Such an old-fashioned perspective. But he's entirely wrong. There are certain Vor that are wanted, and there are certain Vor who are a disgrace, a source of misery and shame to everyone around them. Weeds amongst the flowers. Those Vor have been uprooted forcefully from this garden. And I am the most despised weed of them all.

uhm excuse he can't get none here son

[shri]

[ Her smile is utterly withering. ] He is a sun, when he wants to be.

[ But she expects that, him spelling out his own tragic existence, his own lack of worth. ] Because you're Vorrutyer? Because all your family is wicked? Because you disgrace even them? I have heard it all before from you. And I tell you still, I know monsters. The only thing you are, is traitor.

damn

[vorrutyer]

[ He smiles at her, the expression edged. With a hand pressed to his heart, he croons - ]

And here I'd thought I was special. You wound me, Reine. If I am to be wretched, I should at least like to be remarkably wretched.

[ He drops his hand, then, and sighs - ]

But it rather puts a dagger in the heart of Miles' theory of me. I am not Vor; I am un-Vor. I cannot belong to the planet if the planet rejected me.

[shri]

We have already gone over how dull you are when you are playing games, and still, you continue to play them. For a man that hates such a thing, you do it so often.

[ She stays put when the maid comes over with a new glass for her, and to refill his. She falls quiet while she does, watching through lowered eyes as the glass is poured. ]

Yes, you are. Even in hating it, in betraying it, you are as much of it as it is of you. Why else would you do - all this. [ A broad gesture at all of him. Flicking her fingers in a sweeping curve. His apathetic exterior that comes from easily disenchanted - and on one so young to her mind, too. His traitor acts, crawling on his knees to. ] If it did not have some deep and unrelenting pull on you.

[vorrutyer]

All what?

[ His mouth twists up in a bitter smile that is only partially an act. ]

Kill myself through drink? Screw people I'm not supposed to? Help the mortal enemies of the Vor? You shall have to be more specific. There is so very much I do that is shameful, you see.

[shri]

[ She's nothing less than sardonic as he lists of his vices. Her tilting with the look that's all teeth but nothing mirthful to it. ] Like I said - all this.

[ Lakshmi leans forward to take the drink sipping it slowly. ] So you can be glad that it's Miles who I kept my word to, not you. It means something to him.