[ 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

[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.

[protocol]

[ Wash is not at all familiar with this kind of kitchen. They didn't have much back on Leonis, weren't a particularly well-off family by any means, but the tech was different, the standard was different, and throughout his military career whenever he's had the time and occasion to make something for himself it was definitely using fairly different equipment. Lakshmi seems more than comfortable, here, and while there's a slight smile that crosses his expression when she insists he doesn't cook, he doesn't protest, just listens and watches as she gathers what she needs.

He watches her to start at dicing and crushing the nuts, and after a moment moves up behind her, resting a hand on her arm, a slight tip of his head, the offer unspoken, let me? Whatever she's working on making he doesn't know the steps or ingredients of, but tasks like cutting, he can do, moving up and finding another knife he can use, taking what's left of the nuts and working quietly at them beside her. ]

Don't judge her so harshly. Carolina's had -- different priorities, in her life. [ And she may not have had much of a family to learn all this from. ] There's little cause for actual cooking, with the kind of military we served in. Rations are made to store and transport for years across space, to be easily prepared and consumed in the field.

But I do cook. More or less. [ He's selling himself a little short, not intentionally -- he's perfectly capable and competent as a cook, though definitely not anything special. Just like he is with most skills he's acquired. The Invention had always been a little more luxurious in that sense than standard military affair, had a kitchen that Wash would use sometimes, and then ah, the times when he's had to care after the Reds and Blues. And of course, memories of Leonis, of his mother, his sisters, the time he spent with them baking and laughing. ] I sew, too.

[shri]

I never judge a child for the absence of their parents. Nor a soldier for the failings their commanders.

[ She intones back, letting go of the blade as he came up behind and beside her. A stiff nod to him to let him work, and the rest of the ingredients she'd gathered, what she wants to be done to most of them. Chopped and sliced. ] You sew? What a gift.

[ She walks away from him to the fire, to the pot she puts on it. Letting it heat up before she takes the butter, syrup and honey. Butter, then the syrup, the honey she uses sparingly. Gentlest amount to give flavour and nothing else. It sizzles hot, an oil that immediately fills the space of the kitchen with a smell that's sweet and rich. ] I'll recruit you next time I have to spend hours stitching together ripped uniforms.

[protocol]

[ That's something that Wash understands well, not judging soldiers for their commanders' failings, and not judging children for their parents' failings. In Carolina's case, her parents had been remarkably successful in some ways, and utter failures in others -- the ways that really mattered, even. He would say more, but well, those are things best heard from Carolina's mouth, not his own.

He watches her out of the corner of his eye as he works at the rest of the ingredients he's been given to cut, breathing in deep the gentle scent of it when butter starts to melt in that pot. God, that does bring back memories. His sister standing beside him, nudging his arm playfully as they worked in the kitchen, their younger sisters jostling around and eager while Wash did all he could to keep them away from the stove, set them to other, safer tasks. More recent, too, but with no less of an ache when he thinks of it, cooking something for the Reds and Blues because damned if he'll let them survive off just that fucking garbage they've somehow gathered for themselves, Tucker rolling his eyes at him as he searched through their supplies for anything he could actually use to make something halfway decent. ]

Not that much of a gift. A necessity, growing up. [ Kind of. First time he forced himself to learn had been to patch up a sister's toy, and after they'd come to him over and over again with something or the other to fix, so. It might as well have been necessary. ] But I'd be glad to help, wherever I could.

-- What is this, that you have me helping you with? [ Curious, conversational, light enough in tone. This is the first time they've spoken in any capacity for, ah. A while. ] Something you picked up here, or?

[shri]

[ She clucks a little thing, pushing the melting butter around the pan, amongst the syrups and honey, stirring it together, into one thick rich syrup. ] You most definitely will not find it a gift at all by the time I've put you to work.

[ It's not - much. It's tiny steps, as little as anyone could give, but for her - her and pride and the way she never did learn how to forgive, it is everything. He could take it or leave it as it stood. Take this as just a brief moment, and look no more into it.

His question though gets a dismissive flick of her hand, it is certainly nothing she learned here. ]

Shingada Pithacha Sheera. [ She says it carefully, so he could follow along with the words. ] It is a sweet from my home. All women learn to cook when they marry, and it no different whether you a queen or a - [ pauses on the word to switch across. ] - of the lowest caste. It was one of my husband's favourites. When we married, I was quite young and had spent most of my childhood playing rather than learning such things, but it was the first thing I learned how to cook for him.

[ A warm memory, drawn up just the same as it had been for her. Of a different time, a different place. Where she was devoted only and wholly to such pieces of contentment. ]

[protocol]

[ He does appreciate the way she slows down around the name, makes it easier to follow, tucked away into his memory like everything else he hears. He nods, listening, pushing aside some of the ingredients he's just chopped with the blade of the knife, moving onto something else. Her husband, ah, she'd mentioned him, hadn't he, when.

A breath, push it down, push it aside. At least Wash is long practiced at ignoring memories he doesn't want to deal with. ]

I did a lot of the cooking for my family, when I was younger. Not as much room for it in the military, but sometimes, when we had access to the means. [ A slight smile, the memories are fond. ] Carolina took care of us plenty in different ways, anyway.

[shri]

[ Once he's done with the first set, she goes to collect it, tossing it into the sizzling butter and syrup that hisses loud before she keeps pushing it around the pan. ]

By being the scariest thing in any given room, I take it?

[protocol]

[ Hah. That's not too far off. He makes some amused sound, watching her work for a moment before he keeps working. ]

Terrifying and relentless. Kinder than she'd want anyone to know.

She's a leader, and she more than suits the part.

[shri]

[ Once he's done, she gestures him over to add the rest of the ingredients into the pan. The wooden spin tapping on the side of the pan to flick off the excess stuck to it - humming thoughtfully. ] She has a leader's habit of ignoring herself, too, I found.

[protocol]

She does.

[ They all do, to some extent, Carolina most of all perhaps. He moves over, tipping the board and using the edge of the knife to add everything left into the pan, watching as she works. It's been a while, since he's done something like this, hasn't it? It's pleasant. Certainly a welcome change from all the tension before. ]

She has me for that, though. [ A smile. ] The others as well.

[shri]

She is good to have you all. [ She turns back when he's done, and she gestures with her spoon for him to bring the rest of ingredients to put them into the pan. ]

Has she sorted herself about York yet?

[protocol]

[ A laugh, there, genuine and surprised, moving over to deliver the rest. ]

They told you about that? Or did you figure it out? [ Because boy they're obvious about it. ] No. But they'll figure themselves out, in their own time.

[shri]

No figuring out required, when I was in my cell, I was the one that told York of her presence here. The man looked like I had gutted him and given him heaven in the same breadth.

[ She shakes her head. Pushing around the new ingredients in the pan, watching them sizzle and the oil bubble away. The smell even thicker now, washing over them both. Less butter now, just sweet. ]

Foolish woman, she told me it was complicated. Is 'hobbling yourself' still an expression?

[protocol]

[ Another amused sound, just watching as Lakshmi stirs the pan, stepping back slightly to give her a little space. ]

Enough of an expression that I get what you mean.

To say it's complicated would be -- simplifying it. I don't think that it's my place to say much of anything. [ The details are theirs to share, if anyone's, and Wash in particular still knows far too much about Carolina than he'd ever share. ] But they do care a lot about each other. Always have.

The circumstances are -- difficult, but I don't think Carolina will let this chance go to waste. Even if she might need a little nudging.

[shri]

She said something to that effect. That he had... passed from her.

[ She can have some tact, at least a little. She wouldn't make light of it, it was a pain she knew well. To have someone there, every day, and then go. ]

I told her that it should mean she put away her inhibitions rather than hang onto them, but she would not listen to me.

[ The tone is that of a grouching grandmother, clucking over silly chicks. They were, to her. Young and foolish and bound up and comprehending but not yet understanding what it was to have that which could be fleeting. ]

[protocol]

[ Ah. So Carolina did tell her. Wash stills slightly, but he nods, by way of confirmation. Carolina was the one who felt that loss most sharply, by far, with how deeply she felt for York, but York was his friend too, and. He'd been the one to find the body. To pick up the pieces. To steal a moment from to retrieve his tags before he had to destroy everything else left, to hide them away with the those of everyone else he'd lost. So many, too many.

A smile, though. ]

Carolina's -- been through a lot. [ Wash knows that more than anyone else. ] I know it might not make much sense to you, but there's reasons she's the way she is. Stubborn, too, not great at taking advice, no matter how well-intentioned, but trust me, she does appreciate it.

She'll listen to it, too. Just in her own time.

[ Well. Mostly her own time. Her own time entirely is going to mean never, really, and Wash does fully intend to push her along. Just not too much. ]

[shri]

So I am gathering is somewhat of a theme for you all - [ That Washington had that name given to him over who he had been - David. York's scarred eye, Carolina's drive to push herself too hard and the way she looks like someone has wounded her for the sound of York's name. ]

But are you sure? She seems quite fond of hitting her head against a wall.

[protocol]

We've all been through a lot, yes. But most of it together.

[ Another quiet, little amused sound. ]

Yeah. One of her favorite pastimes. Another thing all of us might have in common, actually -- but you're forgetting it won't just be her. York won't let this go to waste, either.

[ York won't need to push, he thinks. It'll be Carolina who needs it, to help her meet him. ]

[shri]

Well, at least one of them has any sense.

[ She leans forward over the pan briefly, scooping up a bit of the sweetened food on the edge of it. Blowing it cool before she tastes it carefully. Testing it a little, waiting a moment before she took a bit more of the honey and splashed it in, hovering before doing it again. ]

How sweet do you like?