OPEN log; gymnopedie

[vorbarra]

WHO: Gregor Vorbarra and potentially YOU. Also probably a bunch of closed logs.
WHERE: Various.
WHEN: Throughout October (or backdated to September if you wish).
WHAT: Open prompts: whittling in public, handing out flyers for the Lucky Cat. Semi-open: practicing piano at the Residence. Also, I've started in prose but you're welcome to switch to brackets.
WARNINGS: Discussion of suicidal ideation with Miles.

    ONE; OPEN. PARK IN HEROPA. WHITTLING.

The arrival of a new semester has, for the first time in years, meant something to Gregor. The only period in his life in which he'd had to care about the school year was the few years he was at the academy prep school; the academy itself ran year-round, and prior to that he'd had tutors, as befit the emperor. Since his military service it's been much the same. So, it's extremely novel for Gregor to be taking a class at all-- even his requisite academy time and service had been a farce of treating him as an equal that no one had come close to managing-- and he's thoroughly enjoying the chance to be only interesting by virtue of being an imPort. He'd try to hide that, too, except it tends to make people forgiving of his Russian-ish accent.

And there was a lot of talking with classmates in an artistic woodworking class. Yes, Gregor had deliberately chosen the most impractical, useless skill possible for an emperor to start with at his venture at De Chima Community College. This leads to him needing to spend a considerable amount of time practicing his whittling, and he does like to see things other than the De Chima countryside or the path from the Porter to the Lucky Cat and back.

As a result, he can be found in assorted locations around parks in Heropa, a quiet figure bent over a small chunk of wood he is (ineptly) whittling. At least he handles the knife comfortably. Vor often have boot knives, so he's not prone to hurting himself.

The figure itself? Anyone with a discerning eye might be able to tell it's approaching some sort of bird.

    TWO; OPEN. AROUND THE PORTERS. LUCKY CAT FLYERS.

Standing politely nearby the Porter in each city at various times is a tall, lanky man with a prominent nose and dark hair. Gregor is the nice sort of flyer-pusher in that he doesn't push them at all; his t-shirt says most of the story for him, and anyone he makes eye contact with he holds up a flyer for the Lucky Cat Café in Heropa in question. According to the flyer, it's recently changed hands, and has a short note about trying to honor Cass's memory and keeping it running as she would've run it-- with a lot of autumn-appropriate sweets and drinks seasonally available, of course.

Or you can run into a sleek Russian blue cat primly sitting with its tail wrapped around its paws on top of the stack of flyers on a nearby table. Occasionally Gregor needs a break from such a highly social task. He's very unlikely to break 'character' and talk to anyone as a cat, though, unless they know about this already, so choose this option with that in mind!

    THREE; SEMI-OPEN. THE RESIDENCE. PIANO.

Gregor has been taking private piano lessons via the community college for a bit over a month now, which means he's not very good at it yet, a fact he is completely aware of. He tends to practice on his budget, portable keyboard, set up in the living space of his suite in an attempt not to bother others as he goes through scales. This largely ends up being fruitless, as the piano is perfectly audible through the wall.

He'll be sheepish, not annoyed, if he's interrupted. He hasn't quite come to grips with doing a hobby that's more performative than poetry, something he's had little difficulty keeping completely private throughout his life. An instrument sort of demands an audience, whether he wants one or not. Gregor has yet to get comfortable with that fact, but at least his faltering hands are graceful as they move over the keys.

    FOUR; OPEN. WILD CARD.

Fill in the blank! Hit me with your best shot.

Comments

one!

[sasaeru]

Ulvida uses the hours while Gran is out at school or work to find out more about this world. Her questions in her post to the network were about De Chima, but she heard some things about the other cities, too. Today, she steps out into the warmer city of Heropa, Florida, with no destination in mind. She just has her bag, her communicator in her jacket pocket, and a small, plush, glowing star-like object held in her hands. The last one is a sort of security object, not that she'll say it out loud to anybody but the boy who gave it to her.

She wanders with those items in hand, and it's around mid-day when she arrives at the park Gregor is at. She doesn't notice him, and even if she does she's not going to approach him on her own. No, if it weren't for this incident, she could probably have gone a good number of months without interacting with him at all! From just taking in his appearance, she would never have guessed that he was an imPort, and even those people she doesn't talk to without necessity.

The necessity comes when she catches a soccer ball that some tykes kicked toward her. For all her conflicts about the sport, she reacts automatically to the sight of an approaching ball and kicks it up with ease, bouncing it from foot to knee to opposite foot and passing it back toward them without breaking her balance in the slightest. It even lands perfectly in the outstretched hands of one of the boys. This, and her obviously-an-imPort appearance, excites the kids who proceed to try to pull her into their midst, and it's how she ends up towering awkwardly over them as they try to imitate her earlier moves.

And this is how she ends up being the one to come chasing after the ball when they kick it off in the wrong direction again, this time towards Gregor. A kick from a five-year-old isn't going to fly very fast so it wouldn't hurt him even if hit, but in you never know with adults. Ulvida also decides that this will be a good chance to break away from them, so she turns around to follow after the ball which comes to a stop just a few inches away from the man. He's bent over something, working, she notes with vague curiosity; she's glad it didn't hit him and that she went after the ball -- that looks like a knife, not something she wants near kids half her size.

She stops in front of Gregor before she reaches for the ball, bowing her head if she's caught his attention, speaking up anyway to announce her presence if she hadn't.

"I'm sorry. It didn't hit you, did it?" She knows it didn't. But it was best to apologize anyway.

[vorbarra]

Gregor has been here for some time now, but nine months is nothing compared to a lifetime of being royalty, a fact that had permeated every minute aspect of his existence in large and small ways. For one thing, the last time he'd had a stray ball come his way, he'd been one of the ones playing (under careful supervision). That was years ago. As an adult, no one wastes the emperor's time with children, teenagers, or playfulness of any sort that isn't meant to curry his favor or hand in marriage.

It's altogether a disappointment. As such, he's still bemused when things like this happen to him here-- bemused and sort of shyly intrigued. It's hard for him to fathom being an intimidating source of authority just as an adult rather than because of his station. Gregor barely thinks of himself as an adult as it is, not in any real emotional way that isn't dependent on his age and inheritance, and as for who he is personally, his lack of authoritarian instinct is one of the biggest obstacles to him feeling comfortable ruling.

"No, I'm fine. I was thinking of stopping soon, anyway." He's been at it for several hours and even he gets sick of quiet, singular focus after enough of it. Gregor balances the half-done whittled bird on his knees and slips the knife closed on its hinge with the unthinking deliberateness of someone raised around blades, then pockets it. When he regains the carving, he keeps it in hand.

Ulvida really is an obvious imPort and Gregor is used to imPorts, unlike locals, not realizing the instant he opens his mouth that he is one as well. Locals all know that the U.S. government wouldn't let a Russian expat casually walk around in the current political climate. "Do you go to school with them?" He's wondering how random pick-up games actually work among normal civilians.

[sasaeru]

"No."

The answer is simple, almost curt, and she turns around as if to end the conversation there, but that isn't the case. One of the boys was calling to her now -- without using her name, it can be noted, as she never gave it -- and she has a ball she has to return. She raises her hand in a wave, signaling to the boys to get ready, and sends the ball back to them with one sharp but well-controlled kick that bounces off the ground just enough so they can trap it. With a wave of their little hands they go back to their own practice and she sighs softly with relief at being released before turning back to Gregor.

"I just met them today when I caught their ball. I am not from around here."

And, because he started by asking a question first, and she can afford these little curiosities now, "Is that a bird?"

[vorbarra]

Very literal, isn't she? And somewhat curt. Gregor doesn't hold that against her-- reminds him of Elena Bothari a bit, honestly-- and looks mildly curious, but altogether calm and unremarkable as he answers.

"It's an attempt at one. I suppose it's encouraging if you can identify that," he says wryly. "... I didn't mean to interrupt your game."

He feels badly about pulling her away from that, if that's what's happened. Gregor perhaps places a little higher importance on casual school-age socializing than he really should.

[sasaeru]

"... No, it's all right. I didn't intend to linger there."

She's a little relieved. It may just be against kids, but -- no, it's probably because it was against children that young that she feels so uncomfortable playing the sport. She doesn't want to ruin it for them, because her soccer was dangerous. Not that this stranger needs to hear that sort of talk. Instead, she grasps for a change of topic.

"Is it all right if I ask to see it? Your bird."

[vorbarra]

She didn't intend to linger, but she'd gotten drawn in nonetheless? He has some sympathy for that.

"Ah... certainly." Gregor stays seated, a lanky form folded up onto the bench, and hands out his carving. His opposite hand has his switch knife in it, but he's already folding it away one-handed with the unthinking care of someone accustomed to sharp implements.

"It's surprisingly hard to do without reference. I thought I knew what birds look like, but I'm starting to rethink that."

[sasaeru]

She, on the other hand, reaches for the wooden creature with both of her hands. She approaches it with a tenderness of someone afraid of breaking it with the gentlest of touches, and the bird sits in her palms more than it's held. Her blue eyes are wide and full of curiosity as she tilts her head to take a better look at it.

"Even if you weren't with a reference, it looks really nice. I haven't seen birds before here in a long time..."

Well, she had penguins. But they were also in astronaut suits, so she wouldn't be able to do anything about a real penguin in real nature.

"Is it a specific type of bird?"

[vorbarra]

Given that it's made of soft wood, her care is a bit incongruous, and nets Gregor's attention.

"Did they not take to your planet?" he asks frankly, his casualness belying how normal of a question that would be at home for him. "We had some trouble with Earth animals ourselves, though we did get birds. I hadn't decided yet if it would be a specific one." It's hard to carve a bird without both of his partners coming to mind, and he'd ended up indecisive. But here he sees a potential way out of his indecision.

He glances at her. "Would you like to suggest one?"

[sasaeru]

A question that is so ordinary to him to ask is still incredibly startling to her, not because it is strange to her but because it actually has meaning. While she did declare herself an alien over the network, it turned out that most people who didn't respond hadn't watched the video either, so she either had to explain the alien thing all over or have the topic not be discussed altogether. At the very least, she was starting to fall under the impression most people just assumed everyone was from Earth.

This man doesn't. It's the first time someone has referred to her original world as a planet, and it's so surprising to her she snaps her was up and stares at him to see if he was someone from her post she simply failed to recognize. But no, she can't match up his face to any she spoke to. He was incredibly ordinary looking compared to some of the bizarre characters she encountered then. Besides, he didn't seem to recognize her. She concludes that he must be from a world in which people talk about planets like they'd talk about cities or countries. She bites back a rising urge to ask him about it, about space and his planet and the others, and instead turns her gaze back to the bird in her hands.

"On Aliea, I spent a majority of my time inside training. If birds lived there, I didn't get to see them."

It's with a wistful tone that she says those words, but as she runs her thumb across the wooden body, her expression softens further, a little warmer.

"The only bird I really know is a penguin, but they aren't the right shape for this. If it's a bird that can fly freely, maybe one that is red."

[vorbarra]

To be honest, Gregor is assuming she is human but with some genetic modifications to get her hair and eye color, which is unusual pretty much only on Barrayar these days. And no one where he's from assumes anyone is from Earth. He's pleasantly surprised that she doesn't blink at his phrasing and indeed, answers more similar to what he would expect at home. It salves some lingering undercurrent of homesickness.

"Well..." He has some soft humor in this voice. "I don't have any skill in painting, but I take your point. I'll have to acquire some ornithology books." He spends enough time at the library as it is, that's no problem.

After a moment's pause, Gregor goes on, "Do people ordinarily spend their time indoors on Aliea?" He doesn't stumble over the name. It could be that the weather (such as on Beta Colony) or the atmosphere (such as Komarr) would be too uninhabitable for comfortable long-term residence.