Lord Miles Naismith Vorkosigan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dendarii) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2016-01-02 04:43 pm
dendarii) wrote in maskormenacelogs2016-01-02 04:43 pm
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WHO: Miles, Gregor - you're also welcome to catch Miles while he's wandering, but this is primarily for the Vor lords to find each other.
WHERE: Heropa, then De Chima
WHEN: Just previous to start of Pan plot
WHAT: Miles and Gregor find each other - and figure out what those weird headaches are all about.
WARNINGS: Probably none?
[ Miles has had a little time to figure out what's going on here - run into some interesting people in Heropa, figured out his comm, managed to both break his wrist and have it tended to. But what he can't figure out is this damn headache plaguing the back of his mind, like a strange pressure weighing down his thoughts. Nothing in his pamphlet had listed anything that looked like it was remotely close from a power perspective - though, admittedly, the description for each had been hilariously short.
In the end he finds himself pacing aimlessly along one of the boardwalks, not ready to go seek out his assigned dwelling but not much wanting to do anything else either. His mind is a frenetic whirl as digests everything he's heard and learned today.
And beneath it all, a sharp pang of homesickness. ]
WHERE: Heropa, then De Chima
WHEN: Just previous to start of Pan plot
WHAT: Miles and Gregor find each other - and figure out what those weird headaches are all about.
WARNINGS: Probably none?
[ Miles has had a little time to figure out what's going on here - run into some interesting people in Heropa, figured out his comm, managed to both break his wrist and have it tended to. But what he can't figure out is this damn headache plaguing the back of his mind, like a strange pressure weighing down his thoughts. Nothing in his pamphlet had listed anything that looked like it was remotely close from a power perspective - though, admittedly, the description for each had been hilariously short.
In the end he finds himself pacing aimlessly along one of the boardwalks, not ready to go seek out his assigned dwelling but not much wanting to do anything else either. His mind is a frenetic whirl as digests everything he's heard and learned today.
And beneath it all, a sharp pang of homesickness. ]
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Like Metzov. Or anyone else that would foil his plan to keep his identity hidden, no matter how earnest and well-meaning their exposure of it. His motives there are pure selfishness: wanting to know others as himself. Keeping himself safe is a very distant second motive.
But there's no putting it off forever; he'll have to deal with this eventually, if only to figure out how to get rid of this damn persistent headache. So at the end of a very long, confusing, whirlwind of a day, Gregor slowly and tentatively follows the mental link like reeling in a tether. He does it quietly and unobtrusively, not wanting to give away his presence. He has to wonder if as the Ultimate Liege-Lord he doesn't have some superior control over the link, but has no way to substantiate it. Whoever's here is certainly worked up over something. That bee-buzzing sensation just gets louder the closer he gets, the headache worsening until he's wincing as he steps his way closer.
Then he sees Miles's hunched form further down the boardwalk, and he's still a full twenty feet away when he blurts out incredulously,] Miles?
[Yes. That really would explain why he's so loud over this new link, wouldn't it. Gregor must be barely noticeable, a quiet self-contained thrum in comparison.]
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It doesn't matter now. Miles notices the increasing telepathic pressure too late; he's only barely turning when he hears someone call his name. Terror - relief - and then a second spike of terror, crystalline and glittering and cold as a spike of ice. It's barely been any time at all, it seems, since the last time encountered his Emperor alone on a strange world. The resulting moment of mental whiplash is something between deja vu and ptsd. ]
Gregor? What - how - did you fall out of another window?
[ Ridiculous question underlying a more serious one: Are you okay? ]
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Miles's comment provokes, at least, a trace of his own emotions across the link: a kind of flat, uncomfortable displeasure bordering on shame. There's just a flicker of it, there and then gone, but Gregor feels things starkly, piercingly.]
No, I've been staying away from balconies. [Both literally and metaphorically. He's fine.] I... How long have you been here?
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Post-Pan Plot
But it's not Miles if he doesn't push himself way past any rational limits. He'd gone back and forth relentlessly with his teleportation powers. Civilians out of Heropa to safety, imPorts to the edge of the city in return - anyone who'd requested a ride, he'd given it. There'd been those damn teenagers insisting he do it three times and then blathered on about warp zones and hummed a song the whole way. And every trip had left him soaked and exhausted.
By the time he finally emerged from their own bathroom, he was beyond waterlogged. Wetter than he'd been in his life, save his swimming expeditions, and even that doesn't seem nearly as heavy as being soaked in his uniform. He'd taken one step out the door to the bathroom before deciding that fuck being damp, he was going to find some way to get warm.
This is how Miles winds up on the couch downstairs, wrapped up in every spare blanket and towel save the ones on Gregor's bed. His sopping wet Dendarii grays - still the only set of good clothing he has so far, as he's had no time to accompany Gregor on his shopping trip - are tossed haphazardly over the back of the chair to dry while Miles sleeps like a dead man on the couch. Only his face sticks out, the rest of his body wrapped quite thoroughly by the cocoon of linens. He makes a very odd little lump on the couch like that. ]
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Watching Miles head off to help with him staying behind is depressing, but that aspect of it is at least depressing in a familiar way. No, he knows what his duty is. If he goes out there, he'll be dragging Miles, in his capacity as only guard here, along with him wherever he goes. Gregor is extremely cognizant of the fact that some of the decisions he makes here, he is making for two. He would not dream of telling Miles to abandon his duty to his Emperor. As well tell him to abandon his honor.
But sometimes... already, he can tell that making decisions for him and Miles has a surprisingly different, much more immediate, flavor than his old quandary of making decisions for him and the Imperium. It feels much less grating, a narrowing and personalization of his responsibility.
So Gregor ends up leaving shortly after Miles does, but only to go to the store. He spends some of their money on groceries and even stops to pick up Miles another set of clothes, despite their discussion. He knows he'll be back soaking wet. The whole experience of shopping passes in a worried, preoccupied blur, and many of the store employees are fixed to the TV screen watching the news on the crisis. Gregor tries to ignore it so as not to feel his heart lurch in anxiety.
He never thought he'd find himself missing those cool ImpSec situational updates.
When he returns home to find Miles already there, curled up in a small lump on the couch like a burrowing animal, relief descends all through him in a wash. Gregor quietly leaves the plastic bag of clothes on the coffee table in front of the couch, not willing to disturb him yet. He only manages to think abstractly that it's lucky they'd cleaned this room.
Then he goes to the kitchen to stare at the utilities for a moment, take a breath, and make his first meal, ever. Just plain pasta and jarred sauce, since he doesn't trust himself with anything more complicated. He finds himself much more able to enjoy it, knowing Miles is safe on the couch. If he's injured, they'll deal with that. But he's here. Home.]
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He sleeps like the dead all through Gregor's return, past the bag of clothing being placed on the table (for which he will be desperately grateful, despite their conversation), through most of Gregor's meal prep. Only when Gregor's nearly done does he start to stir. Blearily, not entirely sure of his surroundings at first. This isn't his bed - neither Vorkosigan's or Naismith's - jail cell? That thought makes him jolt up to a sitting position.
Ah, no. Not a jail cell. A living room he recognizes after all. The startled moment slips past as he sort of settles back, still blinking muddily. That's funny. He could have sworn he could smell food cooking. He does smell food cooking ... He is so not awake enough to puzzle out this mystery yet. ]
Gregor? 'sat you?
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CHARLES & MILES.
It's not about someone else finding out about who he is. Gregor always feels like the Emperor, anyway-- pretending to be Greg is like a child's guilty play-acting to him, pure wish fulfillment. This is who he really is, and having someone else see that is just normal. He's always on display. He is a little wary about how Miles will take it, granted, but he's never tried to police Miles's opinions or reactions and he's not about to start.
No. His nerves are purely from having someone else go into his head. Someone not Miles, and probably far deeper than Miles. Charles seems like a compassionate, courteous person, which is about all that's getting Gregor through the door.
Nonetheless he looks quite grim as he stares at Charles's front door in Nonah, a couple days after the mess with Pan had ended. He looks down at Miles.]
Once more into the breach?
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Speaking of which - there's another thread of worry he's picking at, idly. Charles is the first one who's going to meet him after being introduced on the network. Surely he's going to cut a rather disappointing figure - or at minimum one that's going to raise questions. Mutant, was the word Charles had used. Miles isn't sure he's ready to discuss that topic already. Perhaps he won't have to... ]
We came all this way, didn't we?
[ Worried or not, there's no way in hell he'd backing down. ]
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And we really shouldn't be flying blind if we don't have to.
[Gregor can feel Miles's implacable unwillingness to renege, and his own resolve firms. They can manage this. He reaches up to knock on the door at last, a punctilious rap.]
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Let me know if you guys need me to edit any of this
nah s'all good! do as you will /waggles fingers
it's perfect, I love it
\o/
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KITTY.
It's been a little tedious having to reschedule everyone, but also very satisfying to determine when he's available and when he's not for himself. Maybe he should put his foot down more often at home...
Regardless, he ends up meeting Kitty at the location she tells him to go, and for the occasion he's dressed down a bit. By now he's gotten at least one change of clothes-- dark-wash jeans and a long-sleeve black Oxford shirt. It makes him look far more his age than the hand-tailored, ludicrously high end suit he'd been wearing on arrival. And if he's following with his theme of getting Miles brown-and-silver clothes by getting himself Vorbarra black, well, it's such a neutral color no one else will be able to tell it means anything to him at all.]
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Behold the conquering hero.
She still looks tired as hell, too. But she smiles to see Greg, and his hipster-chic look, and his look of faint reticence. He's cute, and cute things have always warmed her heart. ]
Hullo. I hope I'm not late.
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Not at all, [he says automatically.] Should we reschedule again? I didn't even think you might've been involved with everything. [Which really, he should have.] You look... well, awful. [You can tell he's relaxing around her if he's giving his honest opinion instead of the polite one.]
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MILES AND TEX
He's at he café early for reconnaissance, both to scope out the menu options (and how they compare to his limited funds) as well as to get a lay of the land. Corner booth near the door, check. He's certain he won't miss her coming in. Settling himself ahead of time so as to look his best .... Hmm. Less successful. He's in his mercenary grays, so he cuts a reasonably nice figure. He just doesn't cut much of one, and the booth swallows him up like he's a little kid.
Eh. Whatever. It's not like this is a date. He settles himself as best he can and waits for his mercenary to show up. ]
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She knows what he looks like from his video responses. It makes him easy to spot in the cafe. He's here early, that's good. She's left her armor at home finding the bulky suit of metal to be too conspicuous despite it being the best form of protection she has here. She figured he was slouching and doesn't get a good look at him until she's about to take a seat across from him.
He's... a lot shorter than she expected. Not that it makes a real difference. But he doesn't look the part of imposing mercenary admiral that he's been painting himself out to be. He's either lying or he really has a silver tongue and a lot of financial backing from his lord friend. ]
Naismith, right? [ She doesn't bother with the accompanying title. Their ranks don't mean much here and she doesn't work for him. ]
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This woman, eh ... he likes the look of her, he decides. Dangerous seems a good descriptor. ]
Correct. That would make you Tex, then?
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Miles and Kitty!
It's a nice spot, all things told. The zoo itself is fairly small, but the cafe is well-done, with big windows that overlook the tropical enclosure. Birds with riotous plumage flit from one branch to the next; monkeys sit impassively in treetops until they burst into sudden, frantic motion. Flowers bob everywhere. Basically: this is a very excellent place that is going to see a vicious drop in business for the next few months.
Kitty arrives just a little bit late. She's good at blending in with the locals; usually she does so by wearing an imitation of the greaser fashions. Today, though, she's going for respectability, which means she's wearing a poodle skirt and a sweater and has her hair done up in curls. This actually, in a rare miscalculation on her part, just serves to make her bruises look particularly ghastly: if she were wearing her usual leather jacket, she'd look a bit tougher, but like this she looks like a sweet young thing who was jumped in an alley or something of the sort. It's quite terrible.
She's clearly a bit aware of this. Her lips quirk into an ironic half-smile as she sits opposite Miles. ]
Hey.
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His favorite part is the shoes, though. Sneakers, he's decided, are a marvelous invention.
When he spots Kitty approaching, he immediately lights up - before darkening. Oh, no. Those bruises. He flicks his gaze up and down a few times to take them all in. The leather jacket would have been a better choice there. Still, anything suits Kitty, he immediately decides, even if she's bruised as well. ]
-- Didn't we agree to try not to get too hurt?
[ He's mostly bruise free, ta-da. Too bad he's still kind of hollow under his eyes from the exertion of teleporting that much. ]
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MILES AND LUCY
More obvious, though is the figure he cuts. His video posts to the network hide the truth about his stature: Miles is short. 4'8" at best, with a curved spine and a head slightly too large for his small body. Also readily apparent are his leg braces, though those are under his jeans at least. The source of his fracture is also immediately obvious. His left forearm is wrapped up securely, with faint bruises peeking out from under the edges.
He takes a deep breath and goes up to the front door of the address that Lucy provided. ]
Hello?
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Her hair is still piled up on her hair like it is meant to hold a crown, like she's a queen, like a maid spent hours on it. Taking it down seemed like work she did not relish doing.]
Hello!
[She comes out of the back, and to her credit, she doesn't seem at all shocked when she looks down to see him. Really, it's because she's used to people of all sizes, and even though she's not very tall herself, she isn't unaccustomed to being taller than someone else.
Ah, dwarves.
She curtsies because she is out of habit with handshakes.]
Admiral, I should presume.
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TEX & MILES.
Which, of course, he's rather delighted by. Even if she is going on a date with Miles, date as yet undetermined. Not even been here a week and Miles already has a date with a formidable woman...
Well, Gregor's glad that's going better for him here than it did at home. Glad it's going better for him than it ever does for Gregor, even. Whatever other oddness he feels about the topic, he's firmly suppressed.
When he answers the door, he appears as polite and reserved as he had on the network, except for how his presence in person is much greater. Gregor is not someone favored by vids; he has a certain composure that only comes across physically, even in his dark wash jeans and black long sleeve t-shirt with the sleeves pushed up past his elbow.]
Thanks for coming.
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She's dressed for physical exercise, a jacket zipped up to conceal her sports bra and fitted pants suited for the gym. The less fabric in the way the better, she's always been on the more practical side of things. Slung over her shoulder is a plain, black duffel bag should she feel the need to change before she goes.
When Gregor answers the door, she recognizes him immediately and takes a moment to size him up. Even his posturing implies higher breeding than she's used to running across even with him dressed-down. There's a raised brow as she glances down at his jeans, but she doesn't bother commenting. If that's what he wants to practice in, so be it. He's the one that'll be paying her after this session.
Might as well get right to business. ] Have you already cleared out a space for us?
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(backdated to right after the first Tex & Miles thread)
When he gets home, Gregor is sitting calmly at their dining table pouring over a book - Coleridge, on Dorian's suggestion, now taken reluctantly - which he immediately bookmarks and closes on Miles's entrance.]
I take it it went well. [Debrief him, please. Post-action assessment.]
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He pushes aside the fact that he's juggling a couple different crushes at the same time here, focusing on the one that asked him out. By the time he gets home, Miles is still bubbling over, but it's more of a rolling simmer than a raging boil. And pleased, ever so pleased. Miles Vorkosigan, asked out by a badass mercenary woman in a truly glorious set of combat armor. He could just about swoon.
Debriefing will work too. He's grinning ear-to-ear as he comes over to sit at the table next to his Emperor. ]
Oh, exceptionally well. Her armor was breathtaking. [ And the rest of her too. ] And better than that, she asked me out on a date. [ Maybe a little swooning, at least mentally. The thought of someone - anyone - wanting him is a balm to all of his anxieties. And the opposite, well ... devastating. ]
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What could he be planning? He did more than expected on their first date and she's not sure how he's going to manage topping it. Only one way to find out.
She pulls up to the curb at the agreed upon time and carries her helmet beneath her arm as she heads for the door. She knocks loudly to make sure she's heard, though she has this odd feeling he's the type to be hanging by the door waiting for his dates to show up. ]
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No supplies though, no picnic or anything. He is, however, wearing a thicker coat. Otherwise his grin is wide and mysterious. ]
You're looking lovely tonight.
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