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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. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

What, just the two of us? Not much of a party.

[A date Miles would stand up by getting kidnapped...]

[ A quintessentially Milesian thing to do, let's face it. ]

It'll be novel. Something quiet and non-explosive for once in my life.

[Damning last words, Miles. Gregor will not be in the least surprised, but he will be very quietly angry.]

If that's what you want. It's your fake birthday. [Far be it from Gregor to say someone needs a large birthday celebration. He loathes his every year.]

[ Miles could go either way. But in this case ... ]

Yes. I think so. There's enough going on here - it'll be nice to just focus on something familiar.

And me and a bottle of wine are what constitutes familiar?

[A mild tease.]

Relatively speaking. If the Emperor doesn't mind keeping his Lord Vorkosigan company on his fake birthday.

[ The bow is very exaggerated; he nearly falls off the counter. ]

His Imperial Majesty would be well pleased, but not if his vassal secundus were to injure himself. Speaking of.

[He sets his empty plate aside and tilts his head in query.] Ready to try this again?

[ Ah. Right. He had more or less promised ... There's a twinge of reluctance across their link. But ... he has to admit it would feel good to shed his aches today - he is sore after their awkward night on the couch. Carefully, he slides back down. ]

All right, go ahead. Just a few hours at most, though.

It'll be fine, Miles. I'm not eager to stay in pain all day, I assure you. You can take it back from me any time you like.

[Despite what he says, Gregor appears calm and even anticipatory about the event. It will be difficult, he's positive, and he's not eager to be in pain, but doing something like this for Miles feels natural and right. It takes no thought at all to volunteer.

He settles a hand on one of Miles's shoulders to direct him back toward the living room-- funny how he'd never noticed what a perfect height he was at for that before-- but bypasses the dreaded couch for the armchair and ottoman, each to take one. They've spent far too many hours on that couch already.]

Edited (what I get for doing tags before coffee) 2016-01-18 15:51 (UTC)

[ Miles follows Gregor's direction - briefly also grateful to avoid that awkward couch - and settles himself on the ottoman. (At Gregor's feet, of course.) Stronger is his gratitude for Gregor saying he can have it back any time he likes. That, at least, preserves his control - the really important part of all this. Miles has such limited bodily autonomy as it is sometimes. ]

I will. Especially if it looks like it's too much. I am extra sore this morning...

[ He relaxes a bit, preparing to let Gregor take it. ]

[The couch might gain some notoriety at this rate.

Gregor settles himself into the armchair, Miles facing him on the ottoman, and makes sure he's well supported and comfortable enough that it won't show too obviously if the pain is hard for him to handle. He's been ridiculously coddled his whole life; no one could afford him to contract infection and die. So he's not really used to physical pain at all, definitely not on Miles's caliber, and doesn't want to scare him away from this agreement before he has a chance to get used to it.]

I know how reluctant you are to do this, [he says quietly.] Thank you for letting me.

[It's really not meant as a repayment, as he'd said; Gregor doesn't think he could ever repay him. But it seems to him as if what is between them is beginning to transcend exchanges. Give all, and it's an equal trade. He's heard that somewhere before.

So he reaches out with careful mental fingers and draws in the pain, letting the sludge flow over to him and leak down to set in his bones.]

I should be thanking you.

[ The words come out as a murmur - trailed by more gratitude, more for Gregor acknowledging how difficult this is for Miles. He should find it easy, shouldn't he? To give up his pain and be free for a few hours ... If it weren't someone else taking it on, he'd lighten himself in a heartbeat. But making someone else do it instead is ... difficult. Someone else making the decision for him is vile. In this, at least, he should have control.

He loosens that control in slow increments, willingly allowing Gregor to take in all that sludge. His shoulders straighten; his whole mind seems to brighten as sweet, desperate relief pours in. Meanwhile that leaden sludge is extra heavy, extra molten; it seems to settle and harden in Gregor's joints. Every movement is sore. (Miles could really use some kind of therapeutic mattress.) ]

[He can feel the blessedly cool sweet relief that flows through Miles as he takes on his pain, that and the lingering echo of his gratitude, and Gregor latches onto those sensations to drag him through the process of drinking it down. Perhaps he should've picked a different metaphor to hinge this on, Charles's advice about visualizations coming to mind, but it's the one he's stuck with now-- it's like slime crawling down his throat and twining around his spine until it sets up a low, persistent burn.

He's relieved to find that once it's there, the whole unsettling process of having to fight his reflexes against willingly being in pain dissipates. Status quo is easier to maintain, apparently. Gregor's eyes have closed, his fingers have clenched into the arms of the chair, and he lets out a sharp breath once it's done.

Everything feels very heavy, his head especially; his neck seems like it must not be screwed on right, and his legs in particular feel unsteady for his weight. But it's all an illusion. It's what Miles is feeling right now, not Gregor.]

This is... somewhat disorienting. [He opens his eyes and blinks a few times, straightening up, but of course that doesn't affect the pain at all or the sensation of it because Miles hasn't moved. The quiet white aches lancing through his bones has nothing to do with Gregor's actions.] I just realized I have the added benefit of knowing you won't be injuring yourself while this is on, [he muses.]

[ It's so nice. He can't help but cherish this gift that Gregor has given him, helped him find in the first place. His body feels so light. As much as he knows it would be a bad idea to turn cartwheels, the temptation to try is abrupt and maddening. No, he would only injure himself worse and never know it.

Speaking of which. Gregor's comment was surely a light one, but Miles flinches a bit anyway. He knows how much breaking his own bones hurts. How easy it is for them to shatter, too, or twist into frayed agony ...

He pushes those memories down for a moment and refocuses on this glorious relief. He just about sags back onto the ottoman with it. ]

It's not as though I want to injure myself in the first place. It just seems to happen.

[ As a direct result of his own actions, yes. ]

[He's really good at putting his foot in it lately with Miles, isn't he.

Gregor subtly cracks some of his knuckles just to reaffirm to himself that the aches aren't his.] I know. But somehow I think you might learn a little caution for at least two hours a day.

[But he does want to try to lighten things, and Gregor doesn't want to just sit here. He's still in a good mood and not even adjusting to these aches is going to puncture that.] Want to go for a walk? [With a certain gleam in his eyes that says he can feel how restless Miles is instantly at being unburdened.]

[ That he can respond to a bit less flinchingly. The previous comment may have been a misstep, but this gets him right back on track. Miles brightens up immediately. ]

Oh, please. [ He has to take a bit of a breath in, reveling in the thought. There are quite a few activities that wouldn't hurt - he stops short of thinking about one in particular. ] I haven't tried that yet. I'll learn a little caution right away.

[Thank God he'd stopped short of that one, because Gregor is firmly in denial land at the moment and it's important for his continued functioning.

Gregor gets to his feet a little carefully despite himself, still trying to convince his brain that the pain is an illusion and not real stiffness.] That's all I ask. [And he'll count it a miracle if he does, but he supposes the knowledge that the pain is being sent on nonstop express to his Emperor might finally be the thing that does it. Might.]

Lead on, then. We only did a few minutes last time. Feel free to revel; I won't mind.

[Of course he's not going to mind. That's the whole point of this.]

[ Miles responds by holding absolutely still until Gregor seems steady enough to take a few step. He has to be careful not to be a bit dizzy himself. ]

... Let's go then. A quick walk to start out.

[Quick, of course. This is Miles. Why test things out when you can leap in? But Gregor finds that instead of feeling exasperated, there's a warm pulse of fondness instead, and he's smiling just slightly as he heads toward the door.

It's enough to make the leaden feeling worth it, and he makes sure to contain his wincing well enough that it doesn't transfer over the link.]

Perhaps we could do our shopping, [he suggests.]

[ Better that way; he slows every time he feels so much of a blip. ]

... Are you certain of that? It's a bit more than just a walk.

[ But he would be so grateful nonetheless. ]

[In that case, Gregor gets better at it with alacrity. He draws on all his considerable practice concealing things, and if the link narrows just a little, he's sure it's not a mystery what he's doing.]

Let's do it. I have a bizarre amount of energy today; just the right mood for shopping.

[ No, not really. But ... eh, he's done the same, so he resolves that turnabout is fair play. He settles into a comfortable enough pace, the awe at doing this without pain settling back in again. ]

... We do need more of everything.

[Miles's awe is a very nice distraction and incentive both to keep bearing this.

Gregor pauses to grab his wallet (also new, that) before opening the front door.] We do. And shoes, probably. Anything else?

[ He wraps his hoodie extra close around him as they head out. ]

A good coat, I think. This is no Barrayaran winter, but...

Not the South Continent either, [he agrees.] I ended up dragging Kitty out riding while you were out with Tex and it was a little chilly.