Gregor Vorbarra (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vorbarra) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2016-04-02 03:48 pm
vorbarra) wrote in maskormenacelogs2016-04-02 03:48 pm
my heart is gold and my hands are cold }
WHO: Gregor Vorbarra AND FRIENDS ??
WHERE: Mostly DC#7, as usual.
WHEN: April catch all.
WHAT: Pull point fall out + Mark et al + probably Lucifer shenanigans eventually.
WARNINGS: The thread with Spock and one of them with Miles is going to have some sexual content, but nothing above an R rating. You should probably also check Gregor's overall content warnings before going into those threads, just in case.
WHERE: Mostly DC#7, as usual.
WHEN: April catch all.
WHAT: Pull point fall out + Mark et al + probably Lucifer shenanigans eventually.
WARNINGS: The thread with Spock and one of them with Miles is going to have some sexual content, but nothing above an R rating. You should probably also check Gregor's overall content warnings before going into those threads, just in case.
MARK
Gregor doubts it, though. He can detect lies like a bloodhound by now, especially after that five month crash course with Cavilo. He's still just not sure why he's lying here.
This should be interesting, though, given that Miles has thoroughly blown his cover on the network as an eight year old, revealing to Kane that they've been lying too, at least about that much. Not to mention that obvious test he'd put Miles and Tex through. Trial period indeed. As Gregor had pointed out to Miles at the time, he hasn't missed that it seemed custom-tailored to drive Miles up a wall. Time to see what he can get from Kane this time.
He's ushered the rest of the house occupants out so he can conduct business (they're really going to need a dedicated space if they ever get their income solid) and situated himself at the dining table. He's in a button-up and dress slacks today, neat and presentable in dove grey and black; there's two mugs of coffee on the table, pretty good after Gregor's continual stint at the cafe; and there's two paper copies of the contract already set out, Gregor's with pen marks on it with his comments and points to discuss. ]
no subject
[ The clone had made sure that this meeting was arranged for a time when the Butcher was out, and Cordelia too. That was...important. Really important. He still has a deep dread of Aral Vorkosigan, and he's sort of afraid now of Cordelia as well - with her insightful bluntness. Her knowledge about him...He feels about ready to throw up from terror when he walks through the front door, certain that Cordelia will have told them everything about him. Clone, assassin, liar, not to be trusted. That the meeting will have been a trap to snare him, to kill him...
But there's no ambush. And Gregor is still looking at him just like before. Impartial and cool. Miles doesn't pop out of nowhere with a stunner, the Butcher is nowhere to be found with nerve disruptor in hand...It's just the two of them, with contracts and cups of coffee. And, he notes with a pang of disappointment, nothing to eat.
He smiles broadly as he speaks, like he's teasing the Emperor. ]
I assume that was all just Miles being funny, right?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
But that would be a concern for another day. Right now, his top priority is finding his temporary home in this mess so he can take a closer look at the papers he's been handed. Supposedly some room in a city called 'De Chima.'
He's on track to find the government housing and distracted by searching for street names. A left here, then a few more blocks before he needs to make a right... ]
no subject
The clone turns, slowly, and sees features that he remembers. An arched nose. Dark eyebrows. An upright bearing. And as he turns, his hand moves faster than his brain does. The coffee slips from his fingers; his hand dives down, under his coat. He turns, drops to one knee to steady his aim; the stunner is lifted and armed and whining with power before the coffee even hits the ground; he lets off three stunner bolts, one after the other, that take Galen square-on - two in the chest, one in the head.
Oh, God. Oh, God. I can't believe I did that. He stares at the man as he crumples to the ground, eyes wide, unable even to breathe. He'd panicked, and for the first time instead of freezing he'd acted. And it was a disaster, this is going to be a disaster...
Hold on.
That's not Galen.
On shaking legs, he pushes himself back up to standing. Totters a few steps closer. And he could be sick at what he sees, or cry, or laugh wildly in terrified triumph, because that is not Ser Galen. That's David. David Galen, Ser Galen's renegade son, who Ser Galen is going to bring back to the fold...It's not him. It's not him. He's not here. Oh, God. He's saved. Or fucked. Or both.
With a quick movement, he grabs the papers out of David's hand. And then he turns and walks as fast as he can in the opposite direction, not running, head full of terrified thoughts and half-formed plans, his moment of terror reminding him of what's at stake. Of what he needs to do to survive.
And, yup, he just leaves him there. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
Her presence in the house is hardly new after this hellish week though instead of seeking out the little lord, she's tracking down Gregor. Thankfully he's a lot less energetic and far taller. ]
Hey, you have a minute?
no subject
--Tex. Yes. [ He turns, looking unruffled, if somewhat tired. ] What is it?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
DUV
He's starting to suspect that first quiet period after he'd shown up had been an aberration, and he'll get no further downtime at all. Much like home. That's weirdly familiar, if grim. The most stabilizing part of this all was Aral's dry commentary. That was exactly the same, dimensions and ages apart.
He ends up with some inner debate over where to receive what is more or less his first official audience since arrival, in his actual capacity as Emperor, with someone not a family friend. The study is out, it being overtaken completely with that board game by now; the kitchen feels a bit too public, able to be wandered in on; but his bedroom is absolutely off limits, despite that making the most sense, with his desk and an armchair in there. Gregor's quarters had home had always been a place of absolute privacy for him. A sanctuary, with none but Vorbarra Armsmen allowed in unless he invited them personally. He finds himself reluctant to alter that here.
So the kitchen it is. (The living room is simply too casual.) Gregor seats himself in the now-familiar position at the dining table, with the now-familiar dual cups of coffee and waits. Internally, he scratches lightly at the wall between him and Galeni, slips through a cool, impartial comment, and no more:
Please meet me in the kitchen. The wall shuts again. ]
no subject
His quiet moment is abruptly interrupted by a voice sounding in his head. So that's the telepathic link Count Vorkosigan had described earlier. It hadn't been on his list of powers, beyond some mention with his 'healing' about its uses over such a link. It had been information disregarded until now.
The kitchen. At least there would be witnesses should the Emperor of Barrayar have decided against the Vorkosigans' earlier decision to spare him. Duv doesn't prolong his fate and makes his way down into the kitchen, head held up high and looking as much like an officer as he can in his rumpled uniform. The sight waiting for him doesn't match up to what he's seen in the vids, although the man is at least closer in age to what he remembers than the rest he's seen.
He salutes as he stands at parade rest. ] Sire.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
MILES
Miles? You in? ]
no subject
Go ahead, he says by way of both answer and permission. Still frowning down at his papers, one hand fiddling idly with his (unusually) longer hair. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
BOW CHIKA BOW WOW
Spock himself had arrived early to check-in and prepared what he could in their suite. And, taking a note from his night with Miles, also purchased some breakfast items for the following morning to bring up to the kitchenette available to them. While Spock isn't aware what constitutes a common Barrayaran morning meal, he bought various fruits, a few vegetables he himself is more fond of, eggs, and some croissants. He's hoping that will be sufficient, but they'll also have time before if Gregor wished for anything else.
After setting up and prepping everything he could think of, he came downstairs to wait. By all outward appearances, he seems serene in reading, but he's really only half-reading the words in front of him, his thoughts more on just what the hell he was actually doing here ... ]
no subject
But as he'd said to Kitty, he needs to do this before he overthinks it and his courage fails him. He feels distasteful and downright sleazy to be renting a hotel room just for sex, his skin prickling uncomfortably, but there's nothing for it. Both of their houses are right out, God forbid anyone realize what they're doing before Gregor's ready to tell them. He's not even convinced he's ready to do it.
He does indeed pack an overnight bag and bring it to work with him. He casually informs Miles and his parents that he'll be staying with Kitty for the night (hopefully with her complicity) and heads to the hotel when his shift is done, pausing in the bathroom to change out of his work clothes before he does so. This leaves him in black slacks and a dove grey oxford shirt, of a soft, slightly slinky fabric rather than starched cotton. Gregor feels weird even doing it. He's never before cared what he looked like at all, but that's the sort of thing you're supposed to do before a... liaison. Isn't it?
His only comfort is that he suspects Spock is as out of his depth on this as he is. That's oddly heartening.
Gregor heads up the hotel room around eight o'clock and takes the elevator up to the room number Spock had texted him. He knocks quietly on the door, bag in hand. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
MILES
So instead of feeling nervous he feels... anticipatory. Practically bubbling over with it, in fact, a sensation Miles will only have felt from him before when he was planning the sailing date for Kitty and having her knife commissioned. It's exactly the same feeling.
He sits in the kitchen one morning with a mug of coffee (no breakfast) for Miles to stumble downstairs, his mind almost effervescent, eyes light, very clearly waiting. ]
Good morning.
no subject
So he rubs lightly at his unshaven jawline and just blinks sleepily at his Emperor. A light question mark tangible across their link. ]
... Good morning, Gregor. Is something going on?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
This particular item is fairly high, perhaps five or six.
Specifically, he lays a written estimate of costs for four new uniforms for a Vorkosigan armsman in front of Gregor some early afternoon, before their shift.]
Estimated high, of course.
no subject
He peers over it and nods. ] Maybe we should set up a fund for House expenditures, separate from, ah, house expenditures.
[ If there's anyone who can verbalize a capital... ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
gasp THE CONFESSION!!!!
Still. This is it. And if Miles isn't being especially dense, he'll likely suspect just from this poem... But Gregor has been trying to lead him to this conclusion all along anyway, so at least his subconscious can suspect.
He departs for the hotel with this letter left behind. ]
no subject
... It does not, however, stop him from quietly reading through the poem multiple times before settling it next to his copy of the one that Gregor had shared with him so many weeks ago. Two precious jewels tucked away to be hoarded and occasionally brought out to enjoy their beauty. He just imagines - no, he's past that, he surely wishes that ...
Ugh, Miles. Focus. With everything going on, it makes a damn lot of sense for the two of them to get out of town for a bit. Surely that's all this is - some reaction to Lucifer breathing down their necks.
It's the only thought keeping him calm, ironically, when he shows up in the hotel lobby with a small backpack for the weekend. Gregor did promise him this vacation a long time ago. He may as well try to enjoy it.
Before he's even fully glanced around the room to see if Gregor's there waiting, he gently reaches out over the link to find him. Gregor? I'm here. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
Tonight, she's curled up with a glass of wine, a blanket, and a book. ]
no subject
This means he has to resort to desperate measures. He approaches he quietly, definitely on the "agitated" side tonight. His mind buzzes faintly over the link. ]
Mother?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
He pours himself his own glass in the kitchen with her open bottle and joins her, seating himself in the armchair. He doesn't have the link open any more than usual, but what trickles through is palpably excited-nauseous, that line where you're so anticipatory it makes you sick. ]
So. The surgery went well.
[ Which was several days ago by now, and she'd been there, so this is old news. Gregor just needs a lead in. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
That grim thought hanging over him, he'll already smoking by the time Gregor shows up. His other hand -- the one lacking in lit cigarettes -- is settled on top of a plain wooden box, balanced carefully on one knee, and his attention is directed upwards, silently watching the dark sky rather than keeping an eye out for anyone else who might come wandering by.
Why would he, anyway? Nicolas is the one who shows up silently out of the shadows. He wouldn't expect as much from an emperor and everyone else, well, he would still hear them. ]
no subject
He waves slightly as he approaches, then takes a seat beside him before speaking. ]
I hope this isn't anything dire. [ A flicker of concern. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
4/28 ish
no subject
Ah. Are you here to see Miles?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...