maskormenacelogs | (no subject)

Oh. [ that's disturbing, and also a little sad. but then, magic is pain, sometimes, isn't it? (he very carefully doesn't look at his left hand.) ] .. No, we certainly wouldn't want that. [ he sighs a little, chin resting more heavily against his hand. ] Honestly, thinking about it, it would probably be cheating anyway to fight a giant or a dragon as a giant.

[ There are complicating factors Miles hasn't mentioned - mostly in the form of his delicate, brittle bone structure. He snorts at that, amused at the suggestion. ]

Just so. I prefer to win with the hand I was dealt.

[ he gives him a slightly sideways glance, mouth quirking. ] I suppose that's best. .. Still, sometimes I really just want a simple, straightforward, easy battle. No darkspawn, no ancient evil magisters, no possessed dragons or titans.. I have absolutely earned the chance to just thwack someone over the head with my staff and call it done.

[ he's joking, mostly. not that he isn't tired of the constant fighting, but.. it could always, always be worse. ]

Anyway, I'm tallying up what I know about you so far, and I have to admit, it's all pretty intriguing. I'm still waiting to hear more about your world, though. [ and spaceships. ]

[ Another faintly amused noise at that. ]

The same goes for you, Inquisitor. Perhaps we could trade? I have a good mental image of dragon already, but darkspawn? Magisters? You must lead an exciting life.

It's certainly exciting lately, anyway. [ an impressed glance. ] You don't have darkspawn? [ he's a little jealous.

he shifts on his stool, lifting his chin from the back of his hand, attentive and interested. ] Certainly, though, a trade sounds fair. Where would you like to start?

[ Miles, in turn, retains his laser focused curiosity. Gentled, of course, by his usual overwhelming friendliness. He's determined to make a friend out of his fascinating man. ]

The darkspawn, if you don't mind. Since that seems convenient enough to start with.

[ darkspawn. not a particularly fun place to start, but he's the one who brought it up in the first place, anyway. ]

Darkspawn are.. monsters. [ there's just no way around it. ] They live underground, except when a Blight starts. Between Blights, sometimes they come aboveground for-- for raids, killing and kidnapping, that sort of thing. The only point to their existence seems to be to destroy everything. [ an uncertain pause. ] My people don't really have any kind of origin or explanation story for them, but I know the Chantry believes they were created when the Maker's holy city was corrupted. [ he'd cautiously agree with that, now, given corypheus. ]

[ He doesn't understand half the terms in that explanation, but ... well, context is obvious enough. ]

A plague of monsters, then. Did they ravage your world, then?

Periodically. [ he crosses a knee over the other, lacing his fingers together loosely in his lap. ] It's.. all sort of complicated, I suppose. We've never been able to wipe them completely out. All we can really do is damage control, and try to stop a Blight before it spreads too far.

[ he takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. ] Okay, then.. You called your world backwater. What makes it that way compared to-- to other worlds, I guess.

Edited 2016-05-08 21:18 (UTC)

Ah ... I see. A perpetual war, belike.

[ He signals the bartender for another glass of whiskey. ]

Well ... we're a feudal society. Lords and an Emperor compared to more modern forms of government. A significant portion of my own district relies more on horses than technology, but that is beginning to change. And ... [ He hesitates here. ] There is an endemic fear of potential mutations.

Off and on, yes.

[ why rely on horses if you have the technology available? .. money? resistance to change? ]

.. Mutations? In people? Why would they be afraid of that? [ they don't have the taint, after all. ]

[ Miles' expression sobers considerably. ]

Because we arrived on Barrayar in the aftermath of a nuclear war, and then promptly lost access to all our technology. Mutation were ... very dangerous for a long time.

[ 'barrayar' must be the name of the world, but 'nuclear' means nothing to him. still, that answers at least one of his questions. ]

.. I see. [ a little, anyway. ] You lived somewhere else before you came to.. Barrayer? [ he makes a flying motion with his hand. ] You came there on ships?

Yes. Or rather, the Firsters did. That was a thousand years ago.

[ a thousand years ago. that's.. ]

And mutations are still a concern even after all that time?

A concern, yes. A threat ... mostly obsolete. It only hurts innocent people now. Anyone who looks different from certain normal standards.

[ his brows knit together at that. that's.. barbaric, and also not that different from his world. ]

Well, that's uncomfortably familiar. [ and he has a feeling that miles doesn't quite fit that standard. he might have been spared some of the worst treatment by virtue of his rank, but even nobility aren't immune to whispers. and whispers that become loud enough can lead to worse things. ]

I'm sorry, I suppose I've led us down a slightly dark road.

As I said before. I sympathize with being a frontrunner.

[ He's mostly just quiet here, the topic an old, worn groove in his psyche by now. ]

You at least understand better than most. There are others who question how I can feel like this to begin with.

[ the smile he offers is a little worn around the edges. ] I suppose that I do, to some extent. [ it's a constant uphill battle to prove that he isn't just the exception to the rule. and the near-worship from those who consider him andraste's herald is, at best, amazingly uncomfortable. he doesn't believe in andraste. he doesn't believe in the humans' maker, either. if andraste is the holy being that the chantry says she is, then he almost hates her, in fact-- where was she when his people were being massacred? they were her allies. if not for the elvhen, she would have likely died in a ditch somewhere, slain by her enemies long before dying a martyr.

he takes a shaky breath, pushing all those thoughts away, lifting his glass to finish what remains in it. ]

You know.. [ he fidgets, turning the glass in his hands, staring down at his distorted reflection in it. ] Of all the people I might have met here, I'm glad that you're one of them. That you decided to speak to me. [ he glances back up, pale eyes almost shy for a moment. ] I can't really-- I mean, everyone is dealing with so much at home, and I feel like I have to.. be a certain way. All the time. [ but miles gets it, and miles is in a similar position. ]

[ He can't see what's going on in Mahanon's head, but he can guess at the shape of it. The same shape has affected his own growth both literally and mentally ... So instead, he decides to take the good from it instead of focusing on the bad. ]

Of course. [ His own voice is soft in return. ] You've been a delightful conversation partner as well, Inquisitor. It's as you say ... people who truly understand are rare, here.

[ he breathes a laugh, shaking his head. ] I'm better than I was, anyway. I don't envy the nobility, though. [ his brows arch, expression a little scandalized. ] I don't know if it's the same where you're from, but playing the Game is exhausting. Having to wade through layers of meaning in every response.. I don't know how anyone does it.

[ He snorts a bit at that. Another unexpected bit of sympathy there. ]

That's where my misshapen body comes in handy. Puts most people on the defensive - they stare down at me too long, or accidentally comment about mutagens. And then they have to spend the rest of the conversation making it up to mee.

You're not misshapen. [ the comment had actually surprised him, but it probably shouldn't have. he's probably been called that his entire life, the same way mahanon's people are knife-ears and rats and rabbits.

his ears are hot. he clears his throat, turning the glass-stem between his fingers to give them something to do. ]

In Halamshiral, some of the guests at the Winter Palace thought I was part of the serving staff. [ he glances back up, a little amused despite himself. ] The entire group of us from the Inquisition were dressed exactly alike in these awful formal uniforms with velvet so we can't be mistaken for anyone else, and I keep having people trying to hand me their empty glasses. [ wryly: ] They're probably lucky I'm not easily offended.

[ Are Mahanon's flushed? Surely a side effect of the alcohol, but - Miles finds himself rather charmed by both the color and the sentiment. It's very rare indeed for someone to immediately deny the obvious rather than try to convince him he shouldn't care about his physical appearance. A sympathetic soul indeed.

He shudders slightly at that story. For all his woes, it's not as though anyone would make that mistake with him. The mutated son of Count Vorkosigan is still a count's heir in his own right. ]

Bastards, all of them. They betray their own prejudices first and foremost. And yet it doesn't save you from the shame and indignation in the moment, does it? One must be the bigger man about it ....

[ he shakes his head, smile brightening, trying (and failing) to keep his blush from infusing the rest of his face. ] It's all right. Honestly, I think my advisers were more outraged than I was. And it was worth putting up with it for them to trip over themselves to apologize after I was introduced to the court.

[ he sets his glass aside, pale eyes curious. ]

By the way.. I thought maybe-- I mean, have you met Bull?