August catch all

[vorbarra]

WHO: Gregor and others [CLOSED].
WHERE: ??
WHEN: ?!!?!
WHAT: Surprise inside!!
WARNINGS: None so far.

Comments

KITTY

[vorbarra]

[ Largely thanks to Cordelia, Gregor is emotionally competent enough to realize when he needs a place to vent, and given how close to the matter Cordelia herself is, she doesn't immediately spring to mind as suitable. Which is fine, because he has something to give Kitty, anyway, thanks to his shopping with Tej. Ordinarily he would invite Kitty over, but he frankly needs to get out of the house for a while after everything that'd happened-- however far from the action he'd been, he'd still dealt with emotional fallout from multiple directions-- and instead, with his usual courtesy, requests to meet with her at her place.

He looks a bit tired and faintly grumpy but mostly relieved to see her once the door opens. He has a small plain-wrapped package in hand, and is dressed casually. Gregor leans in to kiss her in greeting without pause. ]

Kitty, [ he says warmly, in suffice for hello. ]

[rathercommon]

You look grouchy.

[ That's said without any recrimination, and also without any worry. It's just a wry observation. She knows, of course, that more nonsense has been happening over at the Vor House, because the poor things can't catch a break, and so she wouldn't have expected him to be in a good mood. Fortunately, Kitty has had a relative lack of nonsense in her own life, and so she's quite prepared to be Gregor's support, if he wants that of her. ]

Wine or tea?

[vorbarra]

[ He lets out a long breath and shoots her a rueful look as he's ushered in. ]

Better make it tea. Is it that obvious or do you just know me that well? [ At least partly it's that he's relaxed enough around her not to habitually constrain his expressions, but that's not something he quite realizes consciously. ]

[rathercommon]

A bit of both. Come on, talk to me while I make it.

[ She leads the way past the living room into the kitchen, not even bothering with the normal hospitality - sit down, no no I'll have it ready in a moment, all that. It's a sign of her comfort, really, that she's treating him with a bit less decorum than she treats others. ]

You're getting better about that, though, you know. Your face is less...constrained than it used to be.

[vorbarra]

[ Lessening of any formality is always appreciated for Gregor, who interprets casual atmosphere as a sign of caring and closeness pretty explicitly. He wanders after her and sort of hovers in her vicinity to stay nearby.

He sends her a look of vague surprise, mind wrenched out of its whirl around recent events. ]

Am I? Must be the effect of being here for so long. I think I can still act like I have something stuck up my Imperial arse if necessary, fortunately. [ His voice turns dry and outright aggravated, just a little. ] Simon certainly treated me as if I was.

ARAL

[vorbarra]

[ The weekend Miles is gone, it couldn't be said that Gregor wasn't functioning. He was very sure that he was. He got up, shaved, showered, ate breakfast, went to work and came home. After he got home he tended to hide in his room and stare blankly at the walls for longer stretches of time than was healthy, but as far as he was concerned no one had room to criticize him and he should be allowed to cope (or, you know, not cope) in the privacy of his own damn room.

Nonetheless he's unsurprised that he somehow ends up knocking through shots with Aral one night. They each grimly get through two each before settling in to nurse the next. Vor alcohol tolerance is annoying sometimes. Gregor isn't prone to self-medicating, even with liquor, but he knows the appeal to some well-placed drunkenness same as anyone else. ]

I'll feel like a right ass if he strolls in tomorrow wondering why I have a hangover, [ he says meditatively, but with no real weight of expectation behind it. No one has ever outright disappeared before, not in their circle. ]

[use_everything]

[There's a slight grunt in answer as Aral deeply contemplates the folly of knocking this one back with the same wordless sentiment they'd started with. He ends up with a sip, to fortify and sets it down on the table, still relatively full.]

It'd be some gall to wonder.

[Spoken only the way someone who doesn't know Miles THAT well yet can.]

[vorbarra]

[ Gregor snorts. ]

You overestimate his sensitivity. [ With the bitter fondness of the lovelorn, ] Sometimes I think he's so busy trying to make the impact he's chasing after that he forgets about all the other things that come with it.

[use_everything]

[He.. considered the stories he knows. Treason, the whole mess with Gregor popping off, flying into a war zone... More than one war zone... He rubs his face, picks up the glass and takes a good portion of it down.]

Trials, diplomatic arrangements, lawyers, revision of treatise, talking down 59 high strung Counts with opinions.

No, I imagine he's just off to the next thing.

[vorbarra]

At least I stay in one place while I'm causing you gray hairs, with that one glaring exception, [ he comments. ]

Miles strolls in, upends the game board, and strolls out. I've always envied his ability to do that, no matter how much I have to pick up the pieces.

How Do August Timelines Work?

[heart_wrenching]

[ It's a few days post any incident when they see each other in any sort of state to exchange anything other than the barest of superficial (if earnest) pleasantries. Between brooding on what had happened to Mark, and then Edward's fresh string of nightmares, then the Miles Happen, Winry had just slipped into the safety of her basement workshop. But a few days of all feverish work had turned into a few more at a more human pace. By now, she looks like she has slept a reasonable amount in the reasonably distant past. Perhaps even last night?? Damn. Nice job, Winry. ]


Ah- hey, Gregor, have you seen Miles around? It's not urgent, I just need to double check a few measurements.

What Are Timelines? What Is Their Function?

[vorbarra]

[ Since this is hypothetically after the Miles Happen, the whole Simon Happen seems somewhat remote to Gregor now, for all that it was less than a week ago. There'd been a lot of messy emotional processing around that event, but a full three days of depression spiking had wiped that clean and made it distant, overtaken his whole life for the duration. Then Miles's return had been disorienting in forcing him to recalibrate back to normal again... Gregor is still feeling the effects of all this inner stress piled on at once.

In short, he hadn't minded it taking some time to track down Winry. Edward had misunderstood him so drastically... He doesn't want the same thing to happen with Winry. But then, he has a very different conversation to have with her. ]

No, I'm sorry-- I don't even try to keep track of him. I could call him back if you wish. But, ah... I do have something I'd like to speak with you about first, if that's alright.

Re: What Are Timelines? What Is Their Function?

[heart_wrenching]

Huh? Sure.

[vorbarra]

Would you mind coming upstairs with me? I'd rather not be interrupted.

[ Which... makes it pretty obvious it's a serious type discussion, but that can't be helped. ]

[heart_wrenching]

Upstairs . . . ?


[ It takes a beat, but yeah she gets it. Tries not to look too concerned. ]


Sure- of course.

NIGHTMARES

[dendarii]

[ This is hardly the first time Miles has had a nightmare. It’s not even the first time he’s had a nightmare loudly over the link either; he’d had plenty in the wake of Lucifer, and more after Gregor had been kidnapped by the same. But, mercifully (and with considerable thanks owed to Gregor’s help), he’d remembered little of it when he woke the next morning. Faint echoes of stress and misery but nothing more.

This one is different. The faint tendrils of fog that had been plaguing his links billow up into a full-blown wall that rolls over his mindscape, removing all shape and color from it. Miles’ own sense of self is blotted out. In his place is a dome of all-encompassing gray, unescapable and unchangeable. A person could go completely mad in here if left to one’s own devices for too long. That’s where Miles is now: wandering in widening circles, clutching at a scrap of paper in his hands. There was a plan, wasn’t there? He remembers something about coming in clothed, going out naked …

Somewhere outside the bubble, there’s tremors and flashes of light. Distant thunder.

All of this churns around in Miles’ head. Not quite loud enough to beat past the links that are more closed - saving Aral and Cordelia from being battered too - but Gregor is not so lucky. Miles himself twitches in their shared bed, his face creased and pale. ]

[vorbarra]

[ The differences in Miles are readily apparent when Gregor thinks about them, but they aren't that far-reaching; in general he treats Miles the same way he always has, with some careful navigation around the newer features, but it's nothing strenuous. This has largely served him well in them falling back into their relationship smoothly.

It's a mistake in this instance. The dome is oppressive, smothering. It reminds him obliquely of the Betan Miles's mindscape with its sense of heavy boundaries, but that's not entirely right either. That had been a defensive measure, a self-protective technique. This... feels like an intrusion, a foreign hand pressing over his face.

The first step in a kidnapping, his own mind whispers to him in translation, enough time to dread what is to come but still helpless against it...

Normally, he would reach out to soothe the nightmare with his own calm alertness, but Gregor himself is half-asleep and has been sucked in without full understanding of what's going on. In the hazy indeterminate goal of dreams, he seeks out Miles, distantly aware of whose mind this is and what he means to do but uncertain how to achieve it. All while looking, that oppressive, smothering hand stays hovering as the dome above them.

It's such a large empty space-- surely it shouldn't take so long to find him? And why is he naked? Gregor isn't body conscious but he is hugely shy, and a public figure. God, but this feeling of exposure is gruesome. He just needs to find Miles. ]

[dendarii]

[ The fog shifts in response to Gregor's searching. Vaguely humanoid shadows appear in it, sometimes crowding around Gregor for a moment before vanishing, other times appearing at a distance and drifting away before Gregor can get close. The fog itself is darkened by these shapes, not lessened. They add to the feeling of utterly depressive sameness that permeates the dome.

Too soon, Gregor reaches one of its curved borders. Nothing at all can get in from outside save this strange half-light. And behind him, more of those black shadows have gathered. They stand taller than Gregor; they're proportionally the same as what Miles would see dealing with normal-sized people. Taller, stronger, and unfriendly. ]

[vorbarra]

[ The audience is deeply unsettling, mimicking not a few of Gregor's own dreams wherein he's pressed in on all sides by people silently demanding things of him, sometimes to the point that he ends up trampled. (Dreams are not always very subtle.)

He slides his bare hands up the curve of the dome wall, the feeling smooth and unbroken under his skin, and wonders. People towering over him is not an experience Gregor often has; a couple times since coming here, perhaps, but Gregor had shot up like a weed in adolescence and has at least been of a height with everyone he speaks to for years.

Miles... right. He's looking for Miles. Automatically he looks down, to the appropriate height, but is frustrated by the looming crowd, whose presence prickles at his skin uncomfortably. Cool sweat dries on his skin in incongruous detail. ]

Miles? [ he says finally, mustering his courage, and although his voice is thin in the large space it is firm and steady. Gregor is not so easily cowed as all that. ]

[dendarii]

[ A whispered response from the shadows, indistinct. One of them reaches out for Gregor's arm as if to jerk it back painfully, the others crowd closer with upraised arms. A sudden shocking memory splits the scene: Miles reasserting himself over his mindscape, albeit somewhat painfully. (They'd broken his ribs - later, something in his foot, his right hand --) But it comes with Miles himself, appearing with equal suddenness at Gregor's side. ]

Gregor? What the hell are you doing here?

[ He says, turning to fight off the shadow grabbing at Gregor's arm. ]

DAENERYS

[vorbarra]

[ An imPort spending any amount of time in Heropa is likely to be inevitably directed to the Lucky Cat before long. It's been a fulcrum of casual imPort socializing for over a year now, and has had relentlessly delicious seasonal treats available the whole time, under the direction of the warmly welcoming Cass. Said cat in the name, Mochi, can often be seen lazing around, spoiled with food and attention. Gregor has hugely enjoyed working there even for the few months he has been and is eternally grateful that Cass puts up with his ridiculous extended family and the Dendarii, both in employing them and in allowing them to use the space.

Over that time, he's gone from a clueless member of the upper class trying his hand at menial labor, replete with fascination and eagerness, to a more typical unexcited but steady barista. Gregor is unflappable by nature and it's served him well dealing with the hectic nature of imPort customers and, worse, imPort groupie customers. During a lull, he spots someone who might as well have new stamped across her-- the curiosity is always a dead giveaway-- and quietly flags her down with a hand gesture. ]

New arrival, I take it? [ His smooth vaguely Russian accent is far too educated to match his silly cat-print uniform shirt and half apron. ] Have you had a latte before? I can make you one on the house.

[ Well, he'll pay for it, really, but he doesn't care about that. He'd had an easier time adjusting than most and he knows it. Some people are truly lost in this environment, and Gregor might not be hugely social but he is generally kind when he has the chance to be. ]

[jalan]

[ On one hand, Daenerys would like to think she doesn't stand out quite so much. After all, she's made an effort, if by necessity. She's wearing something conventional of this time and place, a lengthy summer dress of such comfort that it took a little convincing that it was even suitable to be worn in public. She welcomes the soak of Floridian heat without flinching, immune to its severity despite powder-fair skin, though she isn't immune to its humidity. The Lucky Cat is both a recommended destination as well as a source of dry-aired AC.

One of those modern marvels. But this leaves us with the other hand, which is that: she appreciates being noticed for being different, whether through her inquisitive study of things most others pay only passing attention to -- the chiming of someone's ringtone, the source of overhead music, a young man's hair dyed bright blue -- or her appearance, with regal dignity gathered like a handful of flowers, and the intricate, antiquated braiding of her silver-blonde hair.

Summoned by gesture, Daenerys' eyes stray to the cat print of the man's t-shirt, and her mouth turns up, subtle, at the corners, before eye contact is met again. ]

I haven't, [ she admits. ] But I would know what it is, first.

[vorbarra]

[ To tell the truth, a lot of her bearing and even the style of her hair isn't unfamiliar to Gregor, who's spent his whole life surrounded by High Vor society. It takes him a moment to register it as different from the norm around here, rather than comparing it to his own internal standards.

Gregor's aware of how absurd he looks in this shirt and quite enjoys the eroding of his dignity. He smiles very slightly back. ]

Coffee and milk, mostly, with some sweetener if you care for it. Are you familiar with coffee? [ One never knows with imPorts. ]

[jalan]

'Familiar', no. But we've made some acquaintance since I arrived.

[ So at least Daenerys is not standing in a coffee shop, completely ignorant as to what coffee is. Her tone is dry, a touch self-deprecating, and her eyes skid towards the coffee machines themselves. Another barista funnels steamed milk through a spout, a hiss erupting nearby enough to snag her attention. ]

Are you yourself an imPort, [ she asks, then, turning back to him ] or merely sympathetic?

[vorbarra]

[ He's not surprised about that; coffee is nigh on inescapable in America, he's noticed.

Gregor shakes his head. ] Everyone who works here is an imPort, so I am, yes. Though I am also sympathetic, [ he tacks on with a hint of his own self-deprecating wryness. ] Would you like one?

[ He's getting himself a coffee regardless, and starts going through the motions for that automatically, the routine soothing by now. Fortunately Gregor's caffeine tolerance had already been considerable before ever starting here. ]