OPEN log; gymnopedie

[vorbarra]

WHO: Gregor Vorbarra and potentially YOU. Also probably a bunch of closed logs.
WHERE: Various.
WHEN: Throughout October (or backdated to September if you wish).
WHAT: Open prompts: whittling in public, handing out flyers for the Lucky Cat. Semi-open: practicing piano at the Residence. Also, I've started in prose but you're welcome to switch to brackets.
WARNINGS: Discussion of suicidal ideation with Miles.

    ONE; OPEN. PARK IN HEROPA. WHITTLING.

The arrival of a new semester has, for the first time in years, meant something to Gregor. The only period in his life in which he'd had to care about the school year was the few years he was at the academy prep school; the academy itself ran year-round, and prior to that he'd had tutors, as befit the emperor. Since his military service it's been much the same. So, it's extremely novel for Gregor to be taking a class at all-- even his requisite academy time and service had been a farce of treating him as an equal that no one had come close to managing-- and he's thoroughly enjoying the chance to be only interesting by virtue of being an imPort. He'd try to hide that, too, except it tends to make people forgiving of his Russian-ish accent.

And there was a lot of talking with classmates in an artistic woodworking class. Yes, Gregor had deliberately chosen the most impractical, useless skill possible for an emperor to start with at his venture at De Chima Community College. This leads to him needing to spend a considerable amount of time practicing his whittling, and he does like to see things other than the De Chima countryside or the path from the Porter to the Lucky Cat and back.

As a result, he can be found in assorted locations around parks in Heropa, a quiet figure bent over a small chunk of wood he is (ineptly) whittling. At least he handles the knife comfortably. Vor often have boot knives, so he's not prone to hurting himself.

The figure itself? Anyone with a discerning eye might be able to tell it's approaching some sort of bird.

    TWO; OPEN. AROUND THE PORTERS. LUCKY CAT FLYERS.

Standing politely nearby the Porter in each city at various times is a tall, lanky man with a prominent nose and dark hair. Gregor is the nice sort of flyer-pusher in that he doesn't push them at all; his t-shirt says most of the story for him, and anyone he makes eye contact with he holds up a flyer for the Lucky Cat Café in Heropa in question. According to the flyer, it's recently changed hands, and has a short note about trying to honor Cass's memory and keeping it running as she would've run it-- with a lot of autumn-appropriate sweets and drinks seasonally available, of course.

Or you can run into a sleek Russian blue cat primly sitting with its tail wrapped around its paws on top of the stack of flyers on a nearby table. Occasionally Gregor needs a break from such a highly social task. He's very unlikely to break 'character' and talk to anyone as a cat, though, unless they know about this already, so choose this option with that in mind!

    THREE; SEMI-OPEN. THE RESIDENCE. PIANO.

Gregor has been taking private piano lessons via the community college for a bit over a month now, which means he's not very good at it yet, a fact he is completely aware of. He tends to practice on his budget, portable keyboard, set up in the living space of his suite in an attempt not to bother others as he goes through scales. This largely ends up being fruitless, as the piano is perfectly audible through the wall.

He'll be sheepish, not annoyed, if he's interrupted. He hasn't quite come to grips with doing a hobby that's more performative than poetry, something he's had little difficulty keeping completely private throughout his life. An instrument sort of demands an audience, whether he wants one or not. Gregor has yet to get comfortable with that fact, but at least his faltering hands are graceful as they move over the keys.

    FOUR; OPEN. WILD CARD.

Fill in the blank! Hit me with your best shot.

Comments

three

[dendarii]

[ Miles has been a beehive most of this week. A few blips - more alcohol than usual, and more nights gone to bed with something in his system - but mostly he’s been thinking furiously about something. Nothing secretive, exactly, but he’s walled it off from everyone except Gregor. And he’s even separated Gregor from it by way of a light veil curtaining the specifics of his thoughts away from him. If Gregor is curious, Miles will certainly let him in. But otherwise he’s marked it as a work in progress sort of area. Do not touch until he’s finished with it.

He’s still ruminating when he meanders back up to their rooms that afternoon only to find Gregor at the piano. There he stops for a moment to take in the loveliness of that particular sight. Gregor’s long fingers stretched over the cheap keyboard, beautiful even when the sound coming out of the instrument isn’t. The whirlwind of his mind settles a little as he comes to sit down in a nearby armchair. ]

You almost sound like you know how to play. [ He says, once there’s a break in the scales. ]

[vorbarra]

[ Gregor would be more concerned if Miles were spinning his wheels for several weeks rather than thinking furiously on something, so he doesn't poke the beehive. He's a bit cautious about what would come out if he did. He trusts Miles will bring it to him once he's ready to accept outside input, and isn't too worried.

They've built up a lot of trust and familiarity by this point, more than enough to make him comfortable with a veil between their thoughts, or certain parts of them. It's only in the honeymoon phase that a need for absolute, intense closeness had manifested... They'd been so endangered then, too, which hadn't helped. The departure of Lucifer and the toning down of the war has helped Gregor's anxiety levels considerably, and accordingly, his neediness.

He lets out a snort at the comment. ] Almost being the key word. I have no delusions of grandeur. [ He lets his hands ease off the keys and settle in his lap, turning on his stool toward him with curious eyes. ]

Are you here for a reason, or just to observe my awkward flailing toward musicality?

[dendarii]

[ It's a good balance. Miles has continued at his usual pace; Gregor is there when he returns. (Or sometimes vice-versa, when Gregor has class and Miles has decided the only thing he wants to do today is eat bowls of Frosted Vorks.) Today he's somewhere in between his usual ups and downs. Wired, but slowing down to a conclusion. He's jumped to the end point of his decision. ]

Neither and both, I suppose. I had intended to come back up here and think, but now you've gone and distracted me.

[ He leans on the arm of the chair and bats his eyelids at Gregor. Half sarcastic, half affectionate, all fond. ]

Three - Shortly after the September Swear-in

[fullmetalbrat]

For much of this month Ed's been nothing but stiffly awkward around Gregor. He hasn't gone so far as to outright avoid him, but there's been a notable distance in the way he behaves and speaks around him that has, admittedly, slowly faded over the last week or two. And today, after finally making it home from the month's swear-in (long after the others who'd attended), he stops outside the hall leading to Gregor's suite where he can hear a few strains of a scale being tapped out on the keyboard.

There's a large part of him that still wants to just pass by. Their awkward not-quite-avoidance of each other has seemed mutual so far, and Ed isn't sure he wants to be the one to make the first move. It wouldn't be the first time he kept up ignoring a problem for as long as he could, but...that time he'd been able to travel across a country to avoid dealing with it. This time the issue is living just a few halls away from him. Very different situation. Too different to keep pretending things were fine the way they were.

It certainly didn't help that he missed having a friend other than Winry to talk to who actually understood things like relationships and patience and whatever the hell was going on in Miles' head. So he draws in a deep breath and heads down the hall to knock firmly on Gregor's door.

[vorbarra]

Gregor, by contrast, is nothing if not an intergalactic-class diplomat. He barely reacts, if at all, to the new awkwardness Ed exhibits around him. He treats him as courteously and even-toned as ever, and on Gregor, any distancing is extremely subtle. It takes someone who knows him quite well to notice the missing beats where he would offer some more personal insight or quirk of emotion, and now does not.

His personal feelings do not leak into his demeanor, but that's hard to tell on him. He's nonetheless relieved to see Ed relinquishing some of his standoffishness as time goes on, and wonders if this is just a teenager thing that will resolve itself in time. The whole situation is wholly unprecedented in his experience; he has nothing prior on which to draw from. Gregor doesn't even interact with teenagers normally, and when he had been one, his interaction hadn't been normal then, either. He had his share of friends-- carefully screened, respectful, joking only in inoffensive ways, with no politically complicated family ties.

This is not the same at all. Gregor hadn't wanted to be in charge of anyone here to begin with, but somehow he's had to take up some aspects of that regardless. It pains him, secretly. To tell the truth, though, Gregor doesn't consider this straining of their relationship to be that much of a problem. He's endured far worse opinion from those he has to see on a daily basis, frankly. He's also just innately patient; it would take a lot longer than a couple weeks for him to become frustrated with the situation.

The notes stop when he knocks, and Gregor stands to open the door himself rather than beckon someone in, reflecting on how normal this has become in the past three-quarters of a year. Typically at home he never opens the door to his personal quarters himself.

He's not expecting to see Ed, and blinks down at him neutrally. "Hello, Edward. What can I do for you?" He sounds as pleasant and uncommitted as ever.

two!

[primadovea]

One of those people who noticed the fliers is Mint—though as a teenage girl barely pushing five feet, it's entirely possible that Gregor wouldn't hand her a flier to begin with. But as she watches him handing the fliers, she pauses to think. They were almost done with scenes for her movie...and she did need to work while she auditioned for other work. She was an actress, after all, they didn't work all the time. Besides, she juggled school plus a part time job plus multiple lessons plus saving the world back home. She could easily juggle school plus a part time job plus one set of lessons plus any acting gigs in this world, especially if that part time job was at a cafe.

This would be easy!

So, with an air of unabashed confidence, Mint walked straight up to Gregor, giving him a tiny little nod as she asks, "Excuse me. Do you know if the Lucky Cat Cafe is currently hiring? And, if so, what are your uniforms?"

While she did look adorable in the cute little Cafe Mew Mew uniforms back home, Mint's gotten the idea that maid style uniforms aren't exactly the norm in America.

[vorbarra]

Gregor doesn't discriminate on who he hands out fliers to, although he is over a full foot taller than her, so noticing her in the crowd might have been a challenge. At least until she marches up to him and begins questioning him, throwing him off his entire customer service script, something upon which he's been relying.

"Ah... I'm wearing it," he points out, diplomatic, indicating the t-shirt with a hand gesture. Below, he has black slacks on, but this is a bit more formal than the typical cafe employee. That's just Gregor in public for you. "As for hiring, I'm uncertain. The business has recently changed hands and I am unsure of Miss Wendy's standing on hiring. I suggest speaking with her."

He manages to sound polite and attentive, if neutral, rather than dismissive.

2

[barbarus]

[ Damen had, for better or worse, been spending the day exploring the porters. Today he's been visiting Nonah, and it's on his return that he comes across Gregor. He hasn't been in this world for very long, but it's been long enough to become used to the crowds of people that tend to form around an import. Damen, to his misfortune, is a recognisable one - a good head and shoulders taller than most men, and broad shouldered and muscular to boot. He does have modern clothes by now, though he walks uncomfortably in his jeans and t-shirt, and there's a very prominent broadsword hanging at his waist. He might have foregone his chiton, but going out without his weapon goes too far against the grain. There's also the golden cuff around his left wrist - strange jewellery for the modern man, but Damen is never seen without it, and he's beginning to find it draws the eye.

Because of that, he is not unused to various people handing him flyers, trying to get him to support their businesses or occasionally sign their petitions. He tends to accept every flyer, just because it gets them away from him faster.

On this occasion, though, the fleeting glance he gives the flyer makes him look twice, and then he peers at the man who offered it. ]

A cafe for cats?

[ Cafes. As in the place that people go to drink coffee here. Both cafes and coffee are new to him, but he's seen enough of them to know that animals don't tend to feature. ]

Is it yours?

[vorbarra]

[ Damen probably manages to be somewhat taller than Gregor, even, who is about average height for a Barrayaran but still puts him at over six feet. The broadsword is interesting to him as a different type of sword than those Barrayarans still wear in Imperial dress uniform. It succeeds in being slightly jarring for Gregor, to whom public sword-wearing is associated with extremely formal (and largely ornamental) occasions, but is presently paired with entirely the wrong clothes for that.

Gregor shakes his head slightly at the question. ] No, I'm only an employee, [ he says, courteous and formal-sounding despite himself. ] It's not for cats, specifically, but there is a resident one. And it's entirely imPort-run.

[ Since he himself is not nearly so obvious as an imPort as Damen, he thought he might point that out. ]

three

[komarran]

[ He's trying to read. He really is. But something about the sound of the piano has thrown off his concentration. Whether it's a lack of sleep from his suddenly busy schedule or the repetitive sounds of practice, he's not sure. Only one of those he can take care of and continue his work, something he would much rather do than nap.

At least until he realizes the sound is coming from the Emperor's room. There's a moment of hesitation as he thinks back to his growing stack of grading before he raps lightly on the door. ]

[vorbarra]

[ The noise stops at once, Gregor standing to open the door rather than invite someone in, and once again it's not someone he's expecting to see on the other side. First Edward, now Captain Galeni. Maybe playing the piano just invites all the people who normally avoid casual socializing with him...

Well, things are resolved with Edward by now, at least, even if he does wonder what Duv wants.

So, he inquires, polite and even-toned. ] Hello, Captain. Is something amiss?

whittling

[incogneto]

Erik has done a little whittling in his past, not with his hands, only with his powers. He did it to make toys for his daughter, little crude figurines of deer or squirrels. He sees Gregor carving away at the wood in his hand and is rendered nostalgic. Careful not to block his light, he strides over. "Is that supposed to be Miles?"

[vorbarra]

"Not necessarily," he answers readily, with a small quirk of self-deprecating amusement. "It could be Kitty as well. Or just a bird. I haven't decided yet."

He makes one more careful swipe with the knife, thumb pushing the blade into the softened wood, before looking up. "Hello again, Erik."

1/whittling

[renamaer]

She was originally planning to meet one of her younger imPort friends who attends the school in Heropa, but she'd arrived a bit too early. Luckily, she pretty much always has books from the library with her, so she'd found a promising bench in the sunshine in the nearby park in an attempt to motivate her through The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Volume III, already festooned with paper flags covered with neatly written notations.

Unfortunately, this was backfiring on her somewhat. The slight breeze of early autumn rustles the pages each time she pauses to jot something down, and the general lecturing tone of the books didn't quite seize the attention in the same way an adventure novel would. In the end she sighs, tucks the book under her arm, and goes for a walk along the paths of the park to try and find a slightly more sheltered bench.

[vorbarra]

Gregor has been in the park long enough that he's managed to snag the choicest bench available, one with good light for what he's doing but with shelter from the fall wind, a copse of trees huddled behind him.

After several hours of whittling, he's about ready for a break and has felt some of the surge of creative energy wear off. He glances up when he hears someone approach. "... Sorry, I'm taking the good spot, aren't I?" he says, self-deprecating.

four; the residence

[unwiseheart]

[ Between all his other usual excuses and being out of commission for several weeks now (thanks to Tony Stark, a very angry mother, and an awful amount of silver), it's been a long time coming that he said he'd drop by where all the Barrayarans and their usual crew had since moved. Once it's actually safe to shift forms without worrying about popping a few stitches, however, Nicolas decided it's about time for a long walk through the woods.

Having a place to visit at the end of said walk just fits into that plan.

It's only past dawn by the time a wolf, various shades of black and gray that fit into the lessening of the light each and every sunrise. He does a few circuits of the residence before bothering to step into plain sight and, while he's gone out of his way to avoid where the horses are, winds change enough that they shift uncomfortably regardless. He won't bother them, though. Getting kicked might not kill him, but he wouldn't enjoy it. The same with the other animals, only he imagines they're still sleeping inside, which is how he can enjoy poking around in silence for so long.

But the sun's getting higher, so he's bound to be spotted sooner or later. Better make it sooner. ]

Nice place you have out here. [ That's the message he eventually sends to Gregor, through his own spell for mental speech. Hopefully it won't startle the poor man. Sure, he could have shifted and knocked, but his missing eye is all the more obvious as a human. At least as this, the lack of blends in with the black fur. ] How many dogs are inside?

[vorbarra]

[ Fall in the Virginia country side is utterly gorgeous, and it's no real coincidence that they've chosen a place a lot like Vorkosigan Surleau to establish the Residence. There's an exploded riot of color in the leaves sweeping along the low, smoothed mountains, and the sky is a clear deep blue like ocean water reflecting over a series of small lakes. Once you get out far enough, it even smells remote, the scent of bracken distinct.

The Residence itself is set huddled close to the water almost like a camping lodge, except the building is large, sprawling, and weirdly a little Gothic in architecture, some of Ed's additions during the building process that they'd left in. There's a rather out-of-place ostentatious fountain off to the side surrounded by not very well tended garden, and a much better-tended stable back behind it. The gatehouse with live-in guard (that guard being Tex) interrupts the dirt road as it approaches the main entrance.

Gregor is an early riser, fortunately, so Nicolas doesn't have too long to wait. He's not always but often is the first up, used to his Armsmen wakening him to receive the morning security briefing from Simon regarding the previous night's activities. He always insists on a private breakfast first, just to gather his brain before the insanity of the day starts, which means he has to get up early indeed, and habits haven't much changed. He's dressed and halfway through making coffee when he gets Nicolas's message, and his hand jerks as he reaches for a coffee mug, fumbling to make sure he doesn't drop it.

At least he's used to telepathy by now. ]

Too many, [ he finally answers, with a little twist of exasperation that is entirely cat-based. ] Good morning, Nicolas. I forgot you could do this. Would you like coffee? [ Gregor tries take two at getting a mug down. ]

One!

[rathercommon]

[ Kitty doesn't look great. Her run-ins with various murderous sorts has left her a little the worse for wear: she's pale, and the bags under her eyes are dark. A bandage is peeking out from under the sleeve of her leather jacket. In spite of that, though, she looks happy enough with a backpack slung over her back and a notebook tucked under her arm.

She doesn't spot Gregor until she's nearly stumbled over him. And then she draws back in surprise - ]

Oh!

[ And then, with a small laugh over her obliviousness: ]

Hullo, there.

[vorbarra]

Oh-- hello. [ Equally surprised, and equally instinctively warm to see her, smiling sheepishly as he recovers. His hands have carefully stilled so he doesn't cut himself in his surprise.

Gregor at first doesn't notice the bandage, although he does register how tired and worn out she looks past the cheer.

Still, he's too diplomatic to point that out right away. ] Would you like to join me? [ Somehow he manages to make even running into his girlfriend in the park by coincidence sound like a cordial invitation. ]

[hardcorduroy]

(wendy's still getting used to this whole "being the boss" thing and "running a business" deal. lucky for her, cass ran a pretty tight ship, she knew what she was doing, so it wasn't that hard to pick up everything after the fact. plus, she always had... somewhat adult people to lend her a hand when the business aspect of it got a little too much for her. but she managed, it kept her busy. the cafe was popular enough that she never had to worry about it running into the red.

that just left her making sure the employees were happy. she's been on their end, hell, she still is. it might've been a little cheesy, but hey, a working place is kinda like a family. and wendy takes care of friends and family. she jogs up to gregor in her usual black lucky cat cafe shirt, giving him a wave and keeping her hand elevated for a high five. even adults like them, she knows this.) Hey, Gregor! You doing okay out here?

[vorbarra]

[ Given how much time various Barrayarans spend here and how inter-related they are, calling it a family isn't that far off the mark. They've definitely adopted it in no small measure, and Wendy will have inherited the consideration Cass was given as proprietor.

Gregor habitually wears the black version of the employee shirt, too, so they look like they have a cohesive uniform, standing beside each other. Although. Safe to say no one has ever high-fived the emperor.

In fact, he looks bemused, but game enough. Gregor's just a little too somber as a general rule to pull this off, though: he raises his hand and sort of experimentally presses his to hers briefly, the biggest fish out of water ever. ] I am. Thank you, Miss Wendy, [ he answers, Russian-ish accent making the words formal by habit. ] How are you?

[dendarii]

[ Miles isn't always here when Gregor is, but he's a pretty common sight around the café. He grins at Wendy and waves from his seat at one of the tables. ]

Wendy, wasn't it? You're taking over from Cass?

[use_everything]

[From her own months of working here, there's possibly surprisingly little to know about Lord Vorkosigan. A large, imposing man in a brown cafe shirt (the pink had been retired when Cass had ported out) who spoke very little on the job and very low when he did.

The lack of response to her cheerful greeting to Gregor didn't so much as get a twitch from him, near the coffee machines, which in most circumstances could be quite telling...

But here, it would be because he's spending an absurd amount of concentration making a very round latte cat. He's been trying to make them faster than usual. And cuter. Cuter seemed to go over well with the clientèle.

He looks up as the most awkward of high fives in the recorded history of the cafe happen with Gregor.]

Miss Corduroy. Good morning.

one!

[sasaeru]

Ulvida uses the hours while Gran is out at school or work to find out more about this world. Her questions in her post to the network were about De Chima, but she heard some things about the other cities, too. Today, she steps out into the warmer city of Heropa, Florida, with no destination in mind. She just has her bag, her communicator in her jacket pocket, and a small, plush, glowing star-like object held in her hands. The last one is a sort of security object, not that she'll say it out loud to anybody but the boy who gave it to her.

She wanders with those items in hand, and it's around mid-day when she arrives at the park Gregor is at. She doesn't notice him, and even if she does she's not going to approach him on her own. No, if it weren't for this incident, she could probably have gone a good number of months without interacting with him at all! From just taking in his appearance, she would never have guessed that he was an imPort, and even those people she doesn't talk to without necessity.

The necessity comes when she catches a soccer ball that some tykes kicked toward her. For all her conflicts about the sport, she reacts automatically to the sight of an approaching ball and kicks it up with ease, bouncing it from foot to knee to opposite foot and passing it back toward them without breaking her balance in the slightest. It even lands perfectly in the outstretched hands of one of the boys. This, and her obviously-an-imPort appearance, excites the kids who proceed to try to pull her into their midst, and it's how she ends up towering awkwardly over them as they try to imitate her earlier moves.

And this is how she ends up being the one to come chasing after the ball when they kick it off in the wrong direction again, this time towards Gregor. A kick from a five-year-old isn't going to fly very fast so it wouldn't hurt him even if hit, but in you never know with adults. Ulvida also decides that this will be a good chance to break away from them, so she turns around to follow after the ball which comes to a stop just a few inches away from the man. He's bent over something, working, she notes with vague curiosity; she's glad it didn't hit him and that she went after the ball -- that looks like a knife, not something she wants near kids half her size.

She stops in front of Gregor before she reaches for the ball, bowing her head if she's caught his attention, speaking up anyway to announce her presence if she hadn't.

"I'm sorry. It didn't hit you, did it?" She knows it didn't. But it was best to apologize anyway.

[vorbarra]

Gregor has been here for some time now, but nine months is nothing compared to a lifetime of being royalty, a fact that had permeated every minute aspect of his existence in large and small ways. For one thing, the last time he'd had a stray ball come his way, he'd been one of the ones playing (under careful supervision). That was years ago. As an adult, no one wastes the emperor's time with children, teenagers, or playfulness of any sort that isn't meant to curry his favor or hand in marriage.

It's altogether a disappointment. As such, he's still bemused when things like this happen to him here-- bemused and sort of shyly intrigued. It's hard for him to fathom being an intimidating source of authority just as an adult rather than because of his station. Gregor barely thinks of himself as an adult as it is, not in any real emotional way that isn't dependent on his age and inheritance, and as for who he is personally, his lack of authoritarian instinct is one of the biggest obstacles to him feeling comfortable ruling.

"No, I'm fine. I was thinking of stopping soon, anyway." He's been at it for several hours and even he gets sick of quiet, singular focus after enough of it. Gregor balances the half-done whittled bird on his knees and slips the knife closed on its hinge with the unthinking deliberateness of someone raised around blades, then pockets it. When he regains the carving, he keeps it in hand.

Ulvida really is an obvious imPort and Gregor is used to imPorts, unlike locals, not realizing the instant he opens his mouth that he is one as well. Locals all know that the U.S. government wouldn't let a Russian expat casually walk around in the current political climate. "Do you go to school with them?" He's wondering how random pick-up games actually work among normal civilians.