Now, there couldn't be any more unfitting place for Elsa than the Barrayar camp. It's not the environment, she had lived a good part of her life outdoors in tents like these ones, but the soldiers. There had been a time period in her youth when she had rather many ah.. acquaintances among the soldiers after the war had ended but none of them had been so conservative. They are so strict and stoic that it almost makes all the christian housewives look like dirty sinners (which they undoubtedly are underneath the middle class fantasy). Well, at least the alcohol seems to help them loosen up a little. Go figure, she thinks.
Though the high spirits and intoxication leads to another, perhaps even worse than simple prudery, thing: war stories. There was nothing more dull and boring than listen bunch of drunk people talk about their acts of so called bravery out in the field in the form of dead bodies and scars. So desperate to get their short moment of glory and fame. Pathetic.
She doesn't stay with them for too long to listen their stories. Wearing a dark green winter coat with a dark fluffy scarf makes her really stand out like a sore thumb in the crowd. But she doesn't let that bother her a bit as she walks with casual yet confident steps, her chin held up hips swaying in ladylike manner. She's really oozing out of charisma and elegance, it's something she won't give up on.
Just after few minutes of walking around the camp she the small man sitting and drinking all alone. She stops, eyes focusing for a moment before she lets out an amused huff, a smile spreading on her face.
A freak.
Really, she'd be far more surprised if they didn't have any freaks in this world. People with weird deformities, unusual body type or whatsoever. They were everywhere, hidden within the crowds and popping up like weeds. But what is surprising is to see him here. In the army and among the soldiers. A place like this was no place for a tiny, deformed man like him. How curious.
And with that thought, she turns and approaches the man, pulling out a worn out cigarette pack.
"Hello, darling." She speaks with a heavy German accent. "Lovely moon tonight, no? Why don't you share a drink with a lady?"
Maple mead
Though the high spirits and intoxication leads to another, perhaps even worse than simple prudery, thing: war stories. There was nothing more dull and boring than listen bunch of drunk people talk about their acts of so called bravery out in the field in the form of dead bodies and scars. So desperate to get their short moment of glory and fame. Pathetic.
She doesn't stay with them for too long to listen their stories. Wearing a dark green winter coat with a dark fluffy scarf makes her really stand out like a sore thumb in the crowd. But she doesn't let that bother her a bit as she walks with casual yet confident steps, her chin held up hips swaying in ladylike manner. She's really oozing out of charisma and elegance, it's something she won't give up on.
Just after few minutes of walking around the camp she the small man sitting and drinking all alone. She stops, eyes focusing for a moment before she lets out an amused huff, a smile spreading on her face.
A freak.
Really, she'd be far more surprised if they didn't have any freaks in this world. People with weird deformities, unusual body type or whatsoever. They were everywhere, hidden within the crowds and popping up like weeds. But what is surprising is to see him here. In the army and among the soldiers. A place like this was no place for a tiny, deformed man like him. How curious.
And with that thought, she turns and approaches the man, pulling out a worn out cigarette pack.
"Hello, darling." She speaks with a heavy German accent. "Lovely moon tonight, no? Why don't you share a drink with a lady?"