forbarrayar_ooc | test drive meme

Entry tags:

!tdm

test drive meme

Playlists by

tsarcasm:
Barrayar ⚔ Cetaganda ⚔ The Invasion

Have you read the FAQ?

The Village ⚔ The Barrayaran Camp ⚔ The Cetagandan Base ⚔ The Fight

You've been on Barrayar for a while now, and you're finally starting to adjust. Or maybe you're not. Maybe this is all still too much for you – the attacks, the constant raids, living in the middle of a war zone by no choice of your own. But if you want to live long enough to make it back home one day, you might as well do what you can to help the war effort. Besides, where else are you going to go?

The fierce Barrayaran winter rages even to the southern end of the continent, and it's been none too kind to Vorkosigan's District. Temperatures at sea level are well below freezing, and up in the mountains, it's even colder. Several inches of snow already blanket most of the mountains all the way down to the Cetagandan base, and the storm that's just started up is only bringing more down. Visibility is low in the flurries, wind swirling snow everywhere, and God help you if you get lost on your own out in the storm. Nights are cold, these days.

A recent attack on the Cetagandan base has left half their facilities damaged and in disarray. Raid parties snuck in by night, planting bombs in previously scouted locations for maximum effect. Damage to the base's water treatment plant and organic grow labs have considerably impacted the Cetagandans' food and water supply, and in the chaos caused by the explosions, the Barrayaran guerrillas raided their medbay and made off with a considerable bounty of medical supplies. One man's bane is another man's boon, and while the Cetagandans have reserve supplies to sustain them for now, some of the damage is extensive and the repairs will take time. But in the meantime, the Barrayarans have scored a precious victory as well as equally precious resources.

the village
The Riverfall villagers are used to the harsh winters of the Dendarii mountains, and though they don't have much themselves, they are happy to offer what they can in terms of cold-weather clothing and extra blankets to those allied with the guerrillas. Despite the cold, the hill children are going wild in the snow, and they may try to lure you into their play by sneakily pelting you with snowballs.

Cetagandan allies, however, may not be met so warmly, and at the first sight of ghem soldiers, any children out playing in the snow will be immediately ushered into their homes. Unaccompanied outsiders from the Cetagandan base might have an easier time talking to the hillfolk, but any attempt at digging information about the guerrillas out of them will get you stonewalled fast. A sneaky hill child or two may steal away from their home to approach one of the "bad guy" outsiders to sate their curiosity.

the barrayaran camp
Morale is higher than it has been in a while after their recent victory, and the guerrillas are in high spirits. And do they ever love their spirits – as night falls, most of the Barrayarans gathered around the campfires are enjoying the deceptively named, dangerously alcoholic moonshine they call maple mead. It might start out sweet, but it burns all the way down, and a few glasses of that stuff will tank even the heaviest Barrayaran soldier.

But the storm rages on despite their celebration, and preparations must be made. Clearing as much snow off the tents as possible will help ensure that no tents collapse overnight, the horses need to be tended to, and the officers are always running training drills. Food is in real supply now, but the guerrillas need help foraging and hunting nonetheless. And when night falls, you'll have to find a way to keep yourself warm – it's a good thing there are a cozy ten of you to a tent.

the cetagandan base
The Cetagandans outnumber their guerrilla enemies almost seventy-to-one, so their base has not been completely devastated, but it hardly looks to be the work of a few raiding parties. Nothing is beyond repair, but the water treatment plant has been taken offline, which means that all water is now locally sourced and must be treated by hand with purification tablets. No one in the base will starve, but fresh food is mostly unavailable until they get the grow labs back online, which means that meals are mostly comprised of ration bars and MREs. Morale isn't exactly at an all-time low, but none of the ghem officers seem to be in a good mood.

They won't hesitate to put you to work, either. They need all the engineers and laborers they can get for the grow labs and the treatment plant, and the medbay's inventory needs to be thoroughly audited before they can send a request for more supplies. But if you need a break, it's not too hard to slip away for a little quiet downtime. Some of the lower-ranked ghem ladies might let you participate in some more artistic activities, or maybe some of the enlisted soldiers who are a little more used to you by now might invite you into one of their Cetagandan games of strategy. Or, since the treatment plant only affected potable water, you could appreciate your comfortable surroundings and take a nice hot soak in the bathroom while everyone else is working.

the fight
PVP
You're in the midst of a skirmish with the other side -- maybe you signed up for the battle, maybe you just got caught up in the fight -- but at least it's easy to tell who's on what side. Only one side is wielding swords, and the other guns.

But then you come across someone who doesn't look like they're either -- not one of the rugged Barrayarans or the face-painted Cetagandans, but an outsider, an exotic like you. They must be. So do you fight?

RECON
Maybe you're not on the front lines, but there's plenty more to winning the war than just fighting. You're partnered with another outsider on recon; the ground is cold, and you try not to let your shoes crunch too loudly on snow as you scout, scanning for patrols or supply lines.

Or maybe you're with the Cetagandans, hiking it thorugh the mountains with one of your fellow exotics in an attempt to locate the enemy camp. Except it's damned cold, and there's hidden ice everywhere, and everything is starting to really look the same.

--

Feel free to write prompts for your character on either side -- you don't have to choose just one for the TDM! Just label it clearly so folks know. GO WILD, MY FRIENDS

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ratchet makes a startled little noise as Tarn grabs him but moves instinctively--weeks and weeks of observing York haven't left him completely defenseless. He ducks, grabbing on to Tarn as well and boosting Tarn over his shoulder to land flat on his back before he stands again, cocking his head down at Tarn.

"You realize you aren't actually that much bigger than I am like this, right?" he asks, lazily kicking some snow into Tarn's face. "That isn't going to help you get warm, either."

The evasive maneuver catches Tarn off guard and he yelps as Ratchet hoists him over his shoulder. Its true, he only has a few inches of height on the Autobot and not much in the way of pure mass.

the slam knocks the air out of Tarn's lungs, leaving him gasping for breath and shivering in the snow. A wholly unpleasant experience. By the time he has collected himself enough to move, he's having more snow kicked in his face.

"You're insufferable."

He grabs at Ratchet's leg and pulls with all of his strength, trying to knock him back down.

Ratchet's laugh turns into a yelp as he goes down, kicking out and pulling his leg free before he rolls to his feet, shaking his head.

"You seem to be suffering just fine," he snaps, brushing snow from his clothes with his still-bare hands before pulling his mittens on again, looking thoroughly annoyed. "Maybe if you paid more attention to acclimating and less to being an obnoxious pain in the tailpipe, you'd be doing a little better."

"I'm trying." He snaps back, flinging a handful of snow at Ratchet's head . The powder scatters to the wind before it makes contact with the Autobot's face

He continues sitting hunched and frozen, crossing his arms. It looks awfully close to sulking, though Tarn would fervently deny it.

"I am. I just don't understand why this is happening. Look at me! I'm an organic. A weak, small, simple minded human." He points furiously at his face. "Look at this. Look how many pores I have. It's repulsive. And I have this fur that gets tangled in everything." He runs a hand through his hair. shaking off a few loose strands. "Look at it. It's falling out. Why is it falling out?"

He's having a melt down. His breath catches in his throat. Quietly he worries that maybe he really is dying.

"Well, I don't think you seem any stupider than you were before," Ratchet says helpfully. "And you could cut your hair. It'd probably leave your head even colder than it already is, though." He pauses, looking thoughtful.

"I wonder if hair loss is another symptom of hypothermia. I can't seem to remember."

His touch turns protective as he clutches at his hair. Tarn doesn't want to lose something that will help keep him warm. After all he needs all the help he can get if he's to overcome this hypothermia. His fuel pump begins clenching anxiously. Tarn wonders if it's already begun to shut down.

"What do you mean you can't remember? You're a medic aren't you?"

He hauls himself up on shaky legs. He needs to find warm shelter and a fire to dry himself by. Perhaps then he can begin to reverse the process.

"Hey, I'm new at this, same as you. I've got a lot of things to relearn."

Ratchet eyes Tarn, looking thoroughly entertained as he curls his hands frantically in his hair.

"Decided sitting in the snow wasn't helping you get any warmer?"

Tarn shoots Ratchet a look of warning.

"Well I would suggest that you learn quickly."

Letting go of his hair, he comes up beside Ratchet. For once he isn't actually looking for a fight.

"There aren't any other Cybertronians here are there? We're alone."

"You don't have to tell me that," Ratchet says, his voice chilly. "Unlike you, I actually give a shit about some of the people here and want to be able to help them if something happens."

He eyes Tarn for a moment, frowning, as though looking for Tarn's angle.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's just us."

"I have a proposition then. An alliance. As the only members of our species I think that we perhaps understand each other on a level that can't be matched by anyone else. " He throws the idea out blindly, not really expecting that Ratchet will go for it without a bit of convincing.

Luckily, Tarn has been told that be can be quite persuasive.

"Now, note, I'm not saying that we should be friends. I Merely ask you to be a source of information on these human bodies that are so foreign. In return," He pauses, mind racing as he realizes that he has nothing to truly offer. "In return I will do my best to assist you in any task that you see fit. A boon, if you will."

"Interesting proposition," Ratchet says, his face unreadable as he appears to mull this over for a moment. "As much as I do like the idea of you owing me a favor..."

He stops and turns towards Tarn, facing him squarely and looking up into his face, all trace of humor drained from his expression. It's a rare moment of honesty but he holds it deliberately, tipping his jaw up to meet Tarn's gaze.

"Every single other reason I hate you aside, can you stand there and tell me, in absolute honesty, that if our situations were reversed and you knew something that might keep me alive that you wouldn't withhold it? I'm perfectly comfortable here--I happen to like humans, I don't need them to understand me, and I can take care of myself just fine. You, effectively, have nothing to offer me. So tell me--would you help me in the same situation? Go out of your way to help keep me alive out of some Cybertronian fellow-feeling?" His eyes are chips of pale blue ice.

"Or would you laugh in my face and leave me to starve or get sick or freeze to death in the snow, just because you could?"

Red eyes meet the chill of blue. He's quiet for a long moment considering his options.

As it stands, Tarn finds that honesty is the best choice. He's sure that Ratchet would know that any other answer was a lie. And no aliance should be built on a foundation of lies and mistrust.

"No. I cannot." Tarn doesn't flinch from the truth. He maintains eye contact determined to seem confident. "But you aren't me."

"No," Ratchet says after a long moment. "No, I'm not you. I'm nothing like you."

His eyes are still on Tarn's face, his breath misting in front of him in the cold as he clenches his hands into slow fists, feeling the ache of the scars wrapping his wrists.

"Pharma wasn't like you, either. Not until he made a deal with you. So I think you can go fuck yourself."

Pharma again. It's a struggle for Tarn not to roll his eyes.

"Pharma always had to potential to be what he was. I didn't implant the ideas into his processor. I didn't make him start killing his patients. Those were his ideas, I merely reaped the benefits."

He doesn't falter in the face of Ratchet's rage.

"Think about it. I'm not asking you to harvest organs. I'm merely asking for simple information. But, I guess if you would prefer I could talk to another organic about the matter. Though I doubt that they would believe the truth about us."

"You can't possibly be so deluded that you actually believe what you're saying is any sort of justification for what happened to him," Ratchet says, his voice weirdly calm. "He was... well. You know how good he was. Better than me even, probably. What you did to him, to his skill--the pressure you put him under, to please you or let everyone at his facility be tortured to death--was, was vandalism. It was obscene. Just because a piece of art has the potential to be smashed to pieces doesn't mean that's what it's for."

He snorts, shaking his head.

"That didn't even take as long as I thought it would to devolve into threats--though, are you implying that you'd hurt an organic here or that you'd give us away on purpose? You probably are actually stupid enough to go to somebody else here, blow our cover, and get us both killed out of spite, aren't you? Unbelievable." He sounds weary and exasperated now, more than angry. "What do you even want, Tarn? I mean, specifically."

"Do you truly believe that these humans you like so much would harm us if I were to say something?" Now Tarn thinks that is interesting. Tarn at least has the courtesy to act surprised. "Why would you ever wish to associate with them if that were the case?"

Sighing, Tarn prepares to play on Ratchet's hatred of him. A bit of self deprecation for the good of the cause never hurt anyone

"What I want is simple, really. I want protection. You know far more about humans than I do. I'm bound to make some sort of error in conversation due to sheer ignorance of the body that I'm inhabiting. We both know it."

Tarn cocks his head, hair bouncing over the fur trim of his jacket.

"And if I go down you had better bet that I'm taking you with me."

Ratchet sneers. "Maybe you could just be quiet for a change, then, and not get us in trouble. I like the people here fine, but I feel like they might draw the line at finding out we're actually giant inorganic space aliens. Especially considering some of the first people they saw from another planet are now trying to colonize them.

"So, what, you want me to clean up the mess when you inevitably put your foot in it because you can't be bothered to remember human stuff? And in return I get... you not deliberately getting us murdered. Wow, what a fantastic deal."

"Think of it less of cleaning up my mess and more of educating me on how to prevent the mess in the first place. You have my word that I will do nothing to deliberately put our lives in danger."

Tarn stretches his hand out shake on it.

"Do we have a deal?"

"I said I'd think about it," Ratchet says, eyeing Tarn's hand like it's something he's reluctant to pick up to put in the wastebin without a tissue between it and his fingers. "In the meantime, I recommend not deliberately putting anyone's life in danger, because if anyone finds out you have, I will not rescue you. And if I found out you have, I'll shoot you myself. Are we perfectly clear?"

Tarn's expression betrays very little of his true thoughts. The only sign of irritation being the barest twitch of his eye. Pressing the topic will do him little good. If Tarn is to have any chance of Ratchet taking the bait he knows he needs to give space.

Withdrawing his hand, Tarn forces a smile.

"Very well. You have my word." Whatever that is worth. "Honestly, your faith in me is somewhat lacking."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

test drive meme

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

no subject

no subject

no subject