test drive meme

[barrayarmods]

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

Comments

Lady Diya d'Zefyst (NPC - Cetagandan) | ota

[eugengineer]

a. gene labs
Technically, this hall isn't restricted access, but every door down the corridor is, each with a bright declaration of the necessary clearance level on its security pad, accompanied by a peculiar screaming bird insignia. You didn't mean to wind up here -- or maybe you did, satisfying the urge to explore the base a little more. This wing is only known as "the gene labs", but all the Cetagandans have explained to you exotics so far is that these gene projects are satellite operations of one of their central branches of government. Considering that their entire culture seems to revolve around genetics, this sort of makes sense.

One door slides open with a soft pneumatic hiss, and Lady Diya d'Zefyst steps out into the hall. Her long hair, never once cut, is gathered up in a complicated ornamental hairstyle, and her haut genes make her beauty almost ethereal. The haut do, of course, always select the very best for themselves. She sees you almost immediately, and smiles tolerantly at you, although her face tightens slightly.

"Can I help you?" She sweeps towards you with a gesture. "Lost on your way to the medbay, perhaps?"

b. medbay
Diya is a geneticist by trade, not a physician, but she's often found in the medbay nonetheless, conversing with the ghem officer who serves as the base's Chief Medical Officer. While he doesn't seem nervous in her presence, he averts his gaze from her even while speaking to her.

When you enter the medbay, there's a moment before her attention shifts to you, and the CMO turns as well, standing at a parade rest with his hands clasped behind his back. Diya's eyes warm with light and she smiles at you.

"Did you need something?" she inquires politely, clasping her hands in front of her as if in reverse of the CMO's posture. "You are due for a physical, aren't you? Ghem-Colonel Naru, I'll take care of this."

c. wildcard
The Lady d'Zefyst is rarely seen in the mess hall and mostly keeps to the women's quarters or her labs, but on occasion she can be seen conversing with one of her science teams in one of the more common areas, or even engaging in the decidedly more ghem art form of watercolor painting, which is as close as she gets to fully engaging with ghem culture. Occasionally she stops by the grow labs to oversee their operations; head geneticist means head of every genetic project on the base, and that includes the synthesis of their food supply.

Once in a while she can even be seen taking a solitary walk outside – well, not so much a walk as an idle circuit around the base's more pleasant areas on a float chair. Ostensibly to eliminate the danger of slipping on the ice or damaging her clothes in the snow – but perhaps she misses the comforts of her old life among the haut.

General Count Piotr Vorkosigan (NPC - Barrayaran) | ota

[oldvor]

a. war tent
To be invited into the war tent when you're not an officer, when you're not even a Barrayaran, is something of a rarity. Even more so when the invitation is extended by the General himself, although where Piotr is concerned, it is more a command than an invitation. Most would not go so far as to call him hostile, but there is a certain brusqueness about him. More than anything, he has the air of a man stripped down to his bare essentials and dressed again in tough skin and a Count's title. He's no barbarian, regardless of what the Cetagandan propaganda may say, but there's nothing genteel about him.

He stands at the Barrayaran average of about six feet – and he always stands, rarely opting to sit. Gray eyes keen, fingers tented, he fixes the whole of his attention on you as soon as you enter. "Ah," he says, and does not offer a seat. "You're here. Good. I've got something for you."

He probably does not mean a present.

b. stables
More often than not, Piotr spends his sparse downtime at the stables by the creek. He's usually accompanied by his wife, but today he's alone, refilling the feed troughs with what groats they can set aside for the horses. It's usually the work of whatever unlucky enlisted son of a bitch gets stuck with tending the stables, but apparently Piotr doesn’t mind so much. The man loves his horses.

Once the hard work is done, Piotr can be found tending to a sorrel mare on one end of the stables, humming vaguely to himself as he teases out the mats in her braided mane. The mare doesn't seem to mind, nickering softly. If you're looking to catch Piotr in a good mood, this might be your best bet.

c. wildcard
Piotr can be found elsewhere around camp, running drills, conversing with officers, ruthlessly reprimanding any subordinate careless enough to goof off in his presence. He makes personal visits to the village as well, convening with the village Speaker Gura on more serious matters – but he can be caught observing the children playing in the snow with an actual smile on his face. Don't get excited. It's a very small smile.

Princess Sonia Vorbarra (NPC - Barrayaran) | ota

[vorbratta]

a. mess tent
The younger Princess is certainly the taller one, standing at a very leggy 5'9, and with the bubbly persona to match it. Here in the mess, she's sitting on one of the low stools with her booted feet tucked under her skirt, her long curls draped over one shoulder as she takes up half a table to herself. Being that it's the tail end of mealtime and half the mess is vacated, no one seems to be complaining. As she sees you passing by, she raises a hand and waves it at you, both to get your attention and beckon you closer.

"Hey! Come here a second." Her accent isn't quite like any of the other Barrayarans'. She smiles brightly at you and points at the seat opposite her before patting her hands on the table. The reason she's so claimed it is so she could spread out several black-and-white photographs across its surface, some of them candids of her sister or the Armsman bodyguard who stands just behind her, some of them scenic shots. On the seat next to her is a large, very antique-looking camera by galactic standards. "Can I get your opinion?"

b. village
Sonia will take any excuse she can to escape the dreary atmosphere of the guerrilla camp, and a trip to the village is about as close as she can get to a five-star vacation these days. It's nice for her, at least, to be around people other than sweaty soldiers once in a while, and although being half-Betan and Vor puts her about as far socially from the hillfolk as possible, she's made friends with some of the villagers easily.

But today she's playing with the children despite being well into her twenties, although she's got all the mischief of a ten-year-old. The moment one of the hill children dares to lob a snowball at the Princess, she joins right in with a delighted cackle – but she won't be the only victim. If you find yourself pelted with a snowball, or snow shoved down the back of your shirt, then it means you've been drafted by the Imperial Princess into her own personal war.

c. wildcard
Otherwise, Sonia can be found drifting around the village, chatting with villagers, or trying to find comfortable places in the camp to sit, or anyone to talk to. Really, after ten years of growing up with the unrelenting guerrilla soldiers, she's a little desperate for someone new to have a conversation with.

countess olivia vorkosigan [ npc; barrayaran ] - ota

[truevor]

a. the barrayaran camp (stables)

Of the two sisters, Princess and Countess Olivia Vorkosigan is the less conversational of the two — straight faced and serious when their new… recruits arrived, and no-less icy as they’ve settled in. They are a resource, a potentially valuable one, and Olivia cannot argue with Piotr over using them to fight, not when they’re in the middle of winter. More mouths to feed, maybe, but more people who can go out and attempt to get supplies without instantly alerting the Cetagandans that they’re Barrayarans.

The rare down day finds Olivia not with her husband but in the stables, dressed in riding gear, busy with a fine mare. There’s an ease to her movements, a gentleness that isn’t often seen in the Countess as she goes about brushing and feeding the animal. For once her face isn’t set into a thin line but a small smile as she murmurs soft words of encouragement to her horse.

Anyone disturbing her will find themselves not shooed away, but waved over. “Bring me that saddle,” she says with a gesture, more focused on getting the other tack down from the wall than she is caring about whoever else has disturbed her. If they’re going to spend their time around here, they’d best make themselves useful.

b. the barrayaran camp (wildcard)

The Countess Vorkosigan is not easy to miss, despite her relative shortness when compared to the other Barrayarans around her. At any point in the day one can find her making her way around camp, oversized general’s greatcoat buckled around her waist, thin rapier hanging off of it, and her skirts hiked up to keep the hem dry as she follows the main paths to and from the important areas of camp. It isn’t the most opportune time to catch the General Count’s wife for a conversation, but if someone shows interest she’ll stop long enough to hold a small conversation.

She can also be found in the war tent when Piotr and his staff are not present, switching between flipping through correspondences and staring at the maps while writing something down on a flimsy — occasionally pausing to double check something in the pile of classified information. One might have to cough to catch her attention, or to ask where the General Count himself is and what, exactly, she’s doing there.

c. the village

Here, at least, Olivia looks less like a Princess and Countess and more like some Dendarii hill folk — dressed in a rough dress and a heavy wool coat — she blends in amongst the crowd; except for the way she holds herself, chin high and shoulders set back. For those that look closer, when the wind pulls on her skirts just so, there’s the finely crafted hilt of a knife sticking up from the top of one of her valenki.

The hilt of a dagger that is currently being made off with someone daring enough to grab it. Olivia spins, grabbing the arm of whoever is next to her and gestures after the retreating back. “Stop them,” she hisses, before taking off after the culprit herself. More than its value, Olivia is primarily concerned with someone taking the only weapon she’ll allow herself to openly cary in the village and the fact it’s distinctly a vorfemme knife, and no Cetagandan worth their salt wouldn’t fail to know what that meant.

daryl dixon | the walking dead | ota.

[pigsfeet]

a1. THANKS, BASTARDS | riverfall village.

War is war, and that's all a great way to die, but Daryl is more concerned with making it through the winter. It turns out even in space, people still gotta eat and stay warm.

Walking around the village, Daryl may look more like a native than anything else. He's definitely not about to correct that assumption if you make it. Decked out in thick furs, head covered in a layered hood with a thick shawl covering most of his face, he could be anyone. Currently, this anyone is at the market, trying to unload the bounty from a recent hunt. Anyone buying from him will find a man of few words, many grunts, and a total disinterest in bartering.

That said, he will give you a great bargain if you'll give him arrows.

a2. BIG MISTAKE | riverfall village.

Later, after he's unloaded his kills and gotten the supplies he needed, Daryl leaves the village without a word. Or, he tries, until some kind decides to bean him with a snowball.

Without a second glance, Daryl scoops up a few snowballs and wages war on the local hill children. It's pretty quick, a volley of snowballs hitting their targets with a marksman's accuracy. The three nearby kids get a snowball to the head in return.

When it's over, Daryl will pick his belongings back up, and look over at anyone unlucky enough to be caught watching and glare. "What."

b. FRIENDSHIP IS DEEP | barrayar camp.

Daryl isn't much interested in the festivities, but you're welcome to try and pull him into a partying mood. Mostly, though, he's focusing on the work that needs doing around camp. Daryl is focusing on the horses, because he has a score to settle, here.

The wind's picking up, and Daryl is trying to make sure the animals are secured in the stalls, so they can't bolt if the storm spooks them. You never know, man. Horses are weird.

He's hushing a particularly nervous mare while trying to re-secure its stall. "C'mon, settle down. How can you be scared by a lil' wind? All this damn place does."

c. WALL OF DEATH | pvp.

Daryl doesn't know who you are, but he doesn't seem to care. He's ignoring a cut on his temple, a few gashes on his arms and chest, all to point what looks like a makeshift crossbow at you. He holds it steady with a crouched, waiting stance, as though he fully expects the person he's pointing it in to know the danger they're in.

"Don't want no trouble," he says, troublesomely, "Ain't interested in surrendering, neither."

d. HOLD ON, HOLD ON | recon.

As recon partners go, Daryl isn't exactly ideal, but he's no novice, either. He's less interested in what's in front of him, and more interested in the ground beneath his feet. He's been watching it the entire trek.

"Someone been through here little while back." He looks over a clump of dirty snow, a few scuffed red leaves scattered in the dirt, a broken twig. "Looks like a Ceta."

e. WILDCARD | go for it, man.

Daryl largely sticks to himself, does his work, and doesn't fraternize much. That said, if you ask him for help and make a good case (or just genuinely seem like you need it), he'll lend a hand.

He's frequently out hunting, and generally brings back absolutely anything he can find (just not the native giant bugs after that one time, no, he doesn't want to talk about it). I hope you like the taste of squirrel. Occasionally, he'll sell his wares at the Riverfall markets, and probably knows a few of the hillfolk on a first name basis.

general zahal ghem zefyst [ npc; cetagandan ] - ota

[artsofwar]

a. the cetagandan base (mess)

Zahal doesn’t cut any more of an imposing figure than any other Cetagandan — he’s soft spoken, good-humored, and always ready with a smile for both any newcomers and for his own men. Tall, like any ghem, he carries himself with an open, friendly air. And, predictably, escapes his own office three times a week to eat lunch with his men in the mess. It’s a careful balance between not intruding on their time off-duty and keeping tabs on their morale.

“Here,” he says, gesturing at whoever is passing him, “come and sit here.” Zahal says, gesturing at the free seat next to him. It’s good to look accessible, isn’t it? “Tell me, have you been finding everything to your satisfaction?”

a. the cetagandan base (wildcard)

General ghem Zefyst can be found around camp most days, personally seeing to that the day to day operation of the camp is running as smoothly as possible. When not seen out and about, he is normally in his office — and unless the door is closed, available to talk. Hell, if one is particularly interesting, he might have invited them to come meet with him regardless.

a.

[pigsfeet]

Daryl has a pretty deeply ingrained distrust of authority figures, and he's mostly tried to avoid the big guys in charge during his stay here. Keep his head down, survive, provide for the important people alongside him, that's been his goal from day one. He's shown no interest in rising through the ranks or making a name for himself, so he's got genuinely no clue why king boss suddenly wants to have a chat.

Is it the tracking and the hunting? Is this camp so damn small that his imperial nibs found out about that? Daryl hopes he isn't getting drafted into some recon mission, because he can't, realistically, say no. He knows how the army works, if only in theory.

So it's with a defiant lack of decorum that Daryl arrives in the Vorkosigan tent. He doesn't bow, he doesn't kneel, he slumps and keeps his hands in his pockets. The casual demeanor is a lie, though, and easily read in the tenseness of his shoulders. He's not expecting good news, either.

"What."

c.

[pigsfeet]

Daryl is the guy with a long string of dead squirrels tied loosely around his back, who sees a pickpocket nab something shiny that surely ain't his. It doesn't take much for Daryl to see where this is headed, and he's quick to follow it along to its conclusion.

Note: It's conclusion involves Daryl yelling at the top of his lungs. "Hold it, asshole!" Daryl's on the chase, making good speed despite his late start. He'll press any advantage he has, though, and that includes untying his squirrel string and using it as a makeshift lasso. He lobs it forward in a wide arc, intending to trip the thief with his would-be dinner.

You're welcome, princess.

a.

[pigsfeet]

Isn't that one of the princesses? On a scale of one to ten, how much trouble will he get in for just pretending like he didn't hear her and walking away? Shit.

Still holding his half-finished meal, Daryl tries not to groan, and looks over the pictures scattered over the table. They're of people he mostly doesn't know, maybe vaguely recognizes, doing things he mostly doesn't care about.

And when he looks into the girl's smiling face, he knows he can't say none of that.

"On... what?" Maybe if she thinks he's stupid, she'll leave him alone.

Agent Carolina | Red vs. Blue

[startpoint]

[ A. Barrayaran Camp - Festivities ]

Relaxing isn't something Carolina is good at but the energy of victory has her willing to try and loosen up a little. And the effort lasts right up until she gets her first taste of maple mead. She takes one sip and stares at it for a moment like maybe someone is playing a prank on her. But looking at the natives drinking it happily she realizes that this is supposed to be a reward. She makes another attempt at drinking it before she gives up entirely and passes it off to the nearest drunk who seems like they want to poison themselves with enthusiasm.

"I'll pass on poisoning myself, thanks." She says if anyone asks why she isn't joining, lips quirked as someone brings out another cask of the maple flavored jet fuel. "Someone needs to stay sober." Just in case.


[ B. Barrayaran Camp - Training ]

Keeping busy is the best way to avoid thoughts of home. Or as close to a home as she'd come to having since leaving Project Freelancer. Carolina is a soldier through and through and she refuses to be unprepared just because she's in yet another war she didn't sign up for. She was trained on the best weapons the UNSC had to offer. Unfortunately this isn't the UNSC and she never bothered with serious sword combat because that was never her focus. She's working on remedying that.

She's got a sword from the quartermaster and she's working her way through a series of moves adapted from her shock-baton training. The day is cold enough to make most people want to bundle up but she's been at this for a while and her thick woolen coat has been abandoned on a nearby bench. She's worked up a decent sweat as she keeps up the exercise, her bright red hair plastered to her forehead. The only reason she finally stops is because when she goes through one more repetition the blade of her sword gets caught in the body of the practice dummy she's been brutalizing. Once she frees it from the wood she walks over to the bench and starts pulling on the greatcoat again. To whoever is nearby for whatever reason she nods.

"I'd kill for a decent gun," She says as she sheathes the blade. She pauses for a moment as she looks at the uniforms the Barrayaran soldiers are wearing and adds for good measure, "Or proper combat armor."


[C. PVP ]

Fighting. Fighting is something Carolina is good at. Once she gets up close it's easier to make blades an effective weapon against the enemy ranks with their much more advanced guns. In fact she's been doing some decent damage to the Cetagandan forces they're fighting against. She throws one of the enemy combatants and turns, sword drawn on the next nearest person who... definitely doesn't look like a ceta. She pauses in the attack and stares the other person down.

"I'll give you one chance to walk away. This isn't your fight." Not that it was hers either, but she didn't relish hurting another person dragged into this unwillingly.

[ D. Wildcard ]

Carolina can be found around the Barrayaran Camp and Riverfall Village going about her business. She frequents the training grounds and can sometimes be seen clashing with some of the officers in the native forces who think that a woman shouldn't be fighting so much. She'll even offer to help others who want to train in combat, though she won't always be the nicest about it.

b

[mirrortide]

There's a lot to get used to here. There's even more that Lapis doesn't like; the fact she's trapped, the fact that she's effectively human, and that human bodies have requirements (that she isn't particularly good at keeping up on, if she were honest with herself), and the fact that she's somehow been dragged into another war.

Even if she's not a prisoner, it's not as if she has any means to escape this place. She wouldn't anyway, not until they can fix what they've done to her to begin with.

The offer for a 'physical' is met with a look of suspicion and mistrust, and Lapis' shoulders are squared and her muscles are tense (a weird feeling, when she's had no such things before), like she absolutely wants to bolt. And she would, if this 'physical' turns out dangerous.

"What's... a physical?"

the first a

[mirrortide]

It's very hard to not walk and keep walking with her plate of... food as she's beckoned by the General. Lapis has no desire to sit with him, and even less desire to eat, but human bodies need to constantly ingest food for energy, and she's no better than anyone else at the moment.

Which means when he speaks up about how he hopes she's been finding everything to her satisfaction, she levels a Look at him, one that hopefully comes across as unhappy, unfriendly and unsatisfied as one could possibly be.

"No. I haven't."

She's not sitting next to him unless he demands it.

a.

[startpoint]

Being called in for a meeting by a commanding officer is a familiar feeling even if the setting and the people are different. She didn't sign up for this war but she's seen what happens when a native population is set against a much better equipped invading force and the plight of the Barrayarans reminds her of Chorus strongly enough that she agreed to fight for them quickly enough. That doesn't mean she completely trusts General Count Vorkosigan, but she can tell easily enough that he has a steel spine and she admires that.

So when she steps into the tent she snaps to attention. Her legs are planted evenly apart and her hands kept behind her back as she regards her commanding officer. The fact that he doesn't sound put out doesn't mean he hasn't heard about her issues with the more sexist members of his troops and how she put a couple into their place.

"And what is that, sir?"

pvp

[mirrortide]

While she doesn't know what half of this.. human stuff is, it hardly takes a Peridot to figure out that the thing being pointed at her is dangerous. Granted, the thing she has on her person is also dangerous, but she had hardly been ready for an ambush like that.

The blue girl doesn't even bother reaching for the plasma gun on her. She doubts she could do it fast enough to get a shot off before being shot.

"... Feel like pretending we never saw each other, then?"

No one ever said Lapis was the bravest or the most fearless gem.

[pigsfeet]

Daryl isn't about to argue. This isn't his war. He's here because he has to be, but his interest is in surviving it, not winning it.

He doesn't drop his bow, keeps it aimed on the blue girl's head, but he takes a slow step away. Cautiously, carefully, he gives her what benefit of the doubt there is. "And keep it to yourself."

[mirrortide]

"That works for me." She watches cautiously, because she's still not really sure, even when he takes a step away. It's a small gesture, but honestly it does little to relieve her.

She mimics his movements, taking her own cautious step away, though hesitates once her foot hits the ground. He's still aiming at her, and it's a terrible idea to even ask, but she has to. It might be useful information for later. Maybe.

"You're with the barrayarans, right? Can I ask you something? It- It's not for any sort of critical information, or anything."

[pigsfeet]

Daryl narrows his eyes, wondering if this is some kind of trick. He keeps his bow trained on her, ready to strike the moment she proves false.

"Ask, then."

[mirrortide]

There's no tricks here, thankfully. Lapis wants to leave just as soon as she can as well. Say she never saw anything. No one has to know different, after all.

"There isn't a human kid on your side, is there? Small? Named Steven?" Lapis only knows that he's not on the Ceta side, but she's never had a chance to figure out the other side of things. "I just want to know if he ended up here by any chance too."

[pigsfeet]

Daryl measures the merits of honesty. War is war and all that macho crap, but Daryl knows what it is to be in this girl's position, wondering if her people have been caught on the wrong side of the conflict. Honesty wins out.

He nods slowly, bow still raised.

[mirrortide]

"He's- He's on your side?" Is she reading that nonverbal communication right? She hopes she isn't, because just the thought of Steven being caught up in a war, of being on the other side of the clear winners (in her mind) is enough for panic to shoot through her fast and hard, she takes a half step forward, before she remembers that she's not the one who has any business being demanding right now.

To their credit, Human wars are so much unlike Gem wars. There's rarely prisoners in Gem wars.

[pigsfeet]

Daryl takes a step forward as well, twitching his bow as a warning. He won't shoot her unprovoked, but she doesn't know that. "That's what I said."

He's pretty sure he saw a kid named Steven running around, anyway. He's been trying to distance himself from the group, but he's good with names.

[mirrortide]

"Please! I need to find him! I have to keep him safe!" She's hardly considering that there might be more than one human child named Steven running around. The twitch of his crossbow hardly means anything in the face of the fact that Steven is on the wrong side of this war.

[pigsfeet]

Daryl remembers being in this girl's place, knowing the right person was on the wrong side and being willing to do anything for them. He doesn't question it, just nods his head. The crossbow stays up, though. "You coming with?"

As far as he sees it, that's the only option he'll allow.

Lord Miles Naismith Vorkosigan | Vorkosigan Saga | OTA

[dendarii]

When Miles had wished he could go back and undo his mistakes, he hadn't meant this. Not falling asleep in the late summer heat in Silvy Vale and waking up to a snowstorm. Nor his frantic flight afterwards, and near-freezing that would have turned into actual hypothermia if not for a pair of guerillas stumbling across him. One strained conversation later (both had made the hex sign against mutants at him) had told him the insane answer to the question burning up his brain: where the hell is he?

No, when the hell. In the very throes of the Cetagandan Occupation, years before his parents will meet, possibly before his father was even born. He's sorry to say he knows frighteningly little about this portion of history. The outcome, oh yes, and a few scattered stories by way of his memories of Gran'da Piotr. Whatever else he had before has been eaten by his cryorevival amnesia. What he wouldn't give to have Duv here, of all people. A working knowledge of history would have been incredibly helpful for the situation he's found himself in...

It doesn't matter. He's stuck here - now - and like hell he's helping the Cetagandans. That leaves the Barrayaran camp. He lingers around the edges of it, cutting a strange figure in more than one way. Barely 4'9" at most, dark haired and gray eyed, about thirty, and gaunt in a way that suggests a lifetime of medical issues. He doesn't quite seem to fit in with the other natives despite the distinct fluidity to his speech. Many of them stare or glare at his stooped form, or imply some Cetagandan connection. The only thing saving him there is his age: he is clearly too old to be the product of a Cetagandan/Barrayaran union.

A - Celebration!

Tonight, at least, is a good night. Miles is near the middle of the circle, gladly helping himself to (small) portions of maple mead. He isn't surprised by that glorious burning kick it gives going down his throat. Hell, he's looking forward to it. Times may change but the alcohol sure doesn't. Miles is quick to grin when one of the other transplants seems to be having trouble. "Deceptive, isn't it?" he says with a bright grin. "Might want to take that slower."

B - Clearing Snow

The next day is a bit less fun, alas. Nursing a hangover, Miles has volunteered himself to go out into the morning flurries and clear snow. After all, he makes a poor soldier and a worse spy, despite his native familiarity with the area. (He still hasn't quite decided on what the hell he's going to call himself here. Miles, yes. Vorkosigan? Hell no. Naismith is too Betan, and Kosigan ... also seems wrong. He scrapes at icicles as he thinks - and doesn't notice when doing so brings down an avalanche of snow until it's too late.

Welp. He deserved that. Cursing a bit, Miles struggles to dig himself out. His bones may no longer be made from spun glass, but that doesn't necessarily make him much stronger ... "This is just perfect," he mutters to himself. And waves a hand to flag down the nearest person who looks willing to help.

C - Wildcard!

Miles stays close to the Barrayaran camp, but mostly clear of his family members. If he can avoid it, anyway. He is quite sympathetic to newcomers, and readily translates for anyone who is lost due to the dialect differences.

b.

[dendarii]

In hindsight, Miles probably shouldn't have gone to seek out the stables. He's been keeping a very careful distance from family members, despite knowing frighteningly little about the Occupation. His memories are mostly of Piotr or (more rarely) Aral telling stories that were likely accurate but not necessarily historical. Even so. He's trying not to muddy things if he can help it even slightly. Which includes staying away. Which also should avoiding the stables, but he's so damned homesick, and the horses can't betray him, he thinks...

So when the horse he'd been paying attention to (with the help of a very wrinkled apple) abruptly moves out of the way, Miles is surprised to find himself just feet away from his grandfather. His very, very young grandfather. Dear god, has Da even been born yet? He doesn't dare to breathe the question. Or say much of anything. Instead he stares openly for a moment. He is, of course, an unusual figure himself. Tiny, clearly (but not actually) mutated, and perhaps with enough of the Vorkosigan look to him to seem familiar. (But his eyes are purely Cordelia's. Pale and clear and sharp.)

"General Count Vorkosigan," he manages after an awkward moment. Realizing he has to say something. "Er - good morning?" The questioning lilt is half panicked, all awkward.