I. Forgetting. [ This house was splendid, once upon a time. That much is quite clear. Through a window, it's clear that the place is positioned for defense, a sheer drop beyond the orchard wall. The ceilings are high, the decorations ornate, the fabrics and furnishings made of fine old velvet and handsome wood. But the home has clearly suffered - that much is clear; the walls and floors are dirty, the tapestries tattered; there's a smell in the air, must and something gone rotten. The culprit is not neglect, for this space is not neglected; it is excessively lived-in, the clutter of useless broken things dotting every surface, hoarded in every corner.
There are two teenagers in the room, a boy and a girl. He plays a fine violin, she a gorgeous piano. The music is a duet, sweet and solemn. The boy is very recognizably Byerly, though a Byerly rather different from the one of today. He's dressed in clothes not in the mode, his wrists and ankles protruding from his clothes, with hardly any sense of aesthetics and fashion; his face is clean-shaven; his hair is rather mussed; and there's an odd sort of earnestness to his manner. This boy grins unselfconsciously as they play, clearly delighted by the quality of the music. In contrast, the girl - his sister, visibly; she looks nearly identical to him - keeps her brow furrowed slightly in concentration, putting her heart into it. He's good; she's phenomenal.
Beside them stands Byerly, Byerly as an adult, his face vaguely wistful. ]
II. Of white and gold. [ By is cheerfully ready to serve as Olympian tour guide. He approaches any visible newcomer with a broad, rather mocking smile, a deep bow - ]
I see that Olympia is getting all the gorgeous ones. Aren't we lucky. What aspects of the city are you interested in exploring, dear creature?
Byerly Vorrutyer | The Vorkosigan Saga
[ This house was splendid, once upon a time. That much is quite clear. Through a window, it's clear that the place is positioned for defense, a sheer drop beyond the orchard wall. The ceilings are high, the decorations ornate, the fabrics and furnishings made of fine old velvet and handsome wood. But the home has clearly suffered - that much is clear; the walls and floors are dirty, the tapestries tattered; there's a smell in the air, must and something gone rotten. The culprit is not neglect, for this space is not neglected; it is excessively lived-in, the clutter of useless broken things dotting every surface, hoarded in every corner.
There are two teenagers in the room, a boy and a girl. He plays a fine violin, she a gorgeous piano. The music is a duet, sweet and solemn. The boy is very recognizably Byerly, though a Byerly rather different from the one of today. He's dressed in clothes not in the mode, his wrists and ankles protruding from his clothes, with hardly any sense of aesthetics and fashion; his face is clean-shaven; his hair is rather mussed; and there's an odd sort of earnestness to his manner. This boy grins unselfconsciously as they play, clearly delighted by the quality of the music. In contrast, the girl - his sister, visibly; she looks nearly identical to him - keeps her brow furrowed slightly in concentration, putting her heart into it. He's good; she's phenomenal.
Beside them stands Byerly, Byerly as an adult, his face vaguely wistful. ]
II. Of white and gold.
[ By is cheerfully ready to serve as Olympian tour guide. He approaches any visible newcomer with a broad, rather mocking smile, a deep bow - ]
I see that Olympia is getting all the gorgeous ones. Aren't we lucky. What aspects of the city are you interested in exploring, dear creature?