nysalogs | Take off your silver spurs and help me pass the time (Closed)

((From here.))

[Years before?

Good God. What should he have expected, though? Byerly carries on, talking about how he'd still been small enough at this point to be good sport for the rowdy roughhousers, and he stills his mirth for a displeased curl of the lip.]

Talk about taking cheap shots.

[But there's a method to the masochism. That much is clear in the way the two tykes present play and giggle. She's his world. And out of all the conversations they'd had, all the chance encounters and sneak peeks at pasts unbidden, the only bright spot had ever been the baby girl.

Richie stands upright, snorting some over the acne comment.]

Puh-lease. You had it easy, you can't even make a full constellation connecting those dots. Start whining when you've got the full galaxy treatment. [He tucks his hands into his pants, pensive. Somewhat wistful himself. He'd never had siblings, but the sentiment...it's not unfamiliar. And it paints a picture he wasn't expecting of the man to his left.]

You took the shots so she didn't have to.

[ In spite of everything they've shared so far, in spite of all the truths that have passed between them in this odd little jaunt down memory lane, that makes By tense. Because it's a short leap from you'll take the shots for her to you'll do anything to ensure that she doesn't take any shots at all. It's the reason for all his secrecy. He isn't ashamed of Nadine; he isn't even ashamed of his love for her, exactly. It's that he's afraid that someone might hurt her to get to him. If anyone threatened her, he'd roll over and show his belly. No hesitation. He'd sacrifice his honor a hundred times on the altar of her safety.

But after a moment, he relaxes. Because, hell, it's Richie. Richie, who stood against a slavering monstrosity because it was the right thing to do. By knows he can't trust Richie's common sense, and he sure as hell can't trust Richie's nonexistent sense of decency, but he can trust his honor. This is not a man who would ever hurt a defenseless woman. This isn't a man who would blab, either - hell, he kept the secret of his monster under wraps. So - trust, here, is possible.

By runs a hand through his hair, and gives a small nod. His lip curls in a little half-smile. ]

It just made sense, you know. I was fucked from the start, but she had a chance to escape from the curse of our clan. And so she did. [ The smile broadens as he looks down at her, just another few hairs'-widths. ] Got away from it all.

[ He looks up, then, and says: ]

You understand why I don't talk about her so much. It'd quite spoil my carefully-cultivated devil-may-care image. A proper rake doesn't go all soft like this.

[The line of Byerly's spine goes rigid and his jaw locks tight. Richie spares a moment for exasperation — really now, what did he expect him to do?

Yet it passes. Richie takes it in with uncharacteristic thoughtfulness. It wasn't that the cogs ever stopped whirring upstairs, they were just rather noisy about it. Mostly.]

I get it. It's a business thing too, isn't it? She'd be a target even today, if someone needed you out of the way. [He chews on the inside of his lip.]

Is there someone here that does worry you? With the refugees?

[ A lift of his eyebrows, and a roll of his shoulders, confirms the first guess. As for the second - ]

My dear Richard, I'm a spy. If my answer to that question wasn't literally everyone, I'd have to give up my badge and stunner at once. [ Then, meditatively - ] Well. Not that I have a badge, of course. They only give those to the unsubtle fellows over in ops, rather than the clever ones like me.

[ Then, a bit of the clownishness falling away, he answers a bit more seriously: ]

The ones that worry me are them. [ He points heavenwards, towards the sky that presumably contains the Orbiters. Well, possibly. Who's to say, with them in this dream-state? ] But the ship is through the wormhole, as they say, when it comes to them sussing out my weaknesses. I am already their slave. So it comes down to making certain that anyone opposed to their possibly-benevolent rule doesn't find out about it.

Of course not. That's like a beacon for bullets, hard to stay subtle when you're flashing silver off the lapel.

[But they are talking the same talk after all. Walking the same walk. But Byerly's taking the alternate route: he's accepting that they had power over his sister, and thus will be at their beck and call.

Richie?

He goes reticent now.]

I see.

[His fingers rap against his leg within the confines of his pocket. He draws one hand out to wipe across his mouth. Hesitant. Fearful, but not of the man beside him. Not any longer.]

I'm opposed, but there's not much I can do about it either. Grouse about getting tottered around their chessboard, maybe, sniff a line and curse them blue. But really, they've got us all by the ball hairs, don't they?

[He reaches up. Tweezes a sprig of Byerly's well groomed coiffure.] How's none of this going grey, by the way? You're dyeing it back, aren't you? The weight of a thousand worlds on your shoulders ought to be sucking the color right out of you, and yet here you are, looking so damn spiffy.

Edited 2018-04-27 19:53 (UTC)

Ow.

[ He whines that dramatically. The manly stoicism, it seems, comes and goes. ]

Anyway, it's clearly superior genetics. My great-great-grandfather, Pierre Le Sanguinaire Vorrutyer, was seventy-seven when they finally got him, and his corpse was simply salt-and-pepper. I'll be handsome until the day my liver finally leaves me for the way I've been abusing it all these years.

[ Then, with his head tilted slightly to the side - ]

So we've established who it is who serves as the gonadal fluff they've so rudely grabbed for me. But for you? [ Richie's gone a bit quiet about it, after all. ] Who are you afraid for? [ And then, curiously - ] Is Stan alive, up in those pods?

[How wonderful. Richie delights in petulant protests. His shit eating grin right now attests to it.]

You lucky fuck. I oughta pop you one on principle, that's out and out unfair.

[But of course, the mirth must die. Make way for more stern matters. His smile goes thin at the lips. He huffs impatiently.]

Oh, no no no. You see, they can bring a fella back from the dead if they like him well enough. [He waves hands at his face with an undue flourish.] I mean look at me. Goddamn lovable, am I right or am I right? And they can flip flop around with time, even if the apocalypse is supposed to adhere to a certain date. Yet people go to sleep for a couple days and wake up with years of new memories under the belt. Miracles! One and all!

But it seems Stan the Man wasn't worth pulling one for. Perhaps they're Anti-Semitic, or they figured he wasn't going to suit whatever purpose they had for pulling the rest of us.

[ And Byerly, who might be a good person under it all but who will never not be insufferable, shoots back - ]

Dear fellow, if you're going to start hitting me out of jealousy, you're not going to be popping me just one.

[ Then - ]

You might be able to earn him back.

[Earn him back?

Richie pauses. Then he speaks cautiously through of the bitter draw of his smile.]

That's a bigger bubble of optimism than I'd expect out of you.

I'm a font of surprises.

[ Then, with a shrug he tries and fails to make look casual - ]

It's not outside of their powers, is it? So the key may be - perhaps - to give them proper motivation.

[The ungainliness of the gesture doesn't escape him. He just has a hard time parsing what he's trying for.]

He's not in the pods, Byerly. He's gone. Don't dangle something in front of me that you can't deliver on.

I'm not dangling. I'm just -

[ Being sincere, for once. Honestly trying to extend a crumb of hope. Which, honestly, he's rather irritated at himself for - what business does he have, trying to foster those sorts of emotions when it might not pan out? If he were trying to manipulate Richie, that would be one thing - but this has no real purpose. ]

It's a possibility.

[Oh.

The rigidity leaks out of him. The hard lines of his mouth go slack. It wasn't more unfathomable prodding, working towards an aim Richie wasn't sharp enough to carve out for himself. It's a pat on the back. A squeeze of the hand. Platitudes, but earnest ones. Richie feels a spark of shame burst in his middle.]

Could be. [Concede it. Let it pass. Even if the likelihood is less than zero. The only favors he expects are the ones he never asked for. Anything that he actually wants? Forget it.]

Did you really have an audience with them once? [He makes a small jerk of the head to the brown haired cutie behind them, little girl giggling at her older brother's antics.] Or was it the whisper you heard when you woke up?

[ And By pulls a face, very slight, at that relaxation. A wordless, implicit apology for even raising the prospect. Stupid and soft. Even with them on friendlier terms, that's not their dynamic. ]

Just the promise given to me upon waking. Lick boots, and we'll keep them safe.

[He notes it. Takes no further action. They're an odd couple, ain't they? Too much alike and too big of instigators to keep off one another's toes. He'd said as much to Prior to ward off an invite to the party, but hell, he's starting to believe it.]

That's about the same line they fed me. With an addendum, of course. Oh, we couldn't possibly interfere. If It wakes up, it's your mess to clean up! Cheerio! Pip pip! Be a good sport and try not to fret, luv, you'll have your fun until the circus comes to town.

[ A short bark of laughter. ]

Good heavens. Really? Never mind that they could probably dissolve the beast where it lies. Never mind that the universe would be a damn sight better for it. It doesn't help their little war, so why bother?

Exactly! [Richie's shout is one born of months of pent up frustration, an absolute lack of outlet for his outrage.] And Christ, sure there's a whole bushel of people here fit for fairy tales, each one capable of something stranger than the next — does that mean that they'd be able to anything about it? Does that mean they'd be able to see? I can't — there's no way to tell, and I'm sure as fuck not sending anyone to go test it out in my place. I'd be as good as fluffing pillows for their coffin, now wouldn't I?

Such a noble heart you have.

[ Said like a joke, meant in sincerity. ]

[He peels out of the rant, hands on his hips.]

What? Are you gonna knight me for it?

Well, Barrayarans don't have knights. We have Vor. But, alas, you've come too late to be made Vortozier - I'm not the Emperor any longer. You're stuck as a prole.

[ Then - ]

I can see it, it seems. So that's something.

All right then. I'm going to take my application straight to your cousin. [He licks an invisible pen and scrawls over an equally absent scroll. The mime is a dedicated affair.] "Dear Your Resplendent Worshipness, Miles Vorkoko: I, Richard Tozier, do submit myself as chief clown-slayer of the Barrayaran armed forced. References available upon request, or whenever the hell they plan on waking the old gang up."

[Anyway.]

You saw what I remembered. If it was in front of you, it'd be pulling new shapes out of your head.

Not a bad campaign. And Barrayarans have a long history of murdering people with painted faces - you'd fit right in.

[ With a shrug - ]

And yes, it'd be pulling horrific things out of my memories, but your morning breath didn't actually kill me. So the creature would end up harmless.

[There's another meaning behind that, isn't there?

But the remark is there and gone in a flash, and his honor is at stake. (Painted faces, though...considering how he'd painted the rest of his history, would that mean...)]

That's because I hadn't had my nightly bowl of pan fried jalapenos. I'll be the death of you yet. [He takes a moment to think, hand to chin.] Perhaps now I'd just see your dick. Ten feet tall with the balls stomping around like elephant feet.

[ A mock-innocent blink - ]

What - you really think the monster would shrink down from the original? That wouldn't be good for scaring you.

Byerly, my sweet By-baloo— [He plants a hand on each of the man's shoulders.] —mutant space dick is spooky no matter how big or how small.

I'm angry i can't make a John Stamos joke right now

everywhere you loook, everywhere you gooooo

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