[open] channeling angels in a new age, now.

[priorly]

Who: Prior Walter (priorly) & you??
What: Catch all logs for October!
When: October!
Where: various
Warning(s): language, likely mention of terminal illness (AIDS). Adult themes?
Notes: Please PM me if you'd like a starter, or feel free to wildcard me anytime.

Comments

[vorrutyer]

Mm.

[ By doesn't tense. But his hand turns just a little gentler - tracing Prior's cheek. ]

And what should I expect?

[priorly]

I'll spare you everything I can. [A hundred small daily humiliations.] There are days where staying upright's a challenge, you've seen that. The pills keep the rest under control, mostly, until they don't. If something happens - anything bad - call a doctor. There's one who knows me. You don't have to... touch me.

[vorrutyer]

[ Byerly is quiet just a slight moment. Then he smooths Prior's hair, and he murmurs: ]

Will you prefer that I not touch you?

[priorly]

There are people who wouldn't wipe the tears of men like me. Even nurses. [a small shiver ruffles him - he's used to it, used to this. It doesn't matter what he prefers.] If I'm bleeding, best not.

[vorrutyer]

Then I won't if there's blood.

[ By doesn't look at him, but says softly: ]

But if you're in pain, it seems like dishonor of the highest order to withhold that.

[priorly]

[Something remarkably painful crosses Prior's face right then. He's caught it almost before it's visible, teeth pressed tight until it's safer to speak.]

You might just be the most honorable man I've ever met. You don't owe any oaths to me.

[vorrutyer]

Honor isn't only about oaths. There are more fundamental obligations. Universal.

[ He reaches down to take Prior's hand. ]

Of course, you really oughtn't be making those awed noises at me. It's not like I'm doing this for some stranger. Caring for dear friends is a form of self-interest, no?

[priorly]

You've known me barely two weeks, I stand by my assertions. [In a tone that manages to be find and brook no arguments at one and the same time. He glances down, catching his fingers between Byerly's and squeezing a little.] And no, it's not universal. Don't lump yourself in with the universe, baby, there are terrible things out there, and things that don't care about us at all. You're brighter than that.

[vorrutyer]

Now, now, don't let your romanticism cloud your judgment, my dearest Prior. [ His voice remains light, even as a little pull of pain yanks at his heart. Bloody hell, how wretchedly has Prior been treated, if this basic matter of decency seems exceptional? Even brutal Barrayar would never leave a sick man to languish alone. Granted, yes, the traditional Barrayaran way of dealing with illness often involved mercy-killings, but better that than to let a man suffer with no comfort or kindness. Compassion in life or a compassionate end. Never indifference. Why haven't Prior's people offered him the same attention? ]

I am a scoundrel. Forget that to your peril. It's simply that where I'm from, even scoundrels know that illness does not make a man unworthy.

[priorly]

[Compassionate ends are all very well until they're staring you in the face. Even on the nights - and there have been some - when Prior can recognize, even acknowledge mercy in death, it's still not something he'd choose.

Optimistic, you see? Tomorrow may be better, so long as there is a tomorrow.

But all this scoundrel talk, really.]

Remind me then. A few of these terrible misdeeds I should I be judging you for? With the kindness you've shown me - friendship - it is so easy to forget.

[vorrutyer]

[ He lifts his eyebrows at him. ]

Darling, why would I tell you that? You'd detest me.

[priorly]

Then I suppose I'm left imperiled. No choice but to think you decent.

[vorrutyer]

My profession doesn't perhaps give you a doubt or two?

[priorly]

The job where you try to protect your country from all that threatens it? [Prior purses his lips but - no.] ...Doesn't make you sound as awful as you may think.

[But: imperial security. Informant. Spy. In a country either at war or not that long out of it. He's not stupid.]

So, the things you've done to achieve those ends? [That's the rotten part?]

[vorrutyer]

Naturally. [ By's eyebrows lift. Cool and ironic. ] How does a spy do what a spy does, do you imagine?

[priorly]

Byerly, I've never made it to the end of a Bond movie. I know what soldiers do for their country. [A little murder plays back softly in his head.]

You... pretend to be something you're not. [That much he knows, though it remains a question of sorts.]

[vorrutyer]

Oh, no, not really. I'm always myself. Hideously so.

[ He caresses Prior's cheek. ]

I make people fond of me. I make them trust me. And every little secret they tell me in confidence slips into someone else's ears. A spy's job is betrayal.

[priorly]

And I should be careful of you. [He catches Byerly's wrist, an unusually quick movement, and keeps it trapped, pressing with his thumb to make his fingers unfurl.] Which is why you're telling me about it. Who would you even pass secrets to - [Ah.] people who can offer something in return.

[vorrutyer]

[ By draws in a breath, his fingers coming loose. Levelly, though without a smile - ]

Just so.

[priorly]

[Prior looks down at the hand in his grasp, examining it like an augur. He draws the other hand up, too, fingers still locked.]

It seems to me that it's not quite your job anymore. Oath or not. Now it's your choice. And you'll keep making it, knowing that. I don't think the choice is wrong, just hard.

[When he looks up, it's with a watchful expression.]

When you talked about the Time of Isolation I thought it was a period not a lifestyle.

[vorrutyer]

[ He lifts one eyebrow in appreciation of the wit of that last comment, if not of the sentiment. ]

As it happens, I quite agree with you. Scoundrels and wicked men are necessary, at times, to keep the world going around. But it doesn't negate my general point.

[priorly]

[His hands are loose cuffs at Byerly's wrists.]

I still don't see your point. I don't believe you're cruel, there hasn't been a single villainous laugh this whole time. Whatever you do, you think you have to. Do wicked men hand out warnings? That's what this is, right? I can keep people's secrets, when they matter. After all, I promised you.

[vorrutyer]

But I cannot.

[ He lifts his eyebrows, then lifts his hands gently to bring them into their sightline. ]

Am I your prisoner, Prior?

[priorly]

And now I know. So whatever I tell you, that's my choice. Anything I have that you might want to use - I know.

[His grip tightens, a little. The smallest of quirks tugging at one corner of his mouth.]

You just gave yourself up.

[vorrutyer]

I hope you don't think I'm cowardly, surrendering so easily.

[ His eyelashes sweep down. His voice is sultry. ]

Treat me kindly?