[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

[priorly]

True altruists never require one. Are you implying I'm somehow demanding?

[vorrutyer]

Ah, there's the error - I'm not an altruist. And yes, you are.

[priorly]

[A beat and then. A smile.]

Yes. I am.

[vorrutyer]

[ With a laugh - ]

Ah, the lady doth protest - too little. Why, you seem positively proud of it.

[priorly]

Oh people who never want anything are impossible, don't you think? It's not selflessness, it just makes more work for people who'd like to give them things. [He's demanding because he cares.

This is actually true. It's one way to tell he likes you.]

But do you think it's my best quality?

[vorrutyer]

[ By smiles appreciatively, because - yes. Good point, Prior. ]

No, no, not your best. You have better ones still than that.

[priorly]

[Demanding but not ungrateful, whatever rise Byerly was angling for. Whether some things can be repaid is more open to debate but give him time.]

Really? I can't even imagine.

[vorrutyer]

I thought you said you had a positive self-image. Really? You can't imagine any better ones?

[priorly]

Positive. Still one step down the line from narcissistic, though patience is not one of my virtues.

[vorrutyer]

Hm - yes, I've noticed that about you. Hardly any ability to wait at all.

[priorly]

[That's it, he's pinching the spot that caused a yelp before.]

Positive traits, Byerly.

[vorrutyer]

[ And a little jerk, a little squawk, and a slap at Prior's wrist. There's just a bit of real annoyance when he growls - ]

Don't.

[ Then with a huff, he regains his cool. ]

Anyway, this wasn't the topic of conversation. I don't want to say what I like about you. I want you to say what you like about yourself.

[priorly]

Yes, I know. Are you very ticklish? And just there, or do different places elicit different sounds?

[vorrutyer]

Prior, dearest, I can make you sleep on the floor.

[priorly]

Very ticklish. I see. [He makes a little show of sitting on his hands.] Fine then, lead by example. What would your answer be?

[vorrutyer]

My face, naturally.

[priorly]

Really? I thought that kind of thing was changeable, in your society, if nature didn't provide. [If his hands were free he'd be tempted to skim the pad of his thumb along the finely raised outlines of Byerly's cheekbone. He lets his eyes do the work, instead.]

Though you have fallen into a fine gene pool, facially anyway. But features? You didn't tell me I could pick my rippling abs.

[vorrutyer]

Changeable with money. And Barrayar doesn't really go in for those techno-alterations. At our hearts, we're still a great lot of cudgel-swinging barbarians, grunting at horses. Science is really witchcraft in disguise.

[ He smiles easily. ]

So is it your beauty, then? That you prize about yourself?

[priorly]

Or witchcraft really science - I'm fond of my hands. [ Slender and elegant, expressive, translating every worthwhile phrase into a language all their own - as now, freed from their trap to gesticulate along.] Full of good memories. My waist. My shape as a whole - no muscle Mary but I was born into something that suited, I feel. Too thin now, of course. The face is fine, any cosmetic corrections I make are only temporary.

[vorrutyer]

I think the face is a shade better than fine.

[priorly]

Well, we are most critical of the familiar. My lips. [Indicating the upper in particular, it's exaggerated Cupid's bow but lack of substance.] Are thin. As I said, fine, nothing to cover with a cloth bag. It serves me well.

[vorrutyer]

[ He accepts this...a little reluctantly. ]

Hm. Well, let's see your hands.

[priorly]

[Never let it be said he couldn't appreciate that argument. But, he's not one for empty lies either.

So: his hands, offered out chipped nails frontward.]

Perhaps not at their best.

[vorrutyer]

[ He reaches out, pressing his palm to Prior's palm. His own fingers are long, absurdly long, graceful and strong-fingered. ]

Do you bite your nails?

[priorly]

[Their hands are a near match in some senses - Prior's fingerspan on a piano wouldn't be too far off. His hands are less broad. His wrists are a painful comparison.]

Never.

[Clearly. But they're filed smooth].