[ closed ]

[latkje]

Who: Byerly (vorrutyer) & Nash (latkje)
What: Magic!
When: After the conclusion of the disease plot.
Where: On the road from Wyver to Olympia.
Warning(s): 504 Gateway Time-out

[ The road from Wyver to Olympia is well-travelled and well-packed, the long stretches of monotony preventing Nash from enjoying the landscape. Travel was supposed to bring variety, he thought, new sights, new sounds— not the same thing, over and over. It was hard to tell how far they'd come, at least in the physical sense. ]

At least we're done with that awful humidity. [ He runs a hand through his hair— short and wavy, it had gotten unruly in the heat. ] I have a northern constitution, if you didn't know. [ And a northern fashion sense, as Harmonian clothes tended toward the dour and conservative. Nash was also in the habit of wearing gloves. He's wearing them now, in fact. ] There are some things I just wasn't made for.

[ That hangs in the air a moment, then he turns to actually look at Byerly. ]

But you wanted to talk about magic.

Comments

[vorrutyer]

[ By flexes his hand, and then waves it to the side and brings it down to tuck into his pocket. Not a dismissal, not an agreement - something somewhere in between the two. ]

I didn't ask which self was you, dear maiden, but which self was more you. Every face we present is something of a performance - I'll acknowledge that freely. But different performances take more or less sweat and labor. Which performance is less effortful?

[latkje]

[ He actually considers. ]

I really don't know. It probably depends who I'm with. [ A sigh. ] That much self-introspection requires strong mirrors, and a lady must beware of vanity.

[vorrutyer]

True enough. [ By accepts this with a shrug. ] So are you heartbroken, then, to leave that person behind? Or is it a shift as easy as throwing out an unfashionable mask?

[latkje]

[ He frowns. ] I didn't actually have a particular person in mind. [ The truth. He has more than one person he finds it difficult to talk to! Or had, as the case might be. ]

Do you have someone you miss? I mean, you must. I'd feel very rude if you didn't.

[vorrutyer]

If you're asking about people I used to be...No, not really. I carry them with me. Everyone I was, I still am, I think, with only the most minor exceptions.

[latkje]

So we never change, then. I've always wondered.

[ Fine, here. ]

I left home when I was still young. It took me a long time to go back. One of the hardest things I've ever had to do. [ Not in the least because he had to go through a bunch of assassins to do it. ]

It's very strange, not being able to go back.

[vorrutyer]

I know that strangeness quite well.

[ He knows that whole sequence of events quite well. Well. He tilts his head slightly to the side - ]

Why did you leave?

[latkje]

[ This, he says breezily. ]

Oh, I was kicked out.

[ Untrue. He definitely ran away. Though he had become a wanted criminal, so there was an element of self-preservation there. ]

[vorrutyer]

Were you? [ By fishes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket - while they're walking, he might as well - and offers one to Nash. ] What was your crime?

[latkje]

My father… was worried I didn't possess the killer instinct needed for political life.

[ True. But also not why he left. Anyway— ]

What is this? [ He looks at the cigarette, frowning, holding it all wrong. ]

[vorrutyer]

Oh - really?

[ By gives a quick laugh of surprise. Right, yes. Of course Nash would be unfamiliar. He fishes a lighter from his pocket, lights his own, and then says: ]

Addictive things, but pleasant. Don't start if you don't want a bit of a dependency. [ He blows out a trail of smoke, and arches his eyebrows in inquiry - shall I light yours - before saying: ]

So, what, dear old pere wanted to pass the leadership of the family down to a more ruthless sibling?

[latkje]

Oh. Like a cigar. Those are popular with the ducks. [ He looks at it for a minute, and then nods. He'll try anything once. ]

I think he wanted me to become my more ruthless sibling.

[vorrutyer]

[ By lights the cigarette for him, then tucks his lighter away. Something isn't adding up there, and - given By's own background - it's not hard to guess what. This question is, admittedly, rather disingenuous, but he asks it regardless: ]

Dearest maiden, what was the point of that lie?

[latkje]

My father had one son. So he thought I needed more seasoning. [ A pause. ] Unless you mean the ducks?

[ The sibling here is figurative. He tries the cigarette and starts coughing violently. ]

[vorrutyer]

[ By gives Nash an amused smile and no help at all, taking a smooth drag on his own cigarette. ]

Either he disinherited you - kicked you out - or he wanted you to change for him. He wouldn't both want to force you to change and relinquish control over you.

[latkje]

[ Still coughing. This is absolutely not a stalling technique. Why would you even think that? ]

No— [ Wince. What are these devil sticks? ] There was nowhere I could go that my father couldn't control me.

And what about your father? I presume you have one.

[vorrutyer]

[ Turnabout is fair play, By supposes; he responds to Nash instead of pressing his attack. In, admittedly, a slightly evasive sort of manner: ]

Had. What about him?

[latkje]

Did you get along? Waiting for wake up and take the cursed crown from off your admittedly not terrible looking head?

[ His second shot at the cigarette is smoother, but he still coughs. ]

[vorrutyer]

Mademoiselle, it sounds like you're flirting with me.

[ And it sounds like Byerly is avoiding the question, and indeed it's so obvious that even he sort of has to acknowledge that nah he won't be able to get away with that one. So: ]

I was disinherited when I was - hm - seventeen, I believe? We've not spoken since then. [ By smiles thinly. ] And as unfit as I am to be Emperor, if he woke up, I believe I'd essentially be obligated to kill him then and there to keep him from taking the title. I can't think of a single man less fit to lead.

[latkje]

[ He laughs, then coughs at the flirting comment. But when Byerly mentions being obligated to kill his father: ]

Do you think you could do it?

[ One of those easier said than done things, even justifiable homicide. ]

[vorrutyer]

[ Ah. That question prods something...sick inside of him. An old wound that doesn't hurt normally but feels wrong when poked. He doesn't answer the question, instead saying: ]

That was mostly a joke, dear maiden. I'm not a real emperor, now, am I?

[latkje]

[ Huh. Interesting. ]

I don't know. You might be.

[ This time, he manages to take a drag from the cigarette without coughing. ]

[vorrutyer]

Well. The title is truly mine - that much is a fact. I'm not lying about that. But what sort of an empire is an empire of one?

[latkje]

It depends on the one. [ A gesture— almost a bow. ]

Anyway, you probably weren't the only one from your world that they fished out. Just the only one who's woken up.

[vorrutyer]

[ His smile is thin as he takes a drag off his cigarette. He is aware. Painfully aware. In spite of all his jesting, in spite of his ironic posture towards his title, he does take it seriously. Because he is the emperor for all those people in stasis. There are countless Barrayaran subjects, and he is the only one who can see them awake. The job of an emperor indeed - to save his subjects.

But to admit that would be to admit...weakness. ]

So how did your father control you, dear maiden?