[ 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]

More the latter, I should think. After all, we're not under attack yet, hm? So. Information sharing. Common action.

[latkje]

I couldn't pledge you my sword, anyway, as I don't have one. [ Currently true. ]

But as to the rest of it… [ A pause. ] I accept.

[vorrutyer]

I certainly wouldn't want your sword. Or your service. A partnership, rather, of wits.

[ A cock of his eyebrow. ]

Unless you want to be named Vor? As Emperor, I do have that authority. If you wish the advantage of citizenship.

[latkje]

What's Vor?

[ He doesn't say that the way he usually asks a question— quicker and more clipped. Probably because he doesn't know the question. ]

[vorrutyer]

Mm. It's what I am. The military over-class. Hence my name - family name Rutyer, honorific name Vorrutyer. So you could be, what, Vor...?

[latkje]

Latkje. [ Clovis was for that mission only. He's had a few names like that. ] My father's name. [ Which is to say, the real one, but he's never liked that phrase. ]

[vorrutyer]

Vorlatkje. It sounds quite nice, actually.

[latkje]

No it doesn’t. [ A look. ] Don’t be blinded by my brilliant looks.

I make a terrible aristocrat.

[vorrutyer]

Really? But you're so fine-boned and well-spoken. You come off as a much better aristocrat than I am.

[latkje]

Yes, maybe, but you're trying to come off as a bad aristocrat.

[vorrutyer]

Me?

[ He blinks innocently - though there's something of a what-can-you-do shrug in his shoulders. ]

What a shocking accusation, dear Vorlatkje. I'm trying to be the absolute best I can be. A model to all the upstanding young Vor. Why, if I was a bad Vor - then no one would notice me or expect anything of me. And what possible advantage could there be in no one taking you seriously?

[latkje]

I'm not even going to dignify that with a joke.

"Military overclass" suggests a certain stoicism is expected in your kind. [ And not a delicate bone structure. ] But maybe that's less useful in young ladies.

[vorrutyer]

[ A dry little smile. ]

Ah. Yes. There is that. And also dignity. And modesty. And heterosexuality. I am lacking all of those. Hm.

[ A shrug. ]

What are your people supposed to be like?

[latkje]

[ Well, racist, mostly. But he doesn't have a word for that (or heterosexual). ]

Pure-blooded Harmonians have a particular complexion. And— [ He runs his hand through his hair so that it's parted down the middle, more symmetrical. His accent becomes more pronounced, and also stuffier, somehow. ]

One should be pious, but not faithful. Charitable, but not giving. Sophisticated, but not worldly. And as a circle has no beginning and no end, may we be so blessed.

[ A pause. ]

In the capitol, they're also starting to wear very full sideburns.

[vorrutyer]

All of that seems quite impossible.

[ A beat. ]

Except the sideburns. My hair grows in luxuriantly full.

[latkje]

[ He puts his hair back where he likes it and makes a face about the sideburns. ]

Well, they usually recite the virtues a bit differently than I do. I guess it's still better than the wild superstition of the Lizard Clans.

[vorrutyer]

Lizard Clans. Good heavens.

So are you a good example of nobility, where you're from?

[latkje]

I have the hair and the eyes, [ and technically, the status ] but not the gaping void where a sense of humor usually goes.

[vorrutyer]

[ A laugh. ]

Yes, that sounds familiar. Take things seriously, Byerly. You're going to bring this family to rack and ruin. I can understand well why you left.

[latkje]

[ He winces at that, as by his own moral reckoning, he did bring his family to rack and ruin. ]

You have it almost exactly.

[vorrutyer]

[ Hm. ]

Bit of a sore subject?

[latkje]

They said I would never amount to much of anything, and they were right. [ He smiles. ]

Do you want to talk about your father?

[vorrutyer]

[ By raises his eyebrows. ]

There wouldn't be much point to that. Everything I could tell you about him, you would already have guessed. Your parents seem far more mysterious.

[latkje]

I don’t believe anyone is such an empty stereotype. You haven’t told me much about him at all. I would wager him... [ He takes a moment to think about it. ] Well, conservative, obviously. Has a brother, probably more than one. Stubborn. Probably tall. [ Nash rarely met anyone significantly taller than him. ]

[vorrutyer]

[ Byerly sighs and looks away - but he's not actually irritated, not actually trying to make Nash suffer his reluctance. He's buying a bit of time.

Well, trust breeds trust, right? And he's already taken some damnably big gambles on dear Vorlatkje, here. This is a smaller one, and one with potentially a bigger prize. If he goes back into stasis, or if he dies, he needs someone out there who cares about Nadine. Someone besides Prior. ]

Older brothers, all. Three of them, and a sister. Which meant there was nothing for him to inherit aside from one of the more pathetic estates, which meant he scarcely had a penny - but of those few pennies he did have, he feverishly counted every one. Growing up, my sister and I never had unworn clothes, never had a meal with fresh fruits or vegetables - and he's still like that today. A small-minded, spiteful miser who sits and sneers about his superiority over every other person in his vicinity, Vor and prole alike.