video; un: eproghuefgdzptrrw

[vorrutyer]

[ Byerly Vorrutyer is sitting in front of a piano, fingers on the keys. Byerly Vorrutyer is also, apparently, drunk. There's a bottle of brandy in front of him balanced beside the music rack that's two-thirds drained, and there's a tiny sway in his posture, and he looks sloppy - suit coat opened, shirt-collar loosened. When he speaks, his voice slurs. But as he talks, he plays Chopin beautifully, expressively. He only misses the very occasional note. ]

God help me, but this place is dull. And I know from dull. I spent an entire season - an entire season! - on the Vorinnis estate on the South Continent. If Lady Vorinnis hadn't been there to distract me with all her deliciousness, I'd have actually, literally, died of boredom. I nearly set fire to the whole taiga. Roasted all the little birdies and rabbits and peasants. Pheasants. Peasants. Whichever.

[ He sighs mournfully, casting a sorrowful glance at the camera. ]

Say, fellows, how does a man have fun around here? It's clear no one knows how to play whist, so that's out, and dueling for laughs seems tacky. I've already watched a few of you brutes bash one another's faces in, which had its charms and no doubt, but the time for that is over. I can't play bed, wed, behead with you, because you're all proles of no account and no education who wouldn't know the high-society names I mention to you. Oh!

[ He sits up a bit, stopping his playing mid-note, right before the end of the first section of the piece. What a musical anticlimax. ]

I've got one. I'll write limericks about you. Tell me a bit about yourself, and I'll write limericks. Go on, do. They'll be funny, I promise - this is one of my favorite games. Absolutely kills at parties.

[ And then, with a small bow - ]

Byerly Vorrutyer, Emperor of Barrayar, at your lyrical service.

Comments

[priorly]

I think I'd like to meet some Vor women. [And it's a good story, but Prior sits back, assessing.] I do believe you've begun working on wearing me down on a new objective. But weapons? Really? A can of mace I can work with, but swinging a broadsword may be beyond my reach.

[vorrutyer]

Dear Prior, if you think that the only sort of murder I can teach you is a broadsword, you truly underestimate Barrayarans.

[priorly]

Murder?

[High enough that dogs can hear.]

[vorrutyer]

Ooh, does the idea of murder unnerve you?

[priorly]

[Across the city, terriers are pricking up their ears.]

Of course the idea of murder unnerves me! Murder's supposed to unnerve people, that's the reason any of us are still alive. Doesn't it unnerve you?

[And somehow his nails remain unbitten.]

[vorrutyer]

[ A shrug. (In truth: yes. It does.) ]

Not really. But - very well; we'll stop short of murder. Murder writ small. How about that?

[priorly]

Come and live in my house Prior. Murder doesn't unnerve me, Prior. How about just a little murder, Prior. Well I've tried a little murder, I put down poison when we had a rat problem. And I felt bad about it.

[vorrutyer]

What - do you think I'm a brute, now? Heavens, I'll be certain never to tell you stories about my family. Look, dear fellow, I'm not saying that I'm going to commit murder. Simply that Barrayarans are, generally speaking, trained to have a facility with it. It's a cultural quirk, like how Cetagandans paint their faces.

[priorly]

In the end I had to leave for the weekend and make Louis tell me he took them to a farm.

[vorrutyer]

A rat farm.

[priorly]

Farms have rats!

[Don't you push him on this.]

I don't think you're a brute. I think I'm not.

[vorrutyer]

Though you have punched people.

[priorly]

I've been jumped in alleys. What am I going to do, offer to cuddle?

[vorrutyer]

Most certainly not. I'm merely saying that to have a spine is not to be a brute.

[priorly]

[Look.

Look, this might be valid. But still. Prior's teeth work at his lip a moment as he starts, and stops, and starts to say something.]

I'm not saying I don't appreciate what you're doing. And maybe learning to defend myself at least isn't a bad idea. But I am who I am and if this is some kind of project then I worry you'll end up frustrated if I don't turn out how you want, or give up to decoupage somebody else.

[vorrutyer]

[ His expression softens just a tiny bit. Almost imperceptibly. ]

Our friendship isn't conditional. Let alone conditional hinging on something so inconsequential.

[priorly]

[Almost. Prior huffs out a breath, twining his fingers together in a pretence that he's once again examining the state of those nails.]

Little jewelled daggers do sound pretty.

[vorrutyer]

Set in gold, or in silver. - Which flatters you more? Gold or silver?

[priorly]

Gold, when I was less pale. Now, whatever's affordable, and fake silver doesn't leave those little green stains on the skin.

How long do you think you'll be, being melancholy at the piano?

[vorrutyer]

[ Just the slightest flicker of an eyelash. ]

Melancholy? I'm just bored.

[priorly]

You can be both. Boredom, I find, lets the darn thing in. But music evokes something, some emotion when you play, and-

Well. It was just a guess.

[vorrutyer]

[ A finger traces along a key. He presses it softly. ]

They say that Chopin heard one of his students playing his etude, and he broke down weeping, sobbing - Oh, my homeland. [ Another key played, and then he drops his hand, taking a breath to center and square himself. ] I do wish I felt a little more over what happened to Barrayar. It makes me feel inhuman, just how little it's affecting me.

[priorly]

As if how much you weep is any barometer of feeling. People who cry too much shouldn't be trusted - it's not about feeling, for them. Not in the end. Just a Pavlovian dog whistle to gain catharsis, or pity.

[Said as someone who forces himself not to cry as much as possible because God, once it starts it's so damn hard to stop. Said as someone who knows people who weep too much, and achieve nothing by it.

Said gently enough, even so.]

Finding yourself numb in the face of loss is far from inhuman. On the contrary, to be numb is to have something inside yourself you're trying to protect.

[vorrutyer]

Trying to make me into a good person, Prior? I don't think it'll work.

[priorly]

Speaking from experience. You could be protecting a stone cold diamond as easily as softer tissue. But there's something.

[Also, why make someone into something they already hardly seem able to help.]