elnysa | video; un: eproghuefgdzptrrw

[ 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Offend? No.

[ dutch nods to the middle of the mats, inviting him to step up, circling him when he does. her lips quirk up. ] Annoy? You bet.

[ And By kicks off his shoes, and arches his back to stretch a moment, then steps onto the mat. He doesn't brace himself, or get into a stance: he merely stands, muscles relaxed and loose, his only sign of readiness the way his eyes track her. ]

Really? Everyone I've met has always been ever so charmed by me and my ways of doing things. I'm agreeable, you see. Everyone says so.

[ if he's not going to make the first move, dutch will: a simple punch thrown his way, pulled enough that it's just about testing his reflexes for now. ]

Well, if everyone says so — [ she drawls, clearly not impressed. ]

[ A quick step to the side means that the punch misses him by a rather wide berth. His reflexes are fast. Yet he doesn't retaliate beyond that. His fighting style, just like his speaking style, involves baiting people into making mistakes - and so he keeps waiting for her to make a stronger move. ]

We should put some stakes on this. If I can pin you, what'll you give me?

[ interesting, that. the next attack is a kick aimed at his mid-rift. ]

Depends. Got anything in mind?

[ And another step to the side. This time, his hand lashes out to slap at her leg - not hard, not painful, just testing to see if he can throw her off-balance. ]

I want a secret.

[ physically, dutch isn't easy to throw off her game. emotions are another thing and none of her secrets are the good or happy kind. still, khlyen trained her better than to let emotions affect her stance, her fighting. ]

And if I pin you?

Depends on what you want.

[ He starts moving himself, now, shifting around her, waiting and watching for any mistake - and not just any physical mistake. The people he fights, he often does depend upon emotions and reactions to sway them. A barbed word is nearly as good as a hard blow for turning the tide of battle. ]

A glass of whiskey?

After I got us the bottle the first time? No deal.

[ he'll have to try harder than that, at least. ]

Then a full bottle.

[ He moves in closer - testing to see whether she'll back away warily or come to meet him. ]

Throw in a couple orgasms.

[ she's pretty sure she could get either of those or both from him without pinning him, but hells. if it'll get him to fight her, that's revealing a secret of his own, too, isn't it? ]

You never have to bargain for those, esteemed madam. Giving them to you gives me satisfaction.

[ he says esteemed madam, again, and dutch promptly punches him — a jab at first that covers the left hook a moment later. ]

Then I guess you'll have to throw something else into the bargain to make it worth my while.

[ A quick flashing grin as he absorbs the jab to grab at her left arm as she swings it, trying to use her momentum to spin her around. His fighting style, as is becoming clear from his motions and strikes, isn't direct - as lean and willowy as he is, a direct style of fighting would be idiotic - but is instead focused on deflecting and redirecting momentum. Not exactly the manly art you'd expect from an idiotically honor-bound society like his. ]

No, no, we can accept that and call it even.

[ not the manly art, perhaps, but something dutch is familiar with as well. she started fighting (started killing) full-grown men before her tenth birthday. these days, she's all solid muscle, but she's still not tall and in a test of pure strength, someone like d'avin or pree or even alvis would always have the upper hand. so she's familiar with deflecting and redirecting.

he tries to use her momentum to spin her around; she lets him, turning into it so her hip presses against his, legs bend just so, the first step to throwing him over her shoulder. ]

Buy me a snack with the drink, too.

[ And he tumbles over her shoulder with a grunt - but he stays loose and limber, hitting the mat but tumbling forward - crouching on all fours, then spinning out with his leg to try to knock her feet out from under her. ]

[ dutch is already following him down when he kicks out his leg, the motion not knocking her off her feet but forcing her to twist her body. no way to pin him unless they're both on the ground; harder to pin him now her momentum's broken. ]

[ And he rolls, spins. His legs are absurdly long, the whole of him stretched out in a way that would be gawky if he had a bit less panache, and he tries to wrap them around her now, tries to use that to capture her and bear her down. ]

[ there's grappling, a back and forth of it. he's good — maybe not as good as she is, but his longer reach makes up for the difference. dutch finds herself grinning fiercely all through it, enjoying it even when he manages to pin her on the mat eventually, both of them breathing hard from exertion. ]

Looks like you were holding out on me.

[ and for a moment, she's loose and pliant and soft underneath him, and then she twists into action, flipping their positions. ]

[ He grunts, pinned beneath her. Definitely not as good, no - he's breathing harder than her, and he's under no illusion that she'll not beat him handily the next time. He depends upon the element of surprise as much as he does real skill. Still, it's worth it - he takes the opportunity to cop a feel of her ass, then says: ]

Looks like we both won.

That, too.

[ his hands on her arse are invitation enough for her to roll her hips against his, still grinning. ] Drinks first. [ because if she has to tell him a secret, she damn well wants to have a drink in hand while doing it. ]

video; un: eproghuefgdzptrrw

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