elnysa | video; un: eproghuefgdzptrrw

[ Byerly, a handsome fellow with a hard-to-place accent that just sounds a bit different, is lounging on a couch. The angle isn't entirely flattering, since he's filming himself while laying supine, and so there's a view sort of halfway up his nostrils that is a little bit too much information. A bottle of brandy dangles from one hand, and his voice is slurring just a bit. This fellow seems quite drunk. ]

Bonsoir, you grunting peasants and cultureless rubes, and happy Winterfair to all. For those of you who are cultureless monsters, Winterfair is a time when gifts are exchanged and joy is had. My gift to you is that I won't call any of you peasants again for the duration of this broadcast. Winterfair was also the last Emperor's birthday, or thereabouts, which meant everyone had to give him their taxes for the year, but mine's not till later, so you don't need to pay me till then. I'll let you know when taxes are due. Start saving up now.

So what should you all give me instead? I suppose to begin with you could entertain me. What do you say, my cream puffs - a little game of two truths and a lie? You know the rules, since the rules are literally the name of the game. Go on, play with me, do. I'll start. I'm currently rightful Emperor of Barrayar, my great grandfather Pierre once showed up to a Winterfair ball soaked in blood to send a message, I'm terrible in bed.

Anyone who opts out of the game, I'm going to assume they're simply too in love with me to speak with me, so don't play at your own risk.

[ He winks, and then lifts the brandy to his mouth - and it apparently goes down at a bad angle, because he sits up, coughing and spluttering and getting alcohol down his front before he shuts off the feed. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Poison! My god! The enemies of Barrayar have gotten to me! I never should have gone into politics.

You're rather wordy, for a dying man.

Well, it's to be my final legacy, no? I might as well make it robust.

Precise as well, but you said the sensation was going from your hands.

What can I say? I'm very talented with my hands. I shall continue to be perfect until the very moment of my death.

And yet this posting of yours enshrines a rather imperfect moment.

But if my understanding is correct, deleting that will delete this final legacy of yours, too.

What a conundrum! Do I wish to be a complete man, or an incomplete legend? Hm. What would you do?

I would let the failure stand. But then, I have made myself the fool enough times that once more makes no matter.

Then I'll do so. So this is how I die...

[he was concerned at first. But now...?]

I am quite sure at this point you are not dying.

How do you know? My lord...Do I have another shot at life?? Truly???

I think you might.

Perhaps with a new appreciation and respect, now that you have glimpsed the other side?

Oh, yes. I'm going to live my life right this time. No more drinking! No more debauched fornication! No more overindulgence! I'll become the man I was always supposed to be. A good Barrayaran. I'll go out at once and immediately begin murdering people.

That... was not my intention.

[he fears he has created a monster]

Well, it's done now. Where should I start?

By not immediately murdering people. I think that would be a good place to begin...

Well, if I shouldn't live as a good Barrayaran...then how should I live? With my new lease on life.

I don't know what a [excuse him, typing extra slow to make sure he gets all those letters right] Barrayaran is.

But if you have spent your time since first arriving here not killing, I think that is a good trend to continue. In this and most places.

[just... not the man's own, apparently]

Hm. All right. Then I'll continue being a lecherous drunken fool.

That sounds fair.

I have known many lecherous drunks in my life.

[translation: this man cannot be the worst of them]

Are you trying to shame me for being commonplace?

No, sir, not at all.

Because I don't want to be commonplace.

Talented, perfect, and a legend. Yes, I remember.

Best not forget it. Who are you, anyway?

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