video; un: eproghuefgdzptrrw

[vorrutyer]

[ Unlike any of Byerly’s previous posts, which consisted of him monologuing interminably, this post looks to be a dialogue. There are actually two people on screen - Byerly’s lanky, elegant, sloe-eyed self, and next to him a small odd-looking fellow with intense features and a too-large head set on a hunched spine. For all the differences between them, though, the two look like they could be brothers, or at least cousins - similar noses, similar bone structure, similar skin tone, similar hair color. Ah, the products of Barrayaran inbreeding.

You can tell who set up the camera by the framing. Byerly is centered, and sitting at an angle that best shows off his fine features. Miles Vorkosigan, the small fellow, is squished off into a corner of the frame. By is the first to speak, too. ]

Bonsoir, lovely fellows and ladies. Your bosom friend and brother Byerly here with an important announcement. Though you have known me as His Imperial Majesty Byerly II of Barrayar, now I’m just plain By, because my position has been usurped. [ A fake mournful sigh. ] Brutal civil war. Deadly. Horrible. I’ve been dealt a monstrous blow.

[ Miles, meanwhile, just kind of rolls his eyes skyward. Spare him from his cousin’s melodrama. ] If by “usurped” you mean “assumed rightful authority,” then yes. I usurped you. With little resistance, I might add. [ A pause; he straightens his small frame as best he can - not that it’s especially effective given the camera angle. ] Did you really go around calling yourself His Imperial Majesty Byerly II?

But of course. [ Byerly blinks in mock-innocence. ] Sire, don’t tell me that you don’t see the Imperial office as worthy of respect. I was simply demanding the dignity due to the camp stool.

Is it more dignified to lose it to a civil war too? [ Miles arches a brow in turn. ] I could fight you, I suppose.

Oh, please don’t do that, sire. [ By’s expression is a reasonable approximation of pained. ] I don’t want to hurt you. He’s very fragile, you see. [ The last is said conspiratorially to the audience, as though Miles couldn’t hear. And, swiftly, before he can be executed for treason - ] So I wished to introduce my dear sometime-cousin and current-overlord to the network, as a grand announcement of an enormous life change, and an announcement that I will of course be hosting a coronation party for him.

-- What?

[ There’s not even the slightest twinkle of amusement in Byerly’s face; he looks perfectly solemn as he explains - ]

It is, of course, customary for those invited to a coronation to bring gifts of tribute. I would not presume to speak for my lord Emperor, but I might suggest gifts of alcohol. Or something a little harder than alcohol? A fellow does grow tired of only being drunk, and the Emperor is quite a fan of stimulants, which is why you’ll hear him babble endlessly, all the time. Would that suit you, sire?

[ Miles has been working his mouth like a frog in the background this whole time; he still sputters a moment, staring at Byerly in disbelief. ] I never agreed to a party, By -- [ He interrupts himself with a beautiful stream of cursing in Greek. ] For god’s sake, that won’t be necessary.

[ Loudly, speaking over his Emperor - ] That sounds like a yes to me! I’ll see you all tomorrow night. [ And with a wink, he cuts the feed. ]


[ ooc: blue is Byerly, red is Miles ]

Comments

[vorrutyer]

I'm glad to hear it. Only...there's a bit of a problem.

[assholic]

What's that? You've upped your costs?

[vorrutyer]

Not precisely. It's simply that Miles is my liege-lord. If I associate with someone he deems his enemy, he can have me executed.

[assholic]

And I'm an enemy now, am I? I thought I was just a pain in your ass.

[vorrutyer]

If he deems you to be so. So just imagine it, dear lady - no more massages, no more sex...unless perhaps you speak to him a bit more kindly. Not that I demand it! Heavens, no. But again, it's the position I'm in.

[assholic]

You're good, but you're not that good.

You'd demand it if you thought it'd work.

[vorrutyer]

Not good enough to get you to stop calling a poor physically disabled young man names? Dear heavens, my dear, I didn't know you to be such a bully.

[assholic]

[She squinted at the video that barely showed Miles. Well... shit. She hadn't known-- Goddammit, By.]

Wouldn't it be more demeaning if I treated him with kid gloves because of a disability? I'd think he'd like knowing he's getting the same treatment his ass-kisser is.

[vorrutyer]

Well...I suppose you'll have to ask him that yourself.

[assholic]

I could. But I'm talking to you.

[vorrutyer]

I would never presume to dictate my liege lord's wishes.

[assholic]

You would so. Just not to his face. Or maybe you would. You've got the balls for it.

[vorrutyer]

I'm a loyal subject!

[assholic]

That so? We'll have to see. You seem more inclined to be a loyal drunk than a subject, but hey. We all have our redeeming qualities.

Well, not all.

[vorrutyer]

Is loyalty a redeeming virtue for you?

[assholic]

Better to give a shit about something than be a complete asshole over nothing.

[vorrutyer]

And if one is loyal to a wicked cause?

[assholic]

Define wicked. You offing people or slipping them roofies to have your way with them? If so, I'll break your face. If not, then you do you.

[vorrutyer]

Waging war, let's say.

[assholic]

Don't do that. There's enough of that shit around.

[vorrutyer]

We bump up against the limits of your love for loyalty so quickly.

[assholic]

War isn't about loyalty. It's a dick measuring contest with other people's dicks.

[vorrutyer]

Amongst generals, perhaps. But what about amongst the soldiers?

[assholic]

They're the rulers being used to measure. When you run out of rulers, you lose.

[vorrutyer]

Yes. And I'm now a common soldier myself, dear lady.