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[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

[dendarii]

[ Miles flinches bodily at that. Sorry Prior, house colors are super a thing. ]

No, not black and silver together. Any combination but that, please.

[priorly]

[Oh but that's fascinating.]

Ooh, but who has the black and silver? Painful ex? No - don't tell me - your house has sworn blood vengeance after theirs left you with the brown.

[dendarii]

Of course none of those things. They're Vorbarra colors. Gregor's. I may be Emperor, but I don't dare pretend to be a Vorbarra.

[ Technically, he's leaning on the Vorbarra part of his own family for his own relevance to the throne, though he and Gregor Vorbarra are quite distant cousins. Vor family trees are painfully intertwined. ]

[priorly]

[Prior looks over Mile's head a moment. Not because he's short, because he's sitting, and Byerly's a beanpole.]

Oh I like him, he's so literal. It's endearing, really.

[Like a small grumpy kitten with very strict ideas about hereditary lineage.]

And I would like to meet this Gregor, one day. So respected you can't even decorate like him. Fine, so: you're buying sheets for your bed, and painting your walls. No monochrome, no brown, the colors aren't allowed to match but should compliment each other, what are they?

[vorrutyer]

The earnestness of youth. - Though, frankly, he just gets worse as time goes on.

[ By shakes his head, then suggests: ]

Red and blue, sire? Parade-dress colors? You've earned the right to use those, being in the Academy and all.

[dendarii]

[ Miles flushes again at that, kind of annoyed. This is important, dammit! Byerly you suck at backing him up. ]

There’s a difference between decorating in private and a coronation...

[ But - fine. Byerly has a good solution, so he’ll take it. ]

Red and blue. Yes. That will serve.

[priorly]

Very primary. Assertive, I like it.

[Jaw set, Prior gives a firm nod.]

It'll be novel, of course, but I'm sure I can come up with something red and blue. A touch of white, perhaps, for balance.

[Congratulations, Miles, you're getting a 4th of July party. There may be flag cake.

(But Prior is Prior and takes too much pride in his work, so there's not much to fear. The decor at least will be classy as fuck, with just a touch of tongue in cheek. As for the guests - they're Byerly's wheelhouse.)]

[vorrutyer]

Extraordinary service to the camp stool.

[ The smile By fixes on Prior is actually more warm than mocking. ]

I look forward to seeing it. And remember, Barrayar is very militaristic in a way that crosses into the positively fetishistic. Be sure to incorporate that design element.

[priorly]

[It's easily returned.]

Fetishistic I can certainly appropriate from work. Though I think the latex fatigues are out on loan.

[vorrutyer]

[ A mournful click of his tongue. ]

What about the thigh-high boots?

[priorly]

[Prior smooths his thumb across his chin, in a way that might look thoughtful if the response wasn't so quick.] I've been meaning to try those on.

[dendarii]

[ Miles just shakes his head and digs into his groats. ]

I don’t particularly care. Just don’t be ridiculous, for god’s Same:

[vorrutyer]

[ In mock-horror: ]

He's trying to curtail your creativity, Prior!

[priorly]

Ouch, I don't think that'll grow back.

[Returning to join them at the table, Prior peers first into Miles' groat-bowl, then Byerlys, pulling a face each time.]

Anyone who invokes God when it comes to not being ridiculous is clearly not au fait with what most religious leaders wear. But worry not, doux empereur, I can do fetishistic and demure. It's a small gift, but a keen one.

[dendarii]

[ Miles blinks at that comment, kind of confused. Also scowling at Byerly again. ]

A quirk of language. My mother is a theist; I am not especially.

[vorrutyer]

A barbarian of a woman. Miles also reads too much Shakespeare.

[priorly]

[And here Prior had greeted him with a Titania quote. Fated from the start.]

As if there's any such thing. Leave him alone, he's cultured.

[dendarii]

[ Alas that Miles had been too distracted to realize. Though - he sort of thinks back now, brightening with interest. ]

A fellow enthusiast, then?

[vorrutyer]

A fellow tormentor of staunchly illiterate fellows like myself? Quite so.

[priorly]

Do you know, the marvelous thing about plays is that you don't have to read them.

[But look, Miles has an expression which isn't a frown. What sweet sunshine though the clouds, etc.]

I'm a fan of all kinds of performance. They have a theatre here although the standard is... mixed. A lot of religious recreations: the kind of thing peasants in the Middle Ages would have performed from a cart, though presumably with less simulated fucking. Imagine the splinters.

[dendarii]

[ Religious recreations. Miles makes a face. ]

Perhaps we could put something on instead then. I've memorized most of the plays. Lots of time spent in a sickbed as a child.

[vorrutyer]

[ A put-upon groan from Byerly. ]

[priorly]

[And a sidelong look.]

I take back what I said. You can abuse your powers to order him into the cast - he'd make a fine fool.

[But, it's not actually a terrible suggestion. Where the worlds cross, culture often seems to have made it over the divide.]

It might be nice to give people something less bleak to talk about.

[dendarii]

[ A snort at that. ]

I'm sure we could find something for him.

[ He'll be nice, though. Really. ]

Then perhaps we ought to. I think I would enjoy that very much.

[vorrutyer]

[ A bit haughtily: ]

Please. If you're going to torment me, at least give me more of a challenge than "the fool." I could play that role in my sleep.