elnysa | video; un: eproghuefgdzptrrw

[ 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 ]

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[ 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.

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

[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.

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

A fellow enthusiast, then?

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

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.

[ 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.

[ A put-upon groan from Byerly. ]

[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.

Edited 2018-02-20 03:25 (UTC)

[ 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.

[ 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.

Now now, there are a number of different fools. Although they're usually the only ones in the place who know what's really going on.

[So yes, yes, Byerly, you've been playing the part for years.]

Then - Bottom, perhaps. When you're settled in, Miles, I'll take you to the theatre.

[ Miles can't help but brighten a bit. ]

There's a theater here?

[ Murmuring - ] Bottom? Only sometimes.

[ Then, louder - ] I'll play bodyguard at the theater, then, I suppose. Ugh.

[ Miles just turns and looks at him. ]

I'll hire a bodyguard instead.

[Sweetly, in response to that murmur.] Though always an ass.

[But, excuse him.]

Everyone seems to have discounted me for the role. Maybe I should work out more.

[ A quirk of the eyebrow at Prior. ]

And also you'll need to prove that you're able to swat a fly without having a panic attack.

[ Then, to Miles: ]

Sire, as de facto head of ImpSec, that is my duty. And besides, you don't have any money.

[A spluttering-]

I can swat... plenty of things. And I don't panic, thank you. I have a reasonable response proportionate to the situation.

[ Miles would argue with the ImpSec part ... but he doesn't have any money, it's true. He sighs a little. ]

I will need someone to go with me. Who isn't a bodyguard.

[ A little irritably: ]

Or how about someone who is also a bodyguard. Remember, Miles, ask yourself: would Gregor do this to Simon.

[ And then, more lightly to Prior: ]

And I haven't forgotten your performance on the shooting range, my lovely.

[ Impatiently: ]

I'm inviting both of you.

Well obviously we're both coming, that's not the point. Besides which, I invited you. You can't invite your inviter - a girl could get a headache.

[A light pinch to the bridge of his nose.]

And you'd only have given a gun up to me if I'd showed enough aptitude for using the thing. Given which of us ends up in the kind of situations where weapons might be required, I hardly think that would've been wise. Speaking of which, where your bodyguard's been all this time?

[ A small wave of his hand. ]

Oh, I didn't need one. And you were frightened of the gun, Prior.

No, Prior's question is an excellent one. Why do I need a bodyguard when you didn't?

[ A little less breezily and dismissively: ]

Because no one would ever look at me and take me seriously, sire.

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