shipmaster | (no subject)

[Bel leans into the gesture, walking lightly besides Miles. The little changes are apparent, how the herm starts walking on the balls of their feet, the casual drift to where a weapon is hidden, just in case.]

It's quite a rare courtesy these days, isn't it? Not like the old savagery. [Donna's smile got a little sharper and then smooths again.] So, I've heard the old lion's shipping out. Are you taking up the voting chair, then?

[ Miles glances Bel's way - and is grateful for the support - but stands calmly enough. This has the air of a request and not a threat. ]

As his proxy, yes. I don't suppose you anticipate something to vote on soon?

[She regards him over her fingernails. Her brown eyes lose their humor, and pin Miles with great interest. If there's any good start, it's through the Vorkosigans.]

Dear old Pierre's last attempt at wooing has fallen through, as I'm certain you've heard. We've been talking about him naming an official successor, of course, the Counsel vote on the matter is particularly routine.

Except as of our last conversation, and a dearth of reputability in the immediate line, that successor is me.

[ That stops Miles' breath for a moment in surprise. A female successor? Unprecedented, to say the least. Unless one considers Lord Midnight, of course ... He suppresses the urge to pace, but only because he doesn't want to let go of Bel.

He doesn't object. Does he? Well - not personally, absolutely not. Politically he could be stepping into a great crock of shit, with his own position dangerously tenuous. Would Da approve? ... Oh yes. Yes, he's certain of that.

That thought cements him in an instant. He straightens, meeting Donna's gaze just as intensely. ]

Count's choice over count's blood. [ A pause. ] I wonder, though - did you decide to approach me before or after seeing my partner?

After.

[It's absolutely blunt, eyes alighting on Bel with certain interest.]

Oh, you were on the list, but you never exactly know how a Vorkosigan is going to go. Blazingly progressive or clawing deep into tradition.

You moved up to first.

[ Miles makes a bit of a face at that. Not the blunt look - rather, the blunt words. ]

Gran'da was progressive. For his time. Which was a century ago.

He was a great man, I've heard. [There's a judicious remoteness in her voice. A deliberate reminder of the times and reasons they have been enemies before?]

You, however, being in this century, your aid I am very deeply interested in. And it would be another chair to the Centralists, wouldn't it?

[ And therein lies the exchange, he thinks. A longterm ally to his and his father's causes ... if she doesn't lose this bid.

Well. He better not let it, then. ]

It would be. Or at least I would hope. To do otherwise would be a bit hypocritical.

The Vorrutyers are a great many things. Few of them savory in our last few generations. [There's a delicate way one can curl their lip to such an extent and not put a dent in one's lipstick. It takes skill. Or perhaps, practice.] Hypocritical is not one of them, at least.

[That's always been Vorkosigan soil.]

If Pierre can keep from doing anything too exciting in the next month, we'll be putting forth our plan in the early spring meeting. Do we have an alliance?

[She holds out her hand, wrist up, fingernails glittering in the garden's lamps.]

[ Miles certainly knows that well enough. Trusting a Vorrutyer, eh ... The one thing he supposes he can really trust is for a Vorrutyer to be interesting. And this? Is very interesting.

He reaches out to take her hand then, firmly. ]

You have my support, Lady Vorrutyer. I hope all turns out as you plan.

Edited 2016-12-17 01:25 (UTC)

Oh, it will. I'm prepared to go as far as I need to.

[She grasps his hands firmly for a moment, before letting go, settling back in her makeshift stage.]

I imagine you'll need an ally in the Conservatives rather desperately, I imagine. I admit, this is an incredibly bold show.

[ Miles is experienced enough with politics not to show that Vorrutyer's touched a nerve here. But his eyes flick towards Bel anyway before resettling back. ]

We've not decided anything. I can't imagine Bel wants to stay on Barrayar long term.

[Bel is much less opaque in general. Despite kicking around for almost half a century, they've never had to learn to school their features. Or emotions, really. The view Miles gets is someone following, not likely much, but managing to bite the inside of their mouth.]

At the very least, we have business of my own to attend to first on Beta. [They answer, unusually judiciously. There's a feeling like watching the bell of a nerve disruptor in all of these politics. (God awful archaic politics at that.)

Donna smiles graciously and nods.]

I wont worry about making any moves there, then. [There's a moment, her eyes glittering in some private amusement, and some mix of regard before she simply nods again at some unspoken musing.]

I don't suppose you could be a dear and let Ivan know I've missed his company.

[ Clearly Donna is planning something. MIles' eyes narrow a bit, but he can't for the life of him figure out what in the world Donna would want on Beta Colony.

The implied flirtation, though. That prompts a possessive little flinch. ]

Kindly do not flirt with my partner in front of me, Lady Vorrutyer. I'm liable to get grumpy about it.

[ A slight baring of teeth. Don't you do it, Vorrutyer. ]

I'll be more than happy to give my cousin your regards.

[She laughs, bright and delighted.]

Toughen up your guard, Vorkosigan. I'm a friend.

[The addenda "what will you do with an enemy?" is left unspoken.]

I'll like to receive you again soon, for planning's sake.

[ Oh, whatever. He's already decided to help her, so he's not too concerned with the opposite. A casual little flick of his hand. ]

Of course. Send me a message when you get back.

Expect it shortly. [And at that, she turns to one of her armsman to engage him in conversation again. Another steps out to refresh her tea.]

[As they retreat from the garden, Bel rubs the tension out of their own shoulders... sparing a glance down at Miles.]

Have you considered just adapting galactic laws wholesale? It could save you this... everything.

[ Miles doesn't relax until Vorrutyer is gone. And then he's still rather stiff, a new cavalcade of thoughts stomping through his head. ]

Alas. If we tried that, we'd have a civil war on our hands. Baby steps.

[There's still quite the... exposed feeling out here. Bel takes a look around, finds a nearby door and... rather militarily scans it, at complete odds with the resplendent dress.

Finding neither drunken lovers or spies, they motion Miles in with them.]

There's an upmountain battle.

[ Miles gladly follows. It's too cold out here anyway, even without the threat of eavesdroppers. ]

Just so. It's why I ultimately need to come home. I have a long fight ahead of me - one that will last the rest of my life.

Or take it.

[Bel commented dryly. Like most rooms in the sprawling castle, there were all of the comforts of home prepared for the evening and kept by the small fleet of servant staff: a roaring fire, wine and glasses, and of course, ImpSec listening devices scattered here and there.]

Care to fill me in on what all of that wheedling was actually about?

Or take it.

[ He agrees wearily. If nothing else his heart may give out one day, give him trouble like his father's had. He settles down in a comfortable chair, idly rooting out a bug and switching it off. He trusts you, Simon, but. ]

Internal politics. The current Count Vorrutyer is unlikely to last much longer, and she is his eldest child. She wants to take over after him instead of Richars Vorrutyer, who is the male cousin who would normally inherit. He is, by all account, terrible.

Edited 2016-12-18 14:15 (UTC)

Is she much better?

Oh, yes. Significantly so. [ A pause. ] Still dangerous, but we all are at this level.

You are. I want nothing to do with that side of things. [They fold their arms, considering.]

So, correct me if I'm wrong, but this vote is one of those significant social structure changes.