tremolo

[isthisart]

Gregor and his accompanying security personnel depart to do other imperial things. Linya is on time for her video call economics lesson and business planning session with Tsipis, which she enjoys enormously. He wants a nicely packaged concept report on her pen - obviously she can't part with the existing prototype itself, but to get electronics companies bidding on its construction and investors to foot the bill for the initial run, he needs to tell them what they'd be making. She gets some details about what format he wants that in, spends the rest of the day less dinner and midnight snack time and an hour on the piano putting that together, sends it in, and goes to bed with her tiny Barrayaran. He is so snuggly.

Linya is underburdened with clothes for a haut-woman, even one who has only had her adult height for about a year, which means that she only has an excessive number instead of a preposterous number, but she's not sure it's a good long-term plan to go around in her Cetagandan clothes. They aren't recognizable as Cetagandan, exactly - haut styles overlap little with the ghem and prole fashions even on the same planet, and technically every garment she owns is unique if only in color, embroidery, and tailoring and not entire concept; and to the extent there is a coherent aesthetic among haut-ladies, it is not the sort of thing that would have ever filtered to Barrayaran public consciousness. She does not, however, look like she's trying very hard to fit in with Barrayar. When she mentions this over breakfast the following day Cordelia introduces her to Ivan's mother, Alys, who is only cordial on a personal level but actively intent on being helpful as far as clothes are concerned. She seems to consider Linya an interesting canvas on which to ply her art, and Linya is all too willing to let her.

After that long shopping trip (again accompanied by an Armsman, again uneventful except for strange looks, and interrupted in the middle by dinner) Linya hasn't brought home any Barrayaran garments except for one midnight-blue bolero jacket and a pair of black shoes, as everything else needs to be nipped in or let out or remade from new cloth to meet Alys's fit standards. She does, however, wear that jacket and those shoes with one of her existing dresses the next day, after she has - eventually - rolled out of bed with her tiny Barrayaran to put clothes on. Any time today she doesn't spend meeting Count Vorkosigan or otherwise being sociable, she plans to divide between refining the gesture-assignment interface for the consumer pen and studying Greek.

Comments

[greatcomposure]

"This is not Cetaganda," she agrees. "The parameters of scandal are very different here."

[isthisart]

"Yes. I'm sure there are plenty of uniquely Barryaran ways to introduce dismay into the mood of the population to compensate."

[greatcomposure]

"Miles seems to manage it just by existing."

[isthisart]

"So at least there's someone experienced around."

[greatcomposure]

"Yes. And I'm sure he'll be happy to let you benefit from that experience."

[isthisart]

"Aid where needed," murmurs Linya.

[greatcomposure]

"Indeed."

[isthisart]

The conversation trails off from there.

Linya has lunch, and programs up in her room, making sure that her pen will be able to gain evidence about what gestures it's seeing from accustomed users' grip strength and hand position and speed as well as the path the nib takes through the air even when the users in question are not her. (In her case most of these features are serving as secondary identity confirmation in addition to the DNA lock.) She does not loiter near the entryway; there was no disaster when she was the first person Emperor Gregor encountered, but she is not sure she wishes to repeat the sequence of events with Count Vorkosigan as well.

[thisvorlunatic]

Around midafternoon, Miles comes in, looking thoughtful.

"Father's home," he says. "And from what I - er - accidentally overheard, he seems inclined to give us the benefit of the doubt."

[isthisart]

Linya scoops him up to hug. "That's good."

[thisvorlunatic]

Hugs! Scoopular hugs!

"Mother said some things to him that I didn't entirely understand, but the gist seems to be that he's been delaying coming home because he isn't sure how to talk to you, and it is Mother's opinion that he should quit being silly and go say hello. He was still dithering a few minutes ago when I crept away to come give you the good news. I don't believe I've ever seen him dither before."

[isthisart]

"I'm dither-inducing. Grand."

[thisvorlunatic]

"There are complicated circumstances at work," he says. "I'll take dithering over, say, pulling me aside to tell me I'm an idiot who should mail you back pronto. Which he seems not at all inclined to do."

[isthisart]

"Good. Frankly I have no idea what my status would be if I were sent back instead of to some other planet entirely, and anyway I would miss you." She nuzzles the top of his head. Because is he is cute and scoopable.

[thisvorlunatic]

He snuggles up.

"I'd miss you too," he says. "Terribly. Which is among the reasons why I'm not sending you back. Who else am I going to meet with six feet of hair she'll let me braid?"

[isthisart]

"I love that you braid my hair, you know."

[thisvorlunatic]

"I love that you let me braid your hair." He stretches up and pecks her on the cheek, then sighs. "I should probably bugger off before Da gets up the courage to come talk to you; I can't imagine that having me in your lap at the time would make it less awkward."

[isthisart]

"All right, I suppose that makes sense." Kiss.

[thisvorlunatic]

Kiss. Snuggle. Small amount of extra snuggle.

Then he disentangles himself and goes off to find an elsewhere to be.

[isthisart]

And Linya waits. She's a little too distracted to program; she goes over to where her keyboard stand is set up and plays little snatches of this and that.

[on_my_word]

There comes a knock at the door of the suite.

[isthisart]

Linya gets up to answer it.

"Count Vorkosigan," she says politely. (She looked him up and knows what he looks like.)

[on_my_word]

"Lady Vorkosigan," he answers, equally politely. "I, ah... wanted to assure you that you are welcome in my home."

[isthisart]

"Thank you. It's a lovely house," she adds.

[on_my_word]

This observation surprises a smile out of him.

"Is it? This decrepit old pile? Maybe it takes an unfamiliar eye to see the beauty."