shipmaster | (no subject)

[Days slipped by into weeks. There was no shortage of things that needed to be done. Most especially - the District needed to be run while Aral was healing. Cordelia could have done it, and done it well, but with her knowing smile, said that she had enough to watch over. Why doesn't her prodigal boychick step up and see how the chair fits. Mark, of course, had gone pale and sprung a sweat on his brow at even the very thought of taking that position back up. Apparently, while Miles had been gone, no small amount of strange things had happened.

But there was much to do, besides the small dramas of listening to the District grievances, petitions, requests, arguments as merchants, minor nobles and hillfolk alike filled in and out of the Hassadar administrative building, sat on the polished wood seats next to each other and talked about the cold weather before seeing the Little Lord. There was the odd and new relationship between Mark, the Count and the Countess, there was the old and ... estranged yet not between Miles and the same.

As the days filed on, Bel sent word via tightbeam to the Ariel to cast off, break orbit and pursue an escort mission with a Komarran trade fleet to keep the income up while they were downside.

Finally, it was Winterfair. The House was in an enormous bustle, getting ready for the travel in to the Vorbarra district for the revelry. The Count was on his feet (for short, closely observed periods.) The Countess was directing the small fleet of servants and hired help like the small, well trained army they were. Mark was nervously trying on a new fitted outfit.

And Bel was draped over a settee, not having actually changed out of their civvies, expecting to greet the family as they came back.]

[ In the intervening weeks, Miles has quietly settled back into this life. It's strange for reasons over and above his amnesia, which has finally settled into being only momentary blips of confusion until the appropriate memory slips into place. He ... is not terrible at being a Count. It's only surprising to him, but he is surprised despite himself.

His seizures has not stopped, but neither have they worsened. In fact, he's gotten quite good at sensing when one is about to come on. A quick excuse, a secluded room ... and he returns after much grayer but with no one the wiser. He's coping. It's not pleasant, but he's managing something. (But that trip to Beta Colony needs to happen soon, dammit.)

Miles emerges from the next room, having detached from the family for a moment. He's looking very fine in his custom-tailored suit in Vorkosigan colors. He even has the faintest touch of silver at his temples to match the silver on his collar. ]

... Bel? What are you doing?

Catching up on the Emerald Sands. [Bel calls back, cheerfully.] These Komarran dramas are even more ridiculous than the feelies back home.

[There's a pause, as Bel looks up from the DIRE CIRCUMSTANCES OF PORTMASTER YUAN HAVING BEEN CAUGHT UP WITH THE SHIPS CAPTAIN OF THE MERCHANT CARAVAN T- ... Miles is still staring. And there's a certain look.]

Did I miss something I was supposed to be doing. I thought you put me as off tonight.

[ Miles rolls his eyes a bit. He really can't blame Bel, given the lack of excitement most days otherwise, but ... Komarran holodramas, really. ]

You are off tonight. Because - I was hoping you would join me. As my guest.

[ he's playing it sO COOL RIGHT NOW ]

[As a guest. Openly. Not in uniform.

Translation: As a date.

On one hand. Yes.

On the other, holy shit even Bel had picked up what a big deal Winterfair is.]

I... yes! I mean... I... don't have anything even remotely as posh as that.

[There is SO much cool in this room.]

[ Miles fumbles awkwardly with his cufflinks, not quite looking at them. ]

That's fine. I - er - I had a few things made. Winterfair gifts. Which doesn't mean you have to wear them tonight, you can certainly just put them away for another time, but -

[Bel sits up, suddenly not just flattered, but deeply curious as to what Miles WOULD pick out for them.]

Can I see them?

Of course. I wasn't sure what you would like, so I just ... made sure to get a range.

[ He retreats for a moment, then returns with a small stack of boxes. There are two complete outfits that can be intermingled with each other for a combined look, if Bel chooses. A full Vor lady getup, and then a matching Vor lord outfit. Mostly gray and silver, with hints of brown. ]

[There really wasn't mistaking the design and color. It was meant to be a matching compliment to Miles' traditional fields of brown and subtle splashes of silver. Openly and brazenly.

This was different, wildly different than the one night they'd had. The subtle arrangements around things... even this was without words... but a far more powerful statement. Had he told his family? Was THIS telling his family? Hell, his whole planet in one go.

Is this agreeing to stay? Is it going to force them to leave? Bel had no idea what was even going to happen.... just knew that this was one of those cliffs you either walked off of or never came back to...

Oh hell.

Bel looks up at Miles, almost unaccountably nervous. You don't get practice for this in little flings and dalliances. They pick up the boxes.]

Wait here.

No, first, help me find someone who knows how to get INTO this, and then wait here.

[ Is that a yes? (Does he know what he's asking, even? Hell. He's not sure.) So for now, he just nods and gestures for a servant. ]

Er - here, can you help them? Thank you.

[ At least this servant has been around enough not to so much a blink at Bel by now. ]

[It's lucky that Miles had gotten ready early, because he's left to wait and wonder out in the foyer for quite some time now.

In the mean time, Bel had some time to marvel at the tailor Miles (and likely Alys) had set on this particular task. The bodice, corset and half sleeves looked just as sharp on the dress slacks as they did buttoned back neatly to a seamless fit with the skirts. And the more masculine top could be paired with a smart bustling to streamline the skirts to a sleeker fit.

It really could be mixed and matched without some stubborn mending, and almost everything was some sort of flattering. Which really didn't make deciding easier. Bel simply settled on both mood and... what they didn't get to do often. Mismatching was as uncomfortable for observers as much as it was almost expected. And masculine uniforms were just the standard easy route...

The full turn out though... That they didn't get to do often. They turn to the servant, who doesn't even blink at the mischievous set taking Bel's features. If anything, the bland expression turned a touch more interested.]

So. [However Miles had taken to pass the time was interrupted by a slightly softer alto. Drawn up as a Vor Lady in full, Bel Thorne struck a particularly sleek figure. Someone had taken a hot iron to their usual androgynous cut and gave it a bit of curl. The makeup is subtle, accenting the more handsome features, rather than blur them.

Miles' own mother's hand is clear in it by the silver and brown garnet necklaces and bracelets from her own collection, as well as a matching earcuff to compliment the Betan earrings Bel had fished out for the occasion.

It's different. Elegant even.] What do you think?

[ It's jaw-dropping, is what it is. Miles had been alternately pacing and pretending to peruse holonovels. When Bel returns at last, Miles takes them in with a shocked sort of awe. He'd be happy with Bel in any form - any mix, anything the former captain might have chosen. But dear god, there's something special about seeing Bel in full Vor lady getup.

He continues staring for a moment, mouth dry. A bright flush pricks his cheeks. ]

I - er - it suits you very well. Extremely well.

Edited 2016-11-25 16:58 (UTC)

[Was there any greater compliment than the stop and stutter that was? Bel couldn't think of one. They don't fill it quite to Barrayaran taste, but that wasn't what they gave a damn about anyway. There's a bit of an extra saunter in their step as they move now.]

I might need help getting it off later. [Bel teases, a bit wickedly given their abstinence. They continue quite a bit more brightly.]

You would not believe how many weapons I've got hidden in here too. I will say, there's some practicality to volume.

[ Miles laughs at that, finally picking his jaw up off the floor. The flush is still bright in his cheeks, though. ]

Gladly, and with great vigor. [ He's so very relieved that Bel seems to like this. ] And you know that's the whole point, right? I could even dredge up a Vorfemme knife for you, I'm sure.

I hadn't. I somewhat expected foot binding and nunneries, for how much you see a Barrayaran woman off planet.

[There's no bite to it. No, these weeks had opened up their eyes a lot. Still... whatever the hell a Vorfemme knife was, it sounded like a weapon.]

Better than a vibrablade?

We're not that bad. We've just ... not been as good to our women on the whole.

[ He cocks his head at the question, considering. ]

Mm, perhaps not quite as good. But very sharp regardless, and traditional.

Oh I know. Your mother and I have been talking shop the last few weeks.

Eh. I'll trade tradition for utility.

Talking shop.

[ He holds out his arm for Bel to take, if they choose. ]

Should I be concerned?

[Bel smiles, striking a high chin pose as they settle a hand on Miles' shoulder in a fair imitation of what they'd seen between the Count and Countess in the house.]

Well, she does have an awful lot of videoes of your childhood.

[ Miles relaxes a bit at that. It's a familiar gesture and he recognizes the significance of it. ]

Oh, god. Which ones? Dare I even ask?

[They were going to be a spectacle. An unavoidable, stop and stare sort of spectacle. Might as well give them something to look at.]

I'm not entirely sure how you got on the counter with three limbs in soft splints, but I can't say I'm surprised, either.

[ That surprises a laugh out of him. He, for one, is prepared for the spectacle. ]

Sheer tenacity. And the cook had left out a tray of pastries.

So. Nothing's changed at all.

I'm a bit less likely to break myself for pastries, at least.

Depends. If a committee told you you absolutely couldn't have any of them...

[As they walk, conversation and the burble of the House in activity rings out from down the hall. It was getting close to time.]

Some people would have shame by now. But not us

NEVER US

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