vor | Fourth Cream Cake: [Action/Voice]

[It has been some time since he did this.

Tonight, Gregor is behind CH7 with two large aluminum bowls. He places them on the ground.

One, he fills with sweet-scented bark and sage leaves. The other, with twigs and dried paper.

His hair has grown too long anyway. Carefully, he snips two locks of raven-black hair from his head. One for each bowl.

He kneels in front of the second bowl, the one filled with ordinary fuel, and tosses a tuft of hair in. Then, he strikes a match and sets fire to the contents. As it burns, he quietly adds a slip of paper with his signature written on it in his best handwriting. His official Imperial signature.

He says nothing as the death offering for his father burns. He's done this many times, at the guidance of Lady Alys. There had been no funeral offering for Prince Serg but the one which had filled the sky of Sergyar.

He returns to the first bowl, tenderly adding the lock of hair, a slip of paper with an invisible kiss, and, of all things, a child's shoe. As the offering burns, tears glisten in his eyes. When he's sure no one is around, he curls to the ground and quietly weeps.

He's aware of the limited privacy, but he'll whisper a few words over each offering. Anyone clever enough to sneak up would have to come very close indeed to hear them.

It is supposed that the burning of these offerings helps to drive away ghosts.

When that's over, he simply sits with his back to the wall and speaks into his journal. It's soft and hesitating--he's certainly not the "inspiring speeches on a dime" sort of ruler back home, but writing in the dark is ill-advised. His voice is somewhat rough.]

On Barrayar, we burn offerings for the dead. People died on the draft, but generally, the usual rites don't apply if they're coming back. It's limbo. What do you do?

Um. Could...someone give me a haircut?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He's quiet for a moment.]

Something Count Vorkosigan told me, growing up, is that sometimes you actually have an implacable enemy. That when that happens, you can only take responsibility for what you do. You'll drive yourself mad otherwise. I...think he does, or feels like he is.

Implacable is a kind way of putting it but -- yeah. I think me and the Count could agree.

He'd like you.

Are you sure about that? I've never met a Count who didn't at least feel mildly exasperated in my presence.

[ and then there was the one who tried to eat her... ]

Yes, I'm sure. He'd see you as a soldier.

Military man?

I think...if I'm the politician, he's the military man, in some ways. Not Minister of War, but he's...he's Aral Vorkosigan. He won Komarr, and executed a legendary retreat in the Escobar War the moment he achieved command. Didn't lose a single man after...after he did. Easily the most brilliant strategist of his generation, and he's the one who told me war is a failure of politics. Nowadays he's Prime Minister.