vor | Fifth Cream Cake: [Action/Voice]

[Almost two weeks spent in Malnosso captivity and what does Gregor have to show for it?

Lots and lots of band-aids, mostly. Also a minor cold that has turned into a chesty cough.

Instead of any great torture, drugs, or whatever he'd been expecting, the Malnosso mostly took DNA samples. Blood samples. Tissue samples. He's from further in Earth-universe's future than most besides Ivan, so maybe his specific point in human evolution was of interest. He understands the "lab rat" metaphor pretty well now. There hadn't been a lot of space in his cell, so he's a little stiff and sore. At least the hallucinations are gone. That had been the worst part--having to assure himself that this was a normal reaction to solitary confinement. He slowly heaves himself to his feet, blindly scrabbling for his journal. Writing is not easy with all his bandaged fingertips, so he speaks, sounding hoarse, slightly congested, and exhausted.]

Ivan. [A pause. ] Buffy. Adele. Whoever's...interested, this is Greg. I'm back. [He coughs a couple of times, fairly hard.] The Malnosso...anyway, I'm fine. It...wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I'm heading home now. Did someone take care of my horse?

[He'll take about fifteen minutes to walk home from his spot in the woods.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Ivan matches the expression to the absolute best of his ability.]

Well, then, be a good horse now.

Oh come on, the old Count taught you better than that.

I'm sure that there are a lot of things the old Count would have liked to have taught me better than that.

[And he's still side-eying the horse.]

You're Vor. It's supposed to be in the blood. What are you afraid of?

Look at how much bigger than me it is!

[Oh, was the question of what he's afraid of meant to make him feel ashamed of his fear?]

Ivan, if you're hiding a deep-ingrained horse-related trauma I was not there to witness--possible, but unlikely--at least trust me to have control over my own horse.

[He stops to cough.]

[No horse trauma, it's just bigger than him. ~~That's not natural.~~]

I'd just hate to get injured in this place.

Understandably. Still, how do you expect to take care of her without touching her?

If she just needs food...

[Sure, the old Count Vorkosigan had said horses needed more than that, but he'd said a lot of things that hadn't turned out to be true.]

She doesn't just need food.

And water, of course!

Ah, what else does she need?

Grooming, exercise, mucking...are you sure you've had at least one conversation with the old Count?

Now that you mention it it sounds familiar.

[But was it worth remembering? Ivan hadn't really thought so.]

Take the bloody horse, Ivan.

[Alright. Taking the horse. Ivan steps a little closer, hand reaching out to the hold where Gregor's hand currently is.

He hopes this is good enough, and that she doesn't decide to suddenly bolt.]

[Gregor passes General Alys off to Ivan. The mare whuffles Ivan's hair, but otherwise tolerates the treatment.]

[Well this is...something he can certainly deal with, which probably means that he's doing something wrong.]

Is there something specific you want me to do with her?

[He puts his hand on her back gently as they enter the barn.] Just walk her into her stall.

You make it sound so simple.

[Still, Ivan thinks he's managing it.]

[The same thought crosses Gregor's mind, causing a smile. Once Alys is settled, he goes around, showing his cousin the daily routine for horse care and letting him feed, water, and groom her.]

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