vor | Eighth Cream Cake: [Written/Action/Voice] FORWARD-DATED to the 9th

[A week of research was a questionable coping mechanism. It succeeded in keeping him from having to talk to anyone. Also, in keeping him busy. However, a week buried in information brings on a loneliness that makes unchecked depression go rampant.

That's the worst part about it, sometimes. Being so utterly incapable of breaking the ice, of visiting someone and drudging up polite conversation and leaving that loneliness behind. He can't conjure the energy to visit anyone or ask for a visit, but everything is so much worse when he's lonely. Walking that circle is worse than rummaging through page after page of data, wanting to find and yet terrified of finding. He hated it alone in the research rooms, but feared going back to the same cycle, the same circle, as before.

When he comes back, he puts off going back to the flat for as long as possible. He sees to the horses at the stable, introducing the new mare to the others. Horses don't require conversation, but they provide companionship. Gregor is faintly disturbed by that thought, as if working with the horses might be more harmful than therapeutic. He finds himself clutching Babushka's mane in both fists, his face buried in her shoulder, heart pounding with the sudden, dizzy speculation that the one thing that makes him feel happy in this place is poisoned by his own weakness. No. No, no, no, he's not about to start thinking that way. Working with the horses means working with the hands, and that's human interaction. He enjoys that part. There's a premise to it, nothing forced. It's okay. He's being ridiculous about this. Gradually, he releases Babushka's mane. Her placid temperament helps. It's as if she barely noticed.

He should go home and take a shower, but instead he sits in the stable and sends a written message out, filtering it only lazily since it's nothing important.]

[Filtered to Ivan Vorpatril, Buffy Summers, Adele LeBlanc, and everyone who works at the stable or takes lessons - 35% unhackable]

I've come back.
--GVB

[/Filtered.]

[Then, it's anything he can do to keep from going back to that apartment. He knows once he's there, he'll nest in his safe little area and be completely trapped, alone with his own thoughts. So he plunks himself into the coffee shop with a cup of coffee and a cream cake he brought over from the bakery. He should check up on Loki (he has his own problems). He should talk to Nephry (she shouldn't see me like this). Or Molly (neither should she). Or Buffy (no pretending no no no...). Or Adele (nothing she can do). The trouble is that he's not fit to be seen by anyone. There's really nowhere to go but home, is there? Like it or not, he's chained to that place. Heaven forbid he send out a message to any one of them, or even that idiot Ivan, saying, I need help, today is a bad day, I don't care what you do just make sure...

Make sure of what? That he doesn't topple off any more balconies? He knows where death leads here. Everyone does. It would sound so stupid to explain why having one week asleep, one week ushered painlessly by during the wait to go home would be worth a death penalty.

...He needs to talk himself out of thinking that way.

At last, he sends out a voice message.]

The public stables are open, with three horses available to anyone who needs them. Just check them out with the on-duty stable hand.

[After inquiries are responded to, there's nothing to do but go home. Once he is there, he is most likely to curl up on his couch and not answer the door or any messages.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I did grow up with the Vorkosigans. [Particularly the shortest one.] And speaking of people who want you dead, it would be more secure if you moved here.

A whole family like that? [That certainly seems the implication.] Congratulations on surviving.

[He shrugs.]

My location is easy enough to ascertain. If someone wants to try to kill me again, the house shan't make a difference. I like mine.

Well. A foster-brother like that. Hyperactive as hell, too.

And I doubt Rogers is the type who'll attack a building full of relative innocents to get to one man. There's a little more guesswork involved as to which flat you're in, and the angle's not great for projecting something through the window.

I don't think I've ever been accused of being worse than manic.

The evidence has convinced me now that Rogers likely didn't have anything to do with it other than a friendship with the wouldbe assassin. And while your strategic points are very well thought out and valid, I will accept the heightened danger to my person in favor of the better privacy.

Besides, my house is but a few doors away from Ikki's, which also makes me less inclined to move.

Oh, he's manic, too. Though it's better than his depressive states.

[A sigh.] I suppose having people want you dead can be different from having people trying to kill you. And...I kind of hate this place, lately.

For my part, I'd much rather be manic than depressed. [Loki laughs.] 'tis more fun for me at least.

A subtle but important difference as well.

Perhaps it says terrible things about my life, but were I not so eager to return to my work I would think this something of a vacation.

I've been told I should think the same thing. I just...keep thinking of what my chief of security would say. That, and how much of a mess I'm going to be in when I get home.

[Loki flicks his fingers.]

Don't let others tell you such things. 'tis you who determines that.

What do you think he would say?

Something about how a house on a cul-de-sac with few people surrounding it leaves me vulnerable, and he hasn't had a report on you yet.

I should think if he had a report on me, he'd devolve into hysterics and retire to a monastic life of peace and solitude. Somewhere nice where no one has anything sharper than a begging bowl.

Edited Date: 2012-10-10 05:14 am (UTC)

I'm not sure. He's seen a lot. [Gregor shrugs.] But he's not here. And anyway, I keep hearing my foster-mother, too.

Oh?

I feel as if I should start worrying about the number of non-Gregor people you seem to have in your head, my friend.

[He doesn't find that statement funny.]

You know what I mean. She'd want me to have someone there.

[Loki raises an eyebrow.]

I'm afraid I really don't. [There's no one he trusts that much.]

But she sounds quite wise nonetheles.

When do you think would be a good time to do this?

[Loki shrugs.] I've nothing but time when you need help for it. At your convenience.

Maybe in a couple of days. I have at least one riding lesson tomorrow. Maybe I can enlist Ivan to help.

...Dear God, I have to tell Ivan.

[It's not that he thinks Ivan will take it hard. He just thinks he'll receive some push-back from his insistent cousin. Maybe he'll at least be relieved someone else is babysitting his depressed Emperor now.]

Whenever you like. Just let me know. In addition to being an acclaimed magician, I can lift heavy things as well.

[He raises an eyebrow. Apparently this is a problem?]

Two days. It should give me time to pack, I guess.

[Loki nods.]

Two days, then. It'll give me time to chuck out the things I stuck in that room at any rate. [And clean up all the papers and tea cups that seem to keep drifting across his house...]

Can't you magick all that away?

[Ignore the dryness of that tone.]

Edited Date: 2012-10-10 01:42 pm (UTC)

I could. It'd be a waste of effort, though. Rather frivolous.

More so than picking everything up by hand?

It's a question of energy expenditure.

I can either pick things up and toss them in a bin.

Or I can use my will to split them into their component atoms and then disperse those atoms appropriately. Or turn them into something else. Or teleport them to a different location entirely.

All of which ultimately requires a good deal more effort. I only make it look easy, you know.