thisavrou_log | [ all my favorite people are broken ]

Who: Miles and company
When: the 9th through the 15th
Where: the Kvortira, Moro Deck #009
What: Now that Miles is a little more stable, Ivan and Gregor are permitting him visitors at their cabin.
Warnings: Mental illness/trauma, TBD

It's been...a long week. It's been a long month. A long -- Miles could go on, but there's no sense in counting backwards like that. The last several days have been spent adrift in a terrifying daze, not quite sure of himself or who he is -- the details he hadn't lost, mostly, but they'd been spilled free of their boundaries, a tangled mess. Who belonged to which life, which one of him had done what, kept this secret or another, what parts of him they filled in -- he'd almost lost it all, it'd almost slipped through his fingers. That peculiar sensation of being pulled slowly apart that he'd been feeling for months now had hit its peak. He'd never felt so raw and aching, ripped right open and stuffing torn out. He'd never felt so lost. The ice bath had shocked him right out of the whirlwind smashing everything up, but then he'd been left to carefully reassemble the pieces.

He's doing better now. It took a while, but somewhere in the dark, he fished out the pieces of himself and put them back together. His house of cards rebuilt, he's got both feet on the ground, whole again. It took him all this time and trauma to come to understand, finally, that as long as he's on this ship, he can't really be Lord Vorkosigan or Admiral Naismith, just one or the other. It left him feeling incomplete. He can't really be either of them at all here, really. Lord Vorkosigan is nothing without Barrayar, he's realized, and Admiral Naismith nothing without the Dendarii. It's all about context, he knows, and here, neither might as well exist. But the Moira does, and Miles has been here since the beginning of all this, and here, it's become an inextricable part of him, just the same as his anchors back home. He needs it, in a way. So when he finally emerged from that tumultuous sea, it wasn't as Lord Vorkosigan or Admiral Naismith, but Crewman Miles Naismith-Vorkosigan of the Moira.

He's still getting used to himself all over again, and he's still finding his footing, but it's a relief to have found himself again. He feels he can relax for the first time in...a long time. And for the first time in the last month, he's sleeping again, actually sleeping, and he's not totally free of nightmares, but it's been better. It's getting a little better every day. He looks a little thinner, more gaunt than usual, and far paler, but he still looks better than when he'd been so sleep deprived and unsteady. He's just still a little shaky, that's all, but he's feeling worlds better, aside from how stir crazy he's starting to feel. Ivan and Gregor still won't let him out of the cabin for now, and it's maddening, however good their intentions. He doesn't quite have the energy to fight them on it. A few visitors would do him good, though. He's starting to feel starved for human contact outside of his cousins.

[ feel free to write a starter or let me know if you want me to write one! ]

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Oh good, she's managed to catch him off guard. She's found the best gossip often comes from an unsuspecting conversation partner.

She almost tells him how impolite it is to leave his mouth hanging like that when he manages to shut it and she waits, watching him expectedly, for him to speak. The look she gives him says she hardly believes the 'old laugh among friends' part. What friends would laugh that frivolously about young boys being thrown in the middle of a mercenary fleet? But the first part, she can believe.

"And what happened when the two of you returned to Barrayar from this mishap?" Which is the politest classification she can give the entire affair.

Miles wheezes out a nervous laugh mostly disguised as an emphatic exhalation. He wonders if he could call Ivan or Gregor in here to end this conversation, or at least change the subject. After all, the reason he's taking visitors instead of being able to wander out on his own is general concern for his mental state. Isn't the point supposed to be to keep him from too much stress, or something? But no, he reflects melancholically, not even the Emperor of Barrayar could intervene if Alys wanted to press this line of conversation. Miles rocks back against the wall and fidgets with his sling, pulling at a loose thread.

"Oh, Ivan made it home just fine." True. "The ride back was pretty uneventful, all told." Also true. "And everyone came out if it in one piece." Pretty much true. Mostly. Well, no -- not Bothari, he thinks with a heavy pang in his chest, but he doesn't know if he wants to tell that to Alys right now. He doesn't know if he can.

Sadly for Miles, she's invested in this conversation. If it's long history and a 'laugh among friends,' surely it can't be that difficult to retell to a family member.

There's a long moment where she studies Miles' expression. Whatever test she's examining him for, he seems to pass because she nods firmly. "He must have if he's standing here today. He hasn't breathed a word of this to me." Among many, many other things she's learning slowly about through others around Ivan.

Miles lets out a tiny breath of relief. Is she dropping the subject now? Oh, thank God.

"Well, it was part of the whole covert ops agent thing," Miles says, a little more breezily. "Very high clearance. It's not really his fault."

"Information he was privy to by simply being there?" she asks with a small sigh. Of course her son would be dragged into something like that without much warning. At least he fared better than Padma.

"Yes, exactly," Miles says with a confident nod. When, exactly, had this visit to her infirm nephew become an interrogation? "But -- don't worry, that's the extent of his involvement in it."

Let's just not mention what happened on Earth.

Since Ivan refuses to tell his mother anything. A taste of the future for her, or so she's suspecting. Wonderful.

"I'm glad to hear it. I trust if any of your work bleeds over into our time here, you'll provide warning?" Given that Captain Thorne is around and others from their Nexus could show up, it's a possibility that they should have ground rules set for. Fair warning only seems right.

"Of course," Miles says in hurried assurance, with a jerky nod of his head. "You'll hear about it, I assure you -- from Gregor, if not from me. No secrets kept from him," he adds, hopefully to bolster her confidence.

She gives him a look that plainly says she should hope so. Gregor is no Ezar, but withholding information that vital from one's Emperor is hardly good practice.

"Or the rest of us," she says. Despite how many Ivan seems to be keeping from her. "Having family aboard has made this kidnapping more tolerable."

That, and Gregor is kind of Miles's boss. He already knows everything there is to know.

"I have to agree with you there," Miles admits, a little mournfully, "although I'm sorry the rest of you are stuck here too." He sinks back into his bed tiredly, suddenly exhausted from this familial interrogation. "It's...been a rough ride, at times. Sometimes even I feel a little out of my depth here."

She waves off the sympathy. It's hardly Miles' fault all of them are here with him and with the boys here... Well, she knows her duty to keep an eye on them even with the age difference.

"I would be more shocked if you felt at home with this," she chides lightly. "You should go easier on yourself, Miles. This isn't ship duty on an Imperial vessel." Meaning he doesn't need to work himself to the bone juggling multiple roles as he has been.

Miles frowns at that. "Perhaps not, but that doesn't make my duties here any less real or important. While I'm here I serve the crew, too, and it's in all our best interests to make sure we get where we're going. And not everyone here is pulling their weight."

"And the captains don't do anything to prevent this?" Where's the discipline on this ship? She really might need to go have a chat with the captains if this is how they run things.

Miles laughs hoarsely. "You haven't spoken to the captains much, have you? They never were prepared for a crew of this size, or a crew at all, I think. There's no real infrastructure here, and the disciplinary system is a joke. But I'm trying to work with them on it. God knows I've got more command experience than the three of them put together."

"So I've been hearing about them, but no, I haven't spoken to them yet." Something she would need to change though if they've been in command of this ship for so many months, she has to wonder if they're immune to reason. She can't be the only 'crew member' taken hostage and demanding better leadership.

"Do they have any plans to implement such a system?"

Miles sighs. "It's something I've been discussing with Megatron -- my co-officer in the Personnel Office. At least at this point they're likely to take it under consideration. I think they know they're out of their depth by now, and Captain Thán and I have a certain...understanding."

He rubs his face tiredly. Maybe he ought to tell Thán just where all his command expertise comes from now. "I'm sorry, Aunt Alys, but -- can we perhaps continue this conversation another time?" His voice creaks slightly. "I'm...a little tired."

This is, perhaps, an understatement.

She takes a moment to weigh her options and study her nephew. It draws on long enough that it almost seems as if she may have decided to stay when she finally reaches to pat his hand in comfort.

"Please keep me updated as things progress or if you need any help," she says as she stands. "I'm sure Ivan would be happy to assist as well." And if he isn't, well. She could change that.

[ all my favorite people are broken ]

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