You wait your turn and

[domesticaffairs]

WHO: Byerly Vorrutyer and you!
WHERE: Fountain/ Fountain Park
WHEN: November 13
OPEN TO: ONE AND ALL
WARNINGS: Possibly language, will update as needed
STATUS: Open

---

arrival//the fountain

The cool water surrounding him jolts him awake. How...? Byerly Vorrutyer never got near enough to a body of water to warrant swimming. It's such a bizarre circumstance that it takes Byerly a few beats to realize that he is, in fact, fully clothed and his upward momentum is slowing considerably from the weight of them. His mind finally kicks into gear, running through possibilities for this situation as he kicks upwards, lungs burning.

He breaks the surface, cool air biting at his face as he paddles over to what appears to be the edge of the fountain. He heaves in a couple of large breaths of air and pulls himself up and over the edge, sitting there and looking around. Where in the world...? Or was this even Barrayar? Was it the correct world?

But aside from that...

"Good god," he says to whoever is passing by at this point, Russian accent thick, "Would you mind pointing me in the direction of clothing that doesn't look like a shapeless potato sack? Something to dry off in the meantime would be nice as well." His black scrubs are soaked and clinging to him as his sharp, stunning brown eyes look up at you through his eyelashes as he runs a hand through his dark hair to sweep it back into place.

settling in//the inn

Byerly Vorrutyer did not like this place at all. He wanted back to Barrayar on the next ship, which is saying something because he doesn't often go traveling abroad.

For that matter, how the hell did he end up on Earth? Could it be someone he pissed off that he hadn't heard about?--er, someone he's pissed off more, anyway. But how could he have possibly been kept knocked utterly unconscious for weeks on end? The logistics would be mind-boggling and he's certain he hasn't lost any weight, he would notice...or at least, he thought he would despite these godforsaken rags they call clothing here.

He's mulling this all over with a somewhat sour expression, but it becomes even moreso after he takes a sip of his drink. He stares incredulously into the cup and turns to you.

"Do you by chance happen to know where I could get a real glass of wine around here?" He would never look down on the Vorlane wine ever again once he got back home ("if" doesn't even cross his mind.)

Comments

The Inn

[lastofthekellys]

It's a petite brunette who answers him. A petite brunette not wearing the scrubs, but a skirt over petticoats, a simple white blouse (no fastenings) pulled in at the waist by a plaited fabric cord. A narrow waist, because wearing a corset since the age of ten does that to even a working-clas girl's figure, particularly when she's taken the time to craft some proper undergarments here.

A petite brunette who arches her eyebrows and tilts her head in a manner a bit more daring than flirtatious.

"Now then, if someone's given you that tea and told you it was wine, I dare say it might be your own fault for not checkin' the colour," Kate says, tartly. "But if you find any fruit that don't need to be dried for storage, you are more than welcome to try your hand at bein' a vintner."

[domesticaffairs]

Oh thank goodness, there was someone around here that hasn't lost their minds and thought these awfully cut things were worthy to be worn around all the time.

His attention is next drawn to petite she is. He's no giant of a man himself at 5'10" but she was small--and that arch of the eyebrow does nothing to make him back off. In fact, it does the opposite. How much spunk does this seemingly young woman have? Hell, if he's trapped here for now, might as well have some fun with it.

"Typically if I ask for wine, I'm given wine," he replies smoothly. "I'm not quite sure what the barmaid heard that sounded like tea. If this is what people are hearing when I ask for 'wine', I may be sorely tempted to take up that sort of labor for once." Byerly Vorrutyer looks like he's hardly worked a day in his life.

"While we're talking where did you get your clothing? I need something proper to wear and not these. I look like I'm going to a burning ceremony everyday."

[lastofthekellys]

She's not sure who, exactly, is around the Inn currently, but there are a number of women's faces who appear in her mind along with 'would pour the wrong thing if annoyed', and her mouth curls with amusement.

"We don't exactly have barmaids here, sir. Or what you'd call staff. More residents of the Inn and volunteers. But there ain't any wine around here. Or any alcohol at all, come to think of it."

As if she hasn't thought about it for months, and the softening of the world it provides. The oblivion in her brain.

"As for me clothes, I made 'em out of what I found. But if it's the fit that bothers you on that, some people might be persuaded to help on that."

[domesticaffairs]

He really, really deserves that honestly. Not that he thinks so. This is a cruel joke to Byerly. He balks at her.

"Well then what can we do to get it?"

He looks her up and down shamelessly.

"The fit is not the only problem. Proper clothing is what I'm after."

[lastofthekellys]

"Make it, if you find the time, energy, inclination, and ingredients," Kate says, as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth and as if she hasn't been craving the burn and dulling of her senses herself.

The way his eyes drag themselves over her form is nothing new, although it's been months since anyone was that blatant. Since she's arrived here, as it happens, with its collection of improbably good-looking gentlemen. But she's had those kinds of looks since she was eleven, and so she just raises her chin a little, raises her eyebrows, and moves on.

"And if I were to tell you that we're a bit lacking in the area of silks and fine weaves, sir? Same with tailors come to think of it, although I hear Miss Sansa is a skilled hand with a needle.

Although she does have a pair of over-protective brothers, so I wouldn't be givin' her any looks like you just did me."

The Fountain

[thekittenqueen]

Margaery managed to catch the tail end of Byerly's arrival, hearing the familiar sounds of a new arrival's struggle out of the fountain. With the cold setting in, she couldn't imagine that the water and thinness of the scrubs would help make this arrival comfortable.

Pulling off her wool cloak, she held it out to the man, offering him something warm to help combat the winter air around them. "It is a bit of a shock, I know." She said gently. "Thankfully the water hasn't frozen." She didn't want to imagine how it would be once the ice set in. Someone would need to be vigilant about that.

"I wish I could direct you to a place where you might find better clothes, but as you can see," she tugged at her own scrubs, "we're a bit limited in resources here. I can, however, take you somewhere warm and dry."

[domesticaffairs]

He hadn't realized quite how cold it was through the shock of the arrival and the means of it. Seeing the wool seems to kickstart his senses and he realizes he's shivering.

Byerly receives that cloak from the stunning creature in front of him gratefully, wrapping it around himself, attempting to dry as much as keep in heat.

"Yes, thankfully," he replies quite sarcastically. At this point, if the water was frozen, at least he wouldn't be suffering as he is now.

"Somewhere warm and dry would be a decent start but where, exactly, is 'here'?" And he's afraid to ask why resources are limited. He wants out of these horrible things ASAP. He can't stand short sleeves.

[thekittenqueen]

"It isn't far from the inn," she said gently, placing her arm around his shoulders. It was a familiar gesture, one that she wouldn't often do with a stranger, but she hoped to help keep him warm. "I'm afraid that I can't exactly answer where 'here' is. We are in the wilderness, in buildings that were here before we arrived. Beyond this, we know little else."

It was disturbing, as well as frustrating that there is little in the way of explanation. "We don't know why we are here. There are a number of us in the village, brought into this place by the same way." It was unpleasant.

"There is a fire and tea at the inn."

[domesticaffairs]

My, isn't this cozy? Having a beautiful woman wrap an arm around him is almost worth the discomfort of the horrible rags clinging to him.

Her answers do not satisfy, however. His brows furrow as he attempts to piece together something coherent out of what she just told him and what he's observed thus far.

The furthest he gets?

"You're telling me we were kidnapped, dumped somewhere into a fountain and we've no idea where we are. I believe I'll need a glass of wine instead of tea once we get to that inn." He's content to have her keep her arm wrapped around him, but sadly, that's not enough to keep him warm at this point.

"Make that an entire bottle." Byerly moves to separate himself from her rather reluctantly but turns and gently takes her hand, bowing over it and looking up at her with a small smirk (his face simply wouldn't look quite right if he were to genuinely smile).

"Byerly Vorrutyer. I appreciate your kindness thus far."

Inn

[matt_murdock]

"No idea, but if you happen to find a bottle of scotch while you're looking, could you let me know?"

Seated at one of the tables, Matt turns an easy smile in the direction of the distinctly offended voice, his head tipping just a bit to better hear, eyes softly focused on the middle distance. "You're new," he says, more a statement than a question, his eyebrows lifting, gently curious.

"I don't think there's any booze around here at all," he adds. "Something like that wouldn't keep secret for long."

[domesticaffairs]

Byerly squares himself towards the unfamiliar man, honing in on where his eyes are pointed. Interesting.

"You're telling me there's no alcohol anywhere around here?" That's practically blasphemous to the Vor's ears--no meal went by without at least the offer of wine. His voice has an absolutely scandalized tone to it.

"Yes, how could you tell?" and his voice is dripping with sarcasm.

[matt_murdock]

Matt huffs out a soft laugh, which he knows isn't exactly fair, even if he doesn't mean for it to be mocking. This guy hasn't been here long enough to have the luxury of finding shit like this funny, and to be honest, it's probably kind of sad that Matt does. You work with what you've got.

"Apart from that you're asking about booze?" he says, smile affable -- He isn't looking to start a fight, just lighten the mood. "Could be worse. You could be blind and have no booze." He shrugs, his smile quirking.

"I'm Matt. When did you show up?"

[domesticaffairs]

Ah, so Byerly had been correct about where Matt had been "looking". Matt may not see the slight wince at the word "blind". Barrayarans tend to be conditioned to do so whenever a physical disability is mentioned or demonstrated. How odd to be in a place where it was spoken about so openly. Clearly not on Barrayar, even in the fringes of the South Continent. Not Komarr for certain or they'd all have suffocated to death. It could possibly be Sergyar, though he's not sure if the Worm Plague has been cleared out by now...

This was further confirming his suspicions that he somehow ended up on Earth. 2 months away from Barrayar. But somehow that still didn't make sense. This place was far too backwards and isolated to be on the Earth he'd heard about.

He merely lifts an eyebrow at Matt's attempt to lighten the mood.

"I suppose there are worse things than no wine, such as no air to breathe, though at this time, this seems favorable over the former. Byerly Vorrutyer. About 2 days ago and I will promptly be taking my leave if I don't find something to drink around here and soon."

settling in

[womanofvalue]

Peggy feels like the Inn is a much better place for her to shower and change, which is what she's done after another day working in the fields. Wandering downstairs, she's pinning her hair into rolls so that it'll dry properly when a new man asks her about wine. "Unless someone's found grapes and a way to ferment them, I'm afraid you're terribly out of luck. We've got plenty of water, though," is her dry, deadpan remark as she gives him a rueful smile. Water, though, is hardly what he's after and Peggy is very aware of that unfortunate fact.

"Though, now if you do find wine, I'll be the first at your door for a sip," Peggy guarantees.

[domesticaffairs]

"No wine?" he repeats incredulously. "Good god, what does anyone do for fun around here?" And the sad part is that he's only half kidding.

"If I find wine, I'm afraid there may not be any left by the time you hear about it," he retorts, taking another sip of his tea and scowling at it.

[womanofvalue]

She arches a brow, a dozen quips on her lips about the things that she can think of doing with the absence of wine, but they would merely be flights of fantasy. Sadly, Peggy's life has resembled more like a nun than anything else, since the war. She gives him a sympathetic look as he drinks and has to wonder whether he's new, to be so disillusioned so quickly about a lack of a beverage. "Don't worry, I'm scrappy and can hold my own. Plus, I think I deserve the wine after the things I've gone through."

"Peggy," she introduces herself, extending a hand. "And who are you, so that I can keep you in mind if I do find a treasure trove of alcohol?"

[domesticaffairs]

Byerly would greatly appreciate those quips but of course, he's thought of them himself already. There were other fun ways to spend his time but he needed to figure out the lay of the land first--their supply situation, the pecking order, the reason behind why they're here...Well, he wasn't going to not have fun while doing those things anyway.

His lip curls in a smirk that makes his face seem more complete. Oh he likes her. "Do you now? Have to do with being here or before you came here?"

He does, however, like some vague illusion of a gentleman, take her hand, bow over it and press his lips gently to her knuckles. "Peggy, a pleasure. Byerly Vorrutyer. I would greatly appreciate that. I propose an alliance whereby should either of us find such a treasure trove, we divide it amongst ourselves." He straightens up and smooths out his black scrubs, putting his weight into one hip as he folds his arns loosely across his chest.

"So, I don't recognize your accent at all. What planet are you from? Or are you a spacer?"

[tooktheblack]

Jon, too, had been bemoaning the lack of a good ale for a while now and hearing someone else within the inn ask about wine only highlighted that. As the nights grew colder and colder still, he craved hot wine just as he'd drunk as Lord Commander back at Castle Black; it was better quality than the ale he'd quaff with the men, to be sure, and the warmth and spices kept him warm through the long nights. It would be good to have such here.

"No wine, no ale. This place is a prison that way," Jon said, looking over at the man. His face was one he didn't know, a new face, and Jon wondered when he might have come. It would have been recently, he imagined, or else the man had just kept to himself for a while; the village was small enough that new arrivals got integrated fairly quickly.

"Water or goat's milk, that's all we've got."

[domesticaffairs]

Byerly scowls--not the response he wanted to hear, though it did come from quite the handsome face. That certainly tempered the blow.

"Unless the water or goat's milk on this planet contains alcohol, I'm afraid I won't be satisfied. Are there no grapes in this barren place?"

He's an average sized man, appears slim but if one looks past his sleeves at his bare arms in his black scrubs, he is a bit more muscular than one would expect. His most striking feature is his eyes as they look up at Jon.

"Considering your dismay at the lack of real beverage, I believe I am in good company," he replies teasingly. He spreads a hand on his chest as he bows forward ever so slightly. "Byerly Vorrutyer."

[tooktheblack]

"No, no grapes from what I've seen," Jon said. No ale or mead, either, so there was nothing to keep a man warm at night. It had been a long while since he'd had anything strong to drink - too long, by Jon's estimation. Some of the things he'd seen here, he needed a drink or three to get through.

"Jon Snow, my lord. I don't know your face. Are you new here, then?" It was evident, at least to Jon, that with the way he'd introduced himself that he was high-born; Jon would greet him accordingly.

[domesticaffairs]

There were other ways to keep a man warm at night...but nothing to blunt the edge of reality around this place that Byerly has discovered, unfortunately.

Both his eyebrows shoot up at the "my lord" and he has to stop himself from laughing, though that doesn't stop the prominent quirk of his smirk.

"Quite new, here only a couple of days--I would be surprised and slightly unsettled if you did. I also cannot quite claim that title, though you have a keen eye."

the inn

[warriorborn]

Benedict is currently stomping snow off his boots before he trudges across the common room floor, grimacing as the wet fabric of his black scrubs sticks to his ankles. He'll have to change, or maybe he can camp out by the fire for a bit to dry out, but right now he has to deal with his current task: depositing the firewood he's got stacked in his arms by the stove so Miss Kate can get started on the meal.

There's a new person sitting in the Inn that he doesn't recognize, and his suspicion of their newness is only compounded when he asks for wine.

"There's no wine," is Benedict's somewhat curt reply as he weaves his way through the chairs and tables. "Or beer, or anything stronger. It's tea or nothing, I'm afraid."

Re: the inn

[domesticaffairs]

"None? Surely someone around here is holding out on us. Society can't function without alcohol." Or at least, Byerly's society and ideas about it can't. Vor practically live on wine.

"I feel as though whiskey would be better at warming one's insides than tea ever could," he replies wistfully. He's leaning back, posture at ease, one leg crossed over the other in black scrubs as he watches this new person's every move. Definitely not bad looking. Byerly may be able to have a bit of fun talking to him.

[warriorborn]

"We've been functioning for months just fine without it, so I think we'll be alright." Benedict can't help being amused. Everyone reacts differently to being landed here — heaven knows he spent his first week terrified and amazed that he was on the Surface — but he's fairly certain nobody has been so adamantly offended at the fact that there were no spirits to be had. "Though if you manage to procure some, I'm sure there'd be plenty of people around all too happy to make your acquaintance."

Benedict has never been much of a drinker, his high metabolism rendering most alcohol rather moot by the time it reaches his system, and he's never felt bereft without it.

This new man, wearing the same black scrubs that Benedict is, reminds him painfully of the type of boys from the High Houses he'd run into in the Guard. It makes him feel unaccountably wistful, even though he'd have originally said he'd be secretly glad to never have to deal with them again. Funny, what things make you feel homesick.

"I've found tea does the trick, most nights," he replies, looking down at the cup to judge who made the brew based on its color. "At least we have some honey to sweeten it."

[domesticaffairs]

"There's honey around and no one's yet thought to make mead?" he asks incredulously. Not that he knows how to. Byerly isn't exactly the sort that does that kind of labor. It was for proles after all, those without Vor in front of their last names.

"Also, I'm offended you think I need alcohol to make someone's acquaintance when I have my looks and personality instead," he retorts, hand over his chest in feigned offense.