sixthiterationlogs | You wait your turn and

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.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I suppose any company would be preferable than being alone in the cold." She replied, teasing him gently. Once they were stepping inside the inn, she shook her head, trying to keep her snow dampened hair from freezing. She didn't doubt that he would be grateful for the fire, but she was longing for that warmth herself.

It was easy to see and understand this disappointment. There were days where she felt she needed a drink too.

"We tolerate it because we want to survive." She said gently. "Here. Let's find you a room so that you can change and dry off."

The difference here most likely being that Byerly needed a drink everyday. He's Vor and it's in his blood. Days didn't feel complete without a glass of wine.

"And I find that your company is preferable to just any company," he replies back to her teasing.

When they step into the inn, he shivers a bit more to get the last of the cold shaken out of his bones where it had settled for the short time they'd been outside. The warmth of the shelter itself was helping tremendously--the parts of his scrubs not covered by the cloak were starting to become stiff in the cold.

"Getting out of these clothes is preferable but what am I to change into?" He's almost afraid to ask.

She lead him upstairs, pointing to the row of rooms that she knew were empty. "You haven't met anyone else thus far. I don't have much in the way of competition." She grinned, waiting until he picked a room.

"There are a pair of undergarments in the bag, as well as towels, if you need it. You will at least have something to cover yourself with while your clothes are being dried." She manages to say it all without the hint of blush. Her mind mainly on laying out his scrubs and her cloak before the floor was ruined.

"While you get cleaned up, I could get you some tea." She wanted a cup for herself.

"I daresay as I continue to meet more people that will still hold true." Oh he likes her. The right amount of sass about her, favorable physical attributes aside. He does indeed pick a room, lifting a judgmental eyebrow at the furnishings. Barebones to say the least, and no taste to what actually is in the room. Sad, really. Definitely not a Barrayaran style...which brings him back to what exactly is happening.

"Someone has started working on a distress signal yes? Have we managed to figure out what planet we're on?" he asks as he takes off his cold, damp scrub top--because honestly the foliage wasn't entirely familiar to him.

"Flatterer," she said, giving him a wry grin. She knew his type, actually being quite similar to him herself. He was a charmer and seemed well aware of his physical beauty. She didn't doubt that he knew how to use it and was capable of sweeping women off their feet.

Were she not able to do the same with men, it might actually work on her. "We will have to test that theory. You will meet many wonderful people here."

The question seemed absurd, but for someone who just arrived, it seemed a logical instinct. There was no way to really describe where 'here' was. Of course he would want to try and find a way out. "I don't think that's possible. We are alone, as far as we can see. Every time we try to explore the woods...it changes."

She turned her back as he peeled off his shirt, quickly leaving the room and waiting outside for him.

Byerly stays quiet at her declaration. His entire life up until this point revolved around exposing how "wonderful people" are actually not so wonderful--how one's neighbor, cousin, parent, sibling may be a part of a dark plot that may be undermining their government. No, he always has his guard up, whether he appears to or not, even now with Margaery. Byerly is unsure what's happening around here but who's to say she's not in on it herself?

As she leaves the room, him not bothering at all to maintain modesty, he calls after her through the door, "What do you mean the woods change?" He continues to strip down, actually warmer without the damp scrubs on. He hangs them over the chair in the room to dry before turning to his pack and finding replacement undergarments and...good god what were those hideous things? Some sort of awful denim pants...eugh. He set those aside and grabbed the long underwear and put that and the top on with his own pea coat on top of it all to warm himself up. He comes outside of the room when he's done changing.

She knows better than to trust a pretty face. Necessity meant that she had to relax her guard around others in the village. If it hadn't been for the others that were brought here as well, she would never have survived this long. They had become a community and she allowed herself to become part of it, needing to learn the skills that others possessed and to take part in finding food.

Not everyone would feel the same right away. It would take time for By to at least partially trust them. She could at least lay the groundwork for him by helping.

Once he stepped out, she gave him an appraising look before leading him back downstairs. "I meant that it changes. When you walk in the woods, sometimes the path can disappear or the surroundings shift. I don't know how to describe it. It can even extend how far you are from the village. I was walking with a friend when the woods changed and we were trapped there during the night. We headed back in the direction we came, but we never arrived back at the village. It was though we were miles out."

Byerly will learn very quickly that the best way to survive is to at least put on the show of trusting others. He is good at doing that much at least. Hell, he may even come to actually trust some of them with time.

At the appraising look, he quirks an eyebrow--hell, he knows what he's wearing is awful, no need to make him feel more self-conscious about it. At least the peacoat covers most of him.

"And how in the world does that happen? Have other people experienced the same?" If Byerly--or anyone else for that matter--hadn't arrived the way that they did, he's fairly certain he wouldn't be entertaining her story for a second.

When they get downstairs, he makes his way towards the fire, not entirely turning his back on Margaery. He suppresses a small shiver from the cold as the warmth causes him to let out a small sigh of relief.

"Yes," now others had experienced it as well. It wasn't some figment in hers or Kate's imagination. "I don't know how it is possible. It simply happened."

A shiver ran up her spine. The cold and fear of that night had not completely dissipated. Whatever charm this place once had, it ended in the darkness of the woods and the sounds of creatures in the distance.

She sits beside him by the fire, rubbing her arms lightly. "Better?"

"Yes, much," which is plain in the way his muscles visibly relax when they aren't working overtime trying to keep him warm. He isn't making moves to get away from the fire either. No he could stay here a good long while.

"Do people often go exploring around here? What else is there?"

You wait your turn and

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