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

[domesticaffairs]

Jon, you're just getting more and more on Byerly's good side the more you talk. The compliment to his speech earns a further sharpening of his smirk. Jon should hear Byerly's speech when he's actually being deliberate with it.

Jon's explanation leaves him to do a couple of quick calculations and--yes there we go. Jon was clearly a bastard if he had a brother that was of noble birth.

"An instinct that I'm sure has served you well. Where I'm from, society is separated into Vor, the highborn and proles--commoners. Though, we are all equal in our vices." There's a slightly dismayed look in his cup.

[tooktheblack]

"And you have no wine to satisfy it," Jon said, laughing softly. "I am sorry for that. Sometimes I wish we had a little something, something that might take the edge off. I could use a drink most nights in this place."

It was cold and dark now, dark early, and he longed for spiced wine to help warm his bones when sharing a bed simply wouldn't suffice. He supposed this man had similar thoughts.

"Hopefully someone learns how to grow grapes for you."

[domesticaffairs]

Ah yes, this man had the right idea--get someone else to do the manual labor for him. That was simply not a skillset Byerly Vorrutyer possessed.

"Precisely. It would make this whole situation moderately more bearable between the winter without proper clothing, the lack of comforts and being ripped away from our homes in general." Because truth be told, Byerly was sorely missing his old life--parties in the evening, crashing high and/or drunk in his small flat in his bed with its luxurious silk sheets...If he found his way back anytime soon he swears to himself he will spend a full 26 hour day in those sheets.

[tooktheblack]

"You are definitely a lordling," Jon said, laughing a little. "Because only someone who grew up in a great house would be concerned about comforts in the middle of winter. Bastards like me just put our noses to the grindstone and work."

Jon had been referred to as a lord more than once himself and he was now a king but it was a mantle that set uneasy on him. It would never feel quite right. He was still the boy at Winterfell who didn't belong.

"It was warmer before the snows came. It was actually sort of nice. Hopefully the winter isn't much longer."

[domesticaffairs]

"I'm used to winter where I'm from, though usually with far more layers than what we have here. And central heat." Good god he had taken a lot for granted.

"I'll be glad for it to end sooner rather than later."

[tooktheblack]

"Winter is the harshest season in Westeros. It lasts for years and we are lucky if we get years to prepare for it," Jon explained. "Where I'm from, in the North? It never really gets warm at all."

He shrugged a little. "This place isn't as cold as I'm used to. I can endure it, if I must."