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Ivan must be drunker than he thought he was. He could have sworn he knew his way around Vivienne's parents' house, since she wanted to introduce him last week and showed him the place, but maybe they have a... secret... upstairs... bar? where Vivienne's room is supposed to be? And most certainly was last time he checked? He's never going to find the sweater she sent him up looking for here, anyway. Why is there a secret upstairs bar in Vivienne's parents' house?
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thisvorlunatic
"'Working on getting more artificial'. That's - a way to put it."
isthisart
She shrugs.
Here are some mountains.
"These are really not hiking shoes," she muses, but up she goes.
Here are some mountains.
"These are really not hiking shoes," she muses, but up she goes.
thisvorlunatic
"Heh. Neither are mine, but I think you have it worse."
Traipse traipse.
Traipse traipse.
isthisart
Climb climb.
"A cave. Now taking bets on whether a large waving animal of some kind is lurking in there."
"A cave. Now taking bets on whether a large waving animal of some kind is lurking in there."
thisvorlunatic
"There probably aren't large animals of the non-waving variety, right? I don't know, do we trust the magic talking bar to be the sort of person who would've warned us if there were? Maybe we should wait for the well-armed guy with an underground navigational sense before we go poking our heads in. Well, for some values of 'well-armed'. He did give the impression that he knew how to use all those sharp objects."
isthisart
"She didn't mention the squid, but it didn't do anything but wave... perhaps we should go back and ask her. And/or wait for Stalas."
thisvorlunatic
"And. Definitely and. Go back and ask her and then wait for Stalas, that sounds like a plan."
thisvorlunatic
Traipse traipse.
Meanwhile, in the bar: Stalas comes down the stairs, thoroughly washed and not smelling even a little bit like darkspawn blood. Actually he smells like wildflowers, if anything.
He is wearing a towel. And his sword. And several of his daggers. And an incredible number and degree of bruises.
"I just couldn't face getting back into the armour," he says to Bar, "even though I managed to clean it pretty well. I don't suppose you sell clothes in my size? And... are willing to sell them to me even though I don't currently have any money?"
Meanwhile, in the bar: Stalas comes down the stairs, thoroughly washed and not smelling even a little bit like darkspawn blood. Actually he smells like wildflowers, if anything.
He is wearing a towel. And his sword. And several of his daggers. And an incredible number and degree of bruises.
"I just couldn't face getting back into the armour," he says to Bar, "even though I managed to clean it pretty well. I don't suppose you sell clothes in my size? And... are willing to sell them to me even though I don't currently have any money?"
middlingalong
"Linyabel will probably offer to buy you a set of clothes. And not even just because the alternative appears to be you wandering around looking eerily like her husband with a towel and sharp objects as your sole bold fashion decisions."
I can produce clothes in any size. And you may choose to run up a tab.
I can produce clothes in any size. And you may choose to run up a tab.
thisvorlunatic
"Thank you," says Stalas. "If I say 'something comfortable that won't stand out egregiously on Barrayar but that I can still figure out how to get into without help', can you work with that?"
middlingalong
I believe so, says the bar. Are you opening a tab or waiting for your alt's wife?
"Put him in something that is... a color," says Ivan. "It'll make it easier to tell them apart from a distance. Miles is allergic to colors."
"Put him in something that is... a color," says Ivan. "It'll make it easier to tell them apart from a distance. Miles is allergic to colors."
thisvorlunatic
"Sure. Colour," says Stalas. "Why not. I'll open a tab for now and my - alt's - wife can pay it off if she feels like it. I would kind of like to be dressed by the time they get back."
A thought strikes, and he turns to Ivan. "It occurs to me to ask, how old is Miles? And the rest of you? I'm finding it hard to judge human ages."
A thought strikes, and he turns to Ivan. "It occurs to me to ask, how old is Miles? And the rest of you? I'm finding it hard to judge human ages."
middlingalong
A folded outfit in two shades of blue appears on the bar's surface.
"Miles is twenty-five, I'm about a year older, Linyabel's four years younger but she'll probably look about like that for the next fifty years at least. Why, are you actually a hundred and seven or something?"
"Miles is twenty-five, I'm about a year older, Linyabel's four years younger but she'll probably look about like that for the next fifty years at least. Why, are you actually a hundred and seven or something?"
thisvorlunatic
"Heh. Try seventeen," says Stalas, scooping up the provided clothing and turning to go back upstairs.
middlingalong
"How old is that for a dwarf?" wonders Ivan, not particularly expecting to be answered anytime soon.
thisvorlunatic
"Old enough to command armies," he calls over his shoulder as he disappears into the stairwell.
middlingalong
Ivan... snorts and orders another one of the interesting dark pink beverages.
thisvorlunatic
And then Miles and Linya come back from their trek.
"Is Stalas still upstairs?"
"Is Stalas still upstairs?"
middlingalong
"He's upstairs again. Ran up a tab getting a set of clothes. Apparently he's seventeen. An age which he described as 'old enough to command armies'."
middlingalong
"Yes, but then he went up before I could tell him why it was funny."
thisvorlunatic
"I wouldn't dream of denying you that pleasure," snickers Miles, "when he comes down again."
middlingalong
"How do your dwarfish alts from magic wormhole bars interact with... classification, though? I don't think you are actually supposed to tell most people you meet about that small army you have."