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It's a new term, and the end of the break between terms most students have been enjoying. But time marches ever on, and so at 1:00 PM, just after lunch, twenty-six students all around the age of fifteen are finding seats in an obnoxiously decorated classroom. It's one of those classrooms that tries very hard to be peppy and inspirational, and only succeeds at being very out of touch, and kind of creepy.
Soon it will be time to read about things long-dead people wrote.
thisvorlunatic
One of these students is having an absolutely miserable day.
It isn't at all the fault of pre-Jump Earth literature, so he's putting in a genuine effort to pay attention and not let his mood get in the way of his education. But he still shuffles in with an exceptionally gloomy expression on his face and sits as far back as he can get.
It isn't at all the fault of pre-Jump Earth literature, so he's putting in a genuine effort to pay attention and not let his mood get in the way of his education. But he still shuffles in with an exceptionally gloomy expression on his face and sits as far back as he can get.
Other students find their seats, and then the teacher enters with a broad smile on his face.
"Hello, and welcome! My name is Franklin Harland, I'll be your instructor for the rest of the term, barring sudden catastrophes or medical emergencies. Frank's fine, I try to keep things from getting too starchy in here. I'm your teacher, but we're all here for the same reason! To learn."
And then he starts talking about why learning about literature is important - connecting with fellow human beings and understanding their point of view. He belabors this point quite a lot, actually - people are all very different (and as he assures, this is okay) but ultimately, at their cores, they are all very similar, and it's important for everyone to take a minute to step into another person's shoes and show a bit of empathy. Even if the character doesn't exist.
"Shakespeare is considered one of the best authors of Earth history - but a lot of the life in his plays is lost if you just read the words on a screen. It's a pity we can't have this properly performed, but reading aloud is the closest we can come to while still keeping in mind that we have quite a lot of material to cover in such a short amount of time. The play we'll be reading is one of the more uncommon ones, because I don't doubt that you've heard at least snippets of the others elsewhere, and I'd like to give you something new."
He directs the students to the correct file on their computers, and then scrolls through his roster for a name.
"Mister Naismith," says 'Frank,' seizing upon what he thinks is a fellow Betan, "if you would be so kind as to read us the opening monologue?"
"Hello, and welcome! My name is Franklin Harland, I'll be your instructor for the rest of the term, barring sudden catastrophes or medical emergencies. Frank's fine, I try to keep things from getting too starchy in here. I'm your teacher, but we're all here for the same reason! To learn."
And then he starts talking about why learning about literature is important - connecting with fellow human beings and understanding their point of view. He belabors this point quite a lot, actually - people are all very different (and as he assures, this is okay) but ultimately, at their cores, they are all very similar, and it's important for everyone to take a minute to step into another person's shoes and show a bit of empathy. Even if the character doesn't exist.
"Shakespeare is considered one of the best authors of Earth history - but a lot of the life in his plays is lost if you just read the words on a screen. It's a pity we can't have this properly performed, but reading aloud is the closest we can come to while still keeping in mind that we have quite a lot of material to cover in such a short amount of time. The play we'll be reading is one of the more uncommon ones, because I don't doubt that you've heard at least snippets of the others elsewhere, and I'd like to give you something new."
He directs the students to the correct file on their computers, and then scrolls through his roster for a name.
"Mister Naismith," says 'Frank,' seizing upon what he thinks is a fellow Betan, "if you would be so kind as to read us the opening monologue?"
thisvorlunatic
The least happy person in the room skims the beginning of the play and looks up from his screen with an are-you-fucking-kidding-me expression.
But okay. Fine. If Frank wants the opening monologue, he can have the opening monologue.
"Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of York," Miles begins smoothly, in an orator's voice and an undisguised Barrayaran accent; "and all the clouds that lour'd upon our house in the deep bosom of the ocean buried." His tone of voice carries a complex layering of satisfaction, sly amusement, and suppressed rage, which he happens to think suits the character perfectly. "Now are our brows bound up with victorious wreaths; our bruised arms hung up for monuments; our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front; and now, instead of mounting barded steeds to fright the souls of fearful adversaries, he capers nimbly in a lady's chamber to the lascivious pleasing of a lute."
He's beginning to really hit his stride with the material. Every word carries, every syllable is delivered with measured attention. And now from his initial tone he drops to something lower, sharper, bringing the anger more fully to the surface.
"But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, not made to court an amorous looking-glass; I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty to strut before a wanton ambling nymph; I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, cheated of feature by dissembling nature—deformed, unfinish'd, sent before my time into this breathing world, scarce half made up, and that so lamely and unfashionable that dogs bark at me as I halt by them—why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, have no delight to pass away the time, unless to spy my shadow in the sun and descant on mine own deformity."
By this point he has gone all the way into a contemptuous hiss; he pulls back a bit and brings a mocking lightness into his tone for the next section.
"And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover to entertain these fair well-spoken days, I am determined to prove a villain and hate the idle pleasures of these days. Plots have I laid," he spits the word, "inductions dangerous, by drunken prophecies, libels and dreams, to set my brother Clarence and the king in deadly hate the one against the other: and if King Edward be as true and just as I am subtle, false, and treacherous, this day should Clarence closely be mew'd up, about a prophecy which says that 'G' of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be." And now in a sharp, hunted tone: "Dive, thoughts, down to my soul; here Clarence comes."
He leans back in his seat, jerks his chin up slightly, and takes a deep breath to try to enforce some measure of calm on himself. Then he asks the teacher, as blandly as he can manage, "Was that all right?"
But okay. Fine. If Frank wants the opening monologue, he can have the opening monologue.
"Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of York," Miles begins smoothly, in an orator's voice and an undisguised Barrayaran accent; "and all the clouds that lour'd upon our house in the deep bosom of the ocean buried." His tone of voice carries a complex layering of satisfaction, sly amusement, and suppressed rage, which he happens to think suits the character perfectly. "Now are our brows bound up with victorious wreaths; our bruised arms hung up for monuments; our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front; and now, instead of mounting barded steeds to fright the souls of fearful adversaries, he capers nimbly in a lady's chamber to the lascivious pleasing of a lute."
He's beginning to really hit his stride with the material. Every word carries, every syllable is delivered with measured attention. And now from his initial tone he drops to something lower, sharper, bringing the anger more fully to the surface.
"But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, not made to court an amorous looking-glass; I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty to strut before a wanton ambling nymph; I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, cheated of feature by dissembling nature—deformed, unfinish'd, sent before my time into this breathing world, scarce half made up, and that so lamely and unfashionable that dogs bark at me as I halt by them—why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, have no delight to pass away the time, unless to spy my shadow in the sun and descant on mine own deformity."
By this point he has gone all the way into a contemptuous hiss; he pulls back a bit and brings a mocking lightness into his tone for the next section.
"And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover to entertain these fair well-spoken days, I am determined to prove a villain and hate the idle pleasures of these days. Plots have I laid," he spits the word, "inductions dangerous, by drunken prophecies, libels and dreams, to set my brother Clarence and the king in deadly hate the one against the other: and if King Edward be as true and just as I am subtle, false, and treacherous, this day should Clarence closely be mew'd up, about a prophecy which says that 'G' of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be." And now in a sharp, hunted tone: "Dive, thoughts, down to my soul; here Clarence comes."
He leans back in his seat, jerks his chin up slightly, and takes a deep breath to try to enforce some measure of calm on himself. Then he asks the teacher, as blandly as he can manage, "Was that all right?"
A pretty redhead looks up from her computer when he begins speaking. That is certainly a Barrayaran accent that she just heard. That alone is worth her attention - there are few Barrayarans on Beta Colony.
And -
... That is the most beautifully spoken, passionate verse she has ever heard in her life.
Um. She's. She's just going to. Keep sitting here. Yep. Sitting is a good plan. She wonders if she's blushing, and if she is, if anyone's noticed. No one's looking at her. She's. Probably fine. Probably.
And -
... That is the most beautifully spoken, passionate verse she has ever heard in her life.
Um. She's. She's just going to. Keep sitting here. Yep. Sitting is a good plan. She wonders if she's blushing, and if she is, if anyone's noticed. No one's looking at her. She's. Probably fine. Probably.
Frank realizes his mistake fairly quickly, and looks politely mortified, but doesn't interrupt the reading.
He swallows.
"Magnificent," he squeaks. "Do, do we have a volunteer, for the, next, part?"
He does have a volunteer! A slightly frightened volunteer who's looking at Miles nervously. On they go, reading Richard III.
thisvorlunatic
Miles sits silent for the rest of the class. He feels he has participated sufficiently by any reasonable standard.
Yep. The teacher is just. Going to not call on him at all and only accept volunteers now.
The redhead who has definitely not obsessively read ahead to find the perfect verse, definitely not, raises her hand when they're somewhere in the second act.
"A blessed labor, my most sovereign lord," she says, in a clear voice with a distinct Barrayaran accent, with a faint smile at her lips. "Amongst this princely heap, if any here by false intelligence, or wrong surmise hold me a foe, if I unwittingly, or in my rage, have aught committed that is hardly bourne by any in this presence, I desire to reconcile me to his friendly peace. 'Tis death to me to be at enmity; I hate it, and desire all good men's love."
... Definitely not obsessively read ahead to find the perfect verse. Nope. Not her. She would never.
She finishes up the rest of the section, and wonders if she maybe should not have done that. Maybe. She doesn't know. If there were a nearby window, she might be tempted to fling herself out of it in embarrassment, but this is Beta Colony. There is no such window. Only her chair. She forces herself not to sink in it.
thisvorlunatic
...
That's... that's definitely a Barrayaran girl. Shit.
Miles stares. And the verse she picked...?! Is he reading too much into this? He has got to be reading too much into this. What the fuck. God, there's a Barrayaran girl in his class and the first thing she ever heard out of him was that. How could she possibly be anything other than completely disgusted by him? The choice of verse is a coincidence. Or she's mocking him. It's very possible that she's mocking him.
She reads well, though.
Ugh. He can't think about this. He tears his eyes away from her and goes back to skimming the play while the next classmate takes their turn.
That's... that's definitely a Barrayaran girl. Shit.
Miles stares. And the verse she picked...?! Is he reading too much into this? He has got to be reading too much into this. What the fuck. God, there's a Barrayaran girl in his class and the first thing she ever heard out of him was that. How could she possibly be anything other than completely disgusted by him? The choice of verse is a coincidence. Or she's mocking him. It's very possible that she's mocking him.
She reads well, though.
Ugh. He can't think about this. He tears his eyes away from her and goes back to skimming the play while the next classmate takes their turn.
... Yep. Let's. Let's just skim the play. That is a good plan that both Barrayarans present can do.
(Aaaaaaaaa oh no what if she messed up she probably messed up this was a stupid idea where is a window when she really needs one!)
Eventually, the class ends.
(Aaaaaaaaa oh no what if she messed up she probably messed up this was a stupid idea where is a window when she really needs one!)
Eventually, the class ends.
thisvorlunatic
Miles waits half a minute before he leaves, so he won't have to suffer any of his classmates looking at him while he walks out of the classroom.
Does she talk to him or does she run? Both options are so tempting. She really can't decide.
Nnnnnnnngh no no no she will not flee that is a decidedly un-Vorish thing to do right now, just. Just. Take a deep breath. Then get up, walk over to him, and:
"... Hi," she says, feeling inane.
thisvorlunatic
What. She's talking to him. Why is she talking to him.
...She doesn't seem openly hostile, at least...?
He's been on Beta Colony long enough that the glance at her earrings is automatic. Not-available-for-undisclosed-reasons. Which makes perfect sense, right, she's Barrayaran, why is she even on this planet...?
He realizes he has been staring blankly at her for a full second. "Uh, hi," he says awkwardly.
...She doesn't seem openly hostile, at least...?
He's been on Beta Colony long enough that the glance at her earrings is automatic. Not-available-for-undisclosed-reasons. Which makes perfect sense, right, she's Barrayaran, why is she even on this planet...?
He realizes he has been staring blankly at her for a full second. "Uh, hi," he says awkwardly.
...
She can still run if she wants. The door is right over there.
Shit shit shit shit shit -
"Um." What does she even have to say? 'Hey I liked the way you read that passage that was sort of horrifically cruel to you,' or maybe, 'I think you can extract an apology from the teacher, he looked like the only reason he didn't fling himself at your feet was his love of literature and how everyone was busy reading,' or perhaps, 'So um, did you like the, passage I definitely did not obsessively pick out like a crazy person?'
"How long have you been on Beta Colony?" she asks, deciding after a long pause that incredibly boring is better than mortifying.
She can still run if she wants. The door is right over there.
Shit shit shit shit shit -
"Um." What does she even have to say? 'Hey I liked the way you read that passage that was sort of horrifically cruel to you,' or maybe, 'I think you can extract an apology from the teacher, he looked like the only reason he didn't fling himself at your feet was his love of literature and how everyone was busy reading,' or perhaps, 'So um, did you like the, passage I definitely did not obsessively pick out like a crazy person?'
"How long have you been on Beta Colony?" she asks, deciding after a long pause that incredibly boring is better than mortifying.
thisvorlunatic
Why is this happening to him.
She honestly doesn't seem hostile, though. It's weird.
"Just since the start of last term, but this isn't my first visit or anything. I - have family here, my grandmother, I'm staying with her while I get my well-rounded galactic education."
And oh how well rounded it has been. No, he's trying not to dwell on that.
She honestly doesn't seem hostile, though. It's weird.
"Just since the start of last term, but this isn't my first visit or anything. I - have family here, my grandmother, I'm staying with her while I get my well-rounded galactic education."
And oh how well rounded it has been. No, he's trying not to dwell on that.
She nods.
"I have um, been here for over a year, with my sister. And, um. Yes. Well-rounded galactic education."
Awkwaaaard paaaause.
"I have um, been here for over a year, with my sister. And, um. Yes. Well-rounded galactic education."
Awkwaaaard paaaause.
thisvorlunatic
How well-rounded has her education nope not thinking about it.
Okay, if he's having a conversation, he's having a conversation. He approximates a smile.
"My name's Miles, I didn't catch yours...?"
Okay, if he's having a conversation, he's having a conversation. He approximates a smile.
"My name's Miles, I didn't catch yours...?"
"Yvette Vorlaine." She curtsies. "... Um, I can leave you alone, if you'd rather, I just. Sort of. Am completely surrounded by Betans, all, the time."
thisvorlunatic
"...I - no, if you want to make friends with the only other Barrayaran at the school, I'm all for it," what is he doing, "Betans can be very... Betan sometimes, I completely understand if you want a break."
"They can be very Betan," she agrees seriously, sounding relieved upon spying this Point Of Comparison. She's going to seize it. "My very favorite part's the one where I hear insinuations that I should never go home."
thisvorlunatic
"I get that one too. With varying ratios of superiority to concern depending how much the person in question actually knows about Barrayar."
...If he's going to drive her away, might as well do it fast. As he collects his things and stands up, he adds, "Maybe I should keep the opening monologue of Richard III memorized for the earnestly worried crowd. It sure did a number on poor Frank."
There. It's not a trick of perspective: he really is this short. And he has a slight limp, too, obvious when he begins to move away from his desk. Now's your chance to run, Yvette Vorlaine.
...If he's going to drive her away, might as well do it fast. As he collects his things and stands up, he adds, "Maybe I should keep the opening monologue of Richard III memorized for the earnestly worried crowd. It sure did a number on poor Frank."
There. It's not a trick of perspective: he really is this short. And he has a slight limp, too, obvious when he begins to move away from his desk. Now's your chance to run, Yvette Vorlaine.
She doesn't run. She expected this, with the speech. She does take a brief moment to look him over, but there's no flinch or fleeing. Not even the subtle facial flinch or looking away immediately.
A laugh escapes her at his words; it seems to surprise her a bit. "I, I think it won't have, quite the effect as it did here. Frank seemed more mortified that he put you in the situation than the words themselves." Pause. "Though you did deliver it beautifully."
(Oh god, Yvette, what are you doing! Why are you saying things! He is not Vor! He is a mutant! If you were a proper lady, you would run!
... If she were a proper lady she would not be on Beta Colony, fuck you flinch reaction, take a jump to hell.)
She pauses, and reviews her words. Oh, shit. Mother is going to be so disappointed in her for her lax manners. Maybe she has been here too long.
A laugh escapes her at his words; it seems to surprise her a bit. "I, I think it won't have, quite the effect as it did here. Frank seemed more mortified that he put you in the situation than the words themselves." Pause. "Though you did deliver it beautifully."
(Oh god, Yvette, what are you doing! Why are you saying things! He is not Vor! He is a mutant! If you were a proper lady, you would run!
... If she were a proper lady she would not be on Beta Colony, fuck you flinch reaction, take a jump to hell.)
She pauses, and reviews her words. Oh, shit. Mother is going to be so disappointed in her for her lax manners. Maybe she has been here too long.
thisvorlunatic
He grins. It could be a very nice smile, under other circumstances, without so much pain in it. "What can I say. The character just speaks to me."
... She has no idea how to reply to this, actually!
"I hope not with the megalomania and the murder and the lies and the betrayal," she says, dry. "That sounds like it would end poorly."
Well. She said that. She's not sure if she's okay with that.
"I hope not with the megalomania and the murder and the lies and the betrayal," she says, dry. "That sounds like it would end poorly."
Well. She said that. She's not sure if she's okay with that.
thisvorlunatic
He laughs.
And, this being the best he's felt in weeks, and with her Barrayaran accent making him feel at home, he answers without thinking. "Come on, I can't kill Gregor, then I'll have no one left to play Tacti-Go with."
...oops. Well, if there's a Vor girl in his class someone's bound to have a security report on her already, and it's not like going by Miles Naismith on Beta Colony is that much more than a convenience/formality. It's probably fine.
And, this being the best he's felt in weeks, and with her Barrayaran accent making him feel at home, he answers without thinking. "Come on, I can't kill Gregor, then I'll have no one left to play Tacti-Go with."
...oops. Well, if there's a Vor girl in his class someone's bound to have a security report on her already, and it's not like going by Miles Naismith on Beta Colony is that much more than a convenience/formality. It's probably fine.