pixiethreads | Pre-Jump Earth Literature

"Just? You're not - there is no just, if, if I settled for just being the thing Barrayar fucking assigned to me, I would be, at home, in some pretty gilded cage. I would grow up and learn, learn, I don't fucking know, embroidery maybe, play the harp, say lots of vapid things and marry the highest bidder. Maybe die before I'm forty if I were really getting into it. People are not just anything, they're people, even in idiots there's a, a, they grow and become better and learn and. You're not just anything, you're - you have beautiful diction, I was struck not by how you looked but by how well you spoke, when I first heard you. You have a hilariously twisted sense of humor! It's very dark but you have a talent for wordplay and irreverency that I can appreciate!

"I - I - why the fuck shouldn't I care, huh? Why the fuck shouldn't I look at Barrayar, look at the fucking Nexus and say, 'This should be better, what is happening here should not happen, I want to help, I want people to stop hurting'?! You do not get to, to, opt yourself out, I see you as fucking valuable and if I can fucking help you, you can bet your entire fucking fortune that I will raise hell to try! Every! Single! Time!"

By the end of this tirade her voice has raised to a point where she's almost shouting. She looks like she would like to continue, but she catches herself and takes a deep breath.

"The point," she says, in a more even tone, "is that you are already so much more than a, a - you are more than what other people see you as."

He has to sit very still for a moment and focus on breathing evenly to keep himself from bursting into tears.

...

Maybe that was a bit - strong. That was probably a bit strong. She - can't bring herself to regret it, it's too close to home, too much of her soul bared to him to try to take it back. Maybe something to cushion the words a bit, but wanting to take any of that back - no, she can't.

"... Offer for a hug's still open, anytime you'd like it."

"I... I don't..." He trails off, exhales shakily—looks up at her with a flash of a wry, haunted smile. "Uh, in case you were wondering, it's not my usual practice to unload all my private griefs on the third conversation with a new acquaintance. You just. Caught me at a bad time, let's say."

"Darn, I was waiting in rapt anticipation for what conversation four would be like," says Yvette, dry. "... But no, seriously, you seemed to need it, and if I can help -" She shrugs, looking amused. "I think you've heard my opinion there. Happy to be of service."

He takes another deep calming breath and straightens a little so he can lean forward and meet her eyes.

"I want you to know that I deeply appreciate and admire your commitment to making the world a better place," he says, his voice soft but intense. "I—when I'm being my best self, when I live up to my own ideals, I feel very similarly."

... That is a hell of a soft but intense voice he has. Directed at her. Praising her qualities. Um.

She smiles a tiny slightly shy smile, and inspects her hands because she cannot meet that gaze right now.

"Well, thank you. I uh. Am glad that it's not just me that wants to save the galaxy."

He smiles faintly, looking away.

"But sometimes... it just isn't in me to believe I can be helped, or that I should be. It's—I guess it really does come back to what I was trying to say about poor Richard. About... feeling like something in the fundamental nature of my physical and spiritual being is corrupt, broken, impure." He pauses a moment, then adds, "I judge my odds of reducing Frank to tears pretty high if I can just manage to get that out onto a vidscreen in a comprehensible essay format."

That last part earns a giggle from her.

"Reducing him to tears is important, I see." Pause, a complicated expression. "And I don't think you're - corrupt, broken, or impure. I realize that probably doesn't help, but." She waves a hand awkwardly.

"It... I don't know," he sighs. "It's... better than nothing? That sounds so inadequate, and any way I can think of to try to make it sound more positive fails catastrophically at that task. Um. It's better than nothing and I swear that's actually meaningful?"

"I will take you at your word," she agrees. Pause. "So, want to be friends, only other Barrayaran at this school?"

...Miles snorts. "What am I going to say, no? I'm sorry I dropped my heart and soul in your lap, let me just pick it all up and bugger off? Come on."

He looks her in the face again with a broad, friendly, genuine smile that only carries a little pain around the edges.

"Yes, I will absolutely be your friend, Yvette Vorlaine."

She laughs.

"Hey, I had to be sure! Good, I have someone to trash talk Betans with, that's important."

"Trash-talking Betans is a vital pastime."

"Unfortunately lacking in participants on Beta Colony itself. Pity, there are so many Betans to trash talk."

"It's so true."

She snickers.

"Do we want to start trash talking Betans right now?" she wonders. "Because we can!"

"God help me, there are some Betans I would dearly love to trash-talk, but so far I have avoided literally crying on you and I'd like to keep that up," he snorts.

"You are allowed to cry on me," says Yvette. "I'm insoluble in water, promise."

...He cracks up helplessly.

She grins.

"Even salt water."

Too many giggle. Cannot respond.

"Can't promise certain types of acid though, if you cry acid tears I'll have to pass."

"I do not," snicker, "cry acid tears, my God."

"Are you sure? Have you checked?"

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