nonsuch | & open gen post iii.

"I am sure it will be nothing like I am used to," which is to say, she as a moment, the elevator is strange, that feeling of moving and not moving at all. Shifting, rolling, and when the doors open to somewhere else completely, she swallows down on the questions and displaced oddness as she darts out. Taking quick steps away from it.

She'll deal with it, like everything else: later.

"I would." She says it firmly like it will be followed. She doesn't have a choice but: "you have dealt with me fairly, kindly and honestly for all I trouble you as much as you confuse me. I would have no one else." Men had once scraped on their knees to hear such words from her, but she does not have that illusion about herself now. Only her own earnesty in reply to his.

"If you are from the 1800s," and he only says this with mild skepticism. Her acting is surprisingly believable and the entire ploy would be outside anything another government would try. Who would expect this to get them Imperial secrets?

He leads her down the hallway, slowly making their way towards the quartermaster. Her admission surprises him and he blinks as he watches her from the corner of his eyes.

"Then I will request I stay with your case." He motions for her to step inside the supply room, speaking briefly with the man there before the guard leaves. The large machine that is used to take scans and make clothes that fit stands in the middle and he motions her to stand in it. "This is a fabricator. It will be able to make you a few sets of clothes. Once you have clearance, I can bring you to a civilian one."

Until then he hopes she doesn't mind fatigues.

She does as he asks, swallowing in the bite of her words at least whilst she's at his leisure, that she didn't have a particular interest in being so utterly dumb to everything around her for no reason. But, for now, she keeps that thought to herself as she steps forward, nodding once that he says he will take her - 'case - whatever that meant. Sure in him and his word to her.

The rest she waits for him to do. Easy to not think about it when there are so many things to look at. So many things to catch her eye, looking perhaps to see if there was a maid or - something like that. Who was making the clothes, who was 'fabricator'? Looks back when she once again can't find anything familiar and nods. "As you will. I am grateful for whatever I receive."

All it takes is a few button presses before the machine whirrs to life. It's a few seconds of scanning before he signals that she can step away from it. They'll have to wait a few minutes before the clothes are finished, but it's one step taken care of and she'll be able to get rid of the blood plaguing her.

"Do you know how you were brought here? Anything that may be of use in finding a way home for you?" Because for now, he's going to give her the benefit of the doubt about her story, no matter how hard it is to wrap his head around.

She's waiting for something - probably more lights to flash at her still adjusting to gaze before he says to step forward. But none of it really seems to happen as she moves forward. Well? She's watching him again, but more - waiting, expectantly for whatever it is that has happened.

To the question, she shakes her head. "No. We were - at the coast. Caught off guard but for a few hours notice. The Lycans outnumbered us and we had been pushed back. At least three to one. I do not know how they found our position but... they said that I wouldn't find it so easy this time to escape." She carries it, blinks, pauses of recollection that make her hover, drawing it up into an order. She must have a dozen times between her transportation from where she arrived at his office. "Then we blew up the ground from underneath them. Something was... off with it. It felt like the world... shook. More so than just for canon fire, which is the nearest feeling I can compare it too. I felt disorientated, blinded perhaps. Then I was here. I barely felt like I could speak, I was so ill and confused. In truth, I thought perhaps I had died. Perhaps I have."

If this was her next life, then so be it, she had accepted it long before this.

He frowns. "Lycans? The name of an organization or a nation?" He recognizes the root in Latin, but otherwise it's unfamiliar to him. Surrounded and overwhelmed. That explained the blood and the weapons she had on her. An explosion, canons firing... Not the usual weapons used in warfare when much of it took place in space for them. As for her dying, well.

"If you died, I would hope you had better idea for an afterlife."

"It is what they are. Beasts. Monsters in human flesh, and an illness to mankind." She comes back to stand beside him to wait until the clothes arrived. Her arms settling by her side, and ready to bolt, ready to move. Waiting for them, always.

"I do not have much of one, in truth. I have no thought it on for years." Perhaps she should have, but the weight of the phial at her neck says that it will not be yet.

The machine deposited two sets of fatigues. He reaches for the clothing and holds them out to her as he considers her words. Figurative or literal beasts? He's seen some of the experiments to come out of Jackson's Whole and the genetic modifications people underwent willingly.

"You will have to elaborate on what you mean by monsters. I've met my fair share of them," he says carefully. "I'm still waiting to hear about your accommodations."

"You would know what I mean if you had seen one. They are twice the height of even the men here. Three times their strength. They have the form of animals, once they shed their human exterior. Claws that could slice a boy in half easy, and bite to rip off an adults limbs from their sockets."

She took the clothes off him, inspecting them briefly. Plain, sturdy and she thinks she can manage it for the time being.

"Before we do - I...." She clears her throat, and looks down at herself. The armour wouldn't come easily. Hiding it well, but she's tired. Exhausted to her core, because she always is. It will be hard to do it alone. "... may need your assistance."

So literal monsters if her accounts were to be believed. He wonders if he could get her to draw or describe them better for an illustration. And he thought he had enough dangers to deal with here.

"We'll have to speak more of your time after you've had rest." More of an assurance to himself. The academic in him would appreciate nothing more than sitting and taking notes of this anomaly. Detailed ones. At her final words, he blinks and takes in her attire.

"With your armor?" he asks for confirmation.

She nods stiffly. Perhaps it's a test, see what kind of man he is in truth. He's been perfectly cordial, but she wouldn't be a queen worth half her salt if she wasn't aware that all men had their vices.

That and there really wasn't a single person here she would be inclined to trust thus far, not with the looks she'd been given for being a woman as heavily armed as she is. Cordial would have to do over anything else. "Since I don't have my ladies, if you don't mind."

He hesitates. Duv is a man who knows when he's walking into an unspoken test. There's been more than his fair share over the years while in Barrayar. He nods and steps close enough to reach her while maintaining space between them. Even still, his hands hover up to get confirmation.

"Direct me to the pieces you want help with," he says, ready to follow her instructions.

She sets aside the clothing in her hands so she can shift to stand in front of him properly. The first part she can do herself, the over shirt that is tied off to the side. She can shrug that off in a quick gesture. Only grimacing a little with the movements.

The next isn't so easy, she stands in front of him, the chain mail and plate metal. Held together and braced down her sides by wide leather buckles. Her arms lift in at familiar stance, one hand pulling her hair up and out of his way, the other held away from her side to give him freedom to move. "Undo these first."

It too, is stained with blood, dents in the metal. Something had hit her hard, a heavy scratch mark is up against her shoulder, where it had been yanked and the material shredded. But by now, at least, where it's splattered and soaked through her over coat, it's dry now.

He frowns as his gaze inspects the damages to her armor. The blood had already proven her truth about being in combat shortly before this, but this was another piece of evidence to add to the pile. He waits until she instructs him and doesn't let his hands linger as he works to undo the buckles.

"Do you want this returned to you along with your weapons?" Once she's given clearance, deemed a nonthreat to the Imperium. He sees no reason why they would want to keep her belongings if she's committed no crime here.

"Yes. I will want to clean it as well." Isn't sure about them, if they even know how to, from the way she had seen them dress. What she assumed had been armed men that had taken her.

The metal comes apart and she can't help the soft sigh of relief. It's a weight she can wear well, but oh if it isn't exhausting even to her after a four day straight run. Under it, she's a smaller woman, might have been soft once, but it's all hard and lean now. As the last of it is undone, pieces falling away from her, there isn't much hidden. The silk under shirt is sheer at best, bares her in a way that she at least is comfortable with. Used to wearing things like this, where the heat in Jhansi was oppressive on even the mildest days.

But it wasn't really about her, as she watches his face, letting her hair fall loose down about her face again, her shoulders rolling back in something that is determination, deliberate and stretching out sore limbs. Shifting under her clothes. "Thank you, Captain."

He's careful to keep his gaze on his work once he realizes what waits beneath her armor. Sheer fabric and he knows the vulnerable situation she's in as their prisoner of sorts. With care he sets her armor up against the wall by the door and keeps his back to her.

A small nod to acknowledge her gratitude then, "I'll give you a moment to dress." Because while she appears confident, comfortable when she has every right to protest, he doesn't expect her to walk out of this room through a building of men like that. Not when she has a perfectly good set of clothes to change into that would cover her.

He doesn't wait for confirmation before he steps outside and closes the door behind him. Duv will wait until he has her approval before opening it again.

Decent then, good. She lets out a breath and the rest when he leaves her in the room is done as quickly as she can manage. Most of it is the same, just - better made than she was expecting, perhaps. Plain, the same as all the other men she had seen here. A little of it is strange, the odd metal clasps it takes her a minute of fiddling to get the hang over before she calls back to him to let her out. Dressed now, and they can both be spared that.

Waiting for him, the clothing done up tight to her neck, strapped her boots and arm braces over the top the way she preferred, patiently waiting for him and with a polite nod, carries on. "How long till I know my fate then?"

He waits patiently even as he receives an incoming message that the woman is to be brought to the top as soon as possible. Duv flags someone down to tell them to return in five minutes to gather the woman's armor and add it to the rest of her belongings. Likely to be cleaned first. If anyone knew how to properly clean such materials, it would be Barrayarans.

He returns the nod as he steps inside and motions for her to follow him once more. "Soon. I've received word I'm to take you to Security Chief Illyan for review." Their next destination on this impromptu tour of ImpSec HQ.

She falls into step beside him. "Thank you."

Which it is a tour, even if she barely comprehends it, but she's glad he's there with her. Right up until she has to meet this Security Chief. How strange. Would he not just be an adviser? What exactly constituted security, then?

Apparently taking in strange women, clothing them, and walking them about this odd building that seems to get more and more confusing the more turns they take. Glad at least until they come to a stop.

"You're welcome." Even if there's no need for her gratitude. His job is what brought her case to his desk and decency is what has him staying with her. He couldn't abandon her when she's acclimating. While her time period may be similar to Barrayar, he knows he would have appreciated someone who stuck with him and explained. But first she had to survive a meeting with Illyan.

He pauses when they reach the man's office, glancing over at her. Throwing her into a meeting with his boss without a debriefing has him slightly concerned. Illyan was still unnerving to him and he's met the man before.

"Do you have any questions before you go in?"

"Is there anything I should know to be polite?" He will be to her, just a man, after all. But he is not to understand that. She doesn't flinch for much, these days, and even so, if he did trap her in words, she was telling the truth.

Her own ignorance she supposes, is her greatest ally in this. "I wouldn't want to cause offense unnecessarily."

A child of a Peshwa's court and then a ruler herself knew that even so far removed from the throne, there was always something to observed to show at least respect, and she was to be at their mercy apparently, respect couldn't hurt.

"Speak the truth as you did with me," he says. "He'll be able to tell if you're lying." Somehow. Illyan had a talent for it and an eidectic memory to back him up.

"He's prole so there's no extra title for you to worry about beyond his military one. Captain and Security Chief, whichever you prefer to use."

And however it played out, he would be waiting here until he was no doubt called in to corroborate information given or found out. The end of this crazy day was in sight at least, for both of them.

She nods, stiffly and waits until she's called in to be presented. Another brief look of thanks before she settles in to sit across from Illyan.

Then she does just the same as she had the first time. She follows the story through without hesitation. Says who she is, what she has done, who she fights. Presents it in the same manner as she had with Duv, that she was Queen, soldier, and whatever else she had to be in between. That she would be thankful for protection, that she had not designs nor interest on another Kingdom other than the liberation of her own, as it was she had nothing but the clothes on her back and the sword at her hip. She had fought for years and was as surprised at this interlude as they were. Who her husband's family was, how she had ended up with such enemies and says it all without guilt or lie to her tone. Even and comfortable in the relation of it.

After all, it was everything that mattered and yet none of it at all. If there was anything to tell, it was that there was some things that didn't need to be spoken of. Sir Bors, the Blackwater, just how long she had been fighting. It makes easy conversation, as they come to the end of it, in some regards, as she spells out this battle at that field, that she finds comfort in relaying the details to Illyan which is - a danger in and of itself, perhaps. But since this man apparently had the final say then, well, perhaps it was not the worst thing in the world. That if she was to stay, she would prefer it to be with someone, and Duv, if at all possible, until she was more sure of her surroundings.

She falls silent, when it comes to an end, as he seemed to take it all in in the same way he had everything else. Calm, collected, with barely a flicker of an expression to be had for it. Her hands settled into her lap, patiently waiting for whatever he decides and when he dismisses her, she bows low from the waist, and goes back to the door to wait for whatever it is that will be decided.

Duv waits outside of Illyan's office, knowing he will be called in when needed. Word has already gotten around what's happening and any soldiers passing by him cast lingering glances, hoping to catch a glimpse of the strange woman that's in their CO's office. Duv shoots them glares, willing them to move on quickly as he waits.

It's not until she's dismissed and he's called in that he learns of what the final plan is to be. She had requested to stay with him? It's not often Duv looks surprised, but he has a deer-in-headlights look for a brief second before he gathers himself at the news. Doable though strange and he's surprised the woman trusts him enough to stay with him.

When he steps outside of Illyan's office, he glances over at her. "I heard you wanted to stay with me?" Just to confirm what his boss has told him, in case something got lost in translation.

She waits for him, back to the wall and when someone passes her by, she meets them with a flat look. The blood on her face still, that raggedness that comes from battle that sits easy behind her eyes when they get too close. Easy enough to understand, touch her or get any ideas and they'll definitely regret it. Makes them regret the second they go to open their mouths to her and sends them on their way. Hears some mutter about something called Vor, but it makes as much sense to her as anything else does and she lets it slip over her head.

Steps toward him, when he reappears, watching his face as ever. Learning him, in her particular way. Another nod when he asks, wetting her lips, hovering. She had asked, and Illyan was good enough to oblige her. "I thought it would be best. So that you can watch me on behalf of your emperor, and I do not find myself in intolerable company. As long as that is not an imposition to you and your household?"

Does he have a wife? Perhaps a mother that looks after him? Maybe two or three serious sisters that keep him so earnest, just like him? She would make herself easy to them, whatever they needed of her, naturally.

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