nonsuch | & open gen post iii.

A nod, as she swallows, watching the car begin to move, the scenery pull past them. "Horses. Or... a palanquin if riding was not favourable. Sometimes carriages. But I preferred horses." She misses them fiercely. Sarangi had been wither her since she had been a young woman, almost as long as she had ruled. But she couldn't take those trappings with her. Too obvious to have an animal so fine.

"I am unfamiliar with palanquins, but Barrayar only recently swapped from horses to these." He taps the base of his window to mean the car. "They're still in high use though carriage rides are more tourist attractions and romantic venues than means of transportations now."

Even in the rural areas. Those there either walked or if they were fortunate, rode a horse.

She snorts. "There is hardly anything romantic about being tossed about in a carriage." Should she bite her tongue? Probably. Does she ever? Not whilst she's been living.

"A palanquin was more for... state occasions, I suppose. Or when I would go to pray at important ceremonies."

"No, but Barrayarans are fond of their horses." In any way they could have the damn things pull them around. Duv had avoided them beyond staring in curiosity. He had no interest in getting up close and personal with one.

"So similar to a carriage without the tossing around?"

"Then I cannot find too much fault with them." That much is easy to give them. It's no small amount of affection in her tone and warmth - not at all for the Barrayarans, she doesn't know them. But horses, those she was endlessly fond of.

"Of a kind. A palanquin is carried by men on their shoulders, I had a great one of silver my husband gifted me."

"I would imagine that's a fine gift for a queen." As she said she was. He manages to keep any sarcasm out of his tone, his own distaste for the ruling caste on Barrayar made him wary of any others who claimed to rule.

Though she is a stranger here and he glances over at her as he offers, "If you end up here for a time, there's a lord who owes me a favor and owns a stable." A small comfort.

"A husband's love for his wife." She corrects, firmly. Gangadhar loved his splendor, his extravagance, and he had loved in just the same way. God, she missed him. She missed how he took delight in so much of the world. In all things beautiful and artful.

Though - she tries not to look too excited, too enthused, it wouldn't do but when she looks back to him, her gaze is barely kept bright. "I would... like that."

A verbal misstep he didn't know he could take. He nods in acknowledgement of her approval of his future idea as he shifts to regard her more fully. She had left an entire life behind and he knows there's no delicate way to ask about it. Maybe after she rested.

"You'll get along well here if your fondness of horses is that great," he remarks. "Were they an animal of nobility?"

She lifts a shoulder, her eyes drawing back out the window again. "Livestock usually is, in some regard." Cattle more so than any, but they were kept by all manners of society, not just the wealthy. Something the English hadn't understood when they had killed them. The animals were kept not just for holy purpose.

Old wounds, brittle and hideous and she wills them down.

"But horses have a particular use only to a few, and so by those few it was kept. Warriors, rulers." her eyes slide across, back to smile, smiling softly. "Messengers through the high, arid mountains."

He's slowly building an image of where she must have lived before being brought here, by whatever had happened. No doubt those on the Imperial budget would be researching to find the anomaly and attempt to solve it if they could.

"I'm guessing your kingdom is agricultural then? And in a warm climate?" he asks, interested. This should be a safe conversation topic.

"You do not know very much of Hindustan, do you?" It's bemused, she isn't irked over much by it, just strange. It's the thing almost everyone complains of when they visit it, the oppressive heat of all of her home. But as it was... "Bundelkhand is a desert. Jhansi is a small kingdom, set up high on a rocky plateau. Compared to the jungles in the south, it is dry, not as humid."

It's easy at least, to talk of home to someone that is genuinely interested. "But we do not have much good farming land. Instead, we encourage trade, for all good things to come into our city. Many artisans and craftsman as well." Alliance and trade, a fair distribution of wealth, had been what caused it to prosper.

"Given that it's been possibly a thousand years..." He waves a hand vaguely. If her timeline were to be believed, it's entirely possible her nation hasn't existed for a very, very long time. India is still there, but Earth is not the same as it once was before space travel. It was a tourist destination and cultural icon, nothing more.

"Jhansi is your kingdom?" he asks for confirmation to make sure his memory hasn't betrayed him. "What was your city best known for?"

She can't comprehend that - that much is plain. An unhappy blink and her head turns back to the window to fix on that thought. It's bad enough she thought it lost to be devoured. But she had taken some solace that the land itself could not be changed by the Lycans. That? She swallows on, pressing forward because she cannot afford to think about it.

"Yes." A firm nod. Onwards, ever onwards. "Theatre, perfumes, very fine carpets. We were host to - well, a family that are known for their weaving. My husband built a theatre, and we had many sought after performers, too, were encouraged with royal patronage. He... he loved them very much."

That catches his attention. Past tense and stated with hesitation. He doubts that has to do entirely with her current predicament. Another piece to her puzzle, falling into place as he watches her carefully. At least he had enough information now to seek further information on her kingdom though it would require a lot of digging to go that far back.

"Loved?" he asks, frowning.

"He died."

The sky is up, the earth is down, and her husband is dead. Easy in that tone. Something that simply is. Carefully she lifts her fingers to touch the glass in her curiosity. Certainly more interesting than discussing it. "Some years ago, now. Before the rebellion broke out. He was the Maharaja Gangadhar Rao Newalker." Her fingertips leave little press marks of their print on the materials. Flat worn with callouses, the dirt and blood under her short cropped nails. "This is odd, most people know of it. It's why I rebelled at all. They took my kingdom off me, and said that a woman was not fit to rule after his passing." One story that leads into another, like some tragic play unfolding.

"My condolences." Because while it's happened a while ago and she sounds as if she's come to terms with the loss, it's only proper.

He frowns thoughtfully. "I'm unfamiliar with that title. That sentiment is unfortunately shared by many on Barrayar though not by the rest of the Nexus. Times have been improving." As Barrayar stepped further into the modern age. Being caught up after 800 years of isolation was no easy feat and uterine replicators made a difference in what woman were able to do here.

"It's shared in many places. Even in my home. But my people knew I would do anything for them. If they had not wanted me, so too would I have stood down." Her pride had never been that way. Born to her position through marriage, and kept their by devotion. No more, no less.

"I take it from that, it isn't a sentiment you share?" Curious, she watches him. She's met men that didn't seem so bothered by a woman ruling. Even among the English, Major Ellis had been kind to her, and sought to help her - her husband made sure she was equal to the task. But to meet someone that openly professed otherwise?

Well, that was different.

"No, it's not," he answers plainly with a shake of his head. The only reason he had given Miles' female bodyguard odd looks when the pair had shown up in his office had entirely to do with the pair's unexpected presence. Another part of the mess he had been dragged into by the younger man, but his involvement in it had long since been sealed. It had been an inheritance he could have done without.

"It matters more here because of the way their lineage works--it's patriarchal--but no other government runs this way." And thank god for that.

Oh, she thinks she might be happy to let him speak forever if he was going to say such. It's like drinking fresh water on a hot day. She blinks, watching him like she's aware she's showing too much interest and reels herself back.

"It's how most have worked, to my knowledge." She counters only to hear him refute it, she thinks. "I hoped that the new world and France had taken up the cause of democracy, that perhaps others would." But it felt a dream, in truth. Something that happened to other people. "You would not see it such?"

"If I had the ability," he answers cautiously and glances over at their taxi driver. Who would be very Barrayaran and Duv has no way of knowing if they were a conservative or progressive. Best not to anger the one in charge of them reaching their destination safely.

"There aren't many pure democracies out in the Nexus. My own planet exercises voting by shares owned either by individuals or companies," he says vaguely. He doubts the average Barrayaran knows about Komarran politics. "I can tell you in more detail when we reach my flat."

She nods, accepting, but it makes her eager, then, to hear more about it. To want to know how there are worlds that aren't dictated by blood and body. Even if she could not comprehend it herself, they would seem more like myths and fairytales then a truth she could know, but - "Of course. Perhaps when I am ... rested."

Flat - what was that like? She darts when something catches her eye out the window again, before looking back to him. "We will be there soon?" He said this would be faster. Her own fatigue getting to her. The want to get this itching dried lycan blood off of her, unmatter her hair, clean her sword.

"Yes, it's--" Before he can say anything further, he blinks in surprise as they arrive at their destination. He had been more engrossed in their conversation than he thought. He slides out of the car and holds the door open for her.

"You'll have time to rest. I have been given leave the next few days to ensure you settle in." And don't cause any problems. Illyan had been very sure about that.

She follows after him, one careful step after another as she looks over wherever it is that he lives, hard to tell, so many buildings piling on top of each other. Never seen it such, not outside of the great fortresses, or her own mahal. "Thank your commander for me."

Can't imagine it's entirely for her own benefit. She wouldn't leave her alone completely unchaperoned, either. But all the same, he had given her what she had requested in his company.

"I'll send along my regards," he replies dryly. He doubts Captain Illyan would want to hear from him except to receive a report about the young woman's status. There's a second of hesitation before he offers her his arm. She seems so unsure of where she's going that if she wants a proper escort, he can provide. He did do embassy duty and most of that had been diplomatic work.

Regardless of her acceptance, he will gladly start the journey towards his flat up a few floors in an elevator. His place was simple as if he hardly spent any time there. There's a small mess in his kitchen from the dinner he made last night and didn't get the chance to clean up before needing to sleep and very little in the way of decoration.

She slips her hand against his arm, gentle, careful. Especially light, in case she must detangle at short notice. That tension that never quite leaves her for that. Light, be poised, ready. An art to holding herself light.

In the same, she keeps her face schooled plain as he shows her about, where to go. Letting her eyes shut at the things that leave her cautiously shut in turns and receptive to the things that catch her eye. Ignoring now just the same whatever looks she gets in return, better things to be doing. Her face serverely empty as she looks over his - rooms? Bigger than she expecting perhaps. For a man with no family to see to him and no, not a palace, but she wasn't looking for that anyway.

No, what she's looking for, she gets as she takes a glance around. A thin, happy sigh that leaves her and shifts her shoulders back. "It's dry." Is the happy little sigh she shouldn't say but it was true. Three months sleeping on straw mats on the ground made this seem an utter relief she cannot quite fathom. Maybe for once her back wouldn't be a aching mess in the morning.

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