Open RP - The Triumphant Return of Miles

[chaotic_miles]

Miles returned to Hogwarts like a tornado on speed. It was really, really good to be back here. At least in Hogwarts, he didn't have to pretend to be the slightly psychotic space admiral or the dutiful young Barrayaran officer. He could just be Miles, because nobody here cared about who he was supposed to be on any given day

Comments

[tomowildcat]

If Miles was a tornado, Tomo was probably a freight train. At least she was for the moment, as she came tearing down the hallway at top speed for no apparent reason. Miles probably could hear her coming, but the sound was more like an approaching stampede than a single Japanese girl.

She blew past Miles at top speed, but then screeched to a halt twenty feet away, ran right back and screeched to a halt again right beside Miles, staring at the top of his head intently. "No way!" She peered down at his feet, half expecting him to be kneeling and putting her on. "I must have gotten taller overnight!"

((Miles has blanket permission to smack her upside the head at any time, by the way.))

[chaotic_miles]

Miles had to blink a couple of times at the girl. She was possibly even more manic than he was. Which thought frightened even him.

He shook his head. "No," he answered, quirking a grin at her. "You didn't get taller." The smile became a smirk. "I'm just a a product of a Beta Colony genetic experiment..." he paused for effect and then finished dramatically, "gone horribly, horribly wrong."

[tomowildcat]

Possibly. At least she was easily distracted.

Tomo's face fell. "I didn't? Aw, not fair!" She blinked, looking him up and down again. "Hey, what's so horrible about being short?"

[chaotic_miles]

Miles shrugged, still grinning. "Well, it does sort of suck when you have really brittle bones," he admitted. "And my lifelong dream of playing... What's that game the Terrans invented... basketball? Yeah, that's not going to be happening anytime soon. But other than that, being short's not so bad."

[schizowarrior]

Molly, armed with a box full of paper, craft supplies, paint, and socks, was moving absentmindedly down the hallway. She had a paintbrush in her teeth, a stray pipe cleaner in her hair, and a smudge of blue paint along the bridge of her nose. She had been Productive, and she was clearly pleased by that fact.

Or she was, at least, until one of the pots of paint slipped off the precarious pile and exploded on the floor like a little bomb, the cheap plastic splitting its seams and spraying neon turquoise everywhere.

"...Da'mit," she muttered, around the paintbrush. This was going to be...interesting. She looked at the paint, and her tottering pile of stuff, and at Miles, and sighed, setting down her box and spitting out the paintbrush. "I was doing so well until now, too. I don't suppose 'scourgify' would work on acrylic paint, would it?" So far as she knew, nothing got that stuff out.

[chaotic_miles]

Miles looked down at his freshly polished boots, which were now a non-regulation shade of turquoise. "I don't know," he said dubiously. "I don't think it will. But maybe we should just consider this a good opportunity for hallway art? This section of the hall is looking sort of drab."

[schizowarrior]

Molly eyed his boots, and the floor, and her wand. Shaking her head, she stuck the wand behind her ear and instead dug out a box of--baby wipes. "These things might help," she said, yanking a handful out of the little plastic bin and handing several to Miles. "Sorry about this." And, quite unselfconscious, she sat on the floor and started mopping at her own shoes--high top sneakers, one red, one yellow. "Of course the damn thing would have to pick now to fall over and explode."

[chaotic_miles]

Miles wiped ineffectually at his boots, succeeding only in getting the paint even more smeared. "What were you trying to do with all that?" he asked, choosing to ignore this fact as he studied Molly and her art supplies.

[fatherofwolves]

If there was anyone at Hogwarts whose bearing and general demeanor screamed old-Vor, it was probably Ned Stark. Well, not so much with the whole psychotic old Vor thing, or the bigotry. Okay, so maybe the Lannisters might be more old-Vor than the Starks. Regardless, it was Ned Stark who strode in a very Nedlike fashion down the corridor where Miles Vorkosigan happened also to be walking

[chaotic_miles]

Had Miles ever spent any amount of time with Nedd Stark, he would have immediately come to realize that the man was, indeed, very Old Vor-like. In point of fact, he might have drawn inevitable comparisons between Stark and his own father. Both men were war heroes. Both had been unwittingly thrust into positions as powers behind the throne. (Of course, Aral Vorkosigan was still alive, living quite happily on Vorbar Sultana, whereas the question of whether or not Nedd was alive was debatable at best.

Miles, however, did not draw these comparisons when the older man accosted him. He just took in the proud bearing and stiff-necked posture and reflexively saluted. "Hello, sir," he answered, half expecting the man to start giving him orders. Because he was definitely dealing with another military man.

[fatherofwolves]

Ned had forced himself to leave behind the habit of introductions that made reference to obsolete titles. He might still consider himself a Stark of Winterfell, but the words meant nothing to these Hogwarts people. He would remain silent in the eyes of men, though the words would always sing in his heart, cold as steel.

"I am Eddard Stark," he said simply. "I am called Ned. How might you be called, ser?"

[chaotic_miles]

Miles also managed to refrain from giving his rank and post as he extended a hand to the man. "I'm Miles Vorkosigan, sir," he answered. "Lately of Slytherin house." He couldn't not address the man as 'sir'. He was clearly not from a time even vaguely familliar to Miles, but he did know military types quite intimately.