(Untitled)

[veryvorkosigan]

[After this.]Cordelia's not sure how long it takes her to get the shaking under control, or at least tamped down to a trembling in her gut and a slight unsteadiness of the hands. Long enough that when she finally rises to start putting things away, the burned-down incense stick is cold to the touch

Comments

[winged_defender]

When she looks up again, she might notice the scarlet macaw sitting on her dresser.

It's not clear how Peach got in with the door closed. Nor, for that matter, just how long she's been there.

[veryvorkosigan]

She just stares, for a moment.

A little hoarsely, "Machu Picchu?"

[winged_defender]

"That's my name."

The voice is casual, slightly cranky, as usual - but the eyes are a bit more serious.

[veryvorkosigan]

"When did you ...?"

Cordelia coughs, and swallows; the antidote capsule she took before starting may have obviated the effects of the drug, but she's still been in a room full of smoke for several minutes.

[winged_defender]

"Just now," the bird says. "Wouldn't have done for her to notice me in here. Might've skewed your results."

...Although THAT word association would've been interesting.

[veryvorkosigan]

A short laugh, wry verging on bitter.

"Results."

[winged_defender]

She gives no outward sign of noticing the bitterness, nor the trembling.

"Which were...?"

[veryvorkosigan]

Cordelia closes her eyes for a moment.

"Cut short," she says.

[winged_defender]

"Well," Peach says. "That's a result itself, right? Tell me about it."

[veryvorkosigan]

"I recorded it."

She touches the black box on the desk.

"It wasn't very long; I could play it back for you, if you like."

[winged_defender]

"Do it," she says, and flies over to land on the desk next to it.

[veryvorkosigan]

Cordelia's finger moves; there is a click, and her voice (flattened only slightly by the recording) says Do you have any questions before we start?

Why, are there things I should ask? responds Blodwen's voice, unworried.

[winged_defender]

Peach gives no response, besides cocking her head toward the voice.

[veryvorkosigan]

The interview plays on, through the first preliminaries and into the word-association.

Cordelia stands by the desk with her head down, watching the little screen and the lines wavering across it.

Birth, her own voice says. Never, snaps Blodwen's.

"No child of her own," she murmurs, not quite aware she's saying it aloud.

[winged_defender]

"They don't often make life, once they're that far in. One of the prices," Peach remarks, matter-of-fact and a little absent. Still listening.

[veryvorkosigan]

That far in? -- Later.

She still doesn't know what to make of Blodwen's response to Food.