[OPEN] Some new guests in the Gallows.

[minrathousian]

WHO: Atticus Vedici, Benedict Quintus Artemaeus + OPEN
WHAT: A magister and his apprentice getting acquainted with their new digs.
WHEN: The beginning of Matrinalis.
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Open to anyone, though especially to mage and templar characters

I. THE GALLOWS DUNGEON


Their accommodations leave much to be desired, but truth be told, their prison cells have better amenities than Atticus had been expecting.

There is a window, for example. It is a high window, barred and covered with magic-repulsing runes that prevent even the most determined and ingenious escape artist from making use of their abilities to make a break for freedom. There are wooden cots for sleeping, a blanket to ward off the chill, a basin with clean water in it for washing up--and a chamber pot, behind a small partition for privacy. (Atticus is unclear whose responsibility it will be to tend to that, but grimly, suspects he already knows.) Directly across from the door to his cell is the door to his apprentice's cell.

The door to the cells are steel bars, to allow for interrogation without the interrogator having to get too close to their subject. Atticus has already been subject to at least one round of rigorous questioning by Inquisition soldiers, but he is sure more are to come.

It is the middle of the afternoon, a few days after their arrival in Kirkwall and confinement in their cells. Having made an attempt at washing his face and hair, he stands with his back to the cell door and his eyes turned up towards the single window letting sunlight spill into his cell. He chafes the palm of one hand against the several day old stubble shadowing his jaw and the hollows of his cheeks.

It occurs to him, almost like an afterthought, that he's exhausted.



II. IN THE CORRIDORS


If Atticus Vedici and Benedict Quintus Artemaeus are to remain with the Inquisition and subside in relative comfort, then they are expected to make themselves useful in the process. Whether or not Benedict objects, Atticus does not.

And so, under a Templar guard and with their hands and feet bound with enchanted shackles, the pair of them are being led through the Gallows grounds en route to the Gallows' library, in order to perform (under duress), the research that will bring the Inquisition that much closer to gaining an edge over Corypheus and his Venatori forces.

[OOC:  If you don't feel like your characters would necessarily interact with two chained up Venatori mages under Templar guard but would still like to be involved, please feel free to post your characters' reaction, or interact with each other while witnessing this happen. w/e floats your boat really.]



III. THE GALLOWS LIBRARY


The work station that the Inquisitions' most senior enchanters and Templars have arranged for the two Venatori mages is located within the Gallows' library--but it is hardly situated in an area where a young apprentice or researcher could encounter either of them by random happenstance. In a converted cataloging room, Atticus and Benedict have been quite literally chained to their desks with a number of tomes, stacks of parchment, and other assorted tools laid out before them in order for them to perform their work. They have enough light to work by thanks to some light reaching them through an open window elsewhere in the library; the rest come from sconces and lanterns.

Atticus endures the dim lighting with aplomb, or appears to at any rate. After a length spell of silence--overseen by whomever has been (un)fortunate enough to chaperone them today--he makes a few final notes on a slip of parchment and passes it to Benedict across the table. "Cross-reference these with the notes we took yesterday," he instructs, his tone quiet and almost conversational. (His fingers, however, sport some suspicious bruising from where, the previous day, they had connected with Benedict's face.)


IV.  WILDCARD

(Surprise us!) 

Comments

I

[altusimperius]

The first few days involved a lot of rattling of the bars, insisting he can't be treated like this, demanding to be allowed contact with his family in Tevinter; but Benedict has gone quiet lately, nursing his injured pride and growing fear.
The turning point came when he tried to make a break for it, on one of their many journeys to the library. He'd attempted to slip between the guards, shackles and all, only to be caught almost instantly and manhandled by both back to his cell. He didn't accompany Atticus to the library that day, but has since sworn he'll behave himself, no doubt as a result of the soreness in his arms and upper body from when he was grabbed slammed against the wall.

He's been silent and sulky since then, avoiding looking at Atticus but no doubt still very much open to any visitors who might address him.

The evening after Benedict's escape attempt.

[minrathousian]

When he is returned to his prison cell that evening, Atticus waits in neutral silence for his templar escorts to unlock the door to his cell. They push him into it with a bit more force than necessary, but though he has to catch himself against the side of his wooden cot, he maintains his façade of calm.

He straightens and takes a moment to flex his sore wrists, still shackled together and growing raw. Then he turns and paces back to the door of his cell to stare disdainfully across at his apprentice in the chamber opposite him. "I expect it's unnecessary to reprimand you for that idiotic display in the corridor today," he says quietly.

[altusimperius]

"I don't need your opinion on it, thanks," comes the rash reply, Benedict sitting on the floor of his cell by the bars, this being the best place to get any view at all of the halls. "On this or anything else."

[minrathousian]

"I expect you will," comes the calm reply, "unless you wish to remain a captive of the Inquisition indefinitely." Atticus has made no overtures towards escape for himself; who knows, maybe he secretly really likes living the lifestyle of an ascetic.

III

[altusimperius]

Benedict has weathered the research sessions with considerably less grace, much resembling an ornery child in the way he goes about most activities, but anyone who saw him in those first few days might note a marked difference in behavior.
The slip of parchment merits a sigh and a roll of his eyes, but no sass more overt than that. It may be related to the bruising on his face, surrounding a small scar on his cheekbone where the skin split from a blow taken full-force.

[unbrokenoath]

She hadn't believed it, the first time she'd heard about it. Not until she got a glance at him from a distance--and promptly had to step away to laugh about it. None of the other Wardens were going to believe this shit--Maker's ass, did Teren know?

It's a shame her dress she'd met him in hadn't quite come out of the events of that time in the same condition it had entered her life, but perhaps it was for the best. After some thought about how to present herself, Kaisa opts for a casual outfit--but one that made sure everyone in a ten mile radius was acutely aware that she was a Warden. Perfect.

And thus, she flounces into the library like a storm of blue and gray, grabbing a seat and all but throwing it down between the two men, elbows propping up on the table.

"What, did your mother finally agree on the match? Mamam wrote to her ages ago, but we figured the letter must have been lost. Yet here you are! I suppose your mother's letter of agreement must have been the lost one. How do you feel about summer weddings?"

Atticus is, after a moment, glanced over at, and given a dazzling smile. "Are you going to be the best man?"

[minrathousian]

It's fair to say that Atticus startles when the chair comes clattering down between himself and Benedict, but he recovers with aplomb. He stares between them in bemused silence, his eyebrows creeping archly higher.

"Are you going to be the best man?"

"Felicitations," he informs his apprentice mildly.

[altusimperius]

For his part, Benedict looks like he's seen a ghost. In a sense, he has, but there are details to this ghostly figure that simply don't add up in his mind: the colors, for one, and the... her... being here, for another. It takes him some time before he's even able to articulate a response, and when he does, it's a thin "it's you."

III

[fireandsmoke]

Although there are no other bodies aside from Benedict, Atticus, and their guard-chaperoneswithin the room housing their workstation, there is the distinct feeling of another presence observing them. A pair of eyes, perhaps. Or something less corporeal, like a conjuring or a shadow lurking somewhere in the furthest corners of the room.

Then it presents itself.

First it drifts pasts the guards, largely unnoticed for the time being. It is perceptible only as a foggy shimmer in the air, something of an apparition or a spirit-creature, until it drifts close enough to brush a warm and smoky stench beneath the prisoners' noses. That is when the Thing takes a loose shape: a mistlike, wispy sentinel, made up entirely of a reflective cloud with the merest suggestion of a noiseless, breathless face deep within. It circles closely to the prisoners, their own faces shining back at them through the mist like on the surface of a fishbowl. The Thing is ever watchful and observant, and it is clear with some pondering and wit that this must be sorcery; someone -- or something -- is pulling the strings behind it. It behaved too mechanically and intentionally for it to not have a purpose.

For now, though, it does not conduct any further action aside from listening to and watching the pair, waiting to see if anything interesting arises.

Re: III

[minrathousian]

It is a marvellous creation.

Atticus pauses in his writing to watch the mist gather before them and take shape. It baffles as much as it fascinates, and he can't possibly conceal the elation from his eyes as he leans nearer to it to get a better look. He adjusts his glasses.

"Hello there," he murmurs; he doesn't bother taking any notes on the form in front of him, knowing that all he works on will be confiscated from him at the end of the evening anyway. Instead he steeples his fingers in front of himself and watches it as it watches him.

Re: III

[altusimperius]

Benedict is startled, but not immediately afraid. Taking his cues from Atticus, he simply watches the thing, with somewhat more reticence, peering between it and his mentor with a look of uncertainty.

I

[limier]

Steel no longer shrouds her, but there’s armor about this all the same: Expression ground pointedly neutral, hands folded neatly behind her back.

"Magister."

She’s not been back long, and their introduction had left much to be desired. Duty asks a public remove. The Inquisition has dedicated agents for the rest: trained and skilled at digging; sharp instruments where hers have always conjured a blunter refrain.

But she doesn’t only serve the Inquisition, and they'll be seeing no shortage of each other in the days to come. The sooner they acquire some understanding, perhaps the sooner that her instincts might be smothered — they'll do little good here, without opportunity to heed them. Paranoia can be as dangerous as inattention, as preoccupying.

(It's been chiming loud from the first word of news.)

"And your apprentice." Either a remarkably good actor, or terribly out of his depth. Perhaps he'd deserve more focus, if he could be separated from the fold. As it stands? Evenly, "I trust we'll not have a repeat of the other day's incident."

Brief and uncoordinated as it was. It seems unlikely that Vedici was consulted; still, best no one grow to assume the task will always be so easy.

Re: I

[minrathousian]

Seated very still on the wooden cot, Atticus opens his eyes. For an instant, his pupils are blown wide and black; then he blinks, and seems to come back to himself. He glances towards the Templar and rises to his feet, like a gentleman demonstrating courtesy when a lady has entered the room.

"Ser Coupe," he greets her courteously. "How kind of you to visit us."

When her attention shifts to Benedict, he says nothing, and his gaze starts to wander again.

[altusimperius]

Benedict gets to his feet when the Templar arrives, not one to be caught sitting down and small when such a symbol of brutality is present. He wraps his fingers around the bars, spaced in such a way that his shackles hang loosely, as comfortably as possible.
"I trust you sent my letter?" he retorts imperiously.

slaps down some tl;dr

[limier]

"Discourteous, to neglect one's guests."

She briefly eyes Atticus, but misses most of his pause in the dim light. Her head inclines faintly to Benedict; not deference but bullishness, the lowering of some invisible horns.

"It has been forwarded to those who manage such arrangements."

Or lack of them. She can't imagine that Lord Baerendorf will actually send the bloody thing.

If Vedici leaves the Gallows before this war is done, she doubts that it will be alive. He’s seen too much of its inner workings, has been — frankly — far too cooperative. Everything that makes him useful to the Inquisition makes him twice as useful to their enemies.

Artemaeus might at least serve for saboutage: If the Imperium is anything like Orlais, his capture will not have reflected well upon familial ambition. Their rivals might be pleased by a properly-ignominious return. Thin ground from which to cultivate allies, but not a decision that’s hers to make.

It won’t be anyone’s decision if he keeps trying this shit.

"So we may as well settle in." A short gesture to the partition. "Why, you’ve even a bucket. The privileges of position."

Back 2 Atticus. Vedici's displayed little interest thus far in the consequences the boy accrues, and it’s difficult to say how genuine that might be. Wiser to not show the things one values — and he’s certainly bright enough to realize that ill behaviour won’t benefit their position.

"I am told that the Seneca text has been located in partial record," She’s muddled through enough of it to believe there’s no danger in handing it over. "I admit the work seemed an odd choice. Primarily philosophical, no?"

II

[eolasemah]

Periodically Sina visits the Gallows for the Inquisition's infirmary, both to assist with the herbal remedies and to receive treatment and study herself. Her anchor hasn't done anything too interesting lately, for which she's thankful, but she'd be lying if she said she doesn't feel it seeping further in, penetrating her very bones.

She's got her basket and, apart from being visibly Dalish and having a green glow in her chest, is unremarkable as she traverses the Gallows courtyard. She happens to glance up while passing the two captives and their escort, and what she notices stops her dead. Neither one is familiar, yet one... is, in some unspeakable way. She's certain she doesn't recognize him, but she stares anyway, eyes wide in bewilderment.

Re: II

[minrathousian]

Their small procession is guided through the Gallows courtyard at a pace just the uncomfortable side of being brisk. The Templars don't permit them the chance to loiter and speak to others, but there's really nothing they can do to prevent the Venatori prisoners from look at the loitering passers-by.

So it is at that moment when Atticus, noticing the presence of someone in his peripheral vision, fixes his eyes on Sina and recognizes her immediately. His very pale eyes flick down to the green glow emanating from her chest, then back up to her gaze. For a fraction of a second, he smiles a smile clear as glass.

Then he looks forward again, and on he goes.

Later that evening

[eolasemah]

She doesn't know why she thinks this is a good idea. Sina pads down the dungeon steps, barefoot as her cultural clothing dictates, and shows the guards her basket of herbs. She's allowed now and then to visit the prisoners with small comforts, salves for their bruises and packets to help calm upset stomachs or bring on sleep.
This is the pretense under which she now arrives, her anchor a green beacon in the hall she traverses until she comes to Atticus' cell. Rather than offer either of them any ministrations, she gets right to the point: "I know you."

(Fortunately for both of them, Benedict is asleep.)

I

[judgemewhole]

The door to the cell opens, and with it, the guards suddenly straighten a bit more and the Templar on duty with them goes positively ram-rod straight. It is the effect of a Knight Commander entering the dungeons. James nods at the guards, whom he knows well, and at the Templar. He arches an eyebrow at the slumped state of the man, before he dryly states, "Templar Tallow, please go upstairs to meet the changing of the guard."

Before he nods off, is the silent condemnation. James knows very well who it was who almost let the younger Venatori slip away.

He walks in front of Atticus's cell, glancing over at Benedict, not dismissing either one of them in his cool appraisal, before he speaks. "I am Knight Commander James Norrington, of the Inquisition's Templars. You are, for lack of a better phrase, my responsibility and the responsibility of my men, as well as the other Templars who follow the Inquisition. As you are ... 'guests' of the Inquisition, I am required to ask, have you been mistreated or abused?"

He is pointedly looking at Benedict's face, now, before he looks back at Atticus, "Or are you abusing and mistreating one another?"

[altusimperius]

Ugh, another Templar. Is there any class of people more insufferable?
Benedict sneers and looks away, pointedly not at Atticus. He could carry on and come out with the blame, but he has very few options at the moment, and none of the good ones involve being separated from Atticus. He loathes the man, but... at least for the time being, he needs him.

[minrathousian]

Atticus paces slowly over to the bars to stand where he can see the Knight Commander as he prowls to the end of the corridor, to where their cells are situated so as to isolate them from the other prisoners. He watches Norrington's approach with interest, seeming to appraise the Templar in turn. Whatever his verdict is, he keeps mum about it, his expression deceptively mild.

"...have you been mistreated or abused? Or are you abusing and mistreating one another?"

He smiles impenetrably and dips his head once. "I thank you for your concern, Ser Templar, but we are not ill-treated."

III

[misdirection_hex]

It is only recently that Vandelin has been allowed back into the library, after that little fiasco that will never be spoken of again if he can help it--but now, blessedly, he is no longer the least popular mage in the room. When he catches wind of the gossip being whispered among the bookshelves, he excuses himself quietly from his table and goes to investigate, breezing past the displeased templar guards with a smirk and a stubborn unwillingness to let himself be stopped.

There's no small amount of satisfaction inherent in seeing these two chained to the furniture, surrounded by dust and forced to read under the kind of lighting that would give even an elf a squint-headache. Van's smile, though, is glowing.

"How's the face?" he asks Benedict. He'd all but ignored the prissy little bastard last time; it's only fair to give him the attention to which he's obviously accustomed. It has nothing whatsoever to do with his creeping feeling of unease around Atticus.

[minrathousian]

The only indication that Atticus gives regarding his discomfort at his current situation is the subtle press of two fingers against his temple, his eyebrows drawn into a slight furrow as he stares through his reading glasses at the text in front of him. Somniari aren't immune to eye strain.

When Vandelin enters, he glances at the young mage over the rims of his glasses, watching him in contemplative silence. For the time being, aside from a peculiar little smile, he keeps quiet, content to witness this exchange between the enchanter and Benedict without comment.

[altusimperius]

Benedict is actually concentrating, his face a mask of boredom as he pores over this or that manuscript, but he looks up with a sullen glare when Vandelin makes his appearance. "Better than yours," he answers automatically, wishing people would stop staring at the bruise. He doesn't want to think about it.

II

[doneisdone]

The exchange is a momentary one: a middle-aged woman is passing by with an armful of linen, and she stops to give Benedict a funny look. Automatically, she glances from him to Atticus, blinks in sudden recognition, and hurries past with a newfound urgency. Nothing to see here. No one.