[closed] it comes as no surprise at all, you see

[altusimperius]

WHO: Benedict Artemaeus, Atticus Vedici, Luwenna Coupe, Simon Ashlock
WHAT: an ill-used apprentice snaps and does something he'll regret
WHEN: after several weeks in captivity
WHERE: the dungeon
NOTES: Violence probably! If you want your character to be involved, send me a PM.

It's been a few weeks since Benedict's attempt to bolt, and he hasn't tried anything since then. In truth, he also isn't trying it now, since the Templars aren't his target: it's Atticus, who has done more to poison this experience than any southern Circle stooge ever could.

Their magic-blocking shackles are being transferred from their wrists to their ankles when Benedict, in a fit of terror-driven impulsiveness, casts Horror across the aisle into Atticus' cell. Why he chose this spell, even he isn't certain; why not a fireball or something suitably painful, he doesn't know. He doesn't have time to think about it, because it hardly takes a second for Benedict to be slammed against the wall by his assigned Templar, knocking the wind out of him. The shackle is replaced and his window of action is gone, and somehow he doesn't feel any better for it.

Unintentionally, the spell also infected Atticus' Templar, who is caught up by a brief but paralyzing fear.

Comments

[minrathousian]

Atticus would find the practice barbaric under any other circumstances. Right now, he derives a vindictive amount of satisfaction from knowing that Benedict will be punished for his actions.

"The Magister may receive a medic here. One of the Tranquil, perhaps."

At that he visibly starts, before biting down on the instinct to protest. No; he does have bargaining power, but not in this. Pursing his lips, he nods and says nothing else.

[paladingus]

Simon, too, finds the second command a bit more disturbing than the first. He's not a fan of any course of action that requires him to interact with one of those unfortunate monotone bastards, trying all the while to keep from staring at the scars on their foreheads. But he'll do as he's told without complaint, and if it delays him having to discuss any of the rest of it, perhaps it's not so bad after all.

"Yes, ser." A little more deference than usual, mostly for the prisoners' benefit, trying to restore the status quo like flinging a single silencing spell into the swirling Breach. Perhaps it's a hopeful enough metaphor; the Breach is, after all, gone now.

He crosses an arm over his chest in a punctuating salute, and marches Benedict off toward the further cells.

[altusimperius]

"What?" Benedict exclaims, suddenly fully back on-guard, "but it-- it wasn't for you!"
Between the magic-dampening shackles and the size difference between the Templar and himself, Benedict has no hope of preventing what's to come.
"I'm not even venatori!" he protests, "you can't do this!"
Naturally, being someone who's used to getting his way, he had hoped that Atticus might be removed, not himself. Isolation? It's common knowledge that the southerners are barbaric about mages, but Benedict never thought he'd become so intimately acquainted with one of their dungeons, least of all Kirkwall's. What is he, some pathetic Circle sheep being herded into a box?
...perhaps so. He doesn't make it easy for Simon, resisting as much as he can, his movements growing more insistent as they near his new cell. Isolation. He's never been completely alone in his life.