faderift | [closed] save me

WHO: Benedict, people with clearance to see him
WHAT: Benedict is in baby jail resulting from some poor decision-making.
WHEN: the days following this
WHERE: BABY JAIL (the Gallows dungeon, solitary confinement)
NOTES: It might get dark? There will likely be talk of abuse. Also, only certain people will be allowed to see him, so please PM me if you want to get in on it!

The attitude is more difficult to maintain when no one's around, and it didn't take Benedict very long to cave. Between the magebane, the darkness, and the quiet, he's been an emotional wreck; he has outright refused to eat the rations slid to him through the slot in the door and would shout at the guard who put them there, a barrage of desperate pleas and empty threats.

As despair has settled in, Benedict has gone quieter, ending his hunger strike by picking at the tray even if he never finishes it, weeping often and becoming increasingly convinced that he's going mad.
Someone like him was never prepared for the likes of this.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Your Family is not here, and if the silence has anything to do with it - they might have abandoned you to your fate. After all, why not cut off the family branch that can incriminate them, even if only by association?" James stated flatly, his hands going behind his back once more.

"You might want to start considering your options with a little less immaturity. You are a grown man, are you not? Figure something out on your own." He tipped his head, "Or is it not only the Venatori who rides on your parents coat-tails of influence? Are you hanging on right beside him?"

This is the possibility that haunts Benedict's dreams, and though he would normally doubt it-- he's too important to his mother's legacy-- the consideration that they've given up on him seems all too real right now.
He shakes his head, but makes no argument, just sinking a bit lower against the wall. Options? What options does he even have?

James let that one sunk in - because as powerful as this young man's family might be - they weren't here. He tipped one eyebrow up against the wall, knowing that no verbal argument from this young man was more than enough answer for them both.

"If I were you - I would start eating my meals, drinking my water, and coming up with ideas that do not involve assaulting people without a forward plan. And if you are thinking - 'Oh, well, what could a Templar do besides throw me about?'"

He put his hands together, and then said a brief prayer to the Maker, before he slammed his hand down into the ground. Spell Purge was particularly a favorite of his, so that slam of blue holy power into the ground would make those mage cuffs tingle, just so. He stood, and dusted his hands off, looking at the young man once more.

"We will strip you of your magic down to the core. That is what Southern Templars are trained to do."

Benedict nods quickly, eager to agree to whatever terms will get this man out of here. He knows well enough to cringe at the threat of violence, and he jumps when Norrington slams the ground, his wrists tingling unpleasantly.
"What do you want!" he yelps, "I don't know anything! I don't know what you want, any of you!" He raises his hands to cover his face, curling his knees up into a little ball. If the Templar chooses to do more, Benedict won't be able to stop him.

"Right now? I want you to promise to never lay a hand on another member of the Inquisition as long as you live, boy." Norrington stated flatly, his voice taking on a hint of heat. "Anything else? Well. That's up to you, isn't it?"

He doesn't go near the mage. In fact he stands near the other end of the cell now, by the barred door. "Friend or enemy to the Inquisition. The choice is yours."

"I won't!" Benedict insists, "I didn't!" If that awful bitch got in the way, it was her own fault, as far as he's concerned.
Unfolding slightly now that the Templar has backed off, Bene still holds his arms folded up, protecting his core. "I don't care, I just want to go home!" The Inquisition can rot, he wants no part of it.

"That might be a long time in coming ... and you can tell Lieutenant Coupe that you didn't mean to hit her with a Horror spell." he stated softly, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"I did," Bene insists, gritting his teeth with frustration, "but it seems all of you have a hearing problem." Though still very much afraid of the Templar, and it shows in his posture, Benedict is seemingly incapable of not running his mouth.

"Oh do you mean you told her while she was in the grasp of paranoia? Because I know she hasn't come down to see you since then. An apology when someone is bespelled is hardly an apology. Even a Tevinter magister can figure that one out, can't he?" James volleyed back, his tone going cold again.

"But it seems you need a little more time on your own." Crisply, he rapped on the door three times.

Benedict watches him in disbelief. Was he not himself knocked against the wall and winded in the meantime? Has the other Templar's brutality gone completely undocumented?

He doesn't know what to say, at least until Norrington is about to leave again, when Bene lurches forward. "No!" he yelps, looking pleadingly between the Templar and the door.

The other Templar, per James's investigation, had only bruised the young man after he had flung his spell wildly and struck Lieutenant Coupe with it.

However, that desperate edge did not fall on deaf ears. James's hand stopped, and he half-turned to the young man. He lifted his chin, slightly, before exhaling slowly.

"... there is a man coming to see you, per the request of several ranking members of the Inquisition. You'll be sent some food, and more water, so I would conserve your strength. He'll be here soon to speak with you about all this." He sighed, softly. "...Would you like a healer for your wounds, before then?"

Benedict grits his teeth, feeling frustration build in him and have nowhere to go. Between the magebane and the shackles, he has no hope of casting a spell anytime soon, and he's never been very physically strong, which means he just has to take the man's word for it.
But... he won't, not entirely. "No," he says quickly, drawing back. The softening of demeanor, after all this, can only be another trick. He won't fall for it.

Norrington mentally sighed, gave a curt nod and knocked on the door again. "Well. Then. I shall be back later to check on you."

And make sure you haven't turned into a raving lunatic.

[closed] save me

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