[open] when you talk to me I'll hear you out

[altusimperius]

WHO: Benedict, anyone who isn't on the Rivain trip and/or banned from visiting the dungeons
WHAT: Bene's out of solitary and ready for friendly visitors!
WHEN: vaguely during the current plot, but kind of whenever
WHERE: the Gallows dungeon
NOTES: There will always be a Templar guard present, so murder attempts will unfortunately be thwarted.

Benedict has been once again granted the basic human dignity of being able to see and hear what's going on around him, at least as long as it's within the walls of the Gallows dungeon. It's a place built for mages, and the shackles he still wears keep his magic muted alongside the magebane that keeps him lethargic and unable to cast.
Sharp objects are out of the question, so his normally pristine lower face is stubbled in a way that would look quite ruggedly handsome on someone less haughty and miserable. And he's been wearing the same prison shift he was put in after his clothes finally became too unbearable, which is an insult in itself. Unlike Atticus, he no longer goes to the library, or outside at all, unless for a very good reason decided by someone other than himself.

He's still not a pleasant conversation partner, but Benedict is here and at the disposal of any visitors who might want to see the less cordial captive Vint.

Comments

[faithlikeaseed]

"So they really did separate the two of you."

As if Benedict needed any further trouble in his life, he's got a visitor in the form of a blind elf. Myr halts outside the other mage's cell, head cocked a little to one side as he studies Bene with his remaining senses. The look on his face is intent as a hawk considering some morsel of prey; when his curiosity's not blunted by his usual good humor, it can be...disquieting.

[bad_thief]

Haelan doesn't much like the sound of Dungeons. He's never actually been in a dungeon, the closest he's been is one of the Guardhouses in Hightown after they caught him sniffing around one of the fancy manors. They'd not thrown him in a cell, but if one of the Chantry sisters hadn't come down to fetch him (and box his ear) then he probably would have been thrown in a dungeon until they could work out a better punishment for him.

The Inquisition's dungeon was the old Templar dungeon- damp and dark and dank, the steps down to it foreboding. It wasn't the sort of place he wanted to visit at any time, less so when carrying a heavy bucket full of what was apparently dinner for the prisoners down there. It looked like gruel but smelt like feet, so who knew what they'd actually put in it.

He almost spills it on his shoes, trying to juggle both the bucket and knocking on the dungeon door, but he manages it, and one of the guards lets him in, and the smell is even worse.

"Er... I brought lunch?" He says, but the guards clearly aren't about to dish it out. Not when they're in the middle of a game of Wicked Grace. Playing mother wasn't what Haelan had expected to do either, but when a ladle is pushed into his hand, he supposes he doesn't have an option.

He approaches a cell, trying not to get too close. There are Magisters down here, or so he's heard, and blood mages and crazed Templars and pirates and murders, and all of them would probably like to kill him, just for something to do. Which doesn't help him keep his voice steady as he peers into the darkness of the cell.

"Bowl?" He asks, trying to carry the heavy bucket and the ladle, and try and spot the prisoner's plate.

Just BEFORE embarking on the current plot

[fireandsmoke]

My, isn't this familiar?

From the shadows, a regal, resplendent man pulls up a stool and helps himself to a languid seat. He gives the impression of a predatory feline, with the way he crosses a leg over his knee, and the way his lean hand drums idly and pensively against his jaw. He studies Benedict through the bars, harkening back to their rather uncomfortable exchange with Atticus Vedici in the Gallows library.

"I'll start basic," the Dragon begins somewhat caustically -- as if he is ever the sort of individual to cave to something as unnecessary as small talk. "How do you feel?"