[open] but I'll soon find out, that's for sure

[altusimperius]

WHO: Benedict, Kit, Anders, anyone else who wants to visit
WHAT: He's still in baby jail! Everything is terrible!
WHEN: Harvestmere
WHERE: the Kirkwall dungeon
NOTES: even though his beard is gross he wears it well

It's been months now, and Benedict has lost track of time. He's aware via the draft coming in from the dungeon door, when it opens, that the weather has grown colder, and he's picked up via context in the guards' chatter that Satinalia's coming up fairly soon. That means they're well into autumn, and he's still here, and that's all he knows. If his family ever received his letter, if it was ever sent at all, he hasn't heard back and has begun to doubt he will.

Occasional card games with Kit and the books granted by generous souls only stave off boredom for so long, and Benedict has taken to long stretches of time wherein he just stares at the wall, not quite sleeping, not forcing himself to operate at full capacity. The boredom is torture in itself. That and the limited access to basic hygiene, but by now Benedict has accepted that he will smell and itch and have an awful scrubby beard and there's nothing he can do to change that.

Perhaps all this would be manageable on some level if it weren't for the magebane, which keeps him constantly drained and sluggish, and which he has no choice but to consume now that the hunger strike has long since become untenable. He's fallen into a state of dull acceptance, still sullen but with little left of the fire.

Of course it wouldn't take long to break him, before this he'd never known a day's hardship in his life. This isn't even hardship, it's just nothing. It's hard not to wonder if maybe the Tranquil have a point.

Comments

a few days after Kit's return from Orzammar

[ragweed]

The guards watching the entrance to the dungeons are pretty familiar with the tattooed dwarf who arrives with smokes, a bit of friendly banter, and a deck of cards to pass the time with the moody Vint boy, and so don't give him a hard time when he passes by them this time with only a couple words of greeting. Kit heads down the stairs, already toying with an unlit smoke between his fingers; reaching Benedict's cell, he waits until the door is opened, then steps inside.

"Hey," he says and attempts his usual, lopsided smile, but there's something off about it that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He draws up a chair to the table, already reaching for the desk of cards there.

[altusimperius]

Benedict looks up with an enthusiasm reserved only for Kit, and immediately blinks with a look of suspicion. "You look like shit," he informs him, helpfully.

[ragweed]

Kit shoots him a frank look in response. "That makes two of us," he says, shuffles the cards, then pushes them Benedict's way. "You deal. What do you want to play--dead man's tricks or diamondback?"

He fetches out a book of matches, strikes one, and lights his cigarette in silence. Whatever has caused his mood, he looks like he's trying to get it under control.

[altusimperius]

Bene wrinkles his nose in lazy affront at the retort, but can barely argue when he knows how true it really is. He starts to deal, much more fluently than he had when they started, to the point where he's almost beginning to appear like he knows what he's doing.
"Diamondback," he decides, starting to toss Kit's hand lightly his way, though he pauses when the dwarf lights a cigarette. "...can I have one?"

[ragweed]

"...can I have one?"

He glances up from lighting his cigarette to look at Benedict in some confusion, then figures out what he's asking. Cocking an eyebrow, he starts to fish out the sachet of tobacco and rolling paper out of his pocket. "You ever smoked before?" he asks.

[altusimperius]

Bene shrugs. "Hookah," he replies, extending his hand for the cigarette, "I can't imagine it's that much different." It's for lying around and feeling better, isn't it?

[ragweed]

Kit gives him a dubious look. "Dunno what hookah is, but sure."

He rolls the tobacco into the paper and then hands it over to Benedict. "You've got to lick the paper to seal it. Otherwise it'll spill all over the place." Once that is done, he lights a match and holds it out to light the smoke for him.

[altusimperius]

Benedict looks incredulous, and almost, in the span of a split-second, like a person with dignity. "It's a sort of elaborate pipe," he explains, smirking slightly that he knows something Kit doesn't, "with several tubes for smoking, and you burn the herbs in the center. It's lovely."
On this last word he sighs, remembering it with sick acuity. Maker, how nice it felt, floating in a haze of smoke, thinking and caring nothing.
It's with concentration that he does as Kit instructs, licking the paper and pressing it together. He's never smoked anything in this fashion before, but if it's anything like what he knows, it'll make his time here at least a tiny bit more bearable.

[ragweed]

It definitely sounds like something the rich sods in the Diamond Quarter probably would enjoy. Kit just nods at the cigarette now held in Benedict's hands. "Well, I don't know about 'lovely,' but that scratches the itch on a bad day."

He reclaims his own cigarette, takes a drag from it, and looks at the hand of cards Benedict had dealt him, all the while sneaking curious glances at the boy to see how a bit of cigarette smoke matches up to hookah.

[justice_is_blond]

It's not easy to go into the dungeons. This isn't the first time he's been down here, but it is the first time he's been down here since his last time in Kirkwall and they stand mute witnesses to the enormity of a situation there'd been no good solution for.

It also doesn't help that the guard makes a joke about not letting him back out. Anders swallows the spike of fear and doesn't react other than to touch the crystal in his pocket, making sure he's still got that before he approaches the prisoner down here.

"I'm," his voice is hoarse. Anders coughs, clearing his throat. "I'm here to see if you need any care from a spirit healer. ...Or another mage."

[altusimperius]

The captive is slumped against the wall as usual, fiddling with a pack of cards that he can't shuffle terribly well even when he isn't drugged to such languidness. When he hears an unfamiliar voice, Benedict leans forward to peer out of the cell, looking rather like most people would after having been imprisoned for several months with no sign of any imminent release.

In a way, he's the very picture of the purpose this dungeon used to serve. A mage, powerless, hopeless, and, at least as far as he knows, forgotten.
"I'm cold," he replies dully, bearing no particular friendliness for Anders. He'll just go away again too.

[justice_is_blond]

Cold. It's always cold down south, and dungeons especially are chilly. Anders focuses for a moment and produces a controlled bonfire close enough to the Tevinter mage to give warmth but not so close that it's threatening.

"I can at least help with that." There's something wrong with caging a person, in his mind. Execute them, set them to work with a guard, pardon them, those are all completely find options. But people should not be locked away.

"And I can help shuffle and even play a game or few, if you'd like. Your choice of game." Benedict seems physically unharmed, but Anders understands all too well what it's like to be forgotten and trapped.

[altusimperius]

Benedict looks a little surprised by the fire, but he's not sure why. Perhaps just that magic in such proximity to him after so long seems out of place, and makes him nervous, as though he might get in trouble for it.
He watches the flames for several moments, then lifts his eyes to meet Anders'. "Diamondback," he says hesitantly. That's the one he's been playing with Kit, and getting good at it.

[justice_is_blond]

Anders holds out a hand. "Diamondback it is. I've played it more than a few times." That's not to say he's any good. The opposite, really - cards are luck-based and Anders has always had shit luck.

"I can't promise any sort of challenge, but it's fairly hard to play Diamondback with yourself." There's something in Benedict's eyes and actions that make him want to stay despite what a dungeon means to him.

[altusimperius]

Usually Kit comes in with him, but perhaps this man can't. Maybe it's for the better, since Bene's never seen him before and he could be anyone.
Scooting closer to the bars, he starts to deal out a hand for Anders, silent and thoughtful until they're both ready. Then he looks up at him, curious and wary. "Who are you?"

[justice_is_blond]

He studies his cards for a moment after the question before looking up with a slightly guarded expression.

"Anders," he says. If even the guy who can't be choosy about his company in the dark dungeons rejects his company... he doesn't know. It certainly won't feel good. "That Anders, to be specific, yes."

[altusimperius]

Benedict narrows his eyes and tilts his head, trying to recall where he's heard the name before. Eastern and Southern politics haven't been of much interest to him since very recently, and though the name sounds familiar, he's not sure why.
"What does that mean," he asks dully, unsure if this is a trick or not.

[exequy]

Whatever explanations are made to the guards, whatever is said to assure them he has permission for this, it's nearly too much trouble—the specific little stamina bar that Kostos would have for Social Interaction if this were a video game is nearly empty by the time the cell door is actually swinging open and he is actually looking at the young man inside.

For a moment he just stares at him. Recharging that bar. And regretting this, a little. Beneath his constant put-uponness, Kostos' heart bleeds for injured animals and lost children, widows and orphans and farmers crying over their singed fields, et cetera ad nauseam; it generally does not bleed for Tevinters. Generally. But in this specific instance: here he is.

After that moment, he says, "Get up."

[altusimperius]

It's rare that someone other than Kit actually comes into the cell, and Benedict rarely has time to register that he has a guest before Kostos walks in and starts making demands.
"Why," he asks, guardedly. He's never seen this man before, and isn't about to go quietly for someone whose intentions he doesn't know.

[exequy]

"Because," Kostos says, grating the words through his teeth, "it's a nice day."

His accent is thick—stubbornly so, eleven years after he last set foot in Nevarra, deliberately resistant to Orlesian influence—and he isn't carrying a staff, but neither is he carrying any other sort of weapon, which maybe implies a certain level of confidence in not needing one. He folds his hands behind his back while he looks the boy over, his dirty hair and sort of pathetic beard. Maybe it's warm enough to dunk him in the bay.

"You'll be back by your bedtime."

[altusimperius]

Bene's incredulity only grows. "What do you want," he demands, immediately glancing about for the guards, as though they'll do anything. If there's one thing he's learned, it's that sometimes inside the cell is safer than outside it, depending on what's happening in either location.
-- and of course, there's that asinine reassurance. "...I don't have a bedtime," he snorts, affronted.

[exequy]

None of this is impressive.

"I'm taking you to the garden," he says flatly, "for fresh air, if you get up in the next five seconds."

He doesn't glance at the guards. Hesitation breeds interference. He learned that in the Circle.

[altusimperius]

Fresh air? What in the void? ...now??

Bene stares at him for several long moments, then, with an air of intense suspicion, slowly rises to his feet using the stone wall. He's staring at Kostos, waiting for something horrible to happen, but he is actually, unbelievably, willing to risk that for the chance to actually see sunlight.

Holding his silence for now, Benedict just waits, braced for something to go wrong.

[exequy]

He comes in under five seconds. Kostos has to stay and go through with this. Damn it.

He steps back out of the cell, nods at the lingering guards in a curt I've got this way, and glances back to see if Benedict is following.

"Don't get too close to anyone else," he says, which is partly because Kostos will do his best to wreck him if he tries any shit, but also: "You smell."

[altusimperius]

Benedict does follow, in that shuffling, uncertain way of someone who both isn't used to walking around and isn't sure if he's about to be killed.
He's long since learned that trying shit only ends in bad news, but that doesn't stop him bristling at Kostos, glaring daggers at this revolting Nevarran for his revolting attitude. "Well get me a fucking bath then," he mutters through his teeth.