[open]

[altusimperius]

WHO: Bene and you
WHAT: He's free! ...ish.
WHEN: Haring
WHERE: A room in the former Templar tower, always guarded.
NOTES: anyone who wants to see him will need clearance, and there will always be a Templar present!

Though technically Benedict is able to leave his newly-assigned room in the Gallows, he doesn't. Won't, rather, which is a strange decision considering that his formal incarceration has ended, and there's no reason he should have to stay hidden away in one small space indefinitely.

But he does. For reasons that are his own, Bene seems reluctant to go anywhere or be seen by anyone, preferring instead to sit by his window for hours, book on his lap, and watch the courtyard below.
Receiving all meals at his chambers, the opportunity to bathe is the only way to get him out the door. It's one he takes often, as often as he can, perhaps in an effort to make up for lost time. He even gets to shave, once a week, with supervision.

Benedict may not be in the dungeon anymore, but he cannot and will not forget that he is still a prisoner. A prisoner whose life has been threatened more than once, from both without and within the Inquisition. It's a step up, but a step up from a cesspit is still mud.

Comments

[laurenande]

The laugh that snaps out of her, then, is not the same as her startled laugh before. It is markedly less kind.

"Hardly," Galadriel corrects. "I do not wager such things lightly. Once my ring is returned to me then, and only then, shall you have my aid."

That she was barely capable of sneaking around, herself, without Nenya was something she refrained from mentioning. She drew her fingers through her long hair and, for just a moment, it looked dark where it hit the water.

"If you need your freedom to search, I can find a way to grant you temporary reprieve, but I do not preform high arts for the potential of future recompense."

[altusimperius]

Sure. All right.
Temporary reprieve can mean a lot to someone resourceful, and though Benedict's priority isn't to cut and run, it's possible things will turn out that way. There's something off-putting about the woman's laugh, the way she looks, but it's really nothing he hasn't seen before in his own mother. That's just how women are.
"Then give me freedom to search," he concludes, eyebrows arched, smile charming. He won't... not do it.

[laurenande]

"I shall grant you reprieve in the morn, I must speak with my kin," Galadriel answers and his calm agreement has, despite everything, endeared him to her somewhat. If he is half as intelligent as his mentor had seemed, he is a sound investment. If he is a fool, then nothing is lost by enlisting him.

He cannot possibly be foolish enough to tell anyone they have met, after all.

"Retrieve my ring, Benedict Quintus of House Artemaeus and know what it is to befriend the Caliquendi."

But she has soaked long enough and now, with planning to do, her limbs itch to move. She stands from the water gradual grace and the water sheets off her. By the time she steps out she is only damp, once she reclaims her gown, the light that picks up in her skin seems to dry it.

"Now give me your hands or suffer your scarring until we meet once more."

[altusimperius]

Atticus might argue that Benedict is perhaps only half as intelligent, or less so; but the boy isn't stupid so much as he is ignorant, arrogant, and slow to learn when the lesson isn't taught harshly. He's the product of circumstance, and this circumstance is being of one of the wealthiest families in the Tevinter Imperium.
When Galadriel exits the bath, he casts a glance at her this time; really, that old? His gaze is more appraising than lecherous for the short amount of time he sees her, never having found the female form all that interesting despite it being thrown at him on various desperate lowborn-begging occasions.
He's snapped from his thoughts when the elf speaks, however, and he comes forward to extend his wrists upward from where he remains in the water. He'll stay a while after she's gone, appreciating the time away from the Templar, doing some thinking. He's always done his best thinking in the bath.

[laurenande]

When she bends to take his wrists this time, the effect is far more dramatic. She smooths her thumbs across his scars and they fade to light-lined echoes of what they once were. His hands are unblemished when she releases them and draws herself back up to her full height.

"Until we meet again."

With little ceremony, she dons her cloak, draws the hood, and slides out the door. The hall is empty, save for the addled templar, and she ignores them as she walks. They will awaken once she has passed far enough from them and then they will resume their duties.