[open] tiptoe through the window

[altusimperius]

WHO: Benedict and yoooou
WHAT: though still very much under supervision, Bene is out of confinement and Ready To Party
WHEN: Wintermarch
WHERE: The Gallows mostly
NOTES: Always assume there's a Templar nearby. If you're the Templar, that should be easy

I. Out and About

If one didn't know Benedict is a prisoner, and if he weren't dressed in the plain garb of an Inquisition Nobody, one might think he's a visiting prince. Which... in a sense he is, though the visit is somewhat less on his terms and is still essentially captivity.
However, he is now allowed outside, able to walk around and do things and look at people, often with the kind of scrutinizing gaze one might expect from a duchess eyeing a lizard on the ground. He's not here to make friends, he's here to be Kirkwall's Next Top Model.
Or to just. ....wait things out. Whatever the case, he's in transit and acting very needlessly fancy about it.

II. The Library

He tried to continue his Boredom Strike within the quarters assigned to him by the Inquisition, but Benedict did, after some weeks, eventually cave. He's back to researching rifts and Old Gods and all that witch hunty rubbish that the south seems so keen on ascribing to Tevinter, half the time just making up nonsense to put in his notes in the off-chance anyone is actually paying attention. In these moments he looks less like a stuck-up princeling and more like a petulant schoolboy, doodling on his parchment and doing just about everything in his power to ensure nobody thinks they're the boss of him.

III. Wildcard

Dare ye visit his chambers in the old Templar tower? Catch him dining with the unwashed masses or encountering snow, which has become his newest mortal enemy? (Hit me up if you want a specific prompt.)

Comments

[judgemewhole]

"To the most spoiled child-man in Tevinter? Yes, yes I suppose it does." James drawled, and glanced over at the doodle. He rolled his eyes automatically, before he glanced away.

"Even your sketches look like you're barely past ten years." He said flatly, and sighed. "Oh I am well aware I am wasting my time. But everyone else seems to think you are .... so I am giving you the benefit of the doubt. Although the doubt is getting stretched fairly far today."

[altusimperius]

"Ah-ah," Bene says with a cutting look, though his smirk persists, "not in Tevinter. Don't tease us both." He breaks the Templar's gaze to keep drawing, adding an arm reaching behind the figure in the beginnings of something quite lewd.
"Here I thought I'd be the toast of Val Royeaux's finest galleries," he simpers, lovingly rendering the rear end into which the drawn Templar is about to insert his thumb.

[faithlikeaseed]

"You might yet, Messere Artemaeus, if you find a better target for your acid wit. I'd suggest something Fereldan if you're trying to endear yourself to the whole of Orlais."

Surely someone ordered this blind elf, or why else would Myr come wandering up on this little verbal melee with well-laden book bag slung over one shoulder? It's simply too bad he can't appreciate the visual half of it. "Good afternoon, Ser Norrington," he adds politely, as he stops not far from Bene's desk. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

[judgemewhole]

"Ah, if only you were, Serah Shivana." James said dryly, and for the benefit of the blind elf, "Our young Tevinter friend has sketched me with my thumb up my bum. This is what he has decided to do, instead of researching veils or in fact, doing anything useful at all."

His tone is utterly devoid of anything but sarcasm, "He seems to think he's being 'funny'." He gives Bene a bored look, "Hah. Hah. Haaaaah."

[altusimperius]

No one else has to think it's funny, really, because Benedict is getting attention and clearly wearing on the Templar's nerves at the same time. It's not that he isn't afraid of Norrington anymore, because he very much is, but the likelihood of anything terrible happening in a library in the middle of the day strikes him as... low.

"Nanny's trying to hurt my feelings," he explains to Myr with an impish smile, his bearing almost cheerful. "But I suppose one can't blame him, if this is the kind of work a Knight-Commander does for the Inquisition." He lays it on thick for the word 'Knight-Commander', bathing it in a facsimile of the reverence it might inspire in someone who doesn't find the very concept of Templars asinine.

[faithlikeaseed]

Myr lifts an eyebrow in mute response to all of this, wisely keeping a smile from his face (not even the usual social one he's accustomed to wearing). He might not have much of a head for politics, but interpersonal diplomacy comes as instinctive as breathing. Especially when it comes to templars.

"Is that right," he says mildly. "I s'pose it is beneath his station to keep an eye on a single half-trained mage--though I'd be flattered to be thought so dangerous, were I you."

He then turns his face toward James--and there's smile, sunny and innocent. "But as he's at loose ends, would you mind overmuch if he and I spoke for a while? I've something for him to work on to sharpen his magical skills."

There is a risk in saying so much, he thinks, but the Maker abhors liars--and as he's not going to dismiss a Knight-Commander, of all things, it would rapidly become obvious what he was about anyway.