[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

ii. the library

[thunderproof]

There are some things Adalia has gotten used to in the world outside Candlekeep. She can use her magic when and how she likes, with no fear of reprisal. She can be as loud as she likes whenever she likes, and no one can stop her. She can even, if she is feeling very daring, write herself notes in the margins of her own books. The things which might have earned her terrible punishment in Candlekeep are nothing here, and she's grateful for that.

What she will never get used to, though, is the way some others treat library books. It's one thing to write in a book you own — it still feels transgressive to Adalia, but in the end no one is hurt but the person to whom the book belongs, and why should they care if they're defacing their own book, presumably with a purpose? It is entirely another, though, to write in a book someone else will need to read. Adalia has been watching this boy sitting at the table opposite her writing in a book he doesn't own for ten minutes now, getting more and more aghast as he just. Keeps. Doing it.

Someone has to stop him. It doesn't matter that the consequences won't be near as grave as in Candlekeep, he still must be stopped.

"Where I'm from," she says pointedly, voice raised just enough to carry across their two tables, "you would be blinded and your hands cut off for writing in a book belonging to the library."

[altusimperius]

Benedict glances up when he's addressed, but a twitch of his eyebrows suggests he's not terribly affected. He doesn't cease his doodling.
"Where I'm from, you could be flogged for speaking to me," he boredly replies, "but nobody here gives a shit."

[thunderproof]

What a pleasant person. Adalia narrows her eyes, but returns her gaze to her own book, seemingly leaving it alone.

Seemingly being the operative word, because not three minutes after she's looked back at her own books, the boy doodling in the margins of a goddamn library book will feel a suddenly freezing wind across the back of his neck. Should he turn to look, the culprit will be nowhere in sight. As soon as he looks back to his book and becomes comfortable again, the freezing breeze will be back, until he turns around and the cycle repeats itself.

This will go on as long as it takes for him to stop doodling, to confront Adalia, or to look beneath his chair, where he will be faced with a tiny dragon, who will breathe ice in his face and fly over to Adalia. One of the three.

[altusimperius]

He is indeed bait-and-switched successfully several times, and though Adalia is quite clearly sitting across from him and not behind him, Benedict is at least clever enough to know she's up to something.
After the third time, he casts a venomous look her way and mutters, "stop it." Under normal circumstances, he'd fight back, but the platemailed lunkhead prevents that.

[thunderproof]

Adalia looks up when she is addressed, eyes wide as she presses a hand to her chest — her? Stop what? Why, she's doing nothing, goodsir, she has no idea what you could possibly be upset by.

The breeze is at his ankles, this time, and as before, when he looks to find the culprit there's nothing there.

[altusimperius]

He narrows his eyes, and abruptly starts when there's an icy wind on his legs. He folds them up to curl on the chair, looking around at the floor and occasionally at the Templar, who couldn't care less if you gave him the week off for it.
"She's attacking me," he says, a bit haltingly, like he isn't sure if he'll get in trouble for it or not.

[thunderproof]

She's doing a very good job of looking innocent... Right up until she hears what Bene says and she barks out a loud "Ha!" Adalia slaps her hand over her mouth after, clearly surprised at her own reaction, but she can't stop her giggles.

"Oh, gods, you're pitiful, this is amazing — Charis, confn ekess dask, danthe."

A small dragon wings down from the bookshelf next to Bene and lands next to Adalia, who scritches his browridge and raises her eyebrow smugly at Bene.

[altusimperius]

The Templar looks from the vint to the elf and stares, unamused by either of them.
"No dragons in the library," he grumbles, clearly not caring that much, but someone has to make sure all the books don't burn down. Bene, for his part, is startled by the-- is that a dragonling??-- and watches it cautiously as it returns to its mistress.

"How does it fly," he asks, with careful curiosity, "...it's so small." Dragonlings don't develop functional wings for a long time, and even at their smallest they're nearly the size of horses.