[open] Te Vene or Not Te Vene

[altusimperius]

WHO: Benedict and you
WHAT: Learn how not to get immediately killed in Tevinter
WHEN: Justinian
WHERE: the Gallows library
NOTES: will update as needed

In the summer evenings, Benedict can be found holding court in the library, sitting at a table stacked with books and usually bearing a glass of wine or tea. Unless occupied by his pupils, he's often doodling listlessly on a sheet of parchment, quite a lot of them having amassed around him over the idle hours.

As advertised in his crystal announcement, he's here to teach the language and customs of the Tevinter Imperium, at least enough to make a successful tourist or, Maker forbid, prisoner.

Comments

Listening in the background

[mal_adjusted]

Mal had come for the lectures, taking copious notes to work in her studies for later. Afterwards though, she hung about to watch Benedict interact with his 'stable' of fawners. She would roll her eyes because - sheeesh, Tevinters - but Bene did have excellent bone structure. He was also appropriately dramatic and loved to pose even when he didn't know he was doing it.

So she sat at her back table, with her sketch pad, and worked on various drawings of him holding court, or even just doodling.

[coiledscales]

Alacruun is there (and he takes up quite a bit of space, being a qunari). He's acutely aware that he's unlikely to just be able to blend in if her ever travels to the Imperium, but he would like to learn as much as he can. Knowledge, as the kids say, is power.

"I've read the basic history of the Imperium - the outlines mostly - but I haven't had a chance to delve too deeply. There's far too much about this world that I don't know - any particular advice? Anything I can do as a qunari to avoid being instantly killed? Or should I just avoid the Imperium entirely?"

[altusimperius]

It figures that there would be a Qunari. A member of the race with which Benedict has the least experience, for which he holds the most fear-- it only makes sense that there would be one now, crowding into his little tutoring area and blocking out the light from the window.

He tries not to look nervous as he taps his quill on the desk. "Don't go," he confirms, warily. A Qunari and a rifter stands very little chance, as he sees it.

[coiledscales]

"Well, that's disappointing," Alacruun sighs with a frown of displeasure, "...I would still like to learn what I can about the language and culture, though. If only to satisfy my own curiosity."

His lips spread in a smile, exposing a row of white teeth, "I trust that won't be too much trouble?"

[altusimperius]

The part of Benedict that wants to make nice with the Inquisition, for his mother's sake and his own, wars with the part of him that realizes what a terrible mistake it could be to give knowledge to the Imperium's biggest enemy. Even if it is a rifter.
He leans back slightly, trying to play cool, but he's never been good at concealing nervousness. "What do you already know," he asks, taking his usual tack. It's a good way to guide the conversation. Control it.

[coiledscales]

"It's basic history, some of the wider spread cultural norms. I know that magic is a great deal more openly practiced and used than it is in these parts. Respected, one might say, instead of locked up..." He settles his chin in his hand and watches Benedict closely, trying to get a read on the man.

"That they are not over-fond of some types. Broad strokes."

gallows library

[letoldthingsdie]

Kylo noted the invitation on the crystals in passing, but finds himself in attendance for these lessons despite not voicing interest on the network. He wanted to know more about the different places outside of where the Inquisition dwelled. He had gone to Wycome and had seen Amaranthine but those places were of the Free Marches and Ferelden. He had never seen Orlais or Tevinter.

"You said on the crystal you would offer tutoring in Tevinter's culture? I'd like to learn." Though, how long this would take, he didn't know.

[altusimperius]

Looking up when he hears a voice, Benedict gives a feline smile when he sees who it is. Ah yes, the stiff-necked boy from the ball, here to seek his wisdom. Ideal.

"All right," he says, setting his book aside and clasping his hands beneath his chin on the desk, "first, tell me what you already know."

[letoldthingsdie]

He takes a seat, hands resting on his knees as he tries to think of how best to answer the question. What did he know? Only what prcious little he's heard - probably just from him, honestly.

"About Tevinter? Next to nothing. I know that Mages are the ruling class, as opposed to the rest of Thedas. That's about it."

[altusimperius]

"Not just the ruling class," Benedict points out, raising a finger as his expression seems to light up, "the whole society is built around magic. It is valued and rewarded rather than punished, which is more than most places can say."

[shri]

She presents herself for just those lessons with more than a little curiosity. Still very obviously a stranger here, as she dressed herself a sight more plainly than what she had arrived in. Well, almost. A few gold bangles had traded on behalf fabric and enough of it to make the clothes she prefers. Keenly aware, not for the first time, that she was being judged for her differences. It let her relish it laying her hair with flowers before she came, to roping her waist in the gold belt to keep the material of her dupatta from escaping too quickly.

The was a certain glee to it, after so many years spent hiding, to being herself and not giving a damn for more than that over it.

Though since this was not half so exposed as the street, she pushes her veil back to show herself once she's in his company. Politely murmuring in greeting - brief explanation why she's here: "You are the teacher that can tell me about Tevinter?"

[altusimperius]

The first thing Benedict notices is that this woman looks like she could be a member of his family; not in the uncanny way of D'Artagnan, who has his bloody face, but something in the tone of her skin, the curve of her eyelids, her manner of dress, reminds Bene of his mother's side.

"Yes, that's me," he replies when Lakshmi speaks, snapping out of his reverie, and he stands to offer his hand in greeting. "Benedict, of House Artemaeus."

[shri]

She smiles, polite for the moment as she takes his hand when offered to it. Unsure if momentarily - before she bows over it, a momentary dip of her head, even if she never takes her eyes off of him. Direct, always too direct.

"Queen Lakshmi Bai, of Jhansi." There's a quirk there, quite sure at least half of that means absolutely nothing at all to him.

[altusimperius]

It may not be the exact custom he's used to, but Benedict recognizes a gesture of respect when he sees it, and is happy to duck his head in return. This woman seems to be on his level, even if it's worlds apart.

"Jhansi?" he asks, settling down again, getting comfortable. "Another world?"

[shri]

How strange a thing - "Earth. As it seems many are from. My homeland is Hindustan, or India, if that is known to you."

She settles, arranging her skirts. Smoothing through the delicate folds that were where the sare began its draped before sweeping up and around and over her shoulders. "It is not very much like this place." That much she can easily say, with a softer sigh. "She is desert and bare earth."

[foundmyselfagain]

Gareth waltzes up to Bene’s table, plopping bonelessly into the chair across from the other mage, and peering at him over the piles of books.

"So, destruction of the natural order." From the crystal conversation. Gareth leans forward, like he’s got a secret mage conspiracy to get into, but his easy smile lends to it all being one big joke. "If I went to Tevinter, could I just show up like ‘Hey, I’m a mage, and I’m ready to boss everyone around’, or would I need to prove it? It there a ladder of bossing people around that I’d have to work up?"

[altusimperius]

There are some people who can get away with certain attitudes, and some who can't, but Gareth is one who very much can because he's cute and a shit and Benedict feels some camaraderie with him. Especially after the strike, even if all he encountered of Gareth was secondhand.

But now the man's question causes a furrowing of Bene's eyebrows, and he folds his hands under his chin as he leans forward slightly, a wry and critical expression on his handsome face. "You'll have to be born to the right family, for one," he muses, "or kill a lot of people, but I don't recommend it. I'm one of them, after all."

[foundmyselfagain]

Gareth appears to be thinking deeply over this, making a big show of rubbing his chin, and squinting off into the distance.

"Fine," Gareth finally allows. "I guess I'll skip the killing, just this once. But only because you're cute." He picks up a book, starting to leaf through it. "And all those other people should write you thank you notes for preventing their deaths with your face."

Like Benedict needs more of an ego boost. But when has Gareth ever worried about what was necessary, or a good idea.

"Ah, well. The point is to change how things are done down here, anyway. Which I can't do if I'm too busy ruling from my throne of dead bodies."

[altusimperius]

"Your restraint is appreciated," Benedict replies with a smirk that verges on charming, resting his chin atop folded hands as he leans in a little.
"As I would hope Kirkwall has already learned, dead bodies do not a new system make. Really just... more shouting and more violence." Not that he would mind if all the Templars were to suddenly drop dead.

[foundmyselfagain]

There's a moment where, at the mention of Kirkwall and dead bodies, Gareth freezes, tense. But that's not for here, and any old wounds are not for Benedict to see. Dead Templars are all well and good, but it's hard to forget how many of those dead bodies were people he'd liked, and how he'd come close to being among them.

"Kirkwall--it was different from the Mage Templar War. The war was the mage army united, using violence to tear down the violence the Chantry had built up. Kirkwall was...a mistake." A frown dances across his face as he glances to the side, busy with his thoughts. Maybe, one day, he'll manage to sit down and sort through his assortment of feelings on the subject, and come to some kind of peace with the events.

But that's not about to happen while he's chatting it up with this nerd.

"Which means, I suppose, I won't be starting any wars in Tevinter. Which is for the best, I hear your food is terrible." They use things like SPICES and SEASONING, which are weird and gross.

[faithlikeaseed]

When one avenue won't work...

It's not all that long after Benedict hangs up on Myr that the elf appears in the library, a blandly pleasant expression on his face. He'd be considerably sneakier if he didn't have to ask where the other mage is holding court--but then the point's not to be sneaky, it's to ask Benedict a question in a setting where running away isn't as easy. Accordingly he does nothing to disguise his straight-line approach to the younger man's table, going so far as to stop politely nearby and clear his throat to announce himself.

Hi.

"A moment of your time, Benedict?"

[altusimperius]

Benedict sits up straight, even holds his breath a moment, going completely still as his eyes dart around the room in search of assistance. Myr can't see him, so he doesn't know he's actually here, right?

....right??

[faithlikeaseed]

Right. Totally.

Myr wrestles down a sigh--and, in fact, any sign of annoyance with Benedict--and leans against his staff. "If Benedict were here," he begins lightly, mustering something like his usual cheer, "I'd tell him that I'm not going to bite his head off over whatever those brands mean. But if they are something that endangers those templars, and it comes out after they're hurt or killed that he could have warned them, he's going to be in a really tricky place with the Inquisition."

[altusimperius]

The words are nice, but Benedict knows better. He knows people talk, and he knows-- albeit not to what extent-- that Myr spends a lot of time with Simon, which means this subject must remain thoroughly off the table.
So he just sits there, and is very careful not to breathe too loudly, staring at Myr and hoping he'll go away. Totally invisible. It's the perfect plan.

[faithlikeaseed]

It would probably work, too, if Myr’s protective instinct weren’t engaged, and all his stubbornness along with it. He’s still once he’s made an end of speaking, listening for some sign the words registered. When a minute’s passed without one, he nids to himself—and settles in for a much longer wait, still leaning against his staff. Thus the least alarming of Thedosian ambush predators stalks its prey.