faderift | [closed] mommy dearest

[closed] mommy dearest

WHO: Benedict, Gareth, and D'Artagnan
WHAT: visiting House Artemaeus for baby Bene's birthday
WHEN: backdated to after Brandgate but before Modplot pt 2
WHERE: Minrathous
NOTES: it might get weird

It's been a harrowing visit, and Benedict is in need of a break. It's no surprise that he had plans to visit his family mansion before the Inquisition took their leave, and that he should do so right around the time of his 23rd birthday, and this is what brings him and two chosen companions to the gates of House Artemaeus on one balmy afternoon.

They've taken a carriage, of course. He ensured that both Gareth and D'Artagnan were washed and dressed properly, and left no room for the possibility that anyone could track mud on his parents' spotless floors. He tips the driver-- perhaps a little too much-- as they reach the front entryway, and Benedict can hardly contain his excitement as they step inside.

The foyer is sprawling and ornate, blacks and golds and reds in luxurious fabrics and metals adorning every corner, statuary and tapestry of prowling spotted cats and magnificent tropical birds decorating banisters, doorways, tables, and anywhere one might think to look. A great stained-glass oculus beams sunlight down from the ceiling over the grand stairway, casting an intricate jeweled pattern on the marble floor.
Home sweet home.

"Hello?" Benedict calls as he enters, smiling, and is quickly answered by a well-dressed elf who comes to take their cloaks.
"Young Master Artemaeus," he says, looking more frightened than glad to see him, and glances to a second elf who stands in the doorway to the parlor. She shrugs helplessly; they seem decidedly unprepared.

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Well, that's not precisely the welcome they were expecting. Obviously they weren't expected at all, which d'Artagnan is sure will come back to bite all three of them. Also, he's very painfully aware that the steward attending them is a slave, and he couldn't be less comfortable with that. Of course he has to act as though he's entirely comfortable, knowing as he does how poorly the Inquisition would look on any offence he might cause. Not to mention how poorly Benedict would look on it.

He smiles tightly, and gives over his cloak.

"Thank you," he murmurs to the Elf, and then comes to stand beside Benedict, who seems to be in a far better mood. He hasn't met his friend Gareth before. Has he taken Hanzo's place, perhaps? He's tempted to ask, but won't do so in front of the man.

"You didn't warn them we were coming," he says softly, glancing at Benedict. "Are they usually fond of surprises...?"

The amusement of getting to look between Benedict and d'Artagnan (what a mouthful, who names their kid that? Did he get called dart as a child??) makes up for Gareth having to be fully dressed and groomed to specifications that even Marisol would probably accept.

If he's taken Hanzo's place, Benedict was at least smart enough to get someone entirely different to the man. Gareth chatters easily, clearly enjoying himself on the way there, and even when they step inside. He hands his own cloak over easily enough, though the attitude isn't lost on him.

Not that it seems to bother him much, he's too busy peering around the opulent room. A child of a farmer, who spent his life outside of the Circles usually living in the wilds like some kind of magical raccoon, the estate is far more luxury than he usually gets to see.

"I'm sure they're fond of surprises when the surprises are us," He replies cheerfully. "After all, we're so charming." Is that genuine or a joke? It's hard to tell with Gareth. "But I mean--surely, you sent word to your family? How else would they get you a birthday cake?"

"Of course I did," Benedict says, chagrined, but still in relatively good humor. Clearly this is just a small hiccup at the beginning of a marvelous celebration. He gives the maid a piercing look, and she runs off, no doubt to alert the master or mistress of the house.

It's then that a portly but handsome middle-aged man wanders in from the doorway opposite the parlor, wearing his smoking jacket and holding a goblet of wine. Though he's quite fair-skinned, something in the line of the man's brow and the black of his hair draws a clear line from him to Benedict, and his face takes on a similar expression of polite bewilderment as he pauses to process what he's seeing.
In fact, he can't seem to make heads or tails of the fact that two of his son are standing in the doorway, and Aurelius wonders if someone has spiked the wine.
"Hello," he says, for lack of a fancier greeting, looking helplessly between Benedict and D'Artagnan until the former approaches with a grin.
"Father," Bene greets him, "have we arrived early? This is D'Artagnan, my new body double, and Gareth." Just Gareth.

"Body double," Aurelius repeats, looking appraisingly at D'Artagnan, "huh!"

Benedict must have done good work, if even his father has cause to look twice. D'Artagnan's manner would have given him away regardless of an introduction, though; he bows his head as he would to royalty.

"'My lord, the pleasure is mine."

He's honestly still getting used to the titles people prefer in this place, but that one seems safe enough. Straightening again, he smiles. One thing that does strike him, with no small amount of relief, is that Bene's father really looks nothing like his own. He's not sure how he would have dealt with it had the resemblance been cross-generational. Also, Bene clearly must take more after his mother. He voices none of that, more concerned with making the right impression.

"Please, while I'm here consider me at your disposal."

'Just Gareth' is Gareth's full name, and if he ever manages to make real history, that's probably how he'll be written down.

"Good to meet you, my lord." Gareth echoes after D'Artagnan, hoping he has the right of how to address nobles. Except he's a rifter, isn't he? Whoops. Well, it sounds about right. He's sure Benedict will kindly and thoughtfully correct any missteps.

He certainly doesn't offer himself for the guy's disposal, though. Who knows how a Tevinter noble would take that. Instead, he just shoots the guy an easy grin, and a wave.

"Benedict has been telling me all about how what an impressive estate you have. So far, he's kept his word." A little flattery never went amiss, however. Though from the grin that he shoots at Benedict, the flattery was aimed more at him than this rando dad man.

The look Benedict shoots back at Gareth is less flattered and more 'please stop talking', although he manages to keep it vaguely friendly. Don't Make Me Regret This, Just Gareth.
D'Artagnan's behavior yields a delighted chuckle from Aurelius, who has never seen anyone with Benedict's face act so gallantly and probably never will again. "Picked out a good one then," he says, barely acknowledging D'Artagnan as he winks to Benedict. Crazy kids.

"Show them into the parlor," comes a voice from the top of the grand staircase, and there stands a tan-skinned and dark-haired woman with something very much of Benedict about her, whether the conniving angle of her brow or the catlike, predatory interest in her beautiful black eyes.

"Mother!" Benedict greets, breaking momentarily into a childlike exuberance, which the woman seems to ignore. Aurelius ushers them forward into the room from whence he just came, and calls for drinks from one of the ...servants.

Gareth has just enough time to shoot a face at Benedict—I’m trying, ya butthead—when Benedict’s mother shows up. At least, he’s fairly sure that’s his mother. Gareth is, admittedly, not a particular expert at family units, but there’s something about the woman that unnerves him. A bit like a mouse noticing a hawk, maybe.

He’s happy enough to be ushered away with the other two, suddenly much more content with being ignored. His only remark is directed to the ‘servant’ Benedict’s father called on for drinks. “Just water, please.” Which might be a social fumble according to Bene, but the last thing he needs here is to deal with alcohol.

He’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to sit until Aurelius (or Benedict?) does, and instead starts to inspect the various furnishings of the parlor with detached interest, occasionally shooting D’Artagnan a Look. Crazy shit, huh?

Nobody seems to care that Gareth called for water-- he can drink whatever he likes, he's being Treated now. His instincts are good, though Benedict flops right down before his father does, barely noticing what the other two are doing.

Not long after, Calpurnia strides into the room, somehow managing to give off the impression of glimmering and shining despite only wearing a simple robe and gown herself; they clearly intended to spend the day at home, but this is a woman who has obviously never gone a day in her life without getting properly dressed.
"Benedict," she greets, her eyes then roving to D'Artagnan and widening. Stepping forward, she gestures to him to approach her, and then quite brazenly rests a hand on the rifter's face to turn it.
"How extraordinary," she breathes, more to herself than to D'Artagnan.

"He's my body double," Benedict announces to her, clearly proud of his foresight. She ignores him.

D'Artagnan straightens and squares his shoulders the moment Benedict's mother enters the room. His instinct is to bow, and he's beginning to when she reaches for his face.

That's unprecedented. He halts, unsure what to do, and his eyes flick uncertainly towards Benedict.

Then he looks back at her, and smiles a little, trying to regain his composure. She's strikingly beautiful. He notices because he can't help noticing, especially when she's this close, and this direct.

"Your son and I discovered each other at the Tourney, Magister," he says, settling. He lets her turn his face as she wishes, but turns his attention back to her when she's done. If she lets him go, he'll complete that bow. (He would have no intention of sitting unless she asked him to, regardless of what anyone else does.)

"He was kind enough to bring me to your home. It is an honour to meet you."

Gareth thinks about sitting down once Bene and his father are seated, but changes his mind when his mother enters the room. He's quite thoroughly passed over, but that seems to be the theme of the day, and vaguely he wonders why he was invited in the first place, unless Benedict just wanted someone to make irritated faces at while everyone else ignored him.

Not that he particularly minds being ignored by Calpurnia, if it means not getting his personal space invaded and her hands all over his face quite like that. He shoots a slightly concerned look at D'Artagnan, but the other man seems to be rolling with it, if baffled--not that Gareth could blame him. He shares in giving Benedict an uncertain look, then preoccupies himself with sipping his water like a nerd.

"Nice to meet you," He echoes D'Art, more out of the feeling he ought to say something than any sincerity.

He came to see the library! And he will. Oh, he will. Just... after Mom finishes touchin' up on D'Artagnan.

She notices him noticing her, and her smile grows a little darker, more predatory. This is clearly the kind of interaction she lives for, and a reaction she's used to seeing; though she doesn't leave her hand on his face for long, she seems to pin him with her eyes. "You're well-mannered," she observes, as though D'Artagnan hadn't said anything, and taps her chin. "How remarkable. How remarkable indeed."

The elf returns with a tray of drinks: wine for the lookalikes and the landowners, and water for Gareth. Benedict takes his easily, sipping from it with a roll of his eyes to Gareth as his mom gets weird about the body double. He knew she'd be happy, he's clearly done well.
"Want to go see my rooms," he says in a low voice, more or less the equivalent of 'this is boring, let's go play with my trains'.

D'Artagnan takes one of the drinks, sending a quick smile and nod in the elf's direction while he does. Benedict's mother is at once everything he expected, and nothing like what he expected. Now that she's no longer holding his face, he moves over to Benedict's side.

"Benedict has been telling us all about this place. I'm looking forward to it."

That's a little generous; he's never been the bookreading sort, though he expects Gareth is; he and Benedict must have something in common, and d'Artagnan doesn't get the impression it's social class. Gareth seems like he'd have more in common with d'Artagnan in that respect. Still, if going to Bene's rooms and library would dilute some of this general awkwardness, he's all for it.

Gareth apparently has the most fascinating glass of water in Thedas, judging by how intently he stares at it. Wow, water. Amazing stuff. Sure is wet. Though, Benedict seems to be taking this all in stride. Maybe Gareth is the one who’s wrong for finding this Really Weird?

Nah. This is definitely Really Weird.

"Absolutely." Gareth whispers back to Benedict as soon as the offer is made, taking a quick sip of his drink as his eyes flick back to D’Artagnan and the strange predicament he’s landed in. Maybe he should offer to help, but...what can you really do, and the other man doesn’t seem to be overly anxious about the whole thing.

"All right." Bene rises, beckoning the other two along, but Calpurnia pins D'Artagnan to the spot with her gaze. Her son seems to know that look, and though he's slightly exasperated, he just calls "catch up with us" to his bodyguard.
But hey, D'Art isn't alone with her, per se. Aurelius is still there! ...probably drunk and not paying attention!

Still holding his glass, Bene leads the way out of the parlor and toward the grand staircase. "She gets like that," he mutters to Gareth, "there's no dissuading her until she's done."

Meanwhile, Calpurnia has taken D'Artagnan's left hand to inspect the anchor, her eyes glimmering eerily with its reflection. "How does one come upon such a thing," she asks in a low voice.

The look d'Artagnan gives Bene as he leaves is a clear plea to not leave him here. But he does, and he and Gareth are gone before d'Artagnan has time to curse them for it.

That Aurelius is still here is little comfort, given all the attention he's not paying. He turns back to Calpurnia, wary of her and trying not to show it. He gives her his hand, and follows her gaze down to the anchor. Honestly, he tries not to think about it. Most of the time he keeps it covered with his glove, and when he's without them, he avoids touching it. It's strange and alien to him, and though there's little pain when he's around other rifters, it still doesn't feel like the rest of his skin. His fingers flex as she holds them.

"I cannot say, Magister," he says, which is true enough; he'd gone to sleep in a different world, and woke up in the show with a shard in his hand. He can't explain it. "It happened on the journey here, I suppose. I know it is not a pleasant thing."

This is...Not Great. Gareth turns to look at D'Artagnan over his shoulder, a frown on his face, even as he's lead away. But what can he really do about it? She's a magister, she's the lady of the house, and she's Benedict's mom. He can't exactly tell her to take a hike.

Distantly, he thinks: A person in power with little to tell them no. Haven't seen that before. But it's a mage this time, and the notion sits in Gareth's stomach uncomfortably.

But Benedict is right here, and a little less discomfiting to focus on. "If you say so," is all he has to say on the subject of Calpurnia. "We should probably check on him later. Do you think he'd like to see the library, too?"

"Oh, sure, we'll come back for him," Bene says with a wave of his hand, clearly not terribly concerned with the idea. He leads the way up the stairs and down a lavish hallway, unlatching one of the doors and stepping into a room so opulent it's actually a second parlor. It's decorated with more red and gold and ocelots, but the fanciful objects situated about the chamber are ludicrously expensive toys. Visible through a doorway on the other side of the room is a large and lavish four-poster bed, both rooms bathed in sunlight coming in through massive stained-glass windows.

Benedict smiles fondly, the way one might look after finding an old teddy bear or favorite childhood book. "I have a bit of a library in here too," he brags, going to a bookshelf and removing one of its tomes to show to Gareth, "it's not as comprehensive as Father's, but I'm sure I'll have more someday."

Down in the actual parlor, Calpurnia continues to grip D'Artagnan's wrist, either oblivious to his desire to leave or enjoying it. "And what does it do," she persists, "I've heard things, but never seen one."

Already, he's wondering how far away Benedict and Gareth have gotten. Discussing the anchor makes him feel hot under the collar, in part because he's sure he hasn't worked out all its intricacies yet. In fact, that's something of an understatement; he actively tries not to work out its intricacies. It feels alien enough to him without any of that.

"They close rifts," he says, somewhat lamely. "Not alone, but with others. I know there are other capabilities, too. Shields, and...some form of shot."

He's yet to see that in person. He's also yet to attempt it. He gives her an uncertain smile, sure that this is not what she wants to hear.

"I'm afraid magic has never been a skill of mine, Magister. I would not know where to begin."

D'Artagnan is, unfortunately for him, forgotten for the moment, as soon as Gareth steps inside Benedict's bedroom (bed suite?). It's odd—he knows Benedict is crazy rich, of course, and he was just in another part of the house. But knowing that this room right here personally and privately belongs to Benedict truly hammers it home.

Briefly, Gareth contemplates the various places he's stayed in. The old, worn farmhouse he barely remembers, the crowded dorms of the Gallows, then a long series of putting his tent and bedroll wherever he could find a place. If he had been born here, would his lot in life be any better?

Eventually, he stops gawking long enough to turn and face Benedict, and his...modest personal library. He can’t help it—he wanders over, still in awe as he inspects the titles. "Well, he's had a few decades of a head start. If it makes you feel better, your personal library is more impressive than mine." He shoots a wry grin at Benedict. "Still. This is really something. Do you have any themes planned?"

"Well," Calpurnia breathes, "there's no reason to let that stand in the way."
Just as abruptly, she releases D'Artagnan and takes a step back, her dark eyes calculating and pensive. She picks up a glass of wine and sips from it, still regarding him with an uncomfortable intensity, but then, whatever her thought process is, she decides he doesn't need to be present for it.
"Go on then," she says with a wave of her hand, almost warmly, her eyes still boring into him. He's being released for now, but this definitely isn't over.

"Themes?" Benedict asks Gareth, pleased by the question nonetheless and clearly basking in the compliment, "you mean like how it'll be organized?"
At that moment, a soft knock comes at the door, and he turns to see a plain but kind-featured middle-aged woman in the doorway, wearing a tentative smile. "Micaela!" Bene breathes, and immediately forgets Gareth to go and embrace her, a gesture which is emphatically returned, only after his initiation.
D'Artagnan is likely privy to this as well, should he come up the stairs and down the hall at that moment.

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[closed] mommy dearest

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