faderift | [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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

[closed] mommy dearest

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