[open] nothing can break

[altusimperius]

WHO: Benedict and yoooou
WHAT: The princess is dealing with a lot right now. Help him (or make it worse)
WHEN: Kingsway
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: will add warnings as needed

I. Around and About

Things are strange these days, but at least Benedict has a job. Being the chamberlain means it's his responsibility to see that guests are comfortable, which means suddenly a goodly portion of the rooms in the Gallows towers are under his care.
As few expected, he takes the job seriously. With his board and his quill he moves from room to room on a daily basis, glancing over those unoccupied and ringing for service in those that have borne guests, making sure their sheets are turned down and their curtains arranged at the most pleasing angle for their return.

He can be found pacing the halls at these times, his step brisk and his brow furrowed in concentration.


II. The Library

And then there are the times he sets aside each day to do research alone; what he's studying isn't obvious, and he's not especially forthcoming about it, but it's a fair number of medical and magical texts that he seems to pull from the stacks.
When not actively reading, sometimes he's just sitting by one of the big windows, cup of tea in hand and gaze distant.


III. Sloppy Bitch O'Clock

Perhaps the reason Bene is keeping so busy, or at least one of them, is that there have been a lot of recent events giving him feelings and problems he doesn't know how to handle. Being aloof means there isn't a lot of opportunity to work things out with friends he doesn't have, and one night something just crumbles.

He's in the Hanged Man (if you're going to do it, why not do it right), already several drinks in and draped over a chair by the fireplace, waxing poetic about how important he is in Tevinter, how he'll be a Magister someday, maybe once all this madness is worked out.
It's frankly a miracle he hasn't been shivved yet.


For Kitty

It's time to pick out new curtains for some of the guest rooms, and Benedict is in Hightown Market wearing his fancy important person clothes while inspecting the goods at a textile stand. He looks up for a moment and, catching sight of Kitty, gives a smirk and a roll of his eyes. Oh hey.

Comments

[rathercommon]

[ Ugh. ]

Ugh.

[ She recognizes that dumb smirk and that smug idiot hair. The last thing she wants to do is engage with him or his haughty idiocy, unless engaging means actually hitting him in the face. But also, the last thing she wants is to seem like she's afraid of his idiot self. So she compromises: she doesn't speak to him directly, but addresses a comment to the air, saying: ]

Utterly hideous.

[altusimperius]

[When last he saw her, it was during the rescue from the catacombs, a time which he only vaguely remembers. They got along all right then, in the sense that they didn't interact at all.]

It's not that bad, [he coos, directing his gaze to the fabric he's holding,] what do you know about damask anyway?

[rathercommon]

[ Well, he's addressed her, which now gives her the right to address him. So, tartly, she responds: ]

I know that it looks like it belongs in an old lady's parlour. Are you trying to hang up curtains in an old lady's parlour?

[altusimperius]

If an old lady should happen to visit on Inquisition business, [he muses,] then I suppose it'll be her parlor.

[He transfers the fabric from one arm to the other, holding onto it as he continues to peruse what's there. Either way, it seems this is a solid choice.]

I wouldn't expect you to recognize quality fabric either way, but the old ladies you know must be women of taste.

[rathercommon]

[ She rolls her eyes broadly in response to that. ]

No. They're insufferable. Don't you want to - you know - have the taste of a real person?

read a book read a book

[coquettish_trees]

Really this is Kitty's fault.

If she'd not come suggesting working together on the books and papers she'd brought out of Tevinter, then Alexandrie wouldn't ever have set foot in the Gallows library, and she wouldn't be staring at the same page of the same letter for near an hour trying to translate it and being entirely unable to decide whether or not the person who'd written it meant that the red lyrium crystal itself was a living thing and could be cultivated in host bodies or that it was the host bodies that were to have the lyrium cultivated within them that were meant to be living at the time or was somehow referring to both. It had been long enough that she was barely even horrified by the entire concept any longer.

Of course, there was a native speaker across the way by the window whose opinion she could inquire after.

One whom she'd barely known before ending up using rather cruelly.

And then walked almost the entire length of the country near under awful circumstances.

She closes her eyes, delicately rubs the bridge of her nose with her forefinger, and then ruefully decides that if it is living hosts of living crystal that really that's slightly more important than her comfort-- a strange feeling, if she's being honest. So, with a swish of skirts, a sigh, and an eventual delicate throat-clear once she's reached him, Alexandrie goes to see Benedict.

[altusimperius]

When Alexandrie clears her throat, Benedict turns with a look that verges on blank, and it takes a moment for his thoughts to clear and for him to recognize what's happening. His expression transitions into one of guarded annoyance, and he sips his tea, at least too humbled by their shared experience of that horrible journey to set right into sniping.

"What do you want," he says quietly.

[coquettish_trees]

That's honestly better than she'd expected.

"Another thought on what exactly this means," she replies, her affect one of rather solemn entreaty with the slightest hint of contrition as she lifts the page she'd been working on by way of illustration, "if you have the time and inclination." She offers it. "A letter from a known Venatori regarding the state of their supply of Red Lyrium and how best to increase it after the Inquisition successfully shut down their mining operation in the Sunless Lands. I... cannot seem to figure out what he means in regards to what is living."

[altusimperius]

Benedict takes the letter, if only because it's Inquisition business, and that is ostensibly why he's here. For this, not to screw around and fight with girls who don't care about him either way.
Expressionlessly, he reads the letter, his reaction limited to a vaguely disturbed wrinkling of the nose as he hands it back. "The hosts and... also the lyrium," he says, trying not to sound like he cares too much, although the idea is worming its way into his brain. "...like it's. I suppose like a fungus."

III, bene stop this

[shri]

"Alright," is the voice that puts a firm hand on his shoulder as he looks like he's about to start another drink, another ramble about how powerful he is. She hadn't intended to do much more than pass through but - charity started in small ways and her interrupting him gets her more than one appreciative look. Dressed in her Inquisition leathers, rather than anything refined, and more relief for that - her chances of getting thrown up on just increased apparently.

But the hand is solid, doesn't brook an argument. "That's enough, come on. Time for you to go home."

HE SHAN'T

[altusimperius]

"No!" he gasps, trying to shake her off, but with a drunken dismissiveness that doesn't serve as real resistance. "No, leave me, it doesn't matter." His head lolls dramatically to one side.

rip his dignity, may it rest in peace with dignity

[shri]

She might as well have been hit by a particularly frustrated kitten, mewling for attention. Was that it?

Snorts, looks up, and catches the look of the man behind the bar - a miserable, exasperated look that gestures helplessly at Bene. Not that she needed much more incentive to seeing to this mess. With the issues to do with Tevinter, and the Inquisition, the last thing any of them need is a drunken lord falling over himself. Guess that was that. "Enough of this. We are getting you food and drink and into a bed, come on."

Easy to take his hand, lead it over her shoulder with the sort of easy strength that doesn't brook an argument. Dropping down, getting her body into his chest and heaving up. Hefting him like a sack of flour over her shoulder.

woe.........

[altusimperius]

Well now he's awake.
"No-- WHAT," comes the mild and then suddenly much less mild protest, this new development akin to a splash of cold water on the face. "Put me down RIGHT! NOW!"
It occurs to Benedict that he didn't get a good look at the person carrying him, and that there are two possibilities (and only two): one, that Hanzo has come to be impossible again. Two, that someone is taking him away to be kidnapped or murdered. Frankly, he can't risk either.
He struggles, surprisingly strong for someone so drunk, which no doubt results in Lakshmi getting some knees and elbows to sensitive places.

library.

[eruit]

Hanzo is beginning to spend more time in the library of late; with his new position in the Corypheus' history project he knows that he has to make sure that there's very little that he doesn't know on the matter and that means refreshing his knowledge of home. Ten years without proper Tevinter exposure is something that might hinder his understanding of how best to follow new routes, and he cannot allow himself to fall behind.

He's not entirely shocked to see Benedict in the library, but he does pause, watching him for a moment, head tilted. He looks... Distant, somehow, he thinks, and he's not entirely sure if it is his place to go up to him and make any kind of commentary on the matter, but he moves closer all the same, offering a nod of his head.

The option is there, if Benedict wants it.

[altusimperius]

With the feeling of eyes on him, Benedict marks his place with his finger and looks up. He's not all that surprised to see Hanzo there, though the silence between them is a bit strange, and gives a nod in return.
Keeping his eye on him, he waits for Hanzo to speak first. Their last encounter ended... strangely, and he's not sure how to pick up from there.

[eruit]

It has been enough time that Hanzo thinks things might have calmed between the two of them, but he cannot be sure of it. There's an edge of tension as they look at one another, but he shakes his head, moving forward. If it is up to him to be reasonable and responsible - and it often is - then he will have to do it.

"Greetings."

[altusimperius]

"H'llo," comes Bene's reply, and he looks down at his book, then back up at Hanzo. He seems to think for a moment about what to say, then murmurs, "...brand.. removal. Isn't that hard, if you have the right tools." He taps the book awkwardly.

II

[justice_is_blond]

There are always more things to look up and more dead ends to run into, or so the library time tends to go. Anders is here failing to find any of the books he was hoping to find when he comes across Benedict, and he can't help but look over the spines nearby.

"Medicine? Are you interested in healing now?"

[altusimperius]

Benedict was engrossed, and the sudden voice makes him sit up straight and slam the book closed on his hand. With a gasp of pain, he extracts it and shakes it out, looking at Anders like he just called him an asshole.

"Maybe," he says, with an ornery edge, "who wants to know?"

[justice_is_blond]

He raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"A healer, in case you'd forgotten. Someone who's interested in the topic themselves." His voice is dry. Benedict's hand gets a jerk of Anders' chin, then. "Someone who can see to that if you injured it just now."

[altusimperius]

Anders receives a smirk as Benedict withdraws his perfectly uninjured hand, giving it a little shake. It'll be sore, but the book was heavy.
"Research project," he answers coyly, "erm..." He'd be remiss not to ask Anders, who will probably know more than most. "How would you heal a burn after it's already scarred over?"

asking 4 a friend

I!

[esquive]

He doesn't make a habit of lifting and carrying, but he does spend a few hours each week adjacent to the laundry mending things - closing holes in shirt sleeves, marrying patches over tears. It's loud and humid and no one ever bothers him for it except rare occassions like this one where, as he's leaving, one of the girls tears down a series of pressed silks, bundles them neatly and shoves them into his arms. Just take then up to the guest rooms in the Templar Tower, she says. She'll owe him a favor.

Which: fine. He's no chambermaid and he doesn't care for being ordered around by poor girls who think they're pretty, but he does it anyway: hauls what must be curtains up six flights of stairs and is just beginning to wonder which guest room she'd meant when he arrives at the landing and finds himself square in the sights of the Tevinter boy.

Re: I!

[altusimperius]

Benedict hardly notices him at first, glancing over at the mound of curtains on two legs and then back to his clipboard before gesturing in toward one of the rooms. "That one," he says loftily, and if he's recognized Marcoulf, he shows no sign of it. What's one servant from another?

[esquive]

He stops in the corridor's middle, silks flowing over his arms and something crooked in the lines of his face. Blinking after the hand gesture, he-- spends a split second turning the idea of following it over in his head. It would be easier to. He'd just unload the curtains, go back the way he'd come, go fetch the ferry and make his way across the harbor to the Inquisition's docks and the stables in the old compound as he'd meant to when he'd first left the laundry.

On the other hand--

The thought occupies him for some seconds, absently re-winding his grip around the silks. At last, he pours the curtains from his arms into the middle of the corridor.

[altusimperius]

"HEY!"

Benedict wasn't paying attention, and now he very much is. He whirls on the man, and only then realizes where he's seen him before. "....pick it up!"
The command is issued with the haughty air of an indignant prince.