[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

[altusimperius]

The more Lakshmi tells him, the more Benedict's face seems to fall, drunk and sick and tired but now deeply sad in a way he can't define. A person can be a ruler and also a parent? That niggling pain in his chest each time a highborn friend mentioned spending time with family was indicative of... something being wrong, perhaps, instead of just a silly and selfish longing?
"...and you loved him?" he asks, before he can stop himself, afraid of the answer.

[shri]

That - actually makes her pause. What sort of question - ?

She looks up, hovering a moment. Wondering if she should laugh in the incredulous nature of the question or - she doesn't know. Reassure the unspoken question in that voice that she doesn't quite understand, but hears the worry all the same.

So she puts away what she's doing, striding back across that room to sit beside him once more. Curious, looking at him perhaps too intently. That should be a truth known to every child of their parents. Careful, as she takes his hand, smoothing her thumb against his knuckles.

"He was my son, it was not that I loved him, it is that he as my love, running free of my body."

[altusimperius]

This has been a lot of information to take in-- never mind that Lakshmi apparently has a fully grown son yet she only appears a few years older than Benedict, that's something he'll ponder later-- but that she's a Queen, that she raised her own child, that... perhaps things haven't been as perfect as Bene was always led to believe they were. Still mopey from his earlier outburst, he's finding it a bit too much to handle.

He looks down at Lakshmi's hand over his, and has no idea what to do with it. So he yawns, using a stretch as an excuse to pull his hand away, closing his eyes to avoid looking at her face. "I'm exhausted," he says, with a measured, practiced carelessness. He's lying, but needs to not be called on it right now.

[shri]

And mercifully, she doesn't. Another time perhaps, but whatever it is crossing behind his gaze, is not hers to pry into this moment.

Only the very surety that all of this is far too new to him than it should be, and wasn't the trend she'd gotten used to since she'd come here? Children growing up in all the wrong ways, dressed up in the armour of their forebears like that was enough. Because in truth, for what they faced, it had to be enough.

So she says nothing, only leans down as he has his eyes closed and kisses his forehead the once, a firm peck.

And with it, she rises, and lets him sleep.