Open | Words in my mouth

[keenly]

WHO: Colin + you
WHAT: Catch-all for February
WHEN: February/Guardian
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Starters available by request.

Clarke - Apothecary

Once the ghosts are gone and Colin is permitted back to work, he finds himself short of almost everything. He's come back from the garden with a fresh batch of winter herbs to dry and is hanging them in the closet when he hears the door open.

"Right with you!" he calls out, voice muffled by the wooden walls. A second later, he's walking out and shutting the closet door behind him, giving Clarke a searching look.

Cade

There is a knock at Cade's chamber door; upon opening, he will find Colin there, looking a little uneasy but smiling wanly and holding a box.

"You didn't pick this up," he says, offering the lyrium.

Julius

Colin arrives at Julius' work space with a box of cookies. He gives a little wave and sets the box before him. These are spicy, chewy things with bits of candied ginger. He heard how bad things got here, and it sounds like Julius could use a lot of delicious cookies.

Byerly - Lexie's apartment

"So." Colin shows Byerly in to where he has light refreshments set up--tea, anise seed cakes, and buttered bread. A small smile is on his face. "I had to learn your name from someone else, but at least I got it."

It's a light jab; there are no hard feelings here. He pours tea for his guest.

Lexie & Byerly - Lexie's apartment, a while after By arrives

Of course, it's too much to hope they could chat in private about things no one is supposed to know about. Colin asked the servants to take a break when By arrived, but didn't realize they hadn't stopped working after they left. It's not really an underestimation of them as much as of Alexandrie, who he has slowly come to realize has way more of a past than she will ever admit to him. Which is just.

Fine! It's fine. It's, it's fine. It's fine!

Myr - Delivery

A package is delivered to Myr's doorstep. It is full of sketches. The first is an abomination, not drawn in great detail except for the tattered remains of an apprentice's robe around its waist. There's page after page of hands, the same pair of hands in various positions--clenching, scratching, clawing, clinging to brick and mortar. There's an almost informative sketch of a fortified wall--two layers of stone sandwiching crumbling clay. A templar with a terrified face. The Great Doors, shut so tightly not even light can get through. Wide-open faces of screaming mages. Shallow-eyed corpses. A glimpse of a lake beyond broken brick. Dirt under fingernails, a pair of twisted legs learning to walk.

Wildcard

Comments

crystal-action

[keenly]

Colin's groan is muffled because he buried his face in his pillow for it.

"Give me a minute," he says once he comes back up.

A few minutes later, he is walking briskly down the hall towards Benedict, wearing a long nightshirt and loose trousers and wrapped in a wool banyan. It's the middle of the winter and absolutely freezing. He relishes the thought that Benedict has to feel the cold as much as he does. He comes up to the man and twitches his eyebrows upward.

[altusimperius]

Benedict awaits him at the entrance hall to the apartments, haphazardly dressed himself in a nightshirt and elaborate robe straight from every joke ever told about Tevinter. He wrinkles his nose at the sight of Colin, but beckons him in, stepping out of the way to close the door and shudder.

"You can bloody smell it from here," he hisses as he leads him back toward the guest room, "if you meant to sabotage me, I'll see you pilloried." It's likely the grumpy muttering of an underslept young man of means and questionable emotional maturity, but one can never really be certain.

[keenly]

Colin flinches and actively dials back the irritation, especially as the smell wafts his way. What in Andraste's name happened? It's some sort of absolutely cloying, horrifying stench. He quickly covers his mouth and nose with part of his banyan and ventures into the epicenter of the catastrophe. Even the filter of the fabric doesn't help for long. Soon, he's dropping it and coughing.

"What happened?" he asks as he tries to adjust to breathing this wretched, tainted air.

[altusimperius]

The hallway just outside the room is occupied by a naked dwarf, visibly drunk and wearing only a sleeping cap. "Ah, is this the miscreant?" he demands, and as Benedict fails to suppress a sneer, persists, "you'll handle it, my lad, or you'll face the wrath of every surface dwarf from here to Antiva!"

Forcing something almost resembling a smile to the guest, Benedict nods and immediately drops it as he pushes into the room, his eyes watering as he covers his mouth with his sleeve. "It's in the walls," he moans, "I'm afraid we'll have to burn the damn thing down."

[keenly]

"It's in the drapes, too," Colin chokes quietly, and sneezes. Threats from Benedict, threats from the dwarf, cause anxiety but he knows they're at least 50% exaggerated. Or, he wagers that they are. These things usually are. "This is..."

He holds, braces himself with a mighty cringe, and buries his face in the drapes to take a deep breath. He nearly retches right after. Underneath the stink, there is a distinctive note of depth and sweetness. This is his potpourri, all right. But how did it transform like this, and how did it seep into the walls and drapes?

"Someone must have done something to the amrita vein in the mix," he whispers to Benedict.

[altusimperius]

Threats aren't always meaningless to Benedict, but in this case he knows better; he joined the Inquisition properly to become a protected member, and is only doing his job. So ideally, no one can touch him as long as he toes the line.
Ideally.

"The what," he whimpers, his tone becoming more helpless as he realizes he has no concept of what the problem even is. He flails his hand feebly at Colin, encouraging him to investigate the room, since at least he knows what he's talking about.

[keenly]

"Never mind," Colin says, coughing. He pulls away from the drapes and rubs his fingertips together, finding some sort of gritty residue. Oh, and here comes the sinking feeling.

"Someone burned the potpourri."

[altusimperius]

At that, Benedict's eyes shift toward the fireplace, and the telltale sight of strangely-textured ash. He goes to stoop by it, and, realizing what he's looking at-- and the work it will take to fix it-- he gives the low groan of a dying man.

"That idiot, that stubby-legged hairy-pricked--"

"What?" comes the roar of offense from the doorway, where the naked dwarf stands, apparently impervious to the smell, but blustering and incredulous.
Wisely, Benedict does not continue his diatribe, but nonetheless looks at him with the unapologetic resignation of a cat who's been caught in the butter.

At last, he breaks the silence with a delicate clearing of his throat. "Colin," he says quietly, "will you give us a moment."

1/2

[keenly]

2/2

[keenly]

He remembered his name.

"As you please, milord," he says before obediently stepping outside the room and leaning against the wall to wait. He knows better than to vanish.

Also he suddenly wonders if dwarves actually have hairy pricks.

[altusimperius]

Colin receives a look in return, not entirely friendly, but perhaps, on some level, showing appreciation of the title. Even if it's wrong. He measuredly rises and goes to close the door behind him, holding the man's gaze with a dark and solemn expression that communicates 'tell my family what became of me' before it clicks shut.

Sure enough, there comes muffled shouting, cursing, a dressing-down for the ages. Though mostly one-sided, periodically there's a quiet, low interjection that sounds almost deferent before it's shouted over again. Before too long, the second voice just stays silent.
It's some five minutes or so later that the door bursts open and out storms the dwarf again, blessedly wearing a towel as he makes his way down the hall without a second glance. Benedict is standing inside, straight as a pillar, with a faraway look that warily comes back into focus when he looks at Colin again.

His lips twist strangely and he clears his throat once, twice, before very carefully informing him, "he's gone to the baths." Is that a quaver in his voice? Perhaps asking isn't a good idea.

[keenly]

Colin sees that strained look. He hears that quaver. And he can't stop grinning, because Benedict really could well have thrown him under the bus, or at least taken him down with him, and didn't. He also stood there and took the shouting instead of designating some under, some whipping-boy, or making excuses.

Also? The dwarf was a dick.

"Not a very good idea," he says quietly. "He's left his room and all his possessions to our tender mercies. Want to put itching powder in his smalls while we clean his room?"

[altusimperius]

At first the grin seems a mockery, and Benedict steels himself, doing everything he can to keep his composure until he can get out of here and away from anyone who will laugh at him. But then Colin speaks, and... though he makes a joke, it is, unexpectedly, not about Bene.
Still, the thought of what the man proposes makes him wince. "No!" he gasps, almost too loudly, and claps a hand over his mouth as he looks toward the door. Nothing: the dwarf is gone.

After waiting several moments to be sure, Colin is spared a sheepish look that's almost a quivery smile. "...he's already threatened my hide, no reason to give him my head as well."

[keenly]

The grin switches to a "serious business" look and a firm nod.

"Then we'll clean up and burn an effigy of him after. Privilege of the unprivileged. You'll love it. But first, transfer him to a different room. A bigger room, if you can. So long as he thinks he's won something, he'll feel a little satisfied. Send him a really good bottle of hard liquor and he'll feel a lot more satisfied. Anything he can't ruin, you can't go wrong with."

[altusimperius]

It's not that Benedict didn't still expect Colin to stick around and fix the problem with him, but he hadn't expected him to do it so... willingly? Amiably? Glazing over the reaming-out without a single smartass remark, even being kind to him?

He isn't quite sure how to take it, and hesitates a little too long before answering, in a tone that verges on shy, "...you're still going to help me?"

[keenly]

A smile opens Colin's face.

"Of course. Look, important people are nearly always arseholes. But I've got your back."

[altusimperius]

"Well they're not--" Benedict begins, but realizes midsentence that he shouldn't get defensive toward someone who's already on his side. A little sheepishly, he nods.
It's not an entirely unfamiliar situation, being helped and supported, but it's still rare enough for him to take notice. "...thanks," he concludes, unsure of what else to say.

Would he have done the same? Likely not. He'd have been miles away by now.

[keenly]

He gives a nod toward the room. "Do we want to start now? I mean, first thing would be moving his things to another room."