[CLOSED]

[esquive]

WHO: Character(s) Marcoulf and Benedict
WHAT: C is for casual extortion.
WHEN: Now
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: n/a, will add if necessary

[It's difficult to say when exactly it begins and at first it could be construed purely as coincidence, but at some point a paticular narrow man begins to make regular appearances on the margins of a certain chamberlain's work. He happens to be assisting some girl from the laundry bringing up fresh linens to a room being remade for a new guest; he is conveniently stationed at the bottom of some stairwell well frequented in the business of running the Gallows day to day; and so on.

Today, Marcoulf is sitting in the shade of some narrow side courtyard that Benedict happens to be passing through. He has his legs stretched out before him and a handkerchief with a half eaten heel of bread inside it spread on the bench beside him to suggest his time here may simply be some idle moment taken between work. He isn't following anyone; he certainly isn't a spy. But Marcoulf does look up when Benedict passes into the yard and nothing on his narrow face indicates he's at all surprised to see him there.]

Comments

[altusimperius]

When the woman's hand shifts, Benedict freezes, his heart hammering in his chest and his lungs still struggling to get up to speed. She'll feel the scar there, right across his throat, a little ridge of tissue the only remnant from the first, but not last, attempt on his life.

He's wise enough to be silent at first, now gripping Magni's arm and hand with his own, as much for balance as it is to buy himself breathing room. But he nearly chokes himself when Marcoulf concludes his story, and Benedict interjects with a plaintive "NO!"

A gasp after the fact indicates he moved too much, and he looks to Lakshmi again, pleadingly.

[shri]

Her hand lifts, cuts off that shout and Marcoulf's words. Watching him, silent in whatever judgement she has on that matter - considers Marcoulf a friend in the way that matters, at least where Magni is concerned.

Even if there wasn't exactly a lot of love lost.

"Magni -" sharp on her words, that says they're talking later, about this, but it isn't happening right now. Right now, she needs to sort this out. "Let him breath." she snaps, redirecting her gaze but to the same measured point. "Benedict, what do you say happened?"

[villieldr]

Just a look to Manikarnika that lasts a few moments before she lets her hand loosen at the Vint’s throat.

“You cast any spells, if you bring any harm to either of them, nobody will find your body.”

Quiet, before her hand drops away to let him breathe and speak more easily. The scar she’d felt was not so dissimilar to one that marked her own throat, and she can appreciate the amplified anxiety attached to anyone near your throat after that.

[altusimperius]

Well, there goes the barrier idea. Late to find his footing, Benedict stumbles to the ground, quickly crabbing a few feet away from Magni with his hand clutching at his throat, then returns to his feet like a newborn foal finding purchase.
Though he glances at Lakshmi, and then at Marcoulf, he seems reluctant to let the Avvar leave his line of sight.

"He's-- been following me," he explains, "watching me, for weeks, months-- he threatened me."

[shri]

"Benedict, that isn't what I asked." her fingers tap against her leg. "I asked what happened that makes you worried this man is blackmailing you. It usually requires more than following."

Knows she plays stakes higher than most, knows she deals in absolutes far steeper but they tended to get results more often than not. So she digs on it. "You see, the way one deals with blackmailers, is killing them. I'd rather not kill a friend." Marcoulf can object to the familiarity later. "So I want you to be very clear, and honest, about what you say happened. Again, please and this time, don't be vague and say things like 'a servant man has been following me about'. "

It's punctured with one very stern look to the both of them.

[esquive]

The sharp look seems to glance off him like water from the back of a particularly mild water fowl. It probably helps that Marcoulf isn't so much looking at Lakshmi as he is the space between her and Benedict. But he does cock his head: tipping his attention to the younger man. The small motion hangs there like a question mark.

Well, Benedict? How would you put it?

[altusimperius]

This isn't fair. It's not right that asking for help made him the sole suspect, Benedict thinks, especially because his request had been in earnest; and now, with the threat of either death or imprisonment looming over him once again, he looks to Lakshmi with the air of one begging for mercy.

"I-- I went to see a rift," he explains, "--months ago, before the battle. And--" Now he looks to Marcoulf, half afraid, half furious, "--and he followed me, held me at knifepoint, nearly drowned me, and hasn't left me alone since."

He folds his arms miserably, his left hand tucking under, both of them gloved. "He's threatened to tell Coupe, and I-- I'm not stupid enough to think they won't find something to accuse me of." A wounded glance to Magni: let no one deny the bias.

[shri]

She wets her lips - pressing them together afterward. She's missing something, a Rift? Why would a rift cause all this?

"You're not telling me something. I go to rifts all of the time, I fell out of one. They've yet to be a reason to do anything but from time to time call me a demon." She swears, one of these days - "One of you, spit it out already."

[villieldr]

"Marcoulf." Sharply, not the quiet, rasping growl of before, tone closer to the blades she grants shape. "You haven't spoken plainly since I returned from the Hold." Has been evasive and closed-mouth with a discomfort that didn't fit their usual silences.

She doesn't seek to intimidate him. Not a friend, both because she values him and because she doesn't imagine either of them would need to intimidate the other. If their friendship, the history of work side by side carries any worth, then he will speak. Magni looks at him intently now.

"Where is your faith?" Because whatever has passed Benedict knows already, and he can trust not to go past her, and with that even if he doesn't trust Manikarnika for his own sake, perhaps he can trust what she will do for Magni's sake as things have progressed and bettered.

[esquive]

Somewhere in there, that dismissive calm in the slope of Marcoulf's shoulders and the angle of his hip had started to evaporate. In the dark of the narrow courtyard, it's now difficult to make out the exact particulars of his expression, but there's light enough to see how sharp his eyes have gone and how uneasy his stillness has become.

(He's distantly aware of how tight his chest feels, dread like a cold hand at the scruff of his neck. You've lost your footing, the pressure of it says. You never had it. What now, what now, what now?)

He could insist: it happened at night. That he saw a Tevene mage alone in the dark going to a Rift near Kirkwall on the eve of battle. That even now this might all of this be a charade to cover whatever Benedict had meant to do there by pretending at honesty and that the trip had been of no real consequence. Or, or, or. But what's it matter, really? Either way the reason for him being in the courtyard has already slipped well through his fingers.

Marcoulf's attention flickers. He looks to Magni. "What he says is true. I followed him to the rift, and I did put a knife to him, and I have followed him since, and I did say I would tell the Commander if he refused to do what I asked."

Without looking at Lakshmi: "Will your draw your knife again now, Madame Bai?"

[altusimperius]

It's already been made abundantly clear whose side the women are likely to take, and Benedict has waited for Marcoulf's answer, his stomach about to give out-- but then he just.... agrees.
Attention momentarily drawn from either pleading with Lakshmi or eyeing Magni warily, Benedict watches the Orlesian in disbelief.

[villieldr]

"Swear it. On my life, you swear it."

Soft, as always, though she looks intently towards her friend. They have had their differences; he does not approve of her and her lady, and that she can understand. His relationship with nobility is more complex and experienced than her own, and her acceptance of spirits and those who might walk or cross the Land of Dreams is very different his. They have been friends for many seasons, worked side by side, saved each others lives and protected each others backs.

The disbelief in the Vint's face spurs on the suspicion that twists in her gut. "If that is the truth, all of it laid out, then you swear it on my life."

[esquive]

He says, "I swear it."

There. Done. What do reasons matter.

[shri]

Right - that was... that. If Marcoulf swore it to Magni, that was, apparently, enough for her as she moves back. Because in the end - Marcoulf wasn't a cruel man, a wicked man. He cared for his friends even when it was hard for him to do, and he - had to survive like the rest of them.

So that left.

"Which leaves you, Benedict, what were you doing near a Rift that could be so damning to you?"

[altusimperius]

Benedict feels that the attention is back on him again, and not in a positive light. He looks from one person to another, but manages to keep his poise this time, now that he isn't being manhandled.

"...I'll tell you," he says quietly, now only to Lakshmi, though he nods his head in Magni's direction: "but... not with her here."

[villieldr]

Discomfort crawls under her skin. Marcoulf came here without support, did not ask her for her aid, and she's not sure if she fully believes him. Did he make a false oath on her life? Did he mistrust her and place so little value on their friendship?

And the Vint speaks, and though she doesn't scoff, her mouth twists with a cynical smile.

"Tevinter and Orlais are so civilised."

A look to Lakshmi, brows just slightly raised, to see what she wants her to do. Admittedly that Manikarnika was willing to do a favour for a wretch like this might mean her sentimentality has compromised her, but if she is given a nod then she will walk past Marcoulf, pauses only to look at him intently, mark her doubt, and moves on some twenty metres away. Enough for the Vint's precious privacy, close enough to return and defend her lady if needed.

[esquive]

He tips his head by a degree, by two, to follow Magni's first footsteps. But he doesn't stray any farther. Instead, Marcoulf's attention slides back to between Lakshmi and Benedict. He waits there, head bowed, absently flexing his left hand in and out of a fist--

[shri]

Lakshmi watches them go. Trust, she supposes, works many different ways, and damning as it was most of the time, being the only Rifter present meant she was the only one exempt from all their internal politics. Of wars and feuds, and the lack of trust that bred.

Didn't stop it from being a headache all the same.

But with them gone, she turns, fixing a look on Benedict that isn't quite as harsh, a more blatant concern. "What on earth is going on, Benedict?"

[altusimperius]

Drawn by Lakshmi's look, Benedict comes over to her and casts a final glance at Marcoulf, then one at Magni as he angles himself to block her view with his back. Gingerly bringing his left hand out from where he's been hiding it, he tugs off the glove one finger at a time to reveal an anchor shard.
The illuminating glow of it, now doubling on Lakshmi's, will be unmistakeable even with his back turned.

[shri]

That was -

There was a lot of words for it. That she didn't expect it. That she didn't know that a native could have this happen to them. That he needed to go report this, immediately, because she was beginning to realise that the only way to make this stop was to cut it off herself.

The chief one of course was: you little idiot.

"Benedict, what have you done?"

[altusimperius]

It's not like the new addition has made Benedict happy, but he realizes he was hoping for a somewhat more understanding reaction than that. His expression closes, and he withdraws his hand to pull the glove back over it, glancing over his shoulder to ensure Magni is still where they left her.
"I had to," he asserts quietly, a frightened boy trying for a man's resolve, "my mother..."
Few dignified sentences start thus, and yet.
"...she wanted me to match my bodyguard." A hard swallow, and, "...who has since disappeared. So I'll find another use for it."

[shri]

"Your mother is a fool. An idiotic fool who is a waste of her own skin." That bitch. It's bitten out whether it's right to say it or not. Swallowing down hard, her hand going over her mouth as she frowns, thinks, works it out.

"Does she not know how we are treated? Does she not know that this could kill us? To ask her own son - "

It takes her a moment, a second, so visibly livid through her whole body. "And no one but Marcoulf and your mother knows?"

[altusimperius]

It's Benedict's first instinct to rise up in outrage, to come to his mother's defense; but the sheer magnitude of fury radiating from Lakshmi stills him, and brings to mind a moment not so long ago, of an open-handed slap and the slave it brought to desperate tears.
He doesn't know the answer to the following questions, all save for the last. He gives a timid shake of his head in response: no one else knows.

[shri]

There is a moment, a genuine moment, where Lakshmi is completely, and totally silent.

And there is nothing comforting in it, she stares, jaw clenched hard, fingers twitching in a curl around nails against her palm as she steadies herself against it. Something boiling over, flat and sharp all at once. Sitting in the pit of her stomach and churning about. Like lava sitting deep below the surface until, inevitably -

"Marcoulf." It's barked in a battlefield voice, "here. Now."

Lets him get close, lets him get near. Held so still, so ready, it could only be winding up to something.

Slap. The strike isn't hard, but it's sharp and quick, stinging against Benedict's cheek. Then, again Slap. Across Marcoulf's just the same. Nevermind that they both stand over her comfortably. Sharply in both their face with one threatening, pointed finger. Stepping in close so they didn't dare think they were getting away from her in this moment.

"The pair of you, I should drag you in front of Coupe for your idiocy if I there was a punishment for it. What were you thinking? You - " Her finger jabs harsh into Benedict's chest. "You are a mage, you should know the danger of those things better than even I do to go playing near a rift! Let alone to get yourself marked by one." And before Marcoulf can think he's gotten away, her voice rising with each word as it leaves her mouth, losing that polished edge where her temper gets to her, the thickness of her own accent coming through the angrier she becomes. Her finger pointing threateningly in Marcoulf's face, direct for him to not look anywhere else - "And you! Warning about hurting Magni, about nobles games, damn near get your hand cut off in battle, and you go and do something that could get you killed! Around a rift, then trying to trick a noble. You could be executed and you damn well know it if he had called anyone but me! Then what would you do? What?" The rest, the rest it is probably best that it stops being in common language because it becomes quickly less pleasant. Questions that they clearly weren't going to answer any time soon, not for their own reasons, because damn if she was going to let either of them get a word in right now.

"The pair of you - Chootiya!" One she goes for another minute, until she has to stop, swallow, taking a steadying breath. "Did you two want to die? Who's going to bury your bodies if you had kept this up? It wouldn't have been me! Wasting everything you have both have done, could do, on this!"

Because the fear of it, for them, for what could have happened to them, if this kept on the way it had, is genuine to that point - even if she has no other recourse for expressing that fear in these moments than this.

[altusimperius]

At first, Benedict is actually stupid enough to think Marcoulf is going to be in more trouble than he is (trouble?? what is this, a nursery?) and has the audacity to smirk, but it's wiped clean off his face by Lakshmi's hand.
Now pressing his own palm to his face (his beautiful face), he shrinks away from her as best he can for someone half a foot taller, alternatingly nodding and shaking his head and shrugging and looking like he's about to cry.