EVENT: TRUTH BOMB

[faderifting]

WHO: Anyone
WHAT: TRUTH BOMB
WHEN: Bloomingtide 15-17
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: OOC information. Use appropriate content warnings in your subject lines, please.

It’s an ordinary day—so not a very pleasant one. The weather is dreary and muggy, and the day’s lunch is a soup that’s a little too watery and bland. The griffons are being their usual level of noisy and swoopy. The work is its usual level of urgent and difficult.

But in the storage rooms, something wiggles. Then it hums. Then it pops.

Outside of the storage room, there’s no actual sound, no shift in the wind, and no visible sign of a change. But the pop might be felt—like the moment something finally clicks, or two ideas suddenly fit together, except the opposite. In the heads of everyone in the fortress, something is suddenly not connected quite right.

The first sign of what’s gone wrong is that someone immediately stands up and tells the cook how bad the soup is.

A lot of people’s days are about to get exponentially worse.

Comments

[altusimperius]

"I don't know," comes the terse reply, "how I'm supposed to write anything when I can't fucking focus."

Whether or not he's realized yet that it's Colin, Benedict seems to accept the company as a reprieve, letting his head fall forward and thunk defeatedly onto the desk while he takes a moment.

"Whatever's been done to us, I hope it ends soon."

[keenly]

Colin picks up one of the crumpled letters and glances it over.

"I take frequent breaks. Maybe it's time for you to have one. If you want, you can dictate to me after and I can just write the things that need written down."

He doesn't sigh over the current predicament. As always, his method is to keep his head down and get through it quietly.

[altusimperius]

"No," comes a sigh, "that'll be just as bad."

Leaning back in his chair, Benedict tosses his pen onto the table and stretches his arms behind him, scrunching his face up as his shoulder gives a little pop.

"You'd probably do anything I say anyway," he adds, with an air that's so casual it's alarming.

[keenly]

"Well at that point it becomes about listening rather than--"

What?

Colin gives Benedict a squint. "Why?" Maker help him, if this is one of those entitled noble prick things, he's leaving.

[altusimperius]

Colin's reaction actually surprises Benedict, who blinks back at him, seemingly having to rewind what just happened in his mind to determine why there's confusion at all. Then, he looks uncomfortable: opens his mouth, closes it, and twists his neck around in an awkward attempt to toss his hair, like he's trying to recover and doing a bad job of it.

"I," he says measuredly, choosing each word with care, "don't want to say."

[keenly]

Colin's expression darkens fractionally. He has a feeling that whatever it is Benedict doesn't want to say, he won't like to hear. But it's impossible not to pry. Benedict thinks he's a doormat, and Colin can't stand it.

"Because you're important and I'm not?" he guesses. He doesn't want it to be his other guess.

[altusimperius]

Oh Maker, this is uncomfortable. Why can't he stop talking? He tries again, looking at Colin with a stifled expression, but the words keep pushing themselves out, promising instant relief that never comes.

"No," he says weakly, "but I think you're afraid of me."

[keenly]

That is not the answer Colin expected. His defensive expression snaps back like a band, and now he only looks somewhat puzzled. Where did Benedict get that impression from? He wants to banish it, but his lips begin to move, to say something else.

"I'm afraid of everyone," he says almost dismissively. "Don't take it personally. It's the only way I've been able to survive. But I wasn't trying to appease the big, scary Chambergod. I was just trying to be nice." A beat. "If I was more afraid of you than others, I wouldn't approach you at all."

[altusimperius]

Surprised when his assessment isn't greeted with offense, Benedict blinks several times and falls silent as Colin speaks. It results in a raised eyebrow and a wrinkled nose, however, at 'Chambergod'.

"Thanks for that," he grumbles, "nothing wrong with wanting to be important."

[keenly]

Colin looks like he struggles with the idea for a second, but then nods assent.

"Someone has to, I suppose. Want that. And you've done good, while you've been here. Something to be proud of."

[altusimperius]

"...have I?"

It's an earnest question, and shifts gears immediately. Has he done anything worth his keep, really?

[keenly]

A nod.

"You work hard. I haven't seen you ask any applause for it. And I think you would understand what's at stake, even if you didn't have to be here. You were kind of awful when I first met you. You've gone from that to being chamberlain. So I think you've done good, leastways from what I've seen."

[altusimperius]

Benedict looks positively floored by this, the positive feedback genuinely foreign to him as something given honestly and not as a way to placate a rich brat.
His nose wrinkles in affront nonetheless when Colin says he found him awful, but it says more about Benedict's discomfort with the situation than any actual disbelief.

He opens and closes his mouth several times, concluding with a simple, "..oh."

[keenly]

Colin wasn't thrilled about the word awful himself, but it came out and he blames whatever this enchantment is. He gives a one-shoulder shrug, trying to stay casual.

"Anyway, if you want to...maybe have a bit of fun, sometime, that could be all right. And if not, it's all right. I'd still like to be friends."

[altusimperius]

That revelation is not one Benedict was expecting, and although he looks shocked at first, he breaks into a smile, nearly laughing aloud.
"Oh is that-- a bit of fun, is that all it was about," he says, amused but not mocking, his posture immediately slackening with a toss of his head that seems almost tailor-made to be charming. "A bit of fun, I think we can manage that."

[keenly]

The air immediately feels lighter, and Colin chuckles softly, eyelashes batting.

"That's all it was about," he confirms with a blush. He feels giddy. Apparently Anders was right, and it was worth trying. Benedict wasn't repulsed by him, just confused. He covers his face with his hands briefly before laughing again and tossing a smile at Benedict. "I'm sorry it was so... I've never actually done anything like this, it just hap--"

He cuts himself off, smile turning into a wince as he suppresses a sudden flow of truth. This isn't the time, if there ever should be a time.

[altusimperius]

"I can't do things like that in public," Benedict chimes in, a little too easily, and looking mildly confused by his own candor. "I have to marry a woman someday, and members of the Magisterium will do anything they can to discredit one another. Not that any of them are here, but... you know, taking chances and all that."

He doesn't seem too saddened or even bothered at all by the fact-- it's just the way life is.

[keenly]

"Ah." Colin bobs his head in vague understanding. At least, he supposes it makes sense if you're a noble and have to make babies. "Good to know. I just thought you were repulsed by me."

Another small wince. This is an awkward way to sort things out, but it works.

[altusimperius]

"No, that would be stupid," Benedict answers smoothly, in such a manner that it may in fact be natural to do so. "You're decently good looking, there's no reason to even think that the case." He smiles at him then, in the manner of someone doing a favor, bequeathing the gift of self-esteem on someone clearly lacking.

[keenly]

The wince briefly deepens before being wiped away by a smile. He'd meant any number of things--their class difference being the most obvious, not to mention personal taste and this abstract sense Colin always has that he's not enough, or perhaps that he's too much. But the compliment is taken as it is intended, while the backhanded part of it is awkwardly shuffled about in the conversation.

"Well, not stupid, considering I didn't know anything about your situation. Which, why is it anyone's business, anyway? You can marry your woman and make a lot of babies, so what's it matter if you've someone on the side? Isn't that what nobs do all the time?"

[altusimperius]

The counterpoint gives Benedict pause, and he furrows his brow at Colin for a moment, considering.
"Well... probably," he mutters, "but... appearances are important, and... and like I said, people talk." The smugness slowly evaporates from his face, leaving behind a boyish uncertainty.

"I was told to keep it behind closed doors or that's where I'd stay." There's a slight puzzlement to the statement, as if he's only realizing now that it's a cruel thing to tell someone.

[keenly]

“Just when it’s other men?” Such an odd thing to get hung up on. A look of pity comes over Colin’s face. “That’s a very unkind thing they said to you. But if it must be behind closed doors, we can manage that.”

The compulsion grows heavier. Maybe now isn’t a bad time? Maybe it would make Benedict feel a little less self-conscious. Or it could scare him off entirely. Left to his own devices, Colin would much rather comfort Benedict and let him talk about whatever issues he needs. He tries to find some halfway point.

“You don’t have to worry about any of that with me. Whatever you need, I can work with. Maker knows I have things you’ll need to work with.”

[altusimperius]

"No, probably not, but I mean... women have never been an issue." He sounds strained in declaring this, gingerly pushing the hair back out of his face.
Seemingly intent on getting the focus off himself, he changes tacks. "What things?"

[keenly]

The compulsion is too strong now, but frankly, this was going to have to be a conversation anyway. Colin rakes his fingers through his hair anxiously.

“I, um. My only, ah, experiences with sex? Have been...cruel.”

Not really sex at all, some would say, but that’s merely a method of soothing or dismissing the experience, which is nonetheless impactful on any attempt at real sex.

[altusimperius]

"..oh."
Benedict can tell that Colin is referring to something somewhat beyond his understanding: he knows what he means, on a basic level, but has never experienced anything like it or, as far as he knows, been close to anyone who has.

Momentarily at a loss, he looks at the ground, struggling for something to say. "...well that's no good."