altusimperius (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
altusimperius) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
faderift2019-06-05 11:03 pm
altusimperius) wrote in faderift2019-06-05 11:03 pm
Entry tags:
Micaela's buyer has been located, and she's so far away from Benedict's home as to be almost no longer in the country. He finds it strange that she'd have been so desirable outside of his social circle, but there are lots of things Bene doesn't know, which is only becoming clearer and clearer the longer he spends in Kirkwall.
He's rented a nice carriage for himself and Kitty, the keeper of the necessary documents. While a lot of the time is spent looking out the window, working, reading, or sleeping in their separate inn rooms (he's flush, he can provide for them both), periodically conversation strikes despite anyone's better judgment.
"The Silent Plains," Benedict points out, watching as the landscape transitions, "...isn't this where you all went missing?"
He's rented a nice carriage for himself and Kitty, the keeper of the necessary documents. While a lot of the time is spent looking out the window, working, reading, or sleeping in their separate inn rooms (he's flush, he can provide for them both), periodically conversation strikes despite anyone's better judgment.
"The Silent Plains," Benedict points out, watching as the landscape transitions, "...isn't this where you all went missing?"
The question might be an ill-judged one, were Benedict speaking to someone prone to trauma lingering. Their fight for survival had been a hard and miserable one; Kitty still bears the physical signs of it, in her bony elbows and knees and in the way that the last baby-fat that had lingered in her young face is well and truly gone now. But honestly, Kitty is one of those people who generally holds onto physical trauma longer than psychological trauma; she just looks out the window and wrinkles her nose in disapproval rather than something misery-adjacent.
"Wouldn't recommend it," she responds, then heaves an irritable sigh. "Thedas has some awful places, but this is definitely one of the worst." Then she pauses a moment, and frowns, and says, "Although for different reasons than some of the other places are awful."
"Wouldn't recommend it," she responds, then heaves an irritable sigh. "Thedas has some awful places, but this is definitely one of the worst." Then she pauses a moment, and frowns, and says, "Although for different reasons than some of the other places are awful."
"Fair enough." It hasn't even occurred to Bene that the question was insensitive-- after all, he's had his own share of misadventures in this same location.
"I was waylaid here once," he says absently, "the whole party was taken captive, but..." Suddenly he realizes what exactly he's about to explain, and clams up a bit. "...we made it out all right."
"I was waylaid here once," he says absently, "the whole party was taken captive, but..." Suddenly he realizes what exactly he's about to explain, and clams up a bit. "...we made it out all right."
Kitty shoots him a skeptical glance when he falters. "What's the actual story?" she asks, which is actually quite civilized, as that question is asked in place of what she originally wanted to say, which is a rather-too-biting-even-by-her-standards you really ought to work on your storytelling abilities.
Edited 2019-06-08 16:25 (UTC)
He hesitates for a long time, long enough in fact that Kitty might actually think he's ignoring her. But then after a minute or so, he speaks again, figuring... well, he's this far out with her, she might as well know certain things.
"It was slavers," he says, a bit faintly, "or-- well, they-- were acting as slavers. But they were mercenaries. They took Hanzo and I off to the side while they branded the others."
"It was slavers," he says, a bit faintly, "or-- well, they-- were acting as slavers. But they were mercenaries. They took Hanzo and I off to the side while they branded the others."
Her brows draw down as he speaks, progressively, until her eyes are peeking out from under a thick beetle-black line.
"What do you mean," she says, "branded the others."
"What do you mean," she says, "branded the others."
Sitting perfectly still, as though it will somehow prevent Kitty from seeing him, Benedict clears his throat gently.
"...you know," he says, trying not to emote at all, "like. ...You know." He rests one hand over the back of the other, gripping it in an almost imperceptible wince of sympathy.
"...you know," he says, trying not to emote at all, "like. ...You know." He rests one hand over the back of the other, gripping it in an almost imperceptible wince of sympathy.
Edited 2019-06-14 07:22 (UTC)
The concept is - hard to wrap her head around. But she's spoken with some few of the slaves up north. She's seen their scars. Branding is - it's - It's almost unthinkable, that one person would do that to another, but -
She shakes her head once, and then again more strongly. "Why?"
She shakes her head once, and then again more strongly. "Why?"
Tapping his fingertips together, Benedict looks fixedly out the window. "To. Teach them a lesson, it turns out," he says, as frankly as he can manage. Never mind who was teaching the lesson, or what the lesson was. That's irrelevant.
Not to her. "What lesson?" she demands. By the set of her jaw, she won't be put off this easily.
It's all Bene can do not to just sink down into a slouch and die. He can't help but do it a little bit, arms folding over his chest, becoming increasingly the picture of stubborn avoidance, trying so hard not to look at Kitty he's practically turned entirely away from her.
He opens his mouth, closes it again, seems to chew on the words for a moment, then mumbles, "to not. ...imprison me." Oh look at you ground
He opens his mouth, closes it again, seems to chew on the words for a moment, then mumbles, "to not. ...imprison me." Oh look at you ground
Anger bubbles up in her, hot and quick. "To not imprison you?" She knows enough of his history to be able to guess, now, who the others were - other Inquisition members. And who would want that revenge? It's clear enough, in her mind.
"Did you hire them? The mercenaries?" The accusation is fierce.
"Did you hire them? The mercenaries?" The accusation is fierce.
"No," comes the small-voiced reply, the fabric on Bene's shoulders bunching as he sinks lower.
Well - he doesn't seem to be lying.
"Then who did?"
"Then who did?"
He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. "...my mother."
People aren't supposed to know this-- he doesn't even really know why he's telling Kitty, except that she's so weird and aggressive and always makes him worry she'll do everything in her power to ruin his life if he doesn't appease her.
Is this what being married is like?
People aren't supposed to know this-- he doesn't even really know why he's telling Kitty, except that she's so weird and aggressive and always makes him worry she'll do everything in her power to ruin his life if he doesn't appease her.
Is this what being married is like?
"Your - " She feels a twist of disgust. His mother. His mother did that because he was, what, held captive. That's absolutely, utterly sickening, for so many reasons, not least that -
Kitty shoves down that unbidden thought and buries it deep.
"If it were my mum did that, I'd spit in her face and tell her to jump off a bloody cliff," she declares. "How utterly foul."
Kitty shoves down that unbidden thought and buries it deep.
"If it were my mum did that, I'd spit in her face and tell her to jump off a bloody cliff," she declares. "How utterly foul."
At the very least, he doesn't verbally disagree with her. Instead, Benedict chews his lip, looking out the window, arms folded tightly against his chest as he seems to mull over Kitty's words-- or perhaps he's just hoping to forget about them. There was a time he would have defended her, but they are, after all, on their way to undo yet another of his mother's bewildering decisions.
So instead, he just lets the assessment lie between them, trying not to engage with it at all. If his mother is foul, that means... well, it means all sorts of things that he isn't ready to face.
So instead, he just lets the assessment lie between them, trying not to engage with it at all. If his mother is foul, that means... well, it means all sorts of things that he isn't ready to face.
The travelers spent the night at an inn in Perivantium, and from there, bright and early, have walked the short distance from the inn to their destination: a grand townhouse on the edge of a city square.
"They're expecting us," Benedict informs Kitty brightly as they make their way, wearing his finest robes in the style of the Magisterium-- he'd tried to coax her into something suitable, but whether or not she listened, he's decided not to care.
"If anyone asks, you're my assistant," he adds, with a touch of anxiety. "You're not from-- ....we're not visiting from Kirkwall."
"They're expecting us," Benedict informs Kitty brightly as they make their way, wearing his finest robes in the style of the Magisterium-- he'd tried to coax her into something suitable, but whether or not she listened, he's decided not to care.
"If anyone asks, you're my assistant," he adds, with a touch of anxiety. "You're not from-- ....we're not visiting from Kirkwall."
Silence, unfortunately for Kitty, is hard to maintain anger against. Certainly true when your anger is like Kitty's - hot, bright, fierce, not the long-simmering sort that can maintain itself in the absence of stimulus. So she stares at him, waiting for him to look over, to catch her eye so that she can start the fight again. But - it seems, from his silence, that she's won, and that's so dreadfully, miserably disappointing.
So she falls silent herself, too, and stares out the window as well.
So she falls silent herself, too, and stares out the window as well.
"Well, tell me where we are visiting from, then," she says. Her voice betrays her irritation, but her face doesn't. Honestly, right now, she looks very much like a different girl: dull-eyed, immobile-faced, almost mousy. Her clothes are, indeed, appropriate but not worth paying attention to; her hair is brushed neatly and hides her face. At the end of the day, she's quite practiced at going unnoticed. Few will give her so much as a second glance.
"Minrathous," snorts Benedict, as if it were obvious. He glances her over again, finds her suitable, and then ascends the front steps to use the enormous crystal doorknocker.
It isn't long before a human butler answers, distinguished from that of any other culture by the house sigil burned into the back of his hand. "Master Artemaeus," he greets, and steps aside to allow them in without even glancing to Kitty.
They're led into a parlor, offered seats and tea, and then they have a few minutes to wait.
For his part, Benedict looks pleased: a little anxious, perhaps, but excited.
It isn't long before a human butler answers, distinguished from that of any other culture by the house sigil burned into the back of his hand. "Master Artemaeus," he greets, and steps aside to allow them in without even glancing to Kitty.
They're led into a parlor, offered seats and tea, and then they have a few minutes to wait.
For his part, Benedict looks pleased: a little anxious, perhaps, but excited.
Kitty doesn't drink any of the tea. She might have tracked these people down, but that doesn't mean that she trusts them. Especially not after her recent...her recent experience with the pleasures of duplicitous rich bastards. She just sets the cup discreetly to the side, and crosses her legs at the ankle.
Before too long, the house's resident makes an appearance. He's a smallish man, dressed finely but with a nervous edge to him, which seems to grow when he gets a look at the people in his sitting room.
"Ah-- yes, Master Artemaeus, hello," he says, offering a hand to both Benedict and Kitty, "I got your note, and the bill of sale is prepared. I trust your travels weren't too strenuous?"
"Not at all," Benedict offers with a bored wave of his hand, "now we haven't got a lot of time, so I'd like to see her before I sign anything." He glances to Kitty with a confident smile: they've got it all under control.
"Ah-- yes, Master Artemaeus, hello," he says, offering a hand to both Benedict and Kitty, "I got your note, and the bill of sale is prepared. I trust your travels weren't too strenuous?"
"Not at all," Benedict offers with a bored wave of his hand, "now we haven't got a lot of time, so I'd like to see her before I sign anything." He glances to Kitty with a confident smile: they've got it all under control.
That smile puts her a little on edge. Whether it's because his confidence gives her misgivings or just because his smile is smug as hell and she doesn't like it, she's not sure - but it still makes her feel ill at ease. The seller's nervousness just makes it even worse.
She fights the urge to gnaw on her lip, and fights the urge to say something. It'll be suspicious if she does. So she just stays quiet, and still, and unremarkable.
She fights the urge to gnaw on her lip, and fights the urge to say something. It'll be suspicious if she does. So she just stays quiet, and still, and unremarkable.
There's a bit of a wait, and then the master of the house returns with another person, and Benedict is off like a shot. The person he embraces so quickly is a woman likely in her forties, who clutches him back with tears streaming from her eyes.
It's a heartfelt display, interrupted only by the appearance of the bill of sale, which Benedict readily takes, signs, and returns-- but before he can go to leave, the seller, dabbing a bit of sweat from his brow, offers a second folded note.
"You'll want to--" he says awkwardly, "--from-- your mother, I believe."
Narrowing his eyes, Benedict takes the note and opens it, reads over its contents, and then proceeds to stare at it for several long moments before looking up, first to Micaela, then to Kitty.
"Let's go," he announces, calmly enough, but he seems eager to get back to the carriage. He grips Micaela's hand tightly, and though she's as confused as anyone, she offers a smile of greeting to Kitty.
It's a heartfelt display, interrupted only by the appearance of the bill of sale, which Benedict readily takes, signs, and returns-- but before he can go to leave, the seller, dabbing a bit of sweat from his brow, offers a second folded note.
"You'll want to--" he says awkwardly, "--from-- your mother, I believe."
Narrowing his eyes, Benedict takes the note and opens it, reads over its contents, and then proceeds to stare at it for several long moments before looking up, first to Micaela, then to Kitty.
"Let's go," he announces, calmly enough, but he seems eager to get back to the carriage. He grips Micaela's hand tightly, and though she's as confused as anyone, she offers a smile of greeting to Kitty.
Page 1 of 3