faderift | [open] I don't know how you made it in

WHO: Benedict and MAYBE YOU
WHAT: the gradually developing situation involving a certain Vint's return to Kirkwall
WHEN: mid-September onwards
WHERE: around the Gallows
NOTES: More prompts are likely to be added as things unfold! I'm going to take this step by step and address developments as they arise.

I. Return to the Gallows

His clothes don't fit, he's shaken and feels like he's about to vomit at just about any moment, but Benedict is here and, it would seem, this is more or less of his own volition. He can be spotted crossing the Gallows with some trepidation, taking his time, inspecting stalls and seeming to prolong the inevitable: which is to say, actually going and talking to anyone in whose hands his life is about to rest.

He's quick to avert his eyes should anyone meet them, but isn't about to take off running.

II. Upstairs (one thread only please)

Seated outside the Division Head office, Benedict is simply waiting for one of them to become available so he can... what, turn himself in? Have a conversation. Both Leander and Alexandrie made it abundantly clear that he's not doing any fleeing without dire consequences, so here he is, and here is the last place he has ever wanted to be.

Threaded | Flat

At the end of the corridor, the strike of footfalls. It's an easy rhythm, characterized by climbing a half dozen sets of stairs to get this high in the tower, and in no hurry. News, it seems, has not travelled very far very quickly. At the very least, it hasn't yet reached the man who appears now at the end of the hallway with his attention in an open mapbook laid open across his arm.

Nevarra lays across his forearm in microcosm. Here is the road to Nevarra City, there is the Minanter. Do they take the road, or do they portage one of the light craft through the Vimmark's and to a landing in the Marches? The line of the brtualized Imperial Highway tempts too and--

Halfway to the Forces division offices, Flint's attention rises from the map to land on the figure in the corridor. He pauses. He stops.

He closes the book.

[ Oh.

She stands there, looking at him - and it's definitely him, not D'Artagnan back again or anything, because even if his clothes are dreadfully ill-suited to him there's no mistaking that slump. And she's - What. Relieved? Furious? Spiteful? She honestly hasn't any idea at all what she feels.

So she just stands, glaring, shoulders hunched. ]

dos

i, obviously