[open] gay baby jail 2: son of gay baby jail

[altusimperius]

WHO: Benedict and Approved Visitors
WHAT: Treacherous Vint in a dungeon and he's just happy to be here y'all
WHEN: Kingsway
WHERE: below the mage tower (I think??)
NOTES: will update as needed

It might be at any hour of the day, though likely in the daytime, when one comes to find the dungeon's current occupant.
It's bizarrely nostalgic, that he should be in the same cell, on the same magebane, as he was several years ago when he first arrived in Kirkwall, kicking and fighting and shouting to anyone who would listen that he wasn't Venatori, dragged in and abandoned by his not-Not-Venatori mentor. He'd worked his way out from that, fought tooth and nail for two years to be someone worthy of freedom, of influence.

And now he's back. There's no kicking or shouting this time, and the young man seems a decade older. When he isn't sleeping, Benedict sits quietly on the bed, back straight, staring into space; he eats what he's given, magebane and all, without complaint. He doesn't speak unless spoken to, asks for nothing, and is on the whole so utterly unlike himself that it would likely be less surprising to learn he had been swapped out with a double, the real Benedict still in Minrathous making the same mistakes and never coming back.

But he's here, it's him, and he's at the mercy of any visitors-- good-standing members of Riftwatch only, of course-- who choose to make the trip downstairs.

Comments

[altusimperius]

With a sheepish glance at Colin, he shrugs one shoulder. "I don't know," he says, already clearly regretting he asked, "...never mind. I suppose I'll know soon enough."
Another long pause follows, with more finger drumming and fidgeting. Then,

"...but if they-- if someone did, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"

[keenly]

Colin looks a smidge uncomfortable. He glances away, then back.

"Would it be in any way helpful to you?"

[altusimperius]

There's a relatively clear answer to this, but it's somewhat at odds with what Benedict tells himself he wants.

"...yes?" he hedges.

[keenly]

Eyebrows lift gently. Are you sure?

[altusimperius]

A bit of frustration boils up at this, beginning to twist Colin's gentle refusal and silent resistance into a slight. Twenty-some years of getting what he wants when he wants it, tempered by the gained wisdom and maturity of a few, and with some trauma peppered in, the simple disagreement ignites the kind of anxiety that manifests most commonly as:

sulking.

He scowls, thunking his forehead against the bars again, tightening his grip. "Fine."

[keenly]

Colin smiles broadly, and can't help an unvoiced chuckle. He is wiser now, but he is still Benedict. There's something peculiarly comforting in it.

"I mean, I could still. But I'd have to ask if I should start with the ones who hate you just for being a mage, or the ones who hate you just for being Tevinter. I've done a surprising amount with being someone who people hate."

[altusimperius]

Though his irritation flares at the smile, there is at least a more intelligent part of Benedict that reminds him who was by his side when he thought he was done for.
The scowl remains, but he masters his tone, at the very least. "That's not what I'm asking," he grumbles, looking down again. "How many people know that I'm here. ...and why."

[keenly]

"That's a different question." And it causes Colin's eyes to become kind instead of teasing. "I don't think Anders would judge you too much. I could talk to him for you. Who else do you think might give you a chance?"

[altusimperius]

"I don't care if they judge me," Benedict mutters, "they should."
He seems surprised to have said as much, pausing for a moment, but doesn't rescind it, only resting his head forward again. He knows he's being difficult, but the feelings are conflicting, and there's little to be done about that.

"I don't-- I don't want to ask for anyone. I don't want them to look at me. Or think I expect their forgiveness." Drum, drum, go his fingers. He twists his mouth to one side, his expression darkening as he thinks.

"Forget it. Forget I asked." Pushing off the bars, he paces away from them to go sit back on the bench, letting his hands fold loosely between his skinny thighs.

[keenly]

He's pushing people away. It wouldn't take much for him to start pushing Colin away. He's asking about people who hate him so he can self-flagellate with the list of names. The point today isn't to get Benedict to look on the bright side, but to steer him away from hurting himself whenever possible. Colin won't be an accessory to it.

His hands fold gently around the cell bars, gaze lowering.

"I'm sorry," he says softly. "I'll...bring books when I come back. And anything you want to eat. I just..."

He swallows.

"I don't want to be the next person who fails you. If I haven't already."

[altusimperius]

Benedict looks up, confused and incredulous.

"You?" he asks, coming off perhaps more angrily than he intends, "fail me?" He stares at Colin for a moment, waiting for the punchline.
When it never comes, he shakes his head. "You've done more for me than you should have."

[keenly]

It's a complicated subject. Colin doesn't want to start a tangent, doesn't want to make the conversation about himself, but he can give some explanation.

"I've said that to people who've failed me. Who didn't see when something was wrong."

[altusimperius]

"Something is wrong," Benedict nearly laughs, but shakes his head. "But it's not you."

He falls silent for a moment, looking down at his hands again, thinking.

"Any food you bring will have to be checked," he eventually says, "...it... has to have magebane." He does not relish this fact at all, and even has a little trouble making himself say it.

[keenly]

Colin, true to form, instantly tries to devise a recipe that will go well with magebane. Then he glances around at the wide space and the many cells of this prison.

"It was mages being kept here, back in the day," he says, peering for old runes. "I can imagine the enchantment's worn off on the anti-magic wards, but they can be renewed. Probably should be for all the cells, if we get any Venatori prisoners. But I'll make sure to get all the approvals on the food and books. Any preferences?"

[altusimperius]

Another nod. He was aware of that the last time he was here, and still shudders to remember the more isolated cell, the black windowless room he was shut into for time indeterminate. He'll never know how long he was there, only that he still has nightmares about it.

"Maybe... if I'm allowed to write," he murmurs, "I can keep working on Ancient Tevene translations."

[keenly]

"So a lexicon and blank paper, at least. Just no glass obelisks, I imagine. Quills are hard to stab anyone with. Getting a bottle of ink in should be entertaining. I could always tell the guards you can taste test it for lyrium or explosives and you'd enjoy it for the rest of the day."

[altusimperius]

There's a faint smile in response, acknowledging the joke, but it drifts off pretty quickly. Asking for things this early seems like a mistake, and Benedict is already nervous about it.

"...don't push it," he advises uneasily, "...if it seems like there'll be resistance. It's not that important." He'll be bored out of his fucking mind, but at least alive.

[keenly]

Colin nods gently. There's no reason to ruin this for Benedict just for the sake of keeping him entertained.

"I won't. We have to start building trust right away."

He wants to reach for Benedict's hand again, but the man is a ways away, and he doesn't want to embarrass himself.

"I'll visit at least once a day. Maybe twice, if I can. And I'll ask if you'll be allowed to write, and with what implements. Everything will be by the book, I promise."

[altusimperius]

This seems to reassure him somewhat, and Benedict sighs against the wall with a nod. His gaze is directed downward at first, but he raises it again to look over at Colin with the ghost of a smile. It's nice that he gets it, and is a reprieve from the grilling he can expect from most other visitors.

"Thank you."

[keenly]

Colin glances away for a moment of thought, then looks back. He doesn't smile back. He wants Benedict to know this is sincere.

"You've changed," he says solemnly. "That's how I know you can get out of here the right way, for the right reasons. You want it, and you want to do it right. You've chosen a side. You've chosen your people. You've just got to prove it, and I believe you can. Slowly but surely. Right?"

[altusimperius]

"Do you think so?"

There's earnest hope in the question, the heartsick desire for it to be true. The problem with trying to lie, and doing it badly, for so long, is that receiving anyone's benefit of the doubt becomes nigh impossible.

[keenly]

A slight hesitation.

"I believe so. But it'll be hard work. You can't take shortcuts or expect anyone to make it easier for you. Though I think you know that. I'm here for you, and I believe in you, but I can't do any part of the work on your behalf. It all has to be you, and it has to be sincere. You have to earn...not forgiveness, but redemption. You have to commit, even when it feels impossible. As long as you know that? Certainly, I believe you'll get there. You have it in you. Never doubt that."

[altusimperius]

On the one hand, this is all very logical, sensible, and on a deep and intrinsic level Benedict knows it to be true. On the other hand, he knows himself, can see where he's gotten and why, and is uneasy about the prospect of attacking this alone.
He's weak. He makes weak decisions.

He listens quietly, drawing up his knees and folding his arms to rest his mouth on them. His brows are furrowed in worry and, perhaps, fear, his gaze focused slightly past Colin.
"I'm not sure I know how," he murmurs.

[keenly]

There's another pause as Colin sits on the floor in a similar position, leaning against the cell bars in lieu of having actual contact with Bene.

"You don't have a choice," he says. "It's...inevitable. Either you're going to die--which they've already ruled out for you--or you're going to move forward. And of course you don't know how. I don't know how. Nobody wrote this book. But eventually, you look back, and you realize you're not where you were. And the harder you're tested, the more you're surprised at what you can bear."

Their stories aren't really all that similar, except that Colin knows what it is to have no-one, to have no rescue, to be naked and starving and hunted. He wasn't at fault for most of his misfortunes, but he received no more succor than Benedict because no one could know what was happening to him. If he didn't believe in Benedict, it would mean he learned nothing from his own trials.

[altusimperius]

Nodding lightly behind his arms, Benedict shifts his gaze, thinking. He has received a lesson in objective right and wrong, but it feels overdue, too close for comfort. Not that he isn't smart, that he can't figure things out, follow his gut; but his head has been so firmly taught the twisted morality of his elders, it's hard not to default to it in a pinch.

"I know you can't do it for me," he says with a sheepish smile, actually beginning to blush faintly; this is an embarrassing conversation to have, as many of them have been recently. "...but will you help me?"