[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]

"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?"

[keenly]

Colin slips a hand into the cell to try to reach Benedict's.

"You think I'm just going to abandon you now?"

[altusimperius]

Though he hesitates, Benedict is tempted forward by it and sits on the ground, clasping Colin's hand.

"Not now," he admits, "...I admit I. I'm not used to people staying." He looks away, as if ashamed. "People leave. I don't blame them for it."

His shoulders hunch self-consciously. "... I can be hard to like."

[keenly]

That's not easy to argue with, though Colin hasn't found it difficult to like Benedict, generally.

"And I can be hard to offend," he says lightly with a squeeze of his hand. "But I like you. I know you make mistakes, obviously. Big ones, small ones. Trouble is, some of us had parents who tried to teach us right and wrong. You didn't have that. That's not an excuse for what you did, obviously, but..."

A gleam of a smile touches the corner of his mouth.

"When you swore to smuggle me back to Tevinter to keep me safe from the Circle, that was all you. I know it's a bit silly, but it made me see a side of you I hadn't thought was there. You were kind, and willing to use your resources to help someone with nothing. That's a part of you the Venatori haven't destroyed. That's goodness, that impulse. And if it's still in there, you can grow it, and that's all you. That's not us, it's not your mother, it's just you. And I like that part of you enough that I also like things about you I might not otherwise. You care about your appearance, your moods swing dramatically, you can take yourself too seriously but it's all because you care. So much. And that's good."

[altusimperius]

However skeptical he may be, Benedict listens silently while Colin talks, and eventually the faint smile returns. He has said those things, he supposes. And he meant them, even if, at the time, it felt more like vindictiveness against the South and its treatment of mages than about actively helping anyone.
But it's an example, something he remembers, something he can ponder on and build from.

"...I'm afraid that offer doesn't stand anymore," he says after a moment, sheepishly, "...well. You could probably still go there."

[keenly]

"Lexie insists I will, attached to her household." You know, her dubious marriage to Loki and all that. "But I'm not sure she'll be in any better position than you, with her husband in Riftwatch and an Exalted March coming."

A little smile. "I took it as it's meant. Not as the kind of future I'm going to have, but as the kind of friends I have."

And the more he thinks about the kind of future he may actually have, the quicker this conversation will devolve into him fretting and obsessing about it until Benedict must comfort him. And he's not going to let that happen.

[altusimperius]

The smile expands, and Benedict nods, looking down thoughtfully and seeming to enjoy that remark. The kind of friends Colin has. He counts as one of them.

He'll take the small victories where he can.