faderift | [open] far from my mother's home

Entry tags:

[open] far from my mother's home

WHO: Benedict and you
WHAT: October catch-all
WHEN: throughout Harvestmere
WHERE: Kirkwall dungeon/gay baby jail
NOTES: will add if necessary

For Riftwatch members in good standing, there's a built-in captive audience residing in a cell below the Kirkwall mage tower. One barred window peeks out onto the dreary courtyard, and on the opposite wall an interior door opens onto a dark, torchlit hallway, a bench placed on the wall facing in for the comfort of guests and interrogators.

Inside the cell, every day is the same. Sometimes Benedict is sleeping on the little bed supported by chains from the wall, sometimes he's pacing, sometimes he's standing on his toes to rest his chin on the windowsill, hands gripping the bars to keep himself upright, starved for any form of stimulation whatsoever.

Increasingly, he can be found sitting or lying on the floor of his cell, staring at the ceiling or fiddling with the straw scattered on the floor, bending and twisting it in such a way that, on closer inspection, he might be trying to figure out how to weave it.

Visitors will find him quite receptive, even excited to see them. Unless they're Flint.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Colin's reaction isn't what Benedict would have predicted, but he doesn't know how to respond to it: he doesn't even know how to respond to his own, to be fair. He's never had any reason to perceive himself as imperiled in any way that isn't mortal or just, to a much lesser extent, humiliating; being put in a cage and having no autonomy over his own life falls into the latter category, but will never come close to the kind of violation Colin is imagining, or that Benedict would have experienced had his assailant's intentions been different.

He watches Colin pace, notes his tears, and considers that this may have perhaps gone deeper than he thought possible.
"You're..." he begins to observe, utterly unused to asking after people's emotional state, "...why are you..?"

"Nothing. I'm not." Colin briskly scrapes the tears away with his hands, tucks his hair behind his ears, and forces a smile at Benedict, feeling so incredibly stupid. The smile fades quickly. He doesn't think he should make Benedict aware how much danger he might have been in, though he doesn't think Leander is anything so base as a rapist. It's less what might have happened to Benedict than what did happen to Colin, and that's what makes him feel stupid. This isn't about him, and here he is, making it about him without knowing how to stop.

"I'm just really glad you're safe," he concludes at last.

There’s something else in play here, but Bene can’t put his finger on it. Still furrowing his brow at Colin, he stands, going towards the bars to wrap his fingers around them and peer out.

“I’m not,” he says, without rancor, “and I don’t think I ever will be. But.” He raises an eyebrow.
“What is it?”

This is a side to Benedict Colin didn't expect to see. By all appearances, he has looked away from his navel long enough to be concerned for a friend. Colin wishes it was about anything else, but the more he fights it, the more he'll wind up pushing Benedict away. He shuts his eyes for a moment to collect his words.

"What he did was wrong," he begins. He doesn't want to downplay that just because he's had worse experiences. "The way you described it just. Brought back some old memories."

Colin is being weird and cagey, and he's not even the one in the cage. Benedict extends one long arm to tug at the fabric of Colin's sleeve through the bars, a small bid to get his attention and make him open his eyes.

"What old memories?" he asks, as easily as if they're discussing their favorite food. It occurs to him he doesn't know that much about Colin at all.
"In the Circle?"

Colin knows he mentioned this to Benedict before they slept together, but only in the vaguest terms possible. He nods and opens his eyes. The hand attached to the sleeve Benedict tugs at tenses but doesn't pull his arm away. He doesn't want Benedict to think he's being rejected before he explains.

"Yes. In the Circle." Maker, most people are self-interested enough not to pursue it like this, but he supposes Benedict literally has nothing else to do. "A Templar, in the Circle. Remember, before we went to bed together, I said it had only ever been cruel before. For a second, I wondered if Leander might have been cruel to you in the same way."

The tears are back, but Colin isn't overreacting to them. He simply dabs at them with his other sleeve.

It takes Benedict an embarrassingly long time to realize what Colin means. He lets go of his sleeve, his eyes widening in an expression of mild shock.

"Oh."

That's something that happens to unfortunate slaves at the hands of bored Altus men who get drunk and brag about it to their equally drunk friends; Benedict never liked the sound of it, has never enjoyed cruelty for its own sake. Even against a slave.

It makes him wonder what he'd have done, what he would be feeling now, if Leander had been that evil. He shudders and pushes the thought from his mind, already certain it'll haunt him later.
"What happened to the Templar?" he asks, and fears he already knows the answer. But mages, though they're historically treated poorly here, aren't slaves. They have some rights.

"For a long time, nothing," Colin sighs. "He...he started out acting like I was his friend? And the first time, he used their ability they have to suppress magic. He did that every time, but he started sometimes doing it just to mess with me. I did eventually get him to stop the, the assaults, not the random Silencing, by bribing other Templars to protect me from him. But he'd have killed me if I'd said anything to anyone senior, or just...cut me and said he caught me doing blood magic. He threatened both. When the war broke out, he ran to live a charmed life in comfort on his noble father's property. Then..."

He nearly skips the part of the story where things changed. He'd rather gloss over it and hope Benedict doesn't notice the hole in the story, but Benedict is entirely deprived of smoking, drinking, or any other entertainment. His attention is rapt. And maybe it would help him. So Colin clears his throat.

"I, um. Tried to kill myself, a few months ago. The day of the Divine's election."

Having been Silenced himself, Benedict nods with a wince. There's a terror that comes from powerlessness, one of which he feels a constant thrumming in the back of his mind as long as he's on magebane: the only way he has of defending himself isn't available to him. It's not difficult to imagine how easily one might take advantage of a mage under such circumstances.

He's sympathetic as it is, but the story takes a turn, and he blinks in surprise. A few months ago, he was in Tevinter, and had no idea. He might've come back and Colin might not even be here, might not have sat with him the night he thought he was about to die.

At a loss for words, he just stares, waiting for Colin to continue. Obviously, he didn't kill himself. There must've been a reason.

Colin gives him a moment to process, gives himself a moment to collect. This is a more recent hurt, and the shame is sharper because it’s a hurt he gave himself. A hurt he gave Lexie, Anders, and Myr. His eyes are developing a redness from rubbing away tears.

“Lexie found me. She saved my life. But I still couldn’t, I couldn’t imagine living in the Circle again. And I thought, if I had justice for what he did to me, maybe I could make peace with it. If I wasn’t just going back to the same situation I left. Except this time, I’d have nothing to bribe anyone with for my safety. So...we took him to court in Ferelden. Dredged up a witness, had all sorts of fun at the trial, I got accused of all sorts of things, but he was found guilty. But his sentence was left up to the Templars, and all they did was eject him from the order. By that point, his father disowned him because it got out and became a scandal. I don’t know where he is now, but...it’s a lot more justice than other mages got. And you can imagine the Chantry wasn’t pleased.”

Well that's... better than nothing.
Rather than offer commentary, Benedict quirks his mouth to one side and shakes his head: he can't imagine they were pleased, no.

Colin gives Benedict a somewhat blank look. Usually people interject by now and give him some manner of pity or impotent anger. Benedict is just...listening. No pity, no pontificating. Colin can’t recall if that’s happened before. He quite likes it. Except it does leave it up to him to fill the silence, which he is not used to. He tries to think of something else to say.

“So,” he begins, “we both almost died this year. And I’m still not sure if, if the trial and everything, if it’s going to be enough. I, I don’t...know. If I go back to that place in my head, the place that says everything is hopeless and no one can help me, and everything from the past is my inevitable future, Lexie might not be there to save me next time. And I don’t want to die.”

More tears are rubbed away. The floodgates have opened.

“You and I talked a bit after that. That’s probably why I remember it so well. That was when you said you’d rescue me. Maker I so wanted to be rescued, in the Circle. But no one could know, so no one did. And if I go back and something happens, no one will be able to know, and frankly I’m already marked because I took down a Templar this summer.”

A place of hopelessness where no one can help him: that's a familiar place, Benedict recognizes. He curls his arm against one of the bars so he can lean into them, still gripping with both hands, one side of his face pressed gently against the cold iron.

"Do you really think they'll make Circles again?" he asks uncertainly. "I thought... things had changed enough, so many people have done things they wouldn't have... how could it ever go back to being like it was?"

"They'll try," Colin says honestly, with a nod. He sniffs and finishes rubbing his eyes, offering a watery smile. "But I've been reminded that we mages are a community. When the rebellion started, I ran and hid while brave people fought for our freedom, and not one of them I've met here have blamed me or resented me for it. They fought for my freedom. And they'll do it again, if it comes to it. That's why the Divine hasn't said one way or another."

That's a thought that fills one with dread: the Circles not only coming back, but reabsorbing all the Southern mages. Of which Benedict is now one.
He nods, but looks uneasy, pursing his lips. "...I've never been in a Circle." He has no concept of what they'd be like, only that he understands them to be little better than where he is now.

"I know." Colin nods again. "But you should know it's probably not as bleak as it looks to me. If nothing else, neither you nor I have phylacteries. Most of the people here won't. Lots of people would escape, including us."

"Maybe."
Benedict drums his fingers on the bars, pursing his lips. Then,

"...I don't think I would."
He is, after all, about as easy to capture as a person can get.

"Sure you would. You'd be with me. Presumably."

But Colin doesn't have the key. Does he?
All the same, the sentiment is there. Benedict smiles faintly, looking just as much as though he might burst into tears. Then,

"They'd make me Tranquil," he says, despair surging into the words before he can stop it. "...I'm a traitor. And I'm shit at magic."

Colin knows that fear. He was nearly made Tranquil himself. He shakes his head, keeping his tone light.

"It won't happen. I'll rescue you. And I'll teach you how to be a proper boring commoner. I'm the world's leading expert at that."

Whether that makes Benedict smile again or not, he continues more seriously.

"I don't think you're going to be either of those things forever. I think by the time they try to round up mages, you'll be something quite different."

Edited 2019-10-15 14:29 (UTC)

The anxiety doesn't vanish, but Colin has a way of calming things. Benedict nods, feeling foolish for getting worked up again-- in a way, it's even worse because Colin had just been sharing a vulnerability of his own, though Bene isn't sure why he feels guilty about that.

"Maybe," he concedes, settling back against the bars, partly using one to support himself.

"They said I'd be made Tranquil as well," Colin says softly. He reaches out to take one of Benedict's hands wrapped around a bar. "And frankly, even now, you're not who you were when you returned. You're definitely not who you were when you left."

Benedict's hand shifts to grip Colin's back, and he smiles faintly, worriedly.

"...really?"

He imagines he's become something of a worse version of himself, an unwashed wretch now defined by what he doesn't have.

"You don't complain. You don't try to wheedle things out of people. Don't ask for much of anything at all, really, and what you do ask for isn't, I don't know. Softer pillows. It's just been a couple of sentimental things, and you're not really leaning on me to get them for you. You're not blaming other people for what you did. You've turned down offers I've made that would make you more comfortable because you don't want me to get in trouble. And today, you...listened. To me. My problems, instead of just brooding about your own or something. You didn't have to do that, but you did. Most people outside of prison won't do that."

Continuing his bout of shocking behavior, Benedict doesn't interrupt, just listening and hanging onto every word. Perhaps he's not as far gone as he thought, as people seem to think he is; perhaps, with or without the cigarette box, Kit wasn't wrong about him.

He nods, silently acknowledging Colin's words. It's reassuring for what it is, even if there's no guarantee he'll ever be able to prove it.

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tw: past suicide attempt, past sexual abuse

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