[open] far from my mother's home

[altusimperius]

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.

Comments

[sulahnan]

She looks at him, prompting him to go on with nothing more than an arch of her brow.

[altusimperius]

He hunches his shoulders, bracing for impact even before the question is asked. But it's a point of genuine curiosity, something he never really thought about until coming to Riftwatch, meeting elves, getting to know them as people for the first time.

"...do you think it... it would be awful, being a slave?"

They have shelter at least, vocations, purpose. Better than what he's heard of alienages.

[sulahnan]

There are many ways she could respond. Anger, obviously. Anger is easy. Patient explanation would take too much from her that she isn't willing to give, not so soon after opening up about one traumatic incident already. To explain in philosophic detail the ever present cons of being someone else's property would involve explaining the different typed of slavery exist for not only elves, but elves who identify as women, too.

So she settles so where between anger and patience and flattens her gaze. "Yeah. I don't want to be seen as less than anyone else."

[altusimperius]

That, in itself, is a solid enough answer to shut it down. Because he genuinely hadn't thought of it: of course he hadn't, the Altus are naturally above everyone else, that's just how it is.
Except now, when he's suddenly below most people. Not a slave, of course, but hardly ranking anywhere near the average person.

He nods, and seems content to leave it at that. If nothing else, there's no reason to go pissing off Athessa when she's one of the only people who's been to visit him more than once, and done so in a capacity other than interrogation.

He's silent for a pause, then says quietly, "you... pour water into the vase part. The cooler the better. Then you make sure the hoses are connected right, and... you put in the leaves, cover them over with something ventilated, then light a few coals and rest them on top."
He scratches his unshaven cheek with an unhappy little twitch of his mouth. "It might take a few tries to get it right."

[sulahnan]

It's not the answer she's expecting, which means it takes her a second to recognize the instructions for what they are. And by then, she's already thinking that this sounds like a lot more work than rolling a joint and smoking it. She's already developed muscle memory for that.

"Hmm," she hums. "Sounds kinda complicated. Maybe I'll just wait until they let you out and you can show me."

An olive branch, if one was needed. And spoken with the confidence that he won't just rot in this dungeon forever. Hopefully her stubborn optimism is at least a tiny bit comforting, rather than simply naive.

[altusimperius]

It merits a little smile, at least, however timid. Benedict rests his head against one of the bars in a gesture that would formerly have signaled a sort of casual smugness, and now is simply... sad.

"I will," he says, so quietly it barely makes a sound. He isn't certain he believes he'll ever be out of here, but it's nice that someone does.