altusimperius (
altusimperius) wrote in
faderift2019-10-01 02:03 pm
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
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.

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"Oop!" he says as he pulls back, seeing her. He stops and squints. "Were you visiting...?"
Because really, who is there here who would possibly be visited by anyone from their organization?
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"Athessa," she doesn't take his hand, but rather gives some bastard child of a wave and a salute. "I kinda feel like we've met already but I don't remember and there are probably worse things than getting a second chance at a first impression, right?"
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"Wh...Adessa?" Obiously it's not important, but it's the thing she says that really catches him off-guard.
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He reaches into the basket and takes out a small pie, offering it to her.
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She doesn't chow down right away, though with how good they smell it's hard not to.
The thing is, she's thinking about the aroma of baked goods wafting down to that cold, lonely cell, and how bereft the dungeon will be once the air is no longer bearing that warmth. About how easy it would be to focus only on the moments between visits, uncertainty in repose. She's feeling it more than thinking it, and wants to say something about it, but hasn't the words. So she says that.
"Y'ever get a feeling that you're sure there's a word for, but you just can't place it?"
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He'll want to keep it short so the pies are still somewhat warm when they get to Benedict, but there's time to listen.
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"Eh, it's not important," she says, shaking her head and putting a smile on her face. "Maybe I'll figure it out later."
She likely won't, but oh well. Athessa raises the pie in her hands in a little cheers motion and ducks around Colin to leave.
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The next day, Colin is in the apothecary compounding leaves in a mortar when the bell on the door announces someone has arrived. He glances up in faint surprise.
"A...thessa?" It's going to be a bit of work, getting used to that name.
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"Colin! Got it in one." She's not the best with names, so her comment is both in regards to him getting her name right, and her remembering his.
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says aloud "oh no he's cute"
awww, he's adorable
"How much of each, and should any of it be powdered or compounded?"
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"No powders or compounds, but bear with me here, I need about--" She puts her hands together as if she's holding a ball, the negative space between them just enough for her fingertips to not touch. "This much of the arbor blessing..."
She estimates the rest of the ingredients out with similar metrics; a few sprigs of this, about this much of that, this many of the flowers--actually a few more, they're small.
"And I guess just a couple, maybe three of the elfroot. You don't have any witherstalk, do ya?"
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"Of course I have witherstalk," he says, half-distracted. Everyone here is having sex, so there's quite the abundance of it so that no one who can get pregnant will get pregnant.
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"How well do you know Benedict?"
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Dull hurt appears in Colin's eyes, his hands slowing for a second before he picks up the pace again.
"Why?"
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"Just trying to figure him out. We didn't get off to the best start," That unfortunate first meeting during the truth bomb, where she threw a book at his head for his ignorance. "And it didn't improve after that, but here I am feeling sorry for him and all. He just seems... sad."
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He starts popping the measured herbs into a drawstring bag.
"He is sad," he sighs. "He's just now becoming aware of what he is, and he hates it. And hates that he isn't good at it. He's...he was self-centered, very much. He was never cruel, but his actions still hurt people. Now he's trying to figure out how to live with what he's done, and become someone he actually likes. He does have good qualities, and I've seen them."
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