[open] I'm learning to live

[altusimperius]

WHO: Benedict and you
WHAT: November catch-all
WHEN: Firstfall
WHERE: the dungeon
NOTES: will update as needed

It's getting cold.

Which is to say, it's gotten cold. The dungeon doesn't allow for a lot of natural light, the sun appearing through the window only for a little while in the morning, leaving the rest of the day shrouded in gloom. Now that the winter draws ever closer, Benedict finds himself in shadow most of the time, and has determined that he would gladly sacrifice the light entirely if it meant the wind no longer blew straight into the cell.
He has taken to sleeping under the cell's bench at night, if only to block the wind.

It doesn't help that he's lost some weight off his already skinny frame, though it's difficult to see when he's so frequently wrapped up in the thin blanket he's allowed. It's not uncommon for a visitor to peer into the cell and just see what appears to be a lump of fabric, only for a dirty foot or greasy head to emerge from within it as he either looks to see who's arrived or fails to contain his lanky form in his sleep. His face has accumulated a layer of scruff that will never quite become a beard (not that he ever wanted one), but serves only to itch constantly.

All things considered, it hasn't taken too long for Benedict to reach a miserable state. But he has books now, and he has watercolors, and something in him seems much more alive than it had previously-- he no longer lies staring at the ceiling, finding respite from gnawing boredom only within his own mind.
When not reading or painting, he can often be found working on a straw mat that, at some point, he began to weave out of the contents of the cell's floor. It has slowly come to take the shape of the window.

Still he asks for nothing, speaks only when spoken to, and seems to have settled into a sort of peaceful hopelessness. If this is his life now, at least he's alive.

Comments

[altusimperius]

"It's nothing," Benedict insists, looking at Colin's hand and then gently taking it, swallowing hard. Then,

"What are... what are people doing," he asks in a low, apologetic voice, "...these days?"

[keenly]

Ah. Colin can only imagine the kind of toll this isolation is taking on him. He squeezes Bene’s hand. “Well, a few months ago, Byerly married Sidony in a tavern so her parents couldn’t force her to marry their choice of groom. Right after, she was kidnapped and he got stabbed. It was pretty exciting.”

[altusimperius]

Benedict's nose wrinkles in a familiar sneer when Byerly is mentioned, but even he seems impressed by the story, especially since it involves the man being stabbed.
"I assume he didn't die," he says, vaguely disappointed, but behaving himself.

[keenly]

“No deaths,” Colin confirms, “and they got Sidony back. Hm, what else? Nevarra started a war with itself and then the enemy raised the entirety of the Necropolis, so now it’s been taken over by corpses.”

[altusimperius]

"Oh." His eyes go wide at that. "That's."

A pause as he considers what it is.

"...challenging."

[keenly]

"Little bit. There's...a lot. And I'm not the best authority on what people are doing, really, but there's a lot happening. You might ask Athessa instead."

[altusimperius]

"Maybe I will." Benedict bites the inside of his cheek, looking a little self-conscious; he likes Athessa, but has a hard time getting a read on how she feels about him.
"...but she'll just call me a walnut again."