faderift | MOD EVENT ↠ IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE

Fortunately, the First Enchanter is in his office and his door is open. Unfortunately, Colin immediately loses his nerve right outside the man's door, backing away and pacing a short way down the hall.

"I can't," he whispers. "Can't, can't, can't. Can't risk it. He'll kill me. If I tell anyone what he does to me, he'll kill me. But he might already be about to kill me because you found out. What do I do?"

With the question, he stops pacing and looks searchingly into Benedict's face. It's an unfair burden to place on the shoulders of a boy he doesn't really even know, who doesn't even understand what he just saw, but Colin has been screaming beneath the burden for months now. With this new crisis, he is buckling under it.

"Wait," Bene replies, eyes still wide as he steps after Colin. "But we're already here. And my-- my parents will do something." It occurs to him that they'd have to be angry, knowing a Templar is just running around grabbing apprentices, especially in the room where their own son resides.
Without waiting for Colin, he pushes right into Irving's office.

"No!" Colin reaches for Bene's sleeve, but he's already inside.

Irving looks up from his paperwork, bushy eyebrows lifting. "May I help you boys?"

Colin freezes, ducking his head and hunching his shoulders. He already got in trouble today. He can't afford to get in further trouble for defaming a Templar. Or worse, corrupting one.

Benedict is not the type of boy to call negative attention to himself; being a tattletale would require caring a lot more than he does about what his peers are doing, and he's not especially mischievous or easily pressured into bad behavior. So when he goes into Irving's office, he has no reason to think he won't be believed.
"Ser Lutair was in our room just now," he announces, still a little frightened by the urgency, "he was doing something to Colin, and Colin's really upset."

Irving frowns. It's hard to tell right away if it's thought or displeasure or both. Well, definitely displeasure, but thought? It takes a moment, and Benedict's record is surely to credit for what he says next.

"Close the door, please, Benedict," he commands, his tone as pleasant as possible in the circumstances. "Colin, please come over here and tell me what happened."

Colin looks as blank as glass, a look only utter terror can create. He is tempted to back away, flee into the hallway, or cry for Lutair to do whatever he can to return things to normal. Surely if it seemed to Irving that Benedict was crying wolf, Lutair would be pleased rather than murderous. Colin could make that happen, theoretically, and a pleased Lutair might be bearable for a time. Not that he wouldn't still rape, but rape is infinitely more painful when Lutair is in a foul mood.

"Colin," Irving repeats, leaning forward to place his elbows on the desk. "You are not in trouble. You will not be punished for coming forward."

Yes, I will, Colin thinks. Just not by you. In his mind, Lutair has greater power than even the First Enchanter. Putting this particular cat back into the bag is probably impossible, but at least Lutair may find out that Colin said nothing. Though he will certainly punish him for being discovered, he might not also punish him for telling.

Irving looks at Benedict. "Has he said anything since you saw this?"

Oblivious to all this, Benedict does as he's told, closing the door and standing by with a look of increasing worry. Being as young as he is, and relatively uninteresting to bullies and predators due to his parents' status, this is a world with which he's relatively unfamiliar.

"It was just a few minutes ago," he answers uncertainly. Nobody has really had time to say anything.

Irving nods, turning back to Colin.

"Colin, I can help you, but only if you tell me what happened." He gestures to Benedict. "Leave us, please."

"No!" Colin blurts out, grabbing for Benedict's sleeve. He has one witness who will talk and doesn't trust that he will be believed on his own. Moreover, Lutair will probably be out for Benedict's blood now as well. Irving raises an eyebrow and gives a broad gesture toward two chairs on the other side of his desk.

"Sit," he directs them. Colin winces as he obeys. Irving's fingers knit together. "Tell me what Benedict saw, Colin."

Colin makes no eye contact. He knows he has to answer, for his sake and Benedict's, but that doesn't lessen the humiliation.

"Lutair...had his hand over my mouth. And his other hand was on my hip." He can feel it still like a brand, hotter than the rattan's welts.

Irving nods. "Has he done that before?" he asks gently.

"Not in the apprentice quarters. But I'd been sent there while everyone else was in class." Colin feels lightheaded. He's breathing too fast. "Usually he does worse. Or makes me do worse."

"Such as?"

"Usually I have to suck him. And...he says he'll kill me if I tell anyone. Or frame me for blood magic."

Irving's face barely twitches. It is the only indication of an emotional reaction. "How long has this been going on?"

"I don't know. Almost every day since spring sometime."

Irving takes a bell from his desk and rings it. The door opens; a Templar pokes his head through. "Send for the Knight-Commander straight away, please," he says pleasantly. "Tell him it's urgent."

The Templar nods and the door closes. Colin's breath quickens further. He can feel his fingers tingle.

"He's going to kill me," he says faintly. "He might kill Benedict."

"He can try," Irving says gently. "But he won't."

Ugh.

Benedict can't mask the disgust that crosses his face at the prospect of anyone being forced to do that, least of all with someone... like that. He hunches his shoulders uncomfortably, silent and increasingly frightened, glancing between Irving and Colin and now wondering if he's even going to make it through the day.

Irving pours the boys a glass of water each. It isn't long before the door opens again. This time, two Templars stand guard outside, and Greagoire comes in. The Knight-Commander stops suddenly, eyes going to the two boys seated here. After a moment, he gives a nod. The door closes behind him. He approaches the desk as if the boys aren't there.

"I somehow expected it would be about these two. What have they told you?"

Colin's eyes go wide as saucers. So Lutair has already gone to Greagoire, who will believe a Templar with a spotless record over a troublemaking apprentice. It's already over. He can't breathe.

"Greagoire," Irving says, rising to his feet, "I am afraid I must request your help regarding Ser Lutair."

"You have it," says Greagoire. "But I need to hear what you know."

It's an exhausting day, by the end of it. Greagoire insists on speaking with both boys, individually, asking many questions, no more of which are invasive than necessary. Some time into it, it occurs to Colin that both of these old men believe him. Apparently he wasn't their first indicator that something was wrong. They have had suspicion for some time, but no proof. No one came forward for the exact reasons Colin did not. Nearly an hour into their interview, a Templar peeps in.

"Ser," she says, "Ser Lutair has gone missing. He's believed to have fled."

Greagoire growls low in his throat. "Search for him. No one is to sleep before he is located."

The Templar bows out. Greagoire turns to Irving, expression black.

"I have to go. I'll find the most defensible spare room upstairs and station Templars I know can be trusted outside. The boys will have to go there, and--" he looks sharply at the apprentices "--stay there until it is safe. No sneaking about, no adventures, no egging each other on or any of the other idiocies boys your age do."

"I will notify the Tranquil to bring your meals there, for the time being," Irving says more kindly.

After all this, Benedict is about to die of boredom, and by the time it's announced what they're to do next, he's slumped down in his chair with his head lolled to one side as though he's about to fall asleep out of spite. But they'll be changing rooms, the new one will be defensible, guarded--

a surge of panic alerts him, shuddering through the room as the light and even the color of it seem to flicker. He's on the verge of some kind of awareness, a horrible truth that his body is fighting to avoid a little longer, just stay asleep--

and it's morning, he's back in his room with Colin and sunlight is spilling through one of the small windows. His chest is still a tangle of anxiety, but he's warm, he's safe, he's... about the same age he's used to being, not that that thought makes sense-- perhaps a little younger, but who's counting.
He pauses in fastening his cloak, looking to his roommate with a confused little smile. He's nervous about something, but doesn't feel like it matches what he was nervous about a moment ago.

It's morning, and Colin should have been asleep longer, with how exhausted he was left by the events of the day before. How strange, but he feels energized. Or perhaps that isn't the word for it. Twitchy, anxious, hypervigilant. There has been no word of Lutair.

He glances up to meet Benedict's gaze when his movement suddenly ceases. The other boy has been unwittingly dragged into a mire and Colin feels guilty about it, but at the same time, he rather wants to cling to him, to begin to replace his lost friends with the only other apprentice he can talk to about this. He doubts it will work. Already Benedict is ready to leave, to get back to his old life, which Colin wasn't a part of. The only person who wants to be in Colin's life is being hunted right now.

"Yes?"

"My Harrowing," Benedict replies, with an air of realization. That's what it is, that's what's about to happen. He's a ball of nervous energy, has been waiting for this for some time now.
He finishes in doing up his cloak, then turns to look in a mirror, tucking a few strands of his sleek black hair behind his ear. He'll look good for it, at least.

Colin pales. There's something visceral, something pressing at the edges of memory overwritten but not lost. The apprentice remembers friends vanishing and not returning at least as often as he remembers them becoming full mages. Colin remembers something else, and it's almost come to him. He stands from bed and approaches, placing his hands on Benedict's shoulders.

"Just kill it," he says, not quite knowing what he means.

Benedict's smile wavers, and he nods. That should be easy enough. He's been training for this, hasn't he? Hasn't that been the entire point of his time here?

He raises one hand to grip Colin's just as a knock comes at the door. Turning, he sends one last glance toward Colin before going to answer it. Templars, ready to escort him to the Harrowing chamber.

Colin is not permitted to leave at this time, so he returns to his bed, huddled against the wall. After a few minutes of deep breathing, he finds a book to read. Unfortunately, the only books available are very dry--preferable nonetheless to the anxiety and the stiflingly slow passage of time.

For both of them, the wait is short.

When the Templars take an odd turn before the Harrowing chamber, Benedict is tempted to ask why; but he notices how they seem to close in on either side of him, blocking the hallway behind, their faces set in blank, forward-marching purpose. It isn't until he sees Irving step out of a doorway at the end of the hall that he realizes this is the destination: he isn't going to be Harrowed. They can't take the chance.

A loud protest of mingled incredulity and horror rings through the halls, building quickly to screams of helpless, pleading panic as he is easily physically subdued. A door slams, and quiet follows.

The next thing he knows, Colin is descending the stairs. He doesn't necessarily remember getting there, but he knows it's later the same day and Lutair has been captured. He hasn't been taken back to Kinloch Hold, instead being transported straight to Aeonar, so Colin is at last free to move about. The first thing he would like to do is find his new friend.

It's not what he expected. He was looking for a brown face in an apprentice's robe, but when he bumps into Benedict at last, something seems off. The lad is stooped behind a crate of some kind, around where a number of Tranquil are working. Colin trots up to him and reaches for his shoulder and his heart and stomach turn to ice when he sees Benedict is wearing Tranquil robes.

He steps back, a look of horror on his face.

Benedict, or a person who looks like Benedict, straightens and turns to see who wants his attention. His face is devoid of expression, a blank slate where a haughty smirk used to sit, save for the branded sigil on his forehead.
He stares flatly at Colin, waiting for him to state his purpose, his face and wrists still bruised from being held in place. If anything, he looks a little tired.

So Lutair is gone. Colin's dreams of having someone to share his burden and be a witness to his suffering was a flash in the pan, and now, the closest thing he had to a friend stares him dead in the eye, deadened in the eyes that had been bright and full of expression. He'd been an artist, though Colin isn't sure how he remembers it. Young and perhaps a bit slow of wit but never a danger to anyone, and had his soul robbed from him regardless of who needed him. Regardless, in the case of his parents, of who loved him. And now Colin is more alone than ever before, one ripped away from him in the instant of proximity.

And it might have been because of him. The Chantry is short one Templar, and there are only two witnesses. One of which now has no desire but to be of help...to the Chantry. And any moment, Colin might be made to follow.

Mouth opens wide, but scream does not follow. Instead, Colin rolls to his side in bed, gasping awake in cold sweat.

MOD EVENT ↠ IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE

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