faderift | MOD EVENT ↠ IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE

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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