[open]

[doneisdone]

WHO: Teren, Barrow, and Benedict, and YOU
WHAT: catch-all
WHEN: Haring
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: shirtless dilf enclosed

Teren

She crashed a dragon into a tower. And though she lived, Teren was flung from the beast and came to land somewhere in the rubble below, where an aptly remembered healing potion was enough to keep her from expiring on the spot, but moving her body in any meaningful way has been a struggle since then.
Incredibly fortunate to have had no significant internal damage (at least that the potion didn't handle), and with any broken bones splinted and healing, Teren is simply far too sore to move from her bed. After all her big talk about the Wardens not getting into any situations that couldn't be solved without Anders or Inessa...
...here she is.
A captive audience, if perhaps not a happy one.

Barrow

The air is brisk, the day is fine, and Barrow is swinging a hammer around in the sparring range. He's been learning to use it since first arriving in Kirkwall, rather liking the idea more than the usual boring old sword and shield, but having never had the opportunity to play with one until now.
He cuts quite a figure in doing so, and should be approached with caution unless alerted first. He's also only wearing a shirt about half the time, since even in the Haring chill, physical exertion takes its toll.

Benedict

I. (open) There's a certain anxious industriousness to Benedict these days, and if the growing pile of writing-filled parchment he keeps carefully resting on the bench is any indication, he's got a project.
He's also made some pretty decent headway with in weaving a screen for the window with straw from the cell floor, which both prevents the cold wind from coming in and bathes the little room in a pleasant sepia light. It's clearly the work of an amateur, but one can almost mark how much his skill has improved from the start to where his progress currently lies.

He can often be found working on either project, or perhaps painting or reading, swathed in both of his blankets for warmth and powered by nervous energy.

II. (one thread please, first come first serve) On the night of the strange dreams that grip the denizens of Riftwatch, there comes a cry of abject panic from Benedict's cell, followed by the sounds of someone in terrible emotional distress.

Comments

[altusimperius]

It's one thing if he dreamed about Colin. It's another, massively humiliating one if Colin was actually there to see him in that state. Rolling his eyes with a groan of disbelief, Bene disappears behind the curtain again.

"I'll never look like that," he grumbles to himself, scrubbing petulantly, "I'd rather die."

[keenly]

"I believe you." And maybe it's Colin's odd crush, but fingertips gravitate toward the curtain. They light on it as soft as a butterfly. "And there's no need to worry it will ever come to that."

A bit of a beat, and he smiles to think Benedict is worried about what he looks like to Colin.

"I, on the other hand," he jests gently, "Will inevitably look like I did."

[altusimperius]

It takes Benedict a moment to come down from the apex of his snit, but Colin being self-effacing helps a little. Crouching, he dunks his head into the bucket to give his hair a good rinse.

"You know," he muses, and settles back on his heels to wring the water back into the bucket, "...I really don't think..." He pauses, letting the statement sit for a moment.
"...I don't think I would know what to do. If I stayed in Tevinter. If Mother was gone." It's an odd realization.

[keenly]

"And there's nothing wrong with that. The world of nobles is built to punish absolutely everyone who isn't already an expert, including other nobles."

[altusimperius]

"Maybe."

Benedict chews his lip, pausing, but can't remain still for too long: it's too cold, and worse when he's wet and naked. With a shudder, he begins to dry himself off, then quickly re-dresses and uses the towel to sop up the water that pooled around him while he was washing.
He's still shivering when he appears again fully dressed from behind the blanket, pushing the bucket forward to be taken back. This is always the worst part, but he's learned that it's worth it for the sake of not wallowing in his own filth.

"I guess it's not my concern anymore," he says with a grim smile that doesn't meet his eyes. Any chance of being a Magister is long gone from him now, especially so if he wishes to show any allegiance whatsoever to Riftwatch.

[keenly]

"Thank the Maker for that." Colin isn't sure he believes in the Maker at all, but the sentiment applies if the Maker exists. It might exist regardless. He takes up the bucket and sets it aside. He doesn't care about the filth because Benedict isn't that filth, else the filth couldn't be discarded without him. Everyone comes with filth. It's just part of being human. He takes down the curtain with a tight smile. Once it's folded, he meets Bene's eyes.

"You were so unhappy in that dream," he says softly. "It doesn't matter if you'd have been good or bad at it. You hated it. This is better."

[altusimperius]

Hugging himself in an effort to stay warmer, Benedict nods faintly. He looks vulnerable, standing there with his knees shaking and his hair wet, his clothes clinging to a still-damp form as far removed from the bloated, lazy version of himself they both witnessed; if anything, he's too skinny, the months spent underground and underfed taking their toll.

"Is it?" he asks with a weak laugh, but seems to concede the point pretty quickly, shuddering over to the bench to pick up one of his blankets and wrap it around himself.
"The Circle," he suddenly realizes, turning back to Colin with a haunted look. "We were in the Circle."

[keenly]

The worst of their dreams. Colin's gaze dulls. He glances away.

"We were. I think I got you made Tranquil."

[altusimperius]

"No," Benedict replies, tugging the blanket tighter. "No, I-- I would've been anyway." The thought brings him right back to when he woke up that night, the panic he experienced, alone in a dark cell and not fully convinced it wasn't real. He'd vomited out into the hallway-- he glances at the spot, but it's been cleaned since then.

It takes him a moment to find moisture in his mouth again, to come back out of his head, to remember that it was just a dream and he's never been in a Circle. But that's not something both of them can say.
"You, though," he says quietly, taking a few shuffling steps forward, "...that was real." It's almost a question.

[keenly]

Colin takes a moment to unpin the curtain. Benedict speaks of reality in a way that isn't related to literal fact. This thing didn't actually happen to him, but it could have. He carefully folds the curtain.

"Nobody ever found out," he says by way of answering. "But if they had, it probably would have gone as it did."

[altusimperius]

Another shudder flickers through Benedict's shoulders, but this one is of revulsion rather than cold. "So he just. Kept doing it." His nose wrinkles in distaste, an uncharacteristically raw anger passing over his face.
"That's why you were so upset about Leander."

[keenly]

Colin nods. After a second, his face crumples and he looks away. Tears run down his cheeks.

"I thought if anyone knew, I'd be the one who suffered for it. And Leander could have done anything to you, and you'd have felt the same."

He wipes his cheeks with the edge of his sleeve.

"No one should be put in that position. Even if it didn't go that far with him."

[altusimperius]

Uncomfortable with the sight of Colin in distress, which only vividly brings back the memory of the dream, Benedict sighs lightly through his nose and reaches through the bars to wipe his thumbs along his friend's eyes to dry them.

"Well, it didn't," he says, haughtiness creeping back into his voice, "and if Ser Lutair is still alive, someday I'll chop his dick off." He brings his hands back to grip the blanket. "What'll they do, put me in a dungeon?"

[keenly]

He can't help it--his heart skips a beat at Benedict's gentle touch with such a tender gesture. He gives a hazy smile, then a chuckle at the last thing he says.

"He's not a Ser anymore, fortunately." He tics his chin in the direction of Benedict's writing. "What are you working on?"

[altusimperius]

Following Colin's gesture with his gaze, Benedict shrugs.

"Information for Captain Flint." There's an odd lightness to the answer; the man absolutely terrifies him, but he doesn't feel quite so helpless against him anymore. "...about Tevinter."

[keenly]

Well, damn. The man said he had a job for Benedict. Colin wasn't sure he'd see it so soon. He'd had the impression the man wasn't exactly in a rush.

"That's good," Colin says, although his brow furrows the moment the words have left his lips. "How do you feel about it?"

[altusimperius]

"Oh... you know." An uneasy smile is accompanied by his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Just... tattling on everyone I've ever known so the organization I left them for can exploit their weaknesses." He keeps his voice low, not wanting the wrong person to overhear and misconstrue it. Or just construe it, but.

"I'm a turncoat every which way." He smiles sadly. "...reversible."

[keenly]

"Just make sure this time's the last time," Colin says with a little smile. "Don't turn coat out of sheer habit. That was a joke. I don't doubt you've well and truly picked our side."

His gaze falls away for a moment. "Especially if you're burning your bridges there. Got to be a wrench, but I'm proud of you."

[altusimperius]

Bene's resulting smile is self-conscious and not entirely amused, but not completely hurt either. It wouldn't be wrong, to call it habit.
"I think... maybe they were already burned," he says, padding over to pick up the pile and glance through it-- Colin won't get a good look at it, as it doesn't seem right to show anyone before Flint.
"I was mostly confined in Minrathous too." He quirks his mouth to one side. "Not really allowed to speak to anyone, except when they sent for me. I'm actually less lonely here."

[keenly]

“So you couldn’t have escaped?”

[altusimperius]

He wrinkles his nose noncommittally.
"I mean, I tried to leave once," he sighs, "my parents had me found and brought back. They were afraid I'd betray them." He looks up to meet eyes with Colin. BUTTERFINGERS

[keenly]

A smile spreads over Colin's face and he laughs. It's good to see Benedict has a sense of humor about this.

"I, um. I have to get back to work." He hoists up the bucket and gives a little wave. "I'll see you tomorrow."

As he turns away, the grin does not fade.