A grin practically splits her face in two with how wide it is. Delighted and triumphant and maybe proud but mostly just wickedly surprised that she actually got him to admit to something real and in so many words.
"You just--" No, there's too much here to unpack. "Okay. Okay-okay-okay, you just said, just. Said. That you don't think about people like you should. That was the right answer, but...so keeping that in mind...you...your idea of love is being nice to someone because you want something? You never thought about like, someone being nice for the sake of being nice, or loving someone without any expectation?"
Bene narrows his eyes back at her, like he doesn't quite understand her point.
"Well everyone has expectations," he says, a bit hesitantly, "...otherwise it's, I mean, why bother?" At the very least, he seems to be approaching this assertion with some caution, venturing into it with the creeping realization that it might not be universal.
"No one's... no one's nice for the sake of being nice? If there's nothing they want, there's something tying their hands."
"For the sake of...of trying to understand this...what would you imagine to be...like...what did I want from you when I gave you your Satinalia presents? What was tying my hands, in this...bizarre, hypothetical scenario."
Someone, somewhere, be proud of her for not calling him a fucking moron in this moment. Bards should sing of her patience and posthumously make her a Saint or something.
He doesn't want to have a ready answer, and yet he does. "Maybe so you'd look generous to everyone else." He rests his chin on his knees, at least not on any kind of offensive. "I mean-- I like them. The presents. I'm glad you brought them." Just in case she thought he wasn't grateful.
"--or, or maybe you wanted to feel better about yourself. Because there's nothing I can give you right now." The thought seems to trouble him.
She takes a sharp breath as if in preparation to yell at him, or call him stupid, or something, but she clamps down hard on everything she could think to say and takes a moment, pressing her fist to her mouth.
"You are making this so difficult," she grinds out through clenched teeth and thuds her head against the bars lightly. Deep breath. Calm. He's...just consider him a child! That's...better? "First of all, no. Absolutely neither of those things are true. Especially because everyone else amounts to Flint and Colin. I don't care if either of them see me as generous. And for your information, I feel fine about myself."
One of those questions is an easy answer. The other...she shrugs.
"When I gave you the stuff for Satinalia, I got to see you look less miserable than you'd looked in months. I still don't really know what I get from visiting you, honestly, but...I dunno, I guess at first I wanted to see why you were in here and stuff, and then it seemed like a good way to figure out why you're so thoughtless to other people. And give you a second chance not to be?"
It doesn't really sound like a solid reason, even to her, but it's what she's got. "That, and Colin is stupidly nice, like...incomprehensibly nice, and I know he's not gonna look out for himself enough to not get his feelings hurt, so...I dunno maybe I'm bad-cop and he's good-cop only we're not cops because fuck the cops."
"Thoughtless," Benedict repeats, in a small voice that bears no hostility, and he snuggles the blanket more tightly around himself. Then, gazing at the far wall, he sits with his thoughts for a moment.
"...he's afraid of people hurting him," he muses, "he thinks if he does everything right, goes out of his way to make people happy, maybe they won't." Turning to look at Athessa, Benedict furrows his brow.
"...but it's so easy to hurt him because he's so afraid. That's what he wants. To be spared." He shakes his head, mystified. "But I don't know why he wants it from me."
There were things Benedict saw in the Circle dream that drive home his conclusion, and he's already ruminating on them when Athessa disrupts him with her question.
She doesn't care, in the best possible way to not care. It's a non-issue, and she treats it as laissez-faire as such non-issues should be. A simple nod.
"That makes sense. Did you know how he felt then?"
Benedict tries to think back to that day, and has some difficulty-- there was a lot going on, and he does remember talking about something with Colin, but he can't specifically recall what it was. So he shrugs helplessly, mouth pulled to one side.
"Well, if that's true then he's not mixing up sex with feelings, I guess."
That's something. Not much, but...well. Athessa isn't really the best person to be giving advice on feelings and keeping them separate from sex. After a moment's thought, she shrugs again.
"Guess you'll have to find out from Colin why he likes you so much."
A melancholy sigh, and Benedict's gaze shifts toward his homemade window screen. "Guess so."
He purses his lips, silent for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Then, "I think my n-- Micaela loved me. ...loves." He doesn't sound certain. "She raised me, and was always kind. But that week-- when all the ghosts were everywhere, showing people their pasts. I saw her then, with me. She was barely more than a child."
He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, self-conscious. "And my mother struck her, and made her cry. I wonder how often that happened, and... I wonder if she'd have been there with me, at all, if she'd had the choice."
He doesn't look at Athessa, perhaps afraid of what he'll see if he does.
That week--had it been so brief? The dreams had felt so real, and like they spanned ages.
"Probably not. But I doubt she blamed you for her treatment," She looks away, not to spare herself the sight of Benedict, but because she realizes that in his position, he doesn't get a choice to be vulnerable. He just is. And in the same position, scrutiny would be the last thing Athessa would want.
So she mildly scans the hall outside his cell, not looking for anything but mostly not staring so intently that she might reflect the sun and melt the flesh from his bones.
"It takes love to care for a child, I think. Like to actually care for them, raise them. I can't see someone indifferent or hateful doing it without being obvious in some way. So maybe if she had the choice to leave, she would have, but maybe she'd have taken you with her, who knows.
"I'm pretty sure the point of those nightmares was to tell us not to get caught up in what if, even if who- or whatever had a really fucked up way to do it."
He seems to let her words settle on him for a time, thinking through them rather than responding right away, taking the moment seriously.
"...she was the reason I went to Tevinter with Kitty. I found out she'd been sold, and I wanted to..." He twists his mouth. "...to buy her back. Maybe let her decide how she wanted to spend the rest of her life. I don't know." Can he really say his intentions were that earnest, at the time? Perhaps not, but, again with the 'what if's.
"She's free now. Kitty got her out. I don't know where, but there's that." He shrugs one shoulder, but is unable to conceal how his expression has tightened with unexpected emotion. "I'll probably never see her again. But I love her, I think... I think the way you mean. It just. Feels sort of wrong to, because she couldn't choose."
This has never affected him so deeply before, but it's difficult not to think about it in the greater context of their discussion. He furtively wipes one of his eyes, angling his head away. "--I see her in Colin, a bit. Scared to be anything but a certain way, scared of what'll happen if he doesn't. I don't. ...I don't know how to deal with that."
It's complicated. Very complicated. But...Athessa doesn't think that she blames Benedict for his nanny's position. She may not have had a choice but neither did he. His mother was the one calling the shots, the awful one. And really, isn't the woman who raised him his real mother, regardless of who birthed him?
Athessa sighs and toes the ground. "I dunno either, but I think it's good that you're thinking about it. And for what it's worth, I don't think anyone really has a choice when it comes to loving someone. Especially family. And it hurts to think you might not ever see someone you love again."
Benedict nods silently. He hadn't expected the conversation to take this turn, but here it is, and here he is feeling more than a little thrown off by it. "Well," he murmurs after a time, "if you see him, just. Tell him I'm sorry." It's not like he can go chasing after anyone. "..please."
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"And there it is."
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"What? What is it?" he asks, "--nothing makes any sense, I don't know what he even wants from me."
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"You just--" No, there's too much here to unpack. "Okay. Okay-okay-okay, you just said, just. Said. That you don't think about people like you should. That was the right answer, but...so keeping that in mind...you...your idea of love is being nice to someone because you want something? You never thought about like, someone being nice for the sake of being nice, or loving someone without any expectation?"
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"Well everyone has expectations," he says, a bit hesitantly, "...otherwise it's, I mean, why bother?" At the very least, he seems to be approaching this assertion with some caution, venturing into it with the creeping realization that it might not be universal.
"No one's... no one's nice for the sake of being nice? If there's nothing they want, there's something tying their hands."
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Someone, somewhere, be proud of her for not calling him a fucking moron in this moment. Bards should sing of her patience and posthumously make her a Saint or something.
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"Maybe so you'd look generous to everyone else." He rests his chin on his knees, at least not on any kind of offensive. "I mean-- I like them. The presents. I'm glad you brought them." Just in case she thought he wasn't grateful.
"--or, or maybe you wanted to feel better about yourself. Because there's nothing I can give you right now." The thought seems to trouble him.
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"You are making this so difficult," she grinds out through clenched teeth and thuds her head against the bars lightly. Deep breath. Calm. He's...just consider him a child! That's...better? "First of all, no. Absolutely neither of those things are true. Especially because everyone else amounts to Flint and Colin. I don't care if either of them see me as generous. And for your information, I feel fine about myself."
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What has he been doing, then? He always wants attention, but always, on some level, knows it's conditional.
"...what do you get out of it?" he says after a moment, "visiting me, giving me things?"
we'll just pretend cops are a thing
"When I gave you the stuff for Satinalia, I got to see you look less miserable than you'd looked in months. I still don't really know what I get from visiting you, honestly, but...I dunno, I guess at first I wanted to see why you were in here and stuff, and then it seemed like a good way to figure out why you're so thoughtless to other people. And give you a second chance not to be?"
It doesn't really sound like a solid reason, even to her, but it's what she's got. "That, and Colin is stupidly nice, like...incomprehensibly nice, and I know he's not gonna look out for himself enough to not get his feelings hurt, so...I dunno maybe I'm bad-cop and he's good-cop only we're not cops because fuck the cops."
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"...he's afraid of people hurting him," he muses, "he thinks if he does everything right, goes out of his way to make people happy, maybe they won't." Turning to look at Athessa, Benedict furrows his brow.
"...but it's so easy to hurt him because he's so afraid. That's what he wants. To be spared." He shakes his head, mystified. "But I don't know why he wants it from me."
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Somehow she thought she'd have more insight after sharing dreams with the both of them, but--her face lights with a dawning realization.
"You guys fucked, didn't you?"
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A bit self-consciously, he nods.
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"That makes sense. Did you know how he felt then?"
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So he shrugs helplessly, mouth pulled to one side.
"...horny?"
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"No, you fuck-ass," there's only so long she can go without insulting him. "Did you know he had feelings for you."
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"..no," he admits, "I suppose he was... there was something going on with him, but I really don't think it was that."
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That's something. Not much, but...well. Athessa isn't really the best person to be giving advice on feelings and keeping them separate from sex. After a moment's thought, she shrugs again.
"Guess you'll have to find out from Colin why he likes you so much."
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He purses his lips, silent for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Then, "I think my n-- Micaela loved me. ...loves." He doesn't sound certain.
"She raised me, and was always kind. But that week-- when all the ghosts were everywhere, showing people their pasts. I saw her then, with me. She was barely more than a child."
He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, self-conscious. "And my mother struck her, and made her cry. I wonder how often that happened, and... I wonder if she'd have been there with me, at all, if she'd had the choice."
He doesn't look at Athessa, perhaps afraid of what he'll see if he does.
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"Probably not. But I doubt she blamed you for her treatment," She looks away, not to spare herself the sight of Benedict, but because she realizes that in his position, he doesn't get a choice to be vulnerable. He just is. And in the same position, scrutiny would be the last thing Athessa would want.
So she mildly scans the hall outside his cell, not looking for anything but mostly not staring so intently that she might reflect the sun and melt the flesh from his bones.
"It takes love to care for a child, I think. Like to actually care for them, raise them. I can't see someone indifferent or hateful doing it without being obvious in some way. So maybe if she had the choice to leave, she would have, but maybe she'd have taken you with her, who knows.
"I'm pretty sure the point of those nightmares was to tell us not to get caught up in what if, even if who- or whatever had a really fucked up way to do it."
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He seems to let her words settle on him for a time, thinking through them rather than responding right away, taking the moment seriously.
"...she was the reason I went to Tevinter with Kitty. I found out she'd been sold, and I wanted to..." He twists his mouth. "...to buy her back. Maybe let her decide how she wanted to spend the rest of her life. I don't know." Can he really say his intentions were that earnest, at the time? Perhaps not, but, again with the 'what if's.
"She's free now. Kitty got her out. I don't know where, but there's that." He shrugs one shoulder, but is unable to conceal how his expression has tightened with unexpected emotion.
"I'll probably never see her again. But I love her, I think... I think the way you mean. It just. Feels sort of wrong to, because she couldn't choose."
This has never affected him so deeply before, but it's difficult not to think about it in the greater context of their discussion. He furtively wipes one of his eyes, angling his head away.
"--I see her in Colin, a bit. Scared to be anything but a certain way, scared of what'll happen if he doesn't. I don't. ...I don't know how to deal with that."
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Athessa sighs and toes the ground. "I dunno either, but I think it's good that you're thinking about it. And for what it's worth, I don't think anyone really has a choice when it comes to loving someone. Especially family. And it hurts to think you might not ever see someone you love again."
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"Well," he murmurs after a time, "if you see him, just. Tell him I'm sorry." It's not like he can go chasing after anyone. "..please."
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