[open] I want to hear your voice

[altusimperius]

WHO: Benedict and you??
WHAT: back above ground and figuring it out babey
WHEN: after the prison break mission
WHERE: the Gallows
NOTES: hmu if you want a starter

I. The Gallows Courtyard

The ship has returned, they've rowed back to the Gallows, some discussions have been had, and it all goes by in a blur. Benedict finds himself standing alone in the courtyard, free for the first time in almost eight months, skinny and hollow-eyed and utterly overwhelmed by the activity around him.
He looks lost, unsure of where to go, what to do, or how to even begin.

II. The Mess Hall

If he hadn't already eaten food without magebane in it on their mission, he might have collapsed in tears the first time he did it back in the Gallows. But as it stands, even as simple as the meal is that he's consuming, Benedict is desperately happy to be doing so.
In fact, sitting alone in the crowded hall, face turned toward the sunlight-filled window, it's possibly the happiest he's ever looked to the outside eye.

III. Wildcard


for Marcoulf

The first night in, Benedict makes his timid way to the Gallows dormitory, a sack slung over his shoulder bearing a change of basic, casual clothing of a peasant that he was lent for his first stint out of the dungeon. He sets it on one of the unoccupied beds, then sits on it himself with the deep, emotional sigh of a person suddenly experiencing unimaginable comfort paired with the knowledge that it won't be immediately taken from him.

for Henry

It's early morning when Benedict arrives in the garden, disheveled from lack of sleep and wary, but carefully optimistic that what he'll find won't be worse than what he's left. The spring morning air is brisk, and he shivers from it despite the heavy cloak he wears over his simple borrowed clothing. Looking at him now, one would never guess that he's from the Magisterium.

for Colin

Word has no doubt traveled to those concerned on the mainland that Benedict is free-ish, albeit confined to the Gallows. He's pushing a wheelbarrow of gardening equipment from one location to another, hands in rough leather gloves and hair tied back in a little ponytail, when he spots Colin.
He pauses for a moment, his gaze vacant yet pointed.

Comments

[altusimperius]

Benedict sinks into the embrace, his head falling forward onto Colin's shoulder as he grips him close. He nods silently, unmoving from this position apart from slight natural swaying.

[keenly]

The embrace tightens as Bene proves to welcome it. Just like that, the last six weeks of worry fall away. He got himself out with no help from Colin. He's going to be okay.

The hug lasts until Benedict begins to let go. Colin steps back and checks him, notes his color, his thinness, his pulse.

"When was the last time you ate?"

[altusimperius]

He's pale, of course; being out of the sun entirely for so long has taken its toll, and he's multiple shades lighter than is healthy or natural for him. But his pulse is fine, and the question yields a timid shrug.

"Breakfast," he murmurs, almost shyly. There's still something quite detached about his bearing, an unspoken worry, perhaps that everything will collapse again if he says or does the wrong thing near the wrong person.

[keenly]

He's not acting like himself, which worries Colin all over again. Was Benedict strained before? Yes, but not like this. Guilt punches Colin in the gut.

"I'm so sorry," he rasps as his emotions rise. "When you were sick, Sawbones and I made the guard defy orders to carry you upstairs without clearing it with Flint. That's why he wouldn't let me see you anymore. It was my fault."

[altusimperius]

Benedict winces, and though it's not as if he doesn't appreciate the explanation-- he does-- it still does nothing but remind him of the state he was in so recently: completely alone.

It takes him a moment to say anything, his expression conflicted, his movement a little erratic. "It's not your fault," he finally murmurs. It's clear he's still afraid one or both of them will be punished for interacting.

[keenly]

There's fear on Benedict's face, and Colin thinks he knows why. He shakes his head.

"I already checked. I can see you again. There are no restrictions now that you're free." Or on probation, as it were. "When do you take lunch?"

[altusimperius]

Benedict nods, but doesn't seem convinced; it's going to take time. Time which, fortunately, he finally has.
He has to think a moment, but seems to snap back into reality at Colin's question.
"Oh. Uh. ...midday. I think."

[keenly]

"Come by the apothecary then. I'll get you fed, and we can talk."

[altusimperius]

Benedict opens his mouth, then closes it and nods, the ghost of a smile appearing on his face. It's very likely that, despite his newfound freedom, part of him still wants to be isolated; it's too difficult, being thrown back into everything, having to navigate the world again but with only a tiny fraction of the confidence he had before.

Still, he'll be at lunch.

[keenly]

Lunch can be smelled all the way down the hall--beef, pastry, garlic, basil. Colin has made one of the few Fereldan dishes widely recognized as "good," but it's his own spin on it. Beef, seasoned well, wrapped in basil leaves, then wrapped in flaky pastry and baked till it's medium-rare. There's a side of greens stewed in broth, garlic, onion, and peppercorn. All, incidentally, will be good for strengthening Benedict's blood. It's not a commentary on how well he was taken care of in his absence, but he finds it very easy for someone's diet to affect their blood, therefore energy and strength as well. There is also fresh bread and gravy he pours over the beef he serves up for Benedict. Once his guest is settled, he closes the apothecary and joins him, dishing up his own plate.

"They have you gardening?"

[altusimperius]

The last time he was in this hallway, Benedict was ill with the grippe. He knew it before, for various reasons, but the smell of it now is what brings that terrible few days back to him, and he looks like a stray cat slinking into the apothecary, unsure of whether he's supposed to be here or not.
Fortunately for both of them, the food looks delicious, and it's difficult to wait until they're both served before digging in-- but Benedict was raised a nobleman, and even after half a year of misery, he won't lose his manners that easily.

Mouth full, he nods to Colin's question.

[keenly]

"That's good." It's worrying that Benedict is so quiet. He chooses not to say anything more until Benedict's plate is empty. Without asking, he places another slice of beef on his guest's plate.

"Are you all right?" he asks in a small voice. "What happened?"

[altusimperius]

Bene smiles faintly at being given seconds, but it dwindles in light of Colin's question. He looks a little more human now that he's eaten, but he still has to pause and consider how to answer as he chews.

"It doesn't feel real," he finally says, his voice in a bit of a rasp, "...being.... here. Out." He looks at his plate.
"I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."

[keenly]

Colin was in that wall for...well, he doesn't actually know, but it definitely wasn't eight months. He nods a little.

"Take your time. It's a big adjustment after your world was so small for so long."

[altusimperius]

Benedict nods, and, finishing up the rest of what's on the plate, he carefully pushes it toward Colin so he knows not to refill it again. He had to slowly get back into the habit of eating richer food, after the journey home from Tevinter consisted mostly of heaving over the side of the ship as a result of both seasickness and a sudden return to his diet's previous standards.
Not pretty.

Talking about himself is exhausting, when there's still so much to sort through. The alternative is...
He nods toward the shop counter. "How's..?"

[keenly]

"Good!" Colin bobs his head, feeling a little self-conscious at being so boring. Nothing in his life makes for engaging conversation. "I made you something a while ago."

He sets his plate aside and moves to a closet. From it, he takes a watercolor painting that has been simply framed, and comes to give it to Benedict. It's a colorful re-imagining of the same design Kit carved on the cigarette box so long ago.

[altusimperius]

Nothing boring about that, really. Or rather, even if it is boring, boring is a welcome reprieve from miserable. Looking almost afraid to see what Colin has for him, Benedict gives a little start when he recognizes what it is. Then, holding the painting, staring at it, his eyes well up with tears.

[keenly]

Which Colin immediately takes the wrong way, looking horrified and quickly turning the painting so it is facing away, setting it aside and sitting back down.

"Sorry. I thought you'd like it. Sorry."

[altusimperius]

"No," Benedict whimpers, and keeps holding onto it, preventing Colin from taking the painting away. He holds it to his chest in both hands, his gaze fraught with emotion as a couple tears spill from his eyes.
It's now the only thing he owns, not unlike the original box had been, for a while.

[keenly]

Colin releases the painting. After a few seconds of stunned silence, he pulls his chair closer to Benedict's so he can sit and hook a comforting arm around him.

[altusimperius]

Benedict is tall, but one wouldn't know it to look at him now. He curls against Colin, pressing into his embrace and returning it with the arm that isn't holding the painting to his chest.
The intensity with which he holds Colin is reminiscent of that endless first night in the dungeon, awaiting what they were certain would be his execution. No one has ever been there for him like Colin has, now more than once.

[keenly]

There is something horribly wrong. Benedict has been acting very strangely, and now he is upset in a way Colin has only seen on him once before. When trying to wait out the storm doesn't seem to be working, he peels Benedict away and takes his face in his hands, wiping away tears, calls him a name he has never called him before.

"Bene? Take a deep breath. Deep, and slow."

[altusimperius]

It's apparent from the look in Bene's eyes that he's somewhere else, dragged there by overwhelming if irrational fear. Everything about the world is new again, and there's a strangeness to coming out of a dark pit to find that nothing has really changed, people are still people, the sun still shines and it all went on without him.

"If I have to go back there," he whispers, perhaps to Colin-- he's at least looking at him, though his expression is still vacant-- "I'll die first."

[keenly]

Colin's entire body goes cold. He knows that look, has said those words. His hands begin to shake and yet, somehow, the line of his shoulders softens, his face relaxes, his voice remains calm.

"It's all right," he says. "You can tell me what happened." Though being locked up for half a year is quite enough, in his opinion, something has definitely changed in the weeks since they last saw each other.

[altusimperius]

The worst aspect of this particular trauma is that most people weren't aware of it, or were aware only enough to know that a basic change needed to be made. None of them could have known what it would do to Benedict to put him back in isolation, least of all how it would affect him to compound that with the dark, windowless cell filling slowly with water for what felt like hours before anyone noticed and changed his circumstances.

The mere thought of it almost brings him to a full panic again, and he just shakes his head, gripping Colin's arm.
"I," he stammers, and has to pause to take a breath, which he sucks in uncomfortably right when he's almost run out of air. "I can't..."

His mind is a jumble, and there's no making sense of his thoughts. If he acts too crazy and disjointed, he suspects Colin will leave, but there's also no normalcy to be found.
Perhaps the best option is to stay silent, for now.