[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

love u

[altusimperius]

The Vint hasn't moved, or even glanced back, yet he can feel Marcoulf's eyes on the back of his head.

"The division heads," he says in a mumble, "everyone who needs to."

[esquive]

There is something so fixed and pinched in the swordsman's expression to begin with that it would be difficult for it to narrow farther in reply, and yet--

"I see."

And that, it seems, is that. He pivots that half step back to his own small square of the dormitory, shedding his coat in the process. It is hung from a small iron hook near to hand alongside the waxed cloak. His gloves are removed. His wet boots and damp socks pried and peeled off - as if the ritual of the thing might erase the unwelcome presence lurking in the periphery.

[altusimperius]

At least that's it. ...for now.

If Marcoulf isn't going to bother him further, Benedict isn't going to be bothered-- not by that, at least. He flops onto the bed and curls the blanket around himself with a weary, but grateful sigh; he hasn't had a proper bed in a while, and even if this one is uncomfortable, it's better than before.

[esquive]

Surely, he thinks, there are other unnamed NPCs individuals staying in the dormitory housing who might protest over this particular company. If he were only to put the word out, to find enough among the laundry staff and the gardeners and so on who might say so willingly-- Well. Who might the complaint be lodged with? The Seneschal? The little box for writing notes in? And who would the complaint be referred to, but the Division Heads who had made the decision to begin with?

He sets his teeth and resolves to ignore the issue. Instead, wet things shed, he dismisses the prospect of lying down and instead makes to replace all his things with dry ones. New socks, a different pair of shoes fetched from the bottom of the trunk under the bed, a new coat. Apparently he doesn't mean to stick around long, given the present uninhabitable circumstances.

[altusimperius]

It's not that Bene didn't know how passive-aggressive (if not aggressive-aggressive) Marcoulf could be, but it's easy to forget when not in his presence for a while.

The man's mere energy as he putters about his business feels like a complaint, and Benedict can't help but roll his eyes to himself as he lies curled with his back to him.