[open] got up, and kept on going

[altusimperius]

WHO: Benedict and you
WHAT: misc hanging around the Gallows while the squad is in the mystery jungle
WHEN: during the jungle plot mostly, will add stuff after if necessary
WHERE: the Gallows
NOTES: n/a

I. Droppin' Eaves

There's a pall hanging over the Gallows as another week drags on with most of Riftwatch far away and unreachable. It's a stressful time for many, and Benedict in particular, with no sending crystal of his own, is starved for information.

He tries to be subtle about listening in whenever he sees someone on a crystal, whether he's raking in the garden or eating in the mess hall or just walking around, but Benedict is not especially known for his prowess in subterfuge and it's pretty easy to catch him.

Sure, he could just ask, but that would mean drawing attention and perhaps questions to himself.

II. Arty Party

In the warmer evenings, when gardening and maintenance work is done, Bene can be found sitting on the steps of the plaza leading up from the gate, holding a small board and a pad of paper. Sleeves rolled up and hair pulled back in a little tail, he looks as common as he ever has, his charcoal-smeared hand trying to follow the architectural lines of the island's towers.
If someone looks his way, he'll meet their eyes with a guarded expression, not outright hostile but not especially friendly either.

III. Wildcard

figger it oat

Comments

[highborn]

Ah, he must be speaking to some servant with an artist flair -- maybe even a simple one, to look so surprised when asked for his job. How quaint.

"Well, someone has to," he says, somewhat more patronizing than citizens here might be used to hearing from their elves. It occurs to him this might be rude, but only fleetingly. His attention returns to the architecture. "While it's not the most lovely I've ever seen, there's a certain severe beauty to it, no? I think you've captured that quite well."

[altusimperius]

The surprise is gone, replaced by what might be blank, restrained irritation, if a servant were so bold as to display it.

"Someone has to," he agrees flatly, and, with the continuing commentary, looks back at the sketch "I'm just drawing what's already there." Which is to say, severe beauty as he's trying to see it in the architecture.

"...it's Tevinter, you know," he says dully, gesturing to the tower serving as his subject, "from when the Imperium reached this far south." The green glow on the stranger's hand matches his own, but there's enough about him to suggest he's not from around here. Might as well play tour guide.

[highborn]

He knows the words, sort of. They've drifted about in his vicinity. But there's been an awful lot to take in these last few weeks, and his look isn't one of immediate comprehension. Instead he slides to a faintly embarrassed amusement, and curls the hand in question on his knee.

"Do I stand out that much?" he asks, though his chagrin is mostly just for manners. Really, he's a bit irritated. Blending in is a useful skill.

[altusimperius]

Benedict's eyes flit up and down his frame, taking another look.

"Yes."

He looks down at his own glowing hand.
"...but you're in good company. Or at least," he raises his eyes to meet the elf's, "you can't leave for long, so you might as well get used to it."

[highborn]

"It would have been a perfectly good time for a little white polite lie," he mutters. He can't really begrudge it, though. After learning a bit more about the local elves here, he's certain he does stand out.

"And as for leaving, that's just the -- business of discomfort, or pain, or whatever it is. Yes?" He glances over for confirmation, unconsciously playing the fingers of his opposite hand over the shard of the other. "That doesn't sound all so bad."

[altusimperius]

The elf's tone strikes Benedict oddly, and he's given pause for a moment. Perhaps he should've lied, at least a little more. Adjustment to these things can be hard.
...but then, he's not sure he has it in him.

"The pain?" he asks, for clarification, "or the not leaving?"

[highborn]

"The pain," he says, and glances over to gauge for a reaction. He's yet to try it, and not keen on making the attempt, but it will be nice to know what to expect should he have to. He cocks a brow. "Do feel free to weigh in."

[altusimperius]

Benedict's lips twitch into a slight smirk. So he does have a read on this one after all.

"It's not something you get used to," he says darkly.

[highborn]

"According to whom," he asks, that brow still quirked, "And what may I assume is their level of pain tolerance?"

[altusimperius]

"According to me," Benedict snaps back before he can stop himself, already tiring of the elf's attitude. He quickly calms himself, however, opening and closing his hand over the green glow within, angling his head to look at it.

"You can work with them," he says tersely, "or betray them, or cut your hand off. Those are your options."