[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]

"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."