faderift | [open] got up, and kept on going

Entry tags:

[open] got up, and kept on going

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Want it?"

With a grin, Yevdokiya wiggles her crystal at the scrawny man. She's sitting on the ground in the garden, with her back against one of the stone walls and most of her layers peeled off to get some sun on her pale arms. Her skin is marked with blue tattoos to match the ones on her face, traced out from each shoulder, down her biceps and forearms. The patterning is geometric and strong--that, plus a lack of pointy ears, should indicate that she's not Dalish or anything.

But she is Riftwatch, apparently. Thus the crystal.

"I see you, so don't pretend. More fun than raking."

He pauses, looking briefly ashamed at being caught out, but Benedict's curiosity is too strong.
"I can't," he says quietly, "but..." A hand lifts to scratch at the back of his neck under his ponytail, "...if you don't mind letting me listen..."

Her eyebrows raise. She holds the crystal where it is a moment longer, then drops her hand.

"Can't, but want? Seems funny. C'mere closer. I won't bite nor tattle, if you want to have a listen. We're all free around here, yeah?"

It is funny. Hilarious. But he's not going to explain the whole situation to her, especially not when she looks like she'd laugh at him for doing so.

He shuffles closer with a cautious expression, and offers a little nod of thanks as he glances down to the crystal.
"Is everyone still alive?"

"Who's everyone? It's a lot of voices talking at once and none saying their names. Don't even have a face that can be seen so you know who's talking."

As a new voice begins speaking, she wiggles the crystal again.

"You want to help? Who's this?"

Benedict crouches to listen more closely, angling his head toward the crystal. His nose wrinkles faintly, but the derision on his face is a ghost of what it would have been a year ago.

"Byerly," he replies.

She clicks her tongue against her teeth, appreciative and pleased. Aha.

"Diplomacy. Have you sat in his chair yet? I threw the cushion in the fire because I did not trust it. It is very comfortable even with no cushion. I like it. He talks so much," as she bends her wrist, as if suddenly weighed down by the weight of the crystal in her hand, the volume of the conversation.

The idea seems to make him nervous, and Benedict's mouth pulls to one side as she speaks.

"...he does," he agrees, lightly skipping over the topic of the chair, which he has never sat in or damaged in any way, and by the looks of things he intends it to stay that way.
"I don't know how he does it."

"If you have nothing to say, then you can say it in many different ways. Loudly, instead of being quiet."

Which, speaking of quiet. Yevdokiya cocks her head, curiously.

"Why can't you have a crystal for yourself? Can't be for talking too much."

"That's true," comes the halting response, which immediately turns more tense in light of the woman's question.

"Well--" Benedict stammers, clears his throat, and continues, "...well it's. It's a long story."

Doki's left eyebrow flicks up, briefly. She is good at body language, reading the signs in people like a wisewoman with a bowl of bones. And there's nothing subtle about this tension.

"And you are so busy and committed to your sweeping that you have no time to tell a long story. Mm?"

He purses his lips and looks away, becoming more uncomfortable with every passing second.
"...it's just that," he murmurs, "I suppose I'd rather not." And ruin his reputation with someone new before he's even begun to form it?

Her eyebrows slide up again. Then they turn down, and she lets her eyes get all big, puffs out her lower lip. This is a serious pout.

"Spoilsport."

She closes her fingers around her crystal and takes it with her as she wraps her arms around herself, closing herself in a hug.

"And me all alone and lonesome here, and thinking I was making a friend. Who I would share my crystal thing with, whenever he asked, because we are friends. And you want to keep your secrets jealously and not share. It makes me feel very lonely, skinny boy."

Glancing longingly at the crystal, Benedict's eyes move from it to the woman's face in an expression of quiet defeat.
"It's not a secret," he admits with some difficulty, hunching his shoulders, "I just don't like talking about it." And he scowls right back at her, pitting one pout against another.

He already has too many 'friends' who've ignored boundaries, anyway.

"Sounds like a secret to me."

She droops her lip lower, exaggerating her pout. Now it's a true standoff.

"Bad way to start being friends together. I wouldn't know the difference if your story was true or if it wasn't. You can't even lie to me to make me feel better, what kind of friends are we?"

"I don't care if we're friends," he snaps abruptly, straightening and picking up his rake with an intent to return to it.

"And neither do you, you're just bored." The motions of his raking are quick and angry, but getting the job done-- he can't very well leave this area untended.

"When I get bored, I make friends. It is good."

Languid, Doki stays right where she is, and releases herself from her hug so that she can stretch her legs out in front of her, maximizing the space that she takes up. It still isn't all that much. She's shorter than people remember her being.

With a tint of amusement, she watches the skinny man start his chore again.

"You should care," she says, once he's made some progress. "I am a good friend. I give good presents. I have many skills and talents. I have a shard of magic, in my hand--" She flashes her left hand. Her palm is covered by a handwrap. There's a greenish light that ekes out anyways, a faint glow. "So if there are demons, I can protect you. Unless you protect yourself?"

Benedict pauses raking long enough to look at the proffered hand, and, with a sigh through his nose, props the rake against himself to tug off one of his gardening gloves. He bears the same mark, which now casts their little portion of the garden in an eerie green light.

"Do you know how to use it?" he asks skeptically.

Her face lights up as his glove falls away and reveals the matching shard. Hastily, she begins tugging at the wrap on her hand--first with her fingers, and then with her teeth, when she doesn't get the results she wants.

That works. The wrapping shluffs off, and here is her hand, and the shard crammed in to her palm, all weird and wrong. The green light is stronger now. Doki tips her hand back and forth, admiring its glow.

"It's a hand. I can use it. Doesn't meant I will be doing your raking now."

"I just mean," he says evasively, "...you said you can protect people from demons with it. Do you know how?"

"Do you know how?" She rounds her eyes at him, all innocence. "Will you teach me?"

"...sort of," Bene admits, and looks down at his hand. "But I don't think I can teach you."

She makes a noise of understanding. And guesses: "Shit teacher?"

"Well." He thinks on it a moment, and-- yes, probably, but-- "I don't think I'm allowed."
This woman seems to have difficulty grasping that his limits of authority are, shall we say, minimal.

A grin comes to Doki's face. To call it wolfish might be an insult to wolves. She doesn't have the best teeth. But there is no mistaking it for anything other than a grin.

"Even better," she says, with great pleasure. "I don't want anyone allowed. That would not be fun. It is better if it is a secret. A surprise. You see?"

[open] got up, and kept on going

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