[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

ii

[highborn]

Vanadi, he has to admit, has not been having the worst time of things. He's been ready for that, for the facade of this new place to fall away and the realization that he's bobbed up to the surface in some even-worse world, but ... so far it isn't so bad.

To be sure, he doesn't actually trust anyone, he likes to think he knows better than that. But it doesn't take trust to feel his mood slowly picking up despite itself, to find his steps slowing at the sight of a stranger sketching on a pleasantly warm evening. He can't help himself; he's always appreciated the arts.

It's a quiet clear of his throat that announces his well-dressed elven presence behind Benedict, then, "Do you mind an audience?"

[altusimperius]

A well-dressed elf isn't something Benedict is used to seeing, at least in his old life. But things are different now, and it's only briefly surprising-- in fact, what actually catches his eye is that he doesn't recognize the style or the house colors, and this is certainly no Circle mage.

"...no," he decides after a moment, though he still looks uncertain, "it's fine."

[highborn]

The uncertainty doesn't match the allowance, but Vanadi has never been one to turn permission away. Particularly not from a good-looking individual. He settles himself into a comfortable seat one stair step higher, a respectable-yet-conversational distance away, and alternates his attention between the work in progress and the view.

"You're quite good," he says, and it sounds like a simple fact more than a compliment. It's no master painting, but better than he might expect to find out on the street. "Have you been at it long?"

Sketching in general, this particular sketch, whichever. It's a pleasant enough evening for harmless small talk, and it's been a while since he was in the mood for it. May as well indulge.

[altusimperius]

"Thank you," comes a hesitant, mumbled reply, and Benedict takes a moment to look at the stranger and then back at his work, as if trying to see it in a similar light. He wouldn't call it bad, but... that's not really the point, anyway.

Maybe it should be.

"No, not long. I'm not--" He hesitates, unsure of how to phrase it, "it's not like... a real thing. That I do." It's rare that he gets to make a first impression these days, and he doesn't want to bolster expectations.

[highborn]

A smile pricks at one corner of his mouth; that strikes him as amusing, that this apparently needs a disclaimer on sketching. But he'll allow it.

"No?" he asks, his glance leaving the landscape for its artist, as a brow quirks. "What would you say you do that is, ah, more real?"

[altusimperius]

The stranger receives a stare that's almost pitiful in its surprise. He really doesn't know.
Thank the Maker.

"I," Bene replies, hesitates for a long moment, then concludes, "help out in the garden."

[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."

1

[maidit]

Having the bulk of one's employer suddenly disappear (some under the duress of kidnapping) is entierly unprecedented, but then Ashey had been warned that was the way Riftwatch is. Even if she isn't particularly familiar with any of the company beyond their laundry, it's still distressing. Ashey finds herself pacing and eaves dropping on the crystal conversations often, though a new source of distress is presenting itself.

"One would think," she says to herself as she tuckes the crystal back into her apron pocket, Tevinter accent on full display in her flustered state, "That being in so dire and uncomfortable a situation as trapped in a jungle, one would find something other than sex to discuss."

i

[deceivingly]

"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."

[altusimperius]

In the middle of watering a row of herbs, Benedict looks up with a start-- he hasn't heard that kind of accent in a long time, and it's coming from the help, of all people.
Not that... he isn't also the help these days.

He smirks a little, straightening. "I take it as a sign they're doing all right."

[altusimperius]

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..."

[deceivingly]

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?"

[altusimperius]

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?"

[deceivingly]

"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?"

II

[dirth]

It's been a while since he saw Benedict; a great deal has happened and there's no point dwelling on that endlessly. Solas knows, at least, that the other man had wanted to learn and despite his dislike of most people who are from Tevinter he respects the curiosity if nothing else. He doesn't expect much in terms of friendliness, but...

He finds Benedict, all the same, definitely interested in the fact that art seems to be happening.

"Good evening."

[altusimperius]

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.