[open] watching paint dry

[altusimperius]

WHO: Benedict and you
WHAT: Working on the dining hall mural, smoking elfroot, making himself useful one small task at a time
WHEN: Kingsway
WHERE: mostly the dining hall, sometimes other places
NOTES: ART

I. Style Taste Class

Already something of a serious person by nature, Benedict has never been more invested in a project than he is in his newly-appointed task of livening up the dining hall-- even his work as a chamberlain was more detached than this, what with him making stylistic decisions but not personally implementing any of them.

He's requested a little scaffold be set up so he can get above the large tower doorframes, and he can be found there at all hours that he isn't in Byerly's office, which is to say, in the mornings and late at night. When he sleeps is unclear, but based on the bags under his eyes, that doesn't come often.

But he seems cheerful enough, for who he is, and is usually open to conversation with diners and passersby as his painstaking design begins to take shape*.

*it's an approximation obviously

II. Recreation Station

When not at work either for Byerly or on his Masterpiece, Bene can be found lounging with his semi-erstwhile hookah in a spare room of the mage tower, having amassed a small number of battered and disused pillows and blankets to make the place homier.
His presence there is usually indicated by the smell of scented smoke, much like his former neighbors would be used to when he still had a room of his own, but fortunately he keeps the window open to let things vent properly.

III. Wildcard

The usual stuff is happening! Make your own prompt or hit me up for one.

Comments

[bouchonne]

"She's mine." Byerly had arrived on the scene in the midst of the joy over the puppy. He'd momentarily considered just vanishing - the diarrhea that Whiskey would suffer after gorging herself on cheese a rather small price to pay to be able to avoid this awkwardness - but, hell, if By Rutyer has any skills, he has the skill of bobbing around a party that nobody wants him at. He was born for this.

So. "Just stopping by to show off my fine hat." Indeed, he'd picked up a lovely party hat indeed, a three-cornered affair with a rakish crimson feather. "Impressive, no?"

[sulahnan]

Athessa can't see the hat just yet, her back to Byerly's entrance where she's crouched to dote on Whiskey, but it gives her an opportunity to look at Colin and mouth no in response to the rhetorical question posited. Then, she looks over her shoulder at the Lord Ambassador and squints at that hat.

"Impressive is a word for it," she quips, and stands.

[keenly]

Colin looks up at the newcomer with wide, wary eyes. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth at Athessa's silent commentary, but then he's looking at Bene. Is By here because he wants to reconnect, or is this going to be an experience they'll all regret?

"That...hello." He's not sure what to say about the hat.

[altusimperius]

At least one person wants him here, and it's the person who invited him, but even Benedict isn't sure how much he wants Byerly here. Especially with the lukewarm reception he's getting-- and though Colin makes sense, Bene had thought at least Athessa would have palled around with him.

"I'm glad you adhered to the dress code," he says with an uncertain little smirk, his eyes darting to meet Colin's with a shrug. Did he do something wrong?

[bouchonne]

Well. This is grand. It seems that this was not some polite invitation extended by the party organizers to a personage of Riftwatch; Athessa and Colin seem altogether taken aback by Byerly's presence. Artimaeus, of course, is not surprised - but there's a smirk on his face that makes Byerly wonder if all of this was, what? Intended to be a prank, perhaps? An attempt to embarrass Byerly? A ploy at making him miserable, in revenge for Byerly's condescension in the office? A little tweak at his friends, so they can have a giggle about it after By has sauntered awkwardly away?

There's a part of him that still shrivels miserably in circumstances like this. Maker, he's been the butt of so many jokes over the years: in Denerim and especially in Val Royeaux, made the fool by giggling socialites who wanted someone to show up to a party in costume when no one else was, or who desired someone to show up so they could be turned away with a of course you're not on the list, a Fereldan, could you imagine? (Or Alexandrie, her smile on the dance floor utterly pleasantly chilly and distant.) Then, at least, he'd been able to stomach it, because he was powerless, which let him feel spiteful and righteous. But how, by Andraste's grace, is he to find any dignity at all in being humiliated by the motley, merry band of depressed and oppressed youngsters?

At least when I was being humiliated back then, I generally got paid for it.

"But of course." His face and voice are smoothly pleasant. He taps the brim of the festive hat in a half-salute. Then he turns his head to look around, asking, "So where is everyone else?"

Where the fuck are the other guests? A few more people would save him; he could mingle with them, charm a person or two, and then roll right back out with his pride largely intact. Bastien, maybe? Oh, Maker, please let Bastien have been invited.

[keenly]

It’s awkward, it’s so awkward, but Colin clings with determination to the benefit of the doubt. After a pause, a smile blooms across his face and he moves in on Byerly.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, reaching out for a quick hug. “Thank you for coming.”

[sulahnan]

"Everyone else?" Athessa echoes, and gives an empty-handed (but percussive, thanks to her jewelry) shrug. "It's just us, making up for a couple'a missed birthdays."

To anyone else it would seem normal, greeting a friend this way. To someone unfamiliar with their usual games and rapport, this would seem quite ordinary. But this group isn't made up of anyone elses.

Athessa doesn't point out that she put a lot of effort into her appearance. Byerly doesn't want to hear her talk about herself.

[altusimperius]

Struck by the sight of Byerly, by the various emotions flickering across his face, Benedict realizes what has happened: he'd recognize that expression on anyone, considering how often he himself has worn it in the past couple years.

"It's a. ...small party," he says in a low, awkward voice, glancing at Byerly and then away with an air of apology-- humiliation such that it may be, he hadn't intended it.

[bouchonne]

Byerly isn't sure what to do with the hug. He's never been very good with hugs, per se. Passionate embraces, oh, sure; those are his forte. Or hanging off other people's shoulders as you stumble drunkenly home, or having them hang off yours: that's quite familiar. But a hug, all charged with emotions, isn't something he really knows how to handle. What are you supposed to do with your hands? Are you supposed to hug them back? And this hug, in particular, from someone he's been distant from for months: is it a plea for reconciliation? Or just a greeting?

Fuck, he was not ready for this today.

He returns the hug, in the end - stiffly, but more because of his deep uncertainty with the gesture than because of discomfort with Colin specifically - and tries to figure out a strategy. By the time Colin's dropped his hands, Byerly has fixed a broad, amused smile on his face. He says - "Artemaeus, you little minx." And then, to all assembled, "My dear assistant has played a little trick. He invited me to your party as a ploy to get Whiskey to come. Well - "

The puppy in question is currently groaning in protest over the fact that people are not paying the most attention to her.

"Here she is. And I will leave her with you as a gift. Artemaeus can return her to my office once you're done. Eh?" And then he gives a chuckle, like this is all grand, like he doesn't want to fucking volunteer for some Venatori ritual right now so that he can bleed out and never think about this again because he'll be dead. Just us. What the fuck was Artemaeus thinking?

[keenly]

Colin's face falls. He steps back, gaze turning away, hands tucking under his arms. He should have known.

"I mean, you'd be welcome. We've got food, wine, and, um." He gestures to the hookah.

[altusimperius]

A trick? That's--

A small fire flares up in the back of Benedict's mind, the subtlest surge of temper that nonetheless changes his bearing. Does Byerly think he's too good for them? Is he simply afraid of Colin? Both reasons are asinine.

"Oh, sit the fuck down," Benedict sighs, going to the table to begin preparing a small plate of the painstakingly prepared food, which he then all but shoves into Byerly's hands before retiring to one of the pillows by the hookah.

"If my goal were to make a fool of you, there'd be more people here."

[sulahnan]

"Yeah," she agrees with Benedict with a roll of her eyes. "Ploys aren't Ben's style, anyway."

She doesn't know if that's true, actually, but it feels right, and cheeky enough to set the tone. The tone being: friends poking fun at each other and not making fun of Byerly.

"At least you can say you brought Whiskey. I didn't get them anything." That much she does say to Byerly, though it's entirely performative. Athessa's always giving people gifts, as all three of them know.

[bouchonne]

To insist on leaving would be beyond graceless. He feels trapped. To stay will be to disrupt their gathering of intimates with his heinous presence, to distract them from their goal of sharing a joyous occasion; to leave, to cause them to feel dreadful and trail misery behind.

To be a mage in times like this, to have the ability to just transform into a tiny spider and scuttle away. In the end, he decides that to stay will be less damaging than insisting on going, as long as he doesn't fuck it up. He will probably fuck it up.

"Well," he says, quite pleasantly, "who am I to refuse?" And, gracefully, he settles down with the plate of food in hand, reclining like he hasn't a care in the world, wondering if he can somehow induce himself to choke on that lovely sliced duck. Not enough to kill him, just enough to send him to the infirmary.

Whiskey comes over as soon as he's down, nosing at his hand. Charitably, he decides she can sense his distress and is trying to help him find some comfort (even though the little slug is probably just after his dainties).

"Pass the pipe, won't you?"

[keenly]

Colin quickly grabs a hose and passes it to Byerly, trying to decide if he's relieved he's staying. By seems incredibly tense about it all. But maybe this will be a good thing. Maybe a bit of elfroot and food and company will help him get over himself.

"We're about to pierce Ben's ear," he says with a smug little smile, pulling a sort of wallet from his belt and fishing for a needle.

[altusimperius]

"We're what,"

[sulahnan]

In unison with Benedict, but far more excitedly: "We're what?"

[bouchonne]

And suddenly perking up, "Ooh." To Athessa - "I'll grab his feet if you grab his arms."

[keenly]

"I gave you an earring, Ben, how did you think this was going to go?"

Colin has way too much glee on his face for this to be healthy.

[altusimperius]

His gaze darting from person to person, the hookah's hose nearly to his mouth, Benedict looks like he might bolt at any second.

"...let's be reasonable," he says in a small voice, "wouldn't-- wouldn't want to get blood on anyone's nice clothes."

[sulahnan]

"Ben—" Athessa says, putting a reassuring hand on his arm and totally not preparing to restrain him. "—Look at how many earrings I'm wearing."

She tilts her head, and indeed her ears are veritably gilded.

"Don't be a pussy."

[bouchonne]

"There won't be that much blood, anyway," By says mildly. "It's just the ear."

[keenly]

"There won't even be that much pain," Colin says. "So long as you hold still."

[altusimperius]

Feeling rather ganged up on, Benedict purses his lips, hunches his shoulders, and nods tersely.
"Fine," he mutters, casting a dark glance Byerly's way-- here, maybe now they're even-- "just do it quick."

[sulahnan]

Grinning in triumph, Athessa moves to stand on her knees behind Benedict and puts her hands on his shoulders — but not before flicking his ear in the hopes of startling a reaction out of him.

"You're still the footman, Ser Human." She bobs her eyebrows at Byerly, and nods towards the other end of this unfairly tall friend called Benedict.

[bouchonne]

Byerly, no less tall, is easily able to lean over and wrap one arm around Benedict's ankles while keeping the other arm free to operate the hookah.