altusimperius (
altusimperius) wrote in
faderift2020-09-09 12:48 pm
Entry tags:
[open] watching paint dry
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
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.

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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."
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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.
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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?"
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"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.
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Colin has way too much glee on his face for this to be healthy.
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"...let's be reasonable," he says in a small voice, "wouldn't-- wouldn't want to get blood on anyone's nice clothes."
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She tilts her head, and indeed her ears are veritably gilded.
"Don't be a pussy."
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"Fine," he mutters, casting a dark glance Byerly's way-- here, maybe now they're even-- "just do it quick."
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"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.
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Scowling, "left, same as it was."
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"I'll remember this," he mutters, "thank you, Colin, for being the only decent person here."
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He applies a healing salve to the fresh wound, then begins to rotate the earring while slowly releasing healing magic. After a few moments, the ear is fully healed.
"There you are. Nothing to it."
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But she pats Benedict on the shoulder in lieu of a verbalized well done, and stands. There's spice cakes and other goodies with her name on them and she's not going to resist their siren call any longer.
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"Whiskey's heard worse than that, I promise," he says as he makes a plate for himself.
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