[open] mortal kings are ruling castles

[altusimperius]

WHO: Benedict and you
WHAT: miscellaneous open prompts
WHEN: Kingsway
WHERE: the Gallows
NOTES: ya boyyy got his magic back (sort of)

I. Benedict's Hookah Room for Degenerate Hedonists

Most nights, the hookah is lit in its tower room (more easily now that someone can conjure flame again) and the scented smoke sifts from the open window into the crisp autumn air. It seems like he and Athessa just set it up yesterday, but over the weeks there has amassed a healthy population of cushions, rugs, and blankets cast off from every corner of the keep, which now make for a plush if stuffy little nest of creature comforts.
Anyone who happens upon it, or has been told of its existence and wants to partake, will often find him sprawled across a few pillows, sometimes with sketches strewn about, sometimes just gazing at nothing.


II. He's a Magic Man

It wasn't immediate, but after finally, finally being freed of the influence of magebane, Benedict's magic has gradually begun to return.

He uses it sparingly, mostly in the mornings before he goes into Byerly's office to work for the day, perhaps choosing the early hour to inhibit any judgment or interruption from offended parties; and it's the basics he's drilling in the sparring pitch, generating pithy flames and the beginnings of barriers, simply stretching the muscles again after a year of not having access to them.


III. Murally We Roll Along

Progress continues on the dining hall mural, with the lot of it stenciled in charcoal and beginning to be filled in with colored pigment.
High up on his scaffolding, he takes the occasional smoke break and sits with his skinny legs draped over the side, watching the room below.


IV. Wildcard

Come at me. I love you

Comments

for Colin

[altusimperius]

A modest parcel has arrived, and now that Benedict actually has a crystal again is well, he's notified of the fact.

He's scurrying out of the rookery with it clasped to his chest when he runs into Colin, as bright-eyed as a child on Satinalia.

"Look! It's done," he announces, holding it out, still wrapped, as if that will mean anything.

[keenly]

Oh! Surprise Bene. Colin was just leaving the infirmary for the day, so he has time.

"You made a..." his eyes fall to the package as if it's a puzzle to work out. "...giant fish? Oh!" The floppiness and size of the parcel makes it click. "The clothes!"

[altusimperius]

This briefly yields a disgusted look-- a giant fish, what-- but it translates easily back into a smile when Colin understands.

"I'm going to go try them on, want to see?"

[keenly]

"I do!" he says with a grin. "Lead the way."

[altusimperius]

Bene does, leading him to the baths instead of the shared dormitory, since it'll be easier to hang things and dress properly when there's an actual curtain to allow privacy for it.
Not that Colin hasn't already seen all of him, but only when he wants, and only out of sight of others.

He disappears behind it and re-emerges a minute or so later, wearing a long, dark red tunic over delicately (but not too elaborately) patterned leggings, practical but form-fitting.

He gives a little turn to show it off.

[keenly]

Colin settles on one of the benches and waits for Bene to emerge. When he does, he is not disappointed, giving a low whistle.

"You look sharp!" He doesn't want to say it, but he rather prefers these clothes to the sort Bene used to wear before, where the focus seemed to be on the clothes and not the man.

[altusimperius]

"Thank you," spoken loftily, with a vain little toss of his head. Benedict takes a moment to look in a nearby shaving mirror, trying to catch glimpses of himself from all angles.

"Yes." There's that one settled, and he flashes a smirk at Colin before going back behind the curtain.

[keenly]

Colin chuckles and claps a few times in applause.

"He's back," he announces as Bene slips behind the curtain.

[altusimperius]

The second outfit appears, a deep blue doublet with golden clasps, and is regarded similarly; Alexandrie's tailor clearly knows what they're doing.

"I haven't thanked her properly," he muses, admiring the back in the mirror, "--or you, really."

for Edgard and Marcoulf

[altusimperius]

It's the middle of the night. Normal people are sleeping, and since Benedict is a normal person, that includes him.

Until the sound.

A faint scratching comes from the wall on the other side of the room, a subtle shuffling of objects on the floor, a shoe moving of its own accord he sits bolt upright and narrows his eyes.

The mouse is back: the mouse that arises in the nighttime to shit in the shoes and chew the underwear of the group quarters' unsuspecting residents. Tonight, it's feeling bold, making as much noise as it likes.

[muckspout]

Edgard may not be normal, but he remains asleep. His new bed is comfortable and Edgard’s snores ricochet against the walls.

It’ll take more than a mouse to wake this man.

[altusimperius]

"Edgard," comes the urgent whisper. A short pause, then,

"EDGARD."

He's still whispering, but not very quietly.

[muckspout]

Edgard starts awake.

“What? WHAT?!” He leaps out of bed and has his bow drawn.

[altusimperius]

"The mouse," Benedict hisses through his teeth, "the fucking mouse is back."
He points into the darkness where he can hear it scuttling around.

[muckspout]

Edgard lowers his bow, sighing.

"Benedict, it's just a mouse."

[altusimperius]

"No!" Benedict whispers, and then, more insistently, "...no!!"

He points at it again. "It's a disturbance! It's disgusting! It'll bring disease and eat our clothes!"

[muckspout]

"Oh no, not the clothes!" Edgard grins, but then sees Benedict's face and sobers a little.. "What do you want me to do about it? If there's one there's likely more and--" Edgard makes a helpless gesture.

ii.

[poleaxed]

Jone is a normal person who is afraid of mages, yes, yes, whatever. A fact tugs at her memory, Bede might not be dead, Bede knows magic, and the boy in front of her playing with fire looks young, the if not the twelve year old Bede has been frozen into, in her memory.

Look, it's complicated.

Jone is no longer twelve, and towers over most people. She's not in full plate, but she's still got her vambraces on, hiding the green glow coming out of her fucking arm. Coming back from practice, she still has her poleaxe, and leans on it slightly. Her boots are soft. She doesn't clank when she walks.

"Can you make it different colors?" The fire. Bede made fire, before they took him away.

[altusimperius]

So fixated on his task is Benedict that the question takes him entirely by surprise, and he turns quickly to see a face he's never seen before.
At first his look is a bit incredulous-- who are you, exactly?-- but then he looks down at his hands, uncertain.

"Uh," he stalls, "I don't think so. ...maybe blue?"

[poleaxed]

Jone doesn't cede any ground either, just makes a light gesture with her hand. "Go on, then."

[altusimperius]

Huh.
All right.

He cups his hand to make a small flame in it. It has to be especially hot to change color, so his fingers tense and his brow furrows as he concentrates, staring hard at it, and it starts to change--

but then he shakes his hand with a hiss, waving away the flame and gripping his palm with his other hand.
Too hot.

[poleaxed]

Jone laughs, but it's not really mocking. Not much.

"What else've you got?" She holds out her hand again, this time wiggling it from side to side. "That ain't, oh no, demons, run away! I seen that."

[altusimperius]

Is this a test of some kind? He looks around, then back at her.

"Uh," he stalls, "...well you wouldn't like most of what I do." Another furtive glance around. "I don't think anyone else would either."

[poleaxed]

Jone slumps a bit in mock-disappointment. "What's the point of doin' magic when you've no Circles if you can't do anything fun?"

Jone is generally not pro-mage in any practical sense, and she is an idiot. But she's not stupid.

[altusimperius]

Benedict gives a self-conscious shrug. "I mean."

He looks at her pensively. "It's not really meant to be fun?"