[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

[keenly]

"I think it looks better?" Colin says with a wince, as he scratches the back of his head and feels like a troglodyte. "Because when I look at you in these clothes, I see you more than I see the clothes. You, impeccably dressed, a very handsome you. But you're wearing the clothes, not the other way around."

[altusimperius]

Bene glances at Colin, a little surprised and a little indignant. His clothes never wore him, he picked them out after all-- but perhaps it's just a compliment.

He purses his lips as he stares into the mirror, and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear.
"I suppose I'll just have to be worth seeing." It sounds like less of a remark to Colin, and more like an agreement with himself.

[keenly]

Colin winces apologetically and raises his hands at the look. What Bene says next, thought, leaves a moment of contemplative silence between them.

"You don't think you're worth seeing?" Colin asks softly.

[altusimperius]

"Depends."

Bene straightens the doublet around his chest and neck, taking a long look, then returns his gaze to Colin.

"What I'm doing, how I'm doing it. I have to be seen right."

[keenly]

"Why?"

[altusimperius]

"Why do you think?"

The words are snippier than, perhaps, he intends.

"I was almost executed for treason. Just because you've forgotten doesn't mean everyone has."

[keenly]

Colin gives Bene an unimpressed look, eyebrows high.

"Please reconsider the second half of what you said," he says mildly.

[altusimperius]

That isn't a look he's seen from Colin in a while, and Benedict balks, still fiddling with the collar of the doublet. He looks forward again, his mouth twitching, like he can't decide whether to apologize or to keep riding the high of feeling impressive and important.

"...I have to make a good impression all the time," he says with an evasive shrug, his tone cooling off considerably, even if he hasn't completely acknowledged why.

[keenly]

Colin relaxes and gives a nod.

"I know," he sighs. "I haven't forgotten. I just wanted to hear your reasoning, because you might be taking the wrong route if that's your goal."

He stands up to approach Bene and help smooth out his collar in the back.

"It is important for you to look good, and be on good behavior. But doing just that is only going to give people the impression that, for now, you're cooperative. You're not betraying us, that doesn't mean you can be trusted. To convince people that you are loyal? That requires an act of loyalty."

[altusimperius]

Looking at Colin in their reflection, he's glad for the assistance, all the pomp and derision once again dissolved in favor of seeking something better.

"But how?" he asks, defeat creeping into his voice, "what act of loyalty would be so grand that it would convince everyone?"

[keenly]

"Not a show of loyalty," Colin gently corrects, coming around to face Bene as he continues fiddling with his collar. "It needs to be genuine, sincere, and it needs to come entirely from you, and the only people who know about it will be those who need to know about it. Your initiative, your idea. Not because you need to convince other people, but because you are loyal and it is the right thing to do."

He steps behind Bene again to look at him in the mirror again.
"And you'll never get 'everyone' to agree on the color of an orange, let alone whether you're loyal. The division heads matter, of course, but none of them will believe your loyalty if you don't. So. However many acts of loyalty it takes for anyone else is superfluous. Start with something that will convince you."

[altusimperius]

Bene gets that look in his eye again, like he's about to start spiraling if he doesn't catch himself in time. It helps to meet Colin's gaze in their reflection, a tiny smile quirking as Colin continues to fuss with the collar as much as Benedict was.

"I'm just," he muses, pausing mid-sentence to think, and gives a little sigh through his nose.
"I'm tired, I guess."

[keenly]

Fortunately Colin is attuned to others, detects these things quite easily. He comes back around and pulls Bene into a hug.

"What are you thinking?" he asks softly.

[altusimperius]

Although Bene hugs him back, he also makes a sound of discontent, looking past Colin.

"You shouldn't hug me after I've been an arsehole to you," he mutters.

[keenly]

That's a surprise. Colin breaks away and gives him a puzzled look.

"You looked like you needed a hug. What should I have done?"

[altusimperius]

"I don't know." He shrugs one shoulder, almost sullenly.

"It feels worse than if you just yelled at me or something. I feel like I've pulled one over on you." A wince of realization, "...or like you're my nanny."

[keenly]

"Your nanny? The--oh." The slave. Colin's eyes widen briefly. "So, I'm not the yelling sort. And you want...consequences."

Which he is going to have to support. Bene wants boundaries with clear consequences because he has learned this empathy thing and wants to protect...Colin. And everyone else around him, but in this moment, Colin. Which is ridiculously endearing.

"Could always spank you," he teases with a gleam in his eye.

[altusimperius]

"I-- guess," Benedict stammers, suddenly caught off-guard when Colin so succinctly describes what he wasn't even sure of himself. Consequences. Consequences that aren't being killed or thrown in a dungeon, but aren't a hug either.

"You'd enjoy that, would you," he shoots back, turning quickly before Colin can see him blush, making a beeline back to the curtain so he can both change back into his work clothes and take a moment to be less flustered.

[keenly]

Colin has to chuckle quietly to himself at getting that reaction from Bene. There's something about disarming him that he enjoys.

"Maybe," he calls after him, before dialing back a bit. "Or you could just apologize when you feel that way."

[altusimperius]

Silent for a moment as he swaps out clothing, the shuffling sounds pause as he considers that.

Then, "but how do I know it was a good enough apology?" He tugs the curtain aside to peer out, tying up his little cravat in the meantime.

"I feel like you'd accept anything I said. What if I'm not actually sorry?"
The hypotheticals of someone deeply insecure about the impression he gives off, certainly, but also one who clearly doesn't trust himself too well either.

[keenly]

Colin's smile wanes at that. Bene has a point, and it really seems to be bothering him. He thinks for a moment while Bene changes.

"I...guess you didn't have that, as a kid."

[altusimperius]

Ducking back in for just a moment, he ensures that every new garment is hung properly before he emerges for good, having slung them over his shoulder.
He's definitely trying to pretend he isn't still blushing a bit, apparently deciding to just barrel right through instead of acknowledging it.

"If Micaela had raised a hand or even her voice to me, she probably wouldn't have survived it," he says, and he means it completely, without even the slightest edge of humor. "And she was the only one who cared what I did, until I grew up."

He starts to leave the room, but slowly and conversationally enough that it's more or less understood he expects Colin to walk with him.

"I loved her. Love her. But I was awful to her. She was my property, and I didn't understand what that meant."

[keenly]

Colin keeps pace, taking in his words and holding them up against his own life experience. Bene couldn't think of anyone who loved him, in his old life. From the instant he came into the world, five people loved Colin. There was a span of years when there was no one, but for Bene, that was his whole life. Instead, what Bene had was a cruel mother and a nanny whose life was at stake if she did anything remotely different from what that cruel mother expected.

"So, um. The most comforting thing you can think of for those situations is, is discipline?" It sort of makes sense. "She was allowed to comfort you. Hug you. Spoil you. But that wasn't always what you needed."

[altusimperius]

"Well not like... comforting," Bene mutters in a low voice, glancing around in the stairwell to make sure this particularly sensitive conversation isn't going to be overheard, "and-- I mean, I don't know."
He continues to balk at the looming idea of Discipline, even if he doesn't hate it, per se; it just sounds an awful lot like the horrible things one would associate with, for instance, spending the better part of a year in a dungeon.

"...but if someone can't say no to you, or won't, and they just pat your head and tell you it's all right, is that..." He pauses on the landing, as if the thought process requires his entire body to hold still, "...that can't be what love is. That'd be horrible."

[keenly]

Wow. That's sobering. Colin's gaze is turned away for a moment as all of that sinks in. It's a scenario not entirely alien to him, or really to anyone, but seeing it from Bene's perspective as he's realizing the truth requires a bit of recovery. Especially given the realization that his friend is still trying to figure out what love is. Of course he knows he has people who love him, but imagining reverse-engineering that love, taking the pieces, and assembling one's own understanding seems rather daunting.

He turns and leans back against the wall of the stairwell.

"It's not love," he says quietly. "Though love can still exist alongside it, and often does. What you're describing is fear. Of a person, I mean. And it doesn't have to be mortal fear. In different ways, you and Micaela probably feared the same person."