altusimperius (
altusimperius) wrote in
faderift2020-10-04 11:46 pm
Entry tags:
[open] mortal kings are ruling castles
WHO: Benedict and you
WHAT: miscellaneous open prompts
WHEN: Kingsway
WHERE: the Gallows
NOTES: ya boyyy got his magic back (sort of)
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

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"You shouldn't hug me after I've been an arsehole to you," he mutters.
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"You looked like you needed a hug. What should I have done?"
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"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."
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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.
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"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.
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"Maybe," he calls after him, before dialing back a bit. "Or you could just apologize when you feel that way."
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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.
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"I...guess you didn't have that, as a kid."
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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."
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"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."
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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."
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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."
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A quiet nod, and Bene stops as well, leaning on the wall across from Colin.
"Afraid of my mother. And of me, probably." His expression is a strange one, pained and confused but disgusted as well, myriad emotions warring for prominence.
"Are you afraid of me?"
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"I'm...afraid of..." He has to pause and think again, his shoulders hunched, hands tucked under his arms, gaze turned away. "I think I'm afraid of the same thing you are. I'm afraid you're only friends with me because I'm nice and I tolerate you. And I'm afraid if either of those things change, if I stop letting you get away with things, you'll stop being my friend. I'm scared of being used, but I'm scared I'm not interesting enough for you to stay if I'm not...helpful."
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"Well," he muses, chewing the inside of his cheek, "...that's stupid." The words aren't spoken harshly, or even all that dismissively-- just bluntly.
"I'm afraid," he begins, hesitates, and then proceeds, "I'm afraid you're only friends with me because you'd rather focus on my life than yours."
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"That's...it might have been true at first," he admits quietly. "But a lot's happened since then. Now I just...like you. You're charming, funny, intelligent, and you tell me when I'm being stupid. And, um. I've actually done a lot of focusing on my own life in the past year. And it's true when you're friends with someone, there's give and take. Sometimes the other person just...needs focus."
He hesitates, gaze falling away again. "And I'm afraid that those days when I do need to focus on myself, if I need your support... I'm, um. I'm a huuuuge mess, if you haven't noticed. That's a deal breaker for some."
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"I'll try to support you," he says thoughtfully, "but I might not know how."
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"I know. I'll try to tell you how."
They walk in silence for a moment.
"We've both been given up on, haven't we? A lot. Is that what we're both scared of, with each other?"
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"I think I'm afraid I'm not worth it. And I'll feel bad that you wasted your time."
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"D'you think I lose something by being your friend, then?" A little nudge with his elbow. "You're not a business investment, you're a person. And it's important to me that you're in my life." A beat. "In your words: that's stupid."
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"Fine."
A pause.
"...now when you said 'maybe',"
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"I knew it."
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He tosses his hair amusedly.
"As if you wouldn't just give a little pat and send me on my way."
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And, because they're finally being honest with each other, in a bid to treat Bene less like he's made of glass, he goes on.
"I say this with great affection and no desire for you to have to change: you're a wimp."
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"You sprung it on me. I didn't know we'd be doing it right that second."
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