faderift | [open] I feel calamity whisper

WHO: Benedict & you
WHAT: livin' that wartime life back on the home front
WHEN: Solace, over the course of the modplot
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: feel free to request specific prompts if what's here doesn't suit you!

I. Diplomacy office

Receiving, sorting, answering correspondence; following up on important dates, of which there are seemingly countless these days; making and delivering coffee; taking dictation, recording meetings, making lists; cross-referencing names and locations as requested, labeling markers on a map; there's hardly time to breathe.
It's been some days now since Benedict has had a proper sleep or sit-down, spending his days and nights scrambling after Byerly, seeing to the many minuscule needs of a Diplomacy office when its Forces and Scouting counterparts have fallen off the face of the world.
He doesn't begrudge Byerly-- in fact, for the first time since starting to work for him, Benedict is as quick to snap to his needs as a seasoned valet.
When not hunched over his desk in the office itself, he can frequently be found scurrying to and fro with this or that missive, list, or directive, if not just the latest pot of coffee.

He'll stop for a few moments to chat, but only if it's important.

Ia. for Byerly

With the Diplomacy office's activity having thinned out for the day, the room looks like a hurricane hit it-- this likely includes its denizens, although one of them has stepped out to retrieve more coffee, despite the darkened sky and the guttering candles.
It's an automatic motion, setting the cup on Byerly's desk, but Benedict actually looks at him for the first time in a while, and furrows his brow.

"...how long have you been here, today?"

II. The Off Hours

Going to bed just isn't cutting it anymore. Benedict can lie facedown on his mattress for the hours he's able to take to himself, but amidst the racing thoughts and the day's anxieties, sleep just isn't happening.

It's at these times that he drags himself out of bed and ascends the tower to the room where his hookah lives, long abandoned by either Athessa or Colin, but he can't let himself think about that. He smokes, and lies there staring at the ceiling, and sometimes he sleeps.

After a while, he can be found there nearly every night, either unconscious or trying to be amidst the haze of elfroot smoke.

III. Wildcard

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Benedict stares back at him, officially writing off sleep for the night.

At least he's being taken seriously?

Eyes still wide, Edgard continues.

"You'd crack like an egg! You whine in pain every time I get less than a foot away!"

He looks around the room wildly.

"Should we hide you?"

Benedict opens his mouth, closes it again, sighs abruptly out through his nose. Then he flops back down on his bed and turns over, sulking.

"Don't worry about it," he grumbles.

"No!" The o is held out long.

"You woke me up. Now I'm worried."

Edgard stands up and claps his hands twice to get Benedict's attention.

"What should we do?"

Benedict flinches, curling into a ball before he looks irritably over his shoulder.

"Maybe I don't want your help," he grouses.

"No!" He cries, wringing his hands through his hair. "See! All I did was clap my hands!"

He glances down at Benedict curled up.

"Benedict." He says in a softer tone. "Why did you ask me if you didn't want my help?"

Benedict doesn't turn around, but his sulk has lost its edge, softening alongside Edgard's tone.
He's so tired.

"I don't know what I want," he whispers, staring into the darkness on the other side of the room.

Edgard folds his arms.

"Well, you can do nothing and keep worrying. or maybe I can help?"

Edgard says earnestly, poking Benedict in the shoulder.

Slowly, Benedict looks up over his shoulder.

"How would you help?" he asks, with caution in the question, but he's genuinely interested.

Edgard shrugs wide-eyed.

"Well, we could hide you, like I said. Know a hidden passage. Or--"

He looks at him cautiously.

"We could work on your pain tolerance...or your fear tolerance?"

He pokes Benedict a little.

"Not worried about your loyalty, if that's why you're offended. Just that if I can easily manipulate you, anyone can. Not that clever."

Though Edgard continues to receive the stinkeye for a moment longer, Benedict eventually caves, sighing back onto the bed.

He's always wanted to be clever. And yet.

"That's probably a good idea," he mumbles.

Edgard is taken aback.

"Really?" He gapes. "Which part? How good of an idea do you think it is?"

He grins widely. Edgard loves compliments.

Benedict doesn't even look at him, which is probably for the best-- if he saw him grinning, it would be all over again.

"My pain tolerance is shit," he sighs.

Edgard nods suddenly serious.

"Alright, let's start small and work up--"

He interrupts himself by pelting Benedict with a pillow. SURPRISE!

It's more alarming than painful, but it wakes Benedict right up with a loud gasp that gets quickly shushed and cursed at by the room's other denizens.

"We should-- maybe not here," he grumbles, angling his head back to look at Edgard. At least, as long as they don't feel like inviting everyone else to participate.

Edgard gives him a look right back.

"Oh pardon, does this not work with your schedule? Are you busy sleeping?"

He grumps, but he's teasing.

"Alright, what did you have in mind?"

Benedict's eyes close for a moment, in frustration: loathe as he is to admit it, Edgard is right. He's not sleeping, and isn't going to be anytime soon.

So instead, he swings his legs out of bed and stands, beckoning for Edgard to follow. The hookah room will do for now.

Edgard follows him, looking over his shoulder suspiciously.

He follows him for a moment into the hall. After they've traveled for a bit, he stops and then runs very quickly toward Benedict. Just before he reaches him, he suddenly stops changing his mind.

"Wait, are you taking me somewhere or did you want me to attack you from behind?"

Nearly jumping out of his slippers, Benedict steps quickly back with a look of incredulity.

"I'm taking you somewhere," he hisses, "why would I want to be attacked from behind?"

"To practice!" He hisses.

"In case someone comes at you unawares!"

Edgard waves his hands as if to say nevermind and then puts a hand to his brow.

"Lead the way."

Though he takes a breath as if about to argue, it occurs to Benedict instead that... that's not the worst point.
But he's still not going to acknowledge it.

He takes Edgard up and past the hookah room (it's not that kind of party), leading him to a storage area on the uppermost floor of the tower. Nudging the door open with his foot, he gestures Edgard in like a butler one, and then stands there, still visibly exhausted and miserable about it.

At least they can speak at a normal volume in here.

Edgard looks around the room and raises his eyebrows.

"So, are we hiding you in here or--?"

He sighs.

"What do you have in mind?"

Edited 2021-09-14 04:46 (UTC)

"I don't know!" Benedict hisses in frustration, throwing his hands up, "not hiding, practicing, whatever that means! Do you ever think about anything before you say it?!"

It's not Edgard's fault he's so flustered, but he's the closest available target at the moment.

Edgard also holds up his hands, but with a different meaning.

"Sorry." He whispers. "I guess I don't really know how this works. Do you want me to hit you? Do you want a warning? I--"

Edgard wants to help and is definitely capable, but Benedict is his friend.

"You're right. Didn't really think this through."

“Ugh. Never mind. Never mind!”

It’s not Edgard’s fault, when Bene drops his hands and storms out, losing his nerve. But it’s definitely awkward.

[open] I feel calamity whisper

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