[open] I feel calamity whisper

[altusimperius]

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

Comments

[altusimperius]

[A little sigh, and Benedict accepts his defeat; he'll have to be an idiot a little bit longer, it seems, but at least he made an attempt.]

Why, then? Should I keep guessing?

[It altogether feels more like they're playing a strategy game than uncovering potential treason, but they've already gotten this far.]

[bouchonne]

Hm.

[ He gives a little frown, then decides: ]

Yes. Keep guessing.

[altusimperius]

[So be it.]

Perhaps you just love your mother country that much. Or perhaps someone you love is in danger of retribution if you should leave or betray your post.

[Look, he reads romance novels occasionally, it's Athessa's fault.]

[bouchonne]

[ That pulls an honest grin out of Byerly. ]

Maker, I wish I was important enough to get someone held hostage to guarantee my cooperation.

[altusimperius]

[Benedict can't help but mirror the grin. It was a nice thought.]

Then is it the former? You just love your country that much? To tell the truth, I can't imagine you being forced to do anything you didn't already want to.

[bouchonne]

What, no guess that the work gives me a license to cause mischief? That's usually people's first thought when I tell them. Byerly loves to snoop and stir up chaos - now he gets paid to.

[altusimperius]

[Narrowing his eyes, Benedict considers it, but then shakes his head.]

...that's not your kind of mischief. You embarrass people at parties, you don't try to get them killed for fun.

[He won't go so far as to say Byerly has a noble streak, if only because they've set certain standards of behavior in their relationship and he will never, ever hear the end of it.]

[bouchonne]

[ Another shrug allows this to be true. ]

There are plenty of spies who came into it through the military. But those spies don't generally look or act like me. I was recruited as a civilian. So it simply being a step on a career path also wouldn't make any sense. So unless you can think of any other alternatives, it seems that patriotism is the most likely underlying reason.

[altusimperius]

[A pensive little nod as Benedict mulls over the options.]

If it paid exceedingly well, you'd have a difficult time disguising your wealth as compared to the other division heads. You love striped sleeves too much.

[He narrows his eyes, as if blurring the picture will bring it all into view.]

On the other hand, you might be saving it, to make out like a bandit later. Live in a palace, pay for protection and anonymity. More stripes than your wardrobe has room for.

[bouchonne]

Ha.

[ A genuinely amused laugh. ]

I am not making palace money.

[altusimperius]

[Benedict's grin returns.]

Am I right, then? Patriotism?

[bouchonne]

[ He tilts his head to the side. ]

That is part of it, I suppose.

[ Not the full story - the full story, Benedict hasn't identified yet - but part of it. Which, even admitting that much virtue is unusual for Byerly, to be sure. ]

[altusimperius]

If the rest of it isn't to do with loved ones, money, or safety, then...

[He's letting his privilege show, and it's a careful thing, his eyes meeting Byerly's in a silent plea for mercy.]

...I don't know.

[bouchonne]

Do you need to know?

[ The question is - well, it might actually be a real question. It's not just a rebuff, in any case. ]

[altusimperius]

[After considering a moment, Bene shakes his head. But then:]

I'd like to.

[He shrugs one shoulder.]

Just. I don't know. For transparency.

[bouchonne]

[ A moment, and then he lets out a sigh. ]

There's rather a lot of shit that happens in the world. Much of it happens to rather decent people. A fellow with a smidgeon of power, acting subtly and precisely, can often be somewhat effective at damming up that shit.

[altusimperius]

[It's not that Benedict hadn't suspected anything of this nature, but to hear it spoken aloud and with such frankness is... well, nothing short of alarming.]

And that fellow is you, [he concludes quietly, with a tinge of something strangely like respect.]

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly hates that tinge. It makes him feel like such a fraud. ]

That fellow has the potential to be me, a very, very small fraction of the time, when other, baser concerns do not take priority, which they usually do.

[altusimperius]

Well, [patiently,] is it enough you that it's why you took the job?

[bouchonne]

[ With some distaste: ]

It contributed to my decision to take the job. I do still get paid. That's not irrelevant.

[altusimperius]

[A sigh.]

All right, yes, you're still a scoundrel. [This is on The List, he should've known better.]

Is your duplicity tolerated because you're competent?

[bouchonne]

[ An annoyed glance. He is a scoundrel; don't treat it like a joke. ]

They already knew I was a spy when they gave me the job. So they didn't fully know whether or not I'd be competent. They decided it was worth the risk without knowing my performance. So there's another reason involved.

[altusimperius]

[Benedict gazes into the middle distance as he thinks. Then, with a touch of dread,]

are they also spies?

[bouchonne]

[ A beat. ]

Artemaeus, please do not tell me you didn't know Yseult was a spy.

[altusimperius]

Well I.

[He looks down furtively.]

That's. Common sense.