[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

[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.

[bouchonne]

Correct, that is common sense.

[ Byerly is going to emphatically interpret that as a yes, Benedict knew, and not interrogate the question any further. ]

And no. Stark has no one to spy for, and Flint is - Well, his allegiances are not to Riftwatch, but he's certainly not subtle enough for spycraft. So those two are nothing of the sort.

[altusimperius]

[He is welcome to interpret it that way, however true or untrue it may be.

But at the mention of Flint, a spark of a memory flickers into Benedict's mind.]

A pirate, [he realizes,] Commander Flint is a pirate. My father's shipping vessels ran afoul of him more than once.

[It's hard to pair the mental image of Whoever That Was to the short, scowly little stone wall whom he not-so-secretly hopes will never return, but in moments like this, he's forced to recognize it.]

[bouchonne]

Hm. Somewhat.

[ A droll smile. ]

I'd call him a rebel who uses piracy to support his true passion.

[altusimperius]

[That's unexpected.]

Really?

[bouchonne]

You didn't know that?

[altusimperius]

I...

...have not had the occasion to learn much about him.

[is the polite way of saying he avoids him like the plague.]

[bouchonne]

But surely you noticed that he has it out for you. You never thought to question why that was?

[altusimperius]

[Bene blinks.]

I sort of assumed it was because I betrayed Riftwatch secrets to the enemy.

[Is it.... not...?]

[bouchonne]

[ A dry laugh. ]

Oh, that's what he'd like you to think, no doubt, the sanctimonious bastard. No, at its core, it's because you're a Vint.

[altusimperius]

[Benedict's brain goes to space.

When it returns, he has more questions.]

...but he's a Vint.

[bouchonne]

What, you've never met a man who hates himself before?

[ He gives an easy shrug. ]

He's Tevinter by birth. That's true. But he's certainly long since disavowed his nation.

[altusimperius]

[He's looking at one right now, Benedict thinks but doesn't say, instead just giving a small nod.]

I suppose that's...

[Loathe as he is to admit it,] ...not too hard to understand.

[bouchonne]

What, do you consider yourself a traitor, too?