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faderift2021-07-05 07:35 pm
altusimperius) wrote in faderift2021-07-05 07:35 pm
Entry tags:
[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!
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
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"I'm taking you somewhere," he hisses, "why would I want to be attacked from behind?"
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"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."
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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.
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"So, are we hiding you in here or--?"
He sighs.
"What do you have in mind?"
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It's not Edgard's fault he's so flustered, but he's the closest available target at the moment.
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"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."
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It’s not Edgard’s fault, when Bene drops his hands and storms out, losing his nerve. But it’s definitely awkward.