[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

ii. off hours

[kantikoy]

The stairs creak; it's very late, or perhaps just edging on early, and Adrasteia has come up because she'd come across the room some weeks ago and decided to bring whatever otherwise unusable scraps of elfroot to be used by whomever frequents the room.

She'd expected it to be empty; she's not exactly shocked to find it isn't. Stressful times, and all of that.

Still, she doesn't want to startle him too badly, and so the elf raps quietly on the doorframe to announce her arrival.

[bouchonne]

"Today," says Byerly, taking the coffee, "is a dreadfully relative term, isn't it?"

He doesn't look his dapper self - his eyes are red-rimmed, the shadow of a beard darkening his jaw and neck. He has the faint jitter of someone who isn't just using coffee to stay awake, though it's clear enough he knows how to hold his stimulants, as his behavior hasn't crossed over into erratic. It's funny how much he likely looks like the man that Benedict first met, rather than the more respectable figure he's been cutting lately.

"Did you ever hear the one about the man who always promised to pay his debts tomorrow?"

[altusimperius]

The smoke has long dissipated, Benedict lying prone and snoozing on a pile of pillows with the hose still clutched in his hand, though he jolts awake gently at the sound of the knock. He focuses blearily on the figure in the doorframe, rubbing at his eyes and rather expecting to be called off to some duty or another.

[altusimperius]

"They caught up with him and he died," Benedict sighs, "somehow. I've heard a few versions."
Glancing over the mess that is Byerly's desk, he shakes his head.

"If you don't rest soon, you're going to start writing nonsense. If you haven't already."

[bouchonne]

"Oh, I've been doing that for months," he says, and then laughs a laugh that's just a little edgy. Then he sighs, and rubs his eyes.

And then he asks, suddenly - "If they catch up with you. What will happen?"

[altusimperius]

The directness of the question sends a chill down Benedict's spine, even if he can't entirely place why.

"They-- my creditors?" He forces a smile, we're joking here, and he can only hope Byerly is too out of it to really want to have This Conversation.

[bouchonne]

Which earns Benedict a bit of a look. A deeply hypocritical look, of course, given how resolutely Byerly dances away from serious topics. But, well, there you are.

"In your honest assessment," he says.

[altusimperius]

Much less equipped to withstand such Looks, Benedict averts his eyes. He tries not to think about it-- it's not like he can do anything about it either way, but he can't help but be touched that it matters to Byerly.

"I'll tell you," he says quietly, "but only if you agree to take a break."

[bouchonne]

"Am I really that much more tolerable when well-rested?" he asks mockingly. But, even though he can divine the answer well enough from the boy's glum face, he waves a hand of acknowledgment.

"As you will. I am on break."

[altusimperius]

"Don't sound so surprised," Bene replies with a little smirk-- it's only half the truth, really. Tolerability is part of it, perhaps, but also if Byerly suddenly dies of hypertension, they're all fucked.

"Just a moment." He goes to leave the room, and returns with a spare pillow and blanket taken from some nearby closet, right where he remembered them; he was once the chamberlain, after all. Coming back over to Byerly, he unceremoniously tosses the blanket over him, and moves to situate the pillow behind his back, whether he's prepared for it or not.

[bouchonne]

"Oh, come on." He swats ill-temperedly at Benedict, flaps his hand to scoot the blanket off him. "Fuck off. I'm not taking this much of a break. Honestly."

[kantikoy]

"Sorry," Adrasteia whispers, both in consideration of the hour and because her voice is shot, also. She gestures at the hookah with one hand, the other pulling out a pouch from the inner pockets of her robes. "Do you mind?"

Seemed a better idea to ask him from here than to get too close and startle him into maybe breaking something. Like himself, or the hookah.

[altusimperius]

“You fuck off,” Bene primly replies, and seats himself on the corner of Byerly’s desk, then lifts the crystal around his neck to dangle it menacingly.

“Shall I ask your lady wife what to do? I think she’ll agree with me.”

[bouchonne]

By's mouth opens - and he stops, genuinely rather flummoxed by the threat.

"Don't bring her into this, you little snitch."

[altusimperius]

Purposefully, Benedict extends the pillow toward him. The threat is still very real.

[bouchonne]

And By growls...then takes it from him. Is this the first time Benedict has won against Byerly? One thing's for certain - By is not a gracious loser, if his glare is anything to go by.

[altusimperius]

With a smile like a contented cat, Benedict folds his arms and relishes his victory.

It's not like he isn't exhausted as well, but he'll take little accomplishments where he can find them. And after all the fuss, perhaps Byerly will have forgotten his question.

"I'll just be over here," he says, gesturing to his desk as he rises off of Byerly's, "you won't miss anything, if anyone comes in."

[altusimperius]

He doesn't seem inclined to break either, still too tired (and possibly too stoned) to do much more than lift his head. Following her gaze, Benedict looks from Adrasteia to the hookah and back, then gives a little nod of assent.

He stifles a yawn with the back of his hand.

[bouchonne]

"A snitch," Byerly labels Benedict, "and a shirker."

[altusimperius]

A little sigh through his nose, and, caught out, Benedict carefully sits back down on the corner of the desk. When he folds his arms again, the gesture is one of insecurity more than satisfaction.

"It'd depend on who got to me first," he admits in a low, quiet tone, "and whether or not they already know the intelligence they've been receiving isn't actually from me."

[bouchonne]

Fine. Finally, something of substance. After a few minutes - enough to make Byerly impatient on its own.

"Run through the scenarios."

[altusimperius]

The time for snipping around has clearly passed, and Benedict has already returned to looking rather exhausted himself.

"Best case scenario, my mother bribes someone to turn me over. I go back under house arrest under her control. I..."

He trails off, his eyes momentarily glazing over.

"...have a feeling we both know what that would entail." Self-consciously tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, he looks at the floor.

"Apart from that, I don't entirely know. Like I said, that's the best case scenario. I've no expectation I'd be able to lie my way back into anyone's good graces, not after all this."

[kantikoy]

Adrasteia smiles and approaches, taking the hose from him gently before she settles cross-legged on the other side of the hookah. Warming the now cool coals only takes a touch; fire-based magic has always been easy for her. She adds her elfroot to the hookah and takes a long pull on the hose, coughing slightly at the burn in her already wearied throat.

Then she offers it to Benedict. "There's coffee in my room if you're interested." She could go, bring it here. Her room isn't that far.

[altusimperius]

With a silent shake of his head, Benedict holds up his hand to refuse the hose once Adrasteia takes it. He lets his head fall back and his eyes close again for a few moments, one hand resting over his chest and moving with its gentle rise and fall.

"I have to be up in a few hours," he murmurs without opening his eyes, "I'll have coffee then."

A long pause, and then, as an afterthought, "...but thank you."

[bouchonne]

He drums his fingers on the desk. Then he says, firmly, "If they make it to Starkhaven, you'll be going South."