[closedish]

[altusimperius]

WHO: Benedict & a handful of starters
WHAT: just a slutty little lad living his slutty little life
WHEN: what month is this anyway. Kingsway
WHERE: around the Gallows
NOTES: starters in comments, holler at me on plurk or discord if you'd like one

Comments

[altusimperius]

To hear it spoken outright is a knife twisting in his gut, even if Adrasteia isn't the one who actually put it there. It's strangely comforting, at least, to know he isn't just being melodramatic: his instincts have been good, at least to a degree.

He nods, setting his teacup down, abruptly losing his taste for its contents.

"Byerly wants me to go south, in such an event. But I couldn't stay there long, not with an anchor. And apart from that, it seems..."

He shrugs one shoulder and looks down. Cowardly is the obvious conclusion, but he struggles to say it aloud.

[kantikoy]

"Like running from the inevitable?"

Adrasteia shakes her head a little. "There's a line between cowardice and self-protection in a war like this one, or a Blight; it's often thin, and more often than that it's drawn in the sand by a stick with the tide coming in. The Ambassador probably has your well-being in mind, when he suggests these things, but... you'll have to decide which is for you."

She thinks of the other shard-bearers and the fact that being too far from them over time is dangerous to their health. How that includes her now, too.

[altusimperius]

"That," Benedict admits, and though he's about to proceed with far less generous language than Adrasteia's, he closes his mouth to let her speak instead.

A silence passes between them then, in which he sips his tea and thinks on it a moment.

"I suppose it just... seems like running away. Because that's exactly what it is. And without Riftwatch, I'd..."

He sighs and pinches his brow.

"...I'd still be in line for the Magisterium. Complicit. Part of the problem."

[kantikoy]

"Hm."

She doesn't know what to say to that, actually. "Are you in a position to...legally remove yourself from that possibility? Would it even be recognized?

I'm sorry, I don't...know how any of these birthright matters work."

She finishes draining the teacup in her hands before setting it aside. "What are you doing to prepare yourself?"

[altusimperius]

"Trying to find ways to practice answering unexpected questions. ...and building my pain tolerance." He winces.

"...haven't... had a lot of luck with either. It's hard to get other people on board." This elicits a weak smile-- it is, after all, the whole basis of their conversation now, isn't it?

"I could publicly declare myself an enemy of Tevinter, but it'd just paint a target on my face." His beautiful, beautiful face. "I can't imagine my parents want me to inherit anymore anyway."

[kantikoy]

"Hm." Unexpected questions. Adrasteia thinks she can help with that. The pain tolerance will take some time to work towards, she thinks, but also...doable.

"Well. I'm on board." Obviously. "Painting a target on your face is not ideal." He doesn't need someone coming here, asking for him by name, and killing him that easily. "I'm sorry. About your parents." That they made those choices.

Speaking of unexpected questions, Adrasteia turns away and then asks: "Why do you like the Ambassador?"

[altusimperius]

Giving a nod, and a little shrug, Benedict helplessly acknowledges Adrasteia's concern; there's nothing he can do about his parents, nor can he really accept someone else's apology on their behalf. This is just what it's like, now.

But the question does catch him off-guard, perhaps as intended. It yields a bewildered little smile, as it leaves him uncertain of how to react, knowing only that it's a bit funny.

"Is it that hard to guess?"

[kantikoy]

"Let's imagine it is, for the moment."

Adrasteia has her suspicions, and now she's curious. Plus he wanted experience answering unexpected questions.

"Why do you like him?"

[altusimperius]

The smile, small as it was, dwindles as Benedict is forced to think about his answer. It becomes something rather more self-conscious, as he rubs the back of his neck and looks over Adrasteia's shoulder, avoiding her gaze.

"I don't always," he admits, "but he gave me a chance. To remake myself, I mean. When most people would've dismissed me."

[kantikoy]

"Because you were a spy," Adrasteia clarifies. Mostly because she doubts anyone else asking these questions would be nice about it.

"Do you think you've done well with that chance?"

[altusimperius]

"A bad one," Bene mutters under his breath, glancing furtively away. He doesn't like to think about that time. Imagine, that he thought he could even try.

"I think so." A beat. "I've learned to be patient, at least."

[kantikoy]

"Very few people are good spies from the start." Adrasteia's tone is warm, amused. "That is why there's training."

For bards but anyway. She imagines that most spies are not excellent at it right away.

"Patience is a good lesson to learn. Speaking of: what do we need to get started, here?"

[altusimperius]

"Oh. Uh."

Bene's eyes go wide for a moment, the conversation being brought back around to where it began: not the most comfortable place.

"I suppose, if you wanted to... if you want me to... you know." He gestures loosely with one hand. "...we could start with that."

[kantikoy]

Adrasteia nods. She suspects she'd feel less comfortable if he were more so with all of this.

She reaches up and begins taking pins out of her hair. "Then let's start, shall we?" Inclining her head in his direction. "However you wish."

[altusimperius]

He hates this, he hates it. Removing her pins as though for a moment of intimacy, when instead it's... this.

"Just... sit somewhere comfortable, I guess," he rasps, remaining where he is for the moment. He can do it from here.

[kantikoy]

She gathers up all the pins, holding them in the palm of her hand before she sets them aside on the blanket and then pushes herself back further onto the mattress so she can fold her legs in front of her. Adrasteia closes her eyes to say a quick prayer for the both of them, hands light on her knees, before she opens her eyes and nods.

"I'm ready." Or as ready as she'll ever be.

[altusimperius]

A nod, a pause, a breath. Benedict clenches and unclenches his fists, forces himself to focus, and then puts his hand out toward Adrasteia, fingers splayed.

He casts Disorient, starting small at first. After a moment, he asks uneasily, "do you feel anything?"