tonight, we burn it (but not all of it)

[kantikoy]

WHO: All of Riftwatch is invited
WHAT: A burning of things/ideas for the New Year
WHEN: Mid-Wintermarch (nowish)
WHERE: The Gallows main courtyard
NOTES: Mobius' post inviting one and all to come burn stuff (but no bodies or large fabrics or explosives, s'il vous plait.

It's not exactly raining but it is cold on the island housing the Gallows this night. There's fresh snow on the mountains viewable beyond Kirkwall, and earlier in the week there was even snow in the city proper —typical for this time of year.

The bonfire is in the middle of the courtyard, with some benches and seating pulled far enough away that stray flames shouldn't pose a problem to anyone seated there. Adrasteia is also on hand, with several large barrels of water and buckets placed near every building entrance within sight. Just in case.

Comments

[icasm]

"I can't burn the things which haunt me," he replies, shaking his head and taking a pull from a bottle he then offers to Benedict after a beat (it's vodka, flavored with blood lotus). "Because I love them too much."

A shrug of one shoulder. "And I can't bear to lose them more than I already have."

[altusimperius]

It's a good answer. Too good of an answer, and it merits a sulk from Benedict, who nonetheless accepts the bottle and drinks from it, because he has at least come to accept that this Loki isn't going to injure him for fun.

It's a shame, honestly.

"I suppose I'm like a Rifter," he admits in a low and bitter tone, handing the bottle back, "in that I've hardly got anything left of mine to burn."

[icasm]

"You do tend to leave one with the impression that they're failing in some way," he murmurs in Benedict's direction, but then the bottle is being passed back and it's time for another swallow.

"I suppose you are, what with your homeland and presumably family backing this war." He's sorry about it but saying 'sorry' to Benedict has not netted him any gains so. He keeps that word to himself. "Imagine they lose. What will you do?"

[altusimperius]

That observation merits a quizzical look, but Benedict lets it slide with the change of topic.
"It's what I'm counting on," he says in a low voice, leaning forward to brace himself on his knees with his folded arms, his gaze fixed blankly on the fire. "If they win, then I'm in trouble."

[icasm]

"For betraying homeland and kin, one imagines." He holds the bottle back out again; would you like another swig, Benedict?

"Will you leave, should they reach Kirkwall's shores?" Loki thinks he should, probably.

[altusimperius]

Here comes that familiar panic, rising from his stomach to tighten his chest, feeling like it will close his throat if he lets it. Instead, he accepts the bottle and swigs from it again, the whiteness of his knuckles betraying the sheer volume of tension he carries with him on the matter.

He clears his throat of the burn, and doesn't hand it back yet.

"I can't go too far for too long. The shards act up when they're separated." He looks down at his left hand, glowing through its leather glove.
"I don't..." He trails off, takes another drink, and then hands the bottle back.
"I don't really have a plan, yet."

[icasm]

"Or you could go with someone that has a shard." He's not volunteering, just merely positing options as they arrive to him; Loki has definitely noticed the death grip that Benedict has on that bottle and he knows that this is not a casual matter. "If that would mitigate things."

Would it? He doesn't really know, other than the rumors that that Wysteria woman lost her arm due to her shard's behavior. "You could amputate the hand should the worst come to pass." Might be better than dealing with whatever his countrymen have thought up for him.

[altusimperius]

"Someone who'd want to go with me," Benedict amends, with a smirk that manages to be both wry and miserable. "Byerly wants me to go to Ferelden, and stay with his family. I suppose that's..."

He shrugs defeatedly. "...as good a plan as I've got, apart from drinking a death potion if they breach the Gallows."

And in afterthought, "I'm not cutting off my hand. ...I need it." And can you imagine the blood?

[icasm]

"Personally I've found that surviving is the best revenge towards those that would wish you otherwise," is what Loki has to say to all of that. He's both surprised and not, kind of, that Benedict doesn't have anyone he's close to with a shard that would travel with him.

"Merely a suggestion. The Provost might even build you another."

[altusimperius]

"The Provost," Benedict repeats in a near-laugh, only to remember that the Provost has changed-- maybe this one actually would, who knows.

"...but why rely on that," he says uneasily, massaging his left wrist, clearly wishing this topic hadn't been broached. "And I hardly think they'd mind if I survived. I work for the ambassador."

He grimaces. "Dying before they could interrogate me would be the biggest 'fuck you' I can imagine."

[icasm]

"I suppose that means you get to decide, should the decision become pertinent, whether you would rather be the biggest 'fuck you' to them, or to outlast them." There's no judgment there, just a positing of the facts as he understands them. "When the war is over the war won't be over; if Tevinter wins, there will be a resistance. If Tevinter loses, there will be repercussions."

[altusimperius]

When did this conversation get so personal, and how did it happen with Loki? Even the un-Loki. With his deep, expressive eyes, his silky black hair--

--all right, enough of that.

"I think at the moment I'm looking for the smallest 'fuck me'," he admits in a low voice, his emotional state clear by the fact he doesn't even try to make the words a joke or a flirtation.
"...but maybe I've got it wrong." He's tired, and perhaps feeling more vulnerable than he was prepared to in casual conversation.

[icasm]

Because Loki wants to know and understand why Benedict always seems disappointed after they've interacted. Because at least one of them is drunk. Because, because, because.

He tucks some of his hair, curly and growing longer than it has in centuries now, behind his ear as he frowns.

"No, I don't think you do. As someone who has made the attempt, let me tell you: suicide is not the smallest 'fuck me', especially if it doesn't work."

Another pull from the bottle, and he offers it back again.

[altusimperius]

Benedict hadn't been planning to delve into it so quickly, but the word brings to mind a recent memory, or rather, his memory of Byerly's manifested fear: Colin with his wrists slashed, his face vacant, a fabrication but still a terror that turns his stomach.

"No, I-- I wouldn't," he murmurs hastily, trying to blink the mental image away, as he takes another quick swig from the bottle. "That's not... it's not small. In any way. And I don't..."

The vodka is hitting him as hard as the conversation, it would seem, his thoughts beginning to swim in a way both that both relaxes and paralyzes. Losing control.
"I don't want to die," he explains, glancing furtively at Loki, "or, you know. Suffer. I want to have a choice whether or not it happens."

But perhaps he forfeited that choice already.

[icasm]

He might not have that choice. Loki sees no real purpose in pointing that out, though, and so he doesn't. Benedict has to know that; Loki doesn't imagine he's stupid, no matter what else he might claim or be accused of.

"What does having a choice look like?" What is the idea scenario?

[altusimperius]

That much goes without saying-- having no choice-- but one can dream.

"I don't know," he admits, looking at his hands, "I suppose... just... not someone deciding for me. Being sent to Ferelden or taken back to Tevinter against my will. Having the opportunity, the bravery, to... to do what I must."