[open-ish] and they all lived together

[altusimperius]

WHO: Gallows dormitory residents
WHAT: MOVING DAY
WHEN: ...MOVING DAY (and night)
WHERE: group quarters, the former Templar tower
NOTES: Follow your heart and don't feel bound by the prompts. It's fine if your character isn't on the spreadsheet as living here, I'm not your dad

I. Land Rush

The day is defined by its noise and chaos, people coming in and out at all hours to bring their belongings and lay claim to an open bed. There's more than a little confusion, as some bed-owners have no specific belongings to mark their territory as such; there are also those who work the night shift, who are attempting (quite in vain) to get a proper amount of shuteye before they return to the grind.

Things will settle in eventually, but in the meantime, everyone will just have to work it out.

II. First Night In

It's a new space for half the room's occupants. Mice scrabble and squeak in the walls, raising their late winter young. Somebody, perhaps more than one person, snores. There's a dripping coming from somewhere. Just when the majority of the residents have finally drifted off, some asshole gets up for early morning watch duty and knocks a metal tankard off their side table.

There are endless delights to cohabitating, and aren't we all lucky to experience them.

Comments

[loversinverted]

Another solid minute of silent sketching before bright, rosy eyes finally slide upward from his work, expression stony and unreadable as ever.

"Is it?" Lightly. He makes no move to get up just yet, appearing unhurried.

[altusimperius]

"Yes."

Rather than await further prompting, Benedict stoops to reach under the bed, withdrawing his basket of clothing and toiletries. He holds it up, tight-jawed and flat-lipped, tilting it slightly so Diabhall can see that it contains things.
His things.

"Now get out of it, please."

[loversinverted]

"Ah."

Shutting his sketchbook with a little snap, Diabhall takes his time in getting up - maybe just a little longer than he strictly needs to, though he would deny it to the ends of the world - drawing himself to his full height rather close to the other man.

He doesn't smile, he scarcely blinks, scented heavily with the jasmine and sage oils he uses in his hair. A scent which is, likely, all over Benedict's blankets and pillows now.

"My apologies. Perhaps if things were a bit more clearly marked in here."

[altusimperius]

The longer Diabhall drags it out, the higher Benedict's irritation simmers into anger, and comes perilously close to boiling over when he finds his personal space being threatened.

"Perhaps if you used your eyeballs," he snips back, mimicking Diabhall's affect (or lack thereof), "or do you think everything is just lying around waiting for you to roll on it?"

[loversinverted]

It isn't as if Diabhall is amused by this...lovely young man's irritation. That would be impossible. He hadn't even really meant to get so close, because that would require the will for spite.

Which he, of course, doesn't have.

Of course.

He blinks slowly at the biting remark, arching a brow as he glides back a pace.

"I hardly run short on perception. It was an honest mistake, Mister Artemaeus. We have all made our little mistakes, now haven't we?" He glances to his right, humming a little sound of comprehension.

"I believe that one is mine, then. It would seem we are neighbors."

[altusimperius]

"Hardly," Benedict mimics again, but allows him to step away, not in any hurry to start any fights he can't definitely finish.

"You can pick wherever you want," he adds, "but by all means, I'm sure I'll get used to the smell."
The irony of this statement catches up with him a moment later, when he remembers that on his other side is Edgard, and... well, he doesn't always notice that smell anymore, so maybe he was right. But this is different.

He plunks down on his bed and, for effect, makes a face. He doesn't even necessarily mind this Diabhall's combination, it just doesn't belong here-- Maker, he's going to be inhaling this from his pillow for days.

[loversinverted]

Ever so calmly, the elf strides over to the bed he has now marked for his own, taking a seat there as he shoots Benedict a chilly glance.

"If the scent of perfume and cleanliness bothers you so greatly," he drones, gathering his long white hair back over his shoulder again with a practiced motion, "Then I suppose you may be in for a few difficult nights while you grow accustomed."

There isn't anything wrong with the young man's hygiene, of course - but should he wish to be pointed about this, Diabhall can give a bit back.

[muckspout]

Edgard strides in just in time to see Diabhall move away from Benedict's bed. He puffs his chest out and rushes over. Not again!

"That bed is taken!"

He stops and chokes dramatically at the heavy scent. He gags a little. It's overkill.

"You smell like a nightmare!" He tells Diabhall and it's ironic coming from a man who never bathes.

He shakes it off and turns to Benedict. "Was guarding it! Three different people have tried to take it! But then, got hungry so I--" He looks at the bed. Where did it go?

He rummages around on the bed, around Benedict, messing up the covers. Under a pillow is a little piece of parchment that says "Benedict". He spins around covering his nose to look at Diabhall.

"You moved this!" He accuses, motioning to the sign.

[altusimperius]

Sitting in silence through all of this like the eye of a hurricane, Benedict watches Edgard with a vaguely disapproving, mostly bewildered expression. He hadn't known there was a sign either, and has to shift where he's sitting so Edgard can reach under the cover to find it.

Then he follows Edgard's gaze to Diabhall, abruptly wishing he were anywhere else.