faderift | [open] so what did I miss

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[open] so what did I miss

WHO: Benedict and you
WHAT: he's been [redacted] as the ambassador to Antiva
WHEN: mid-Drakonis
WHERE: the Gallows
NOTES: (alan cumming voice) moarder

I. The Docks, the day of the Revered Mother's arrival (just one thread please)

When Benedict steps off the ferry, it's clear that something is happening. People are scurrying about, there's an edge of tension across the plaza; he'd heard, obviously, of Riftwatch's doings in Starkhaven, but whatever this is seems more immediate and quieter in its bluster.
Waving down the nearest passerby, he asks: "what's going on?"

II. Eating

If only there were more tools to keep one awake through the day. Benedict hadn't even noticed that his dreams had stopped when he went off to Antiva, but now that he's back in Kirkwall, they've returned en force. He sits in the staffed dining hall with whatever the day's meal option is, stirring it idly with a tired, dead-eyed stare at either the far wall, the middle distance, or someone at whom he'd normally have no intention of staring.
If the latter should occur, and they should meet his gaze, he gives a little start and averts his eyes-- but it might be too late.

III. At Work

For the last couple months, Byerly's office has been relatively unguarded; this is no longer the case. Anyone coming in to see the Ambassador will have to get through his secretary first-- or, should they like, they're welcome to visit the secretary himself. The Maker doesn't judge.

IV. Wildcard

for Byerly

The day he returns, Benedict saunters into the office and promptly leans against the doorframe, initially to scan for Byerly and then, upon seeing him, to offer a wave of greeting. He doesn't say anything, not yet, but his expression conveys everything: What A Trip.

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His guard lowering, Benedict offers Matthias a dry smirk that doesn't quite meet his eyes. What's in Antiva, indeed.

"I was on a mission," he replies loftily-- that's right, a solo mission-- "to find out who's smuggling Tevene goods into Antiva. Lots of, um." He shrugs one shoulder, suddenly a bit uneasy, "my father's sort of people."

His eyebrows raise a little, despite himself. A solo mission is impressive, especially when assistant work might more normally involve being sat in an office. That's not entirely the case for a Riftwatch assistant--there aren't enough members to allow for any real idleness--but that only means you've got to catch up on paperwork after your mission. And a solo mission means some trust as well, so. He gives a grudging little nod. Right.

"A Vint helping to smuggle Tevene goods. Makes sense. Or has your father got a more specific sort of people?"

Benedict snorts, not taking the bait.

"His people are other merchants," he explains, stepping off the ferry and beginning to make his way toward Lowtown, under the impression that Matthias will come along with him if he wants. "People of means who don't see why a little embargo should diminish their fortunes."

At a glance, he carries himself such haughtiness that it might appear Matthias is his assistant.

"I know the trade, sort of. I at least know the families involved."

"Hang on--"

Grumbling, Matthias jumps onto the ferry, secures the packet of papers in its usual place, gives a coin to the ferryman to further ensure the safe passage and eventual handoff, and scrambles back off. He's got to double-time it to catch up with Benedict, further contributing to the impression that he's some manner of subordinate, which he is aware of, thanks. And resentful of.

"So, what, you got sent on a mission to investigate something you already knew?"

"I knew how to get the information, not what the information was," Benedict clarifies with a flip of his hand, "and I did." There's an air of self-congratulation to that last statement: it's important, you see, that he's pulling his weight, not dragging the organization down.

"Oh, well, then," so dry, and by now Matthias has managed to catch up and match Benedict's stride (more or less, he's only a bit shorter so the mismatch isn't as dramatic as it might otherwise be), "congratulations, mate. Aren't you the shining star of the diplomacy office. And when they need it most as well."

Benedict scoffs, and is so focused on Matthias' sarcasm he nearly misses the second part of that statement. It gives him pause, and he glances at the other mage with a wry look.

"Oh? Why's that?"

This is all known information, and even if Benedict were only back a few hours, he's likely to have been briefed. Even so, there's a smugness to the way Matthias raises his eyebrows.

"That Chantry mother what's visiting. She's surely going to need some diplomating, yeah?"

"Oh, right." He can't help that he's had other things on his mind today, not that this isn't important too.

"Seems like there's a decent crop of people set up to keep her company," he muses, careful not to acknowledge the other crop of people set to stay out of her way.

"Oh, aye."

No argument there. Decent people, indeed. Matthias sticks his hands in his pockets. Not because his hands are cold (they are, a little), just to be casual.

"You don't think you're among decent people? Or maybe 'cos you were so busy in Antiva, they left you off the list. That's more likely, isn't it."

It’s not like Matthias ever really goes for subtlety, but Benedict is especially struck by his phrasing at the moment. He glances off to one side, in the manner of someone checking to make sure he isn’t being pranked, then rolls his eyes back over to Matthias.

“I assume you’re getting at something,” he says primly, “why don’t you just say it.”

"Don't be a prick," you prick, which remains unsaid but implied by Matthias' eyeroll. "I'm making conversation. Aren't we nearly friendly by now, us two?"

A dry laugh, but Benedict has learned not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Yeah, sure,” he concedes, leaves it at that, then diverts: “want a drink?”
That’s where he’s headed, after all.

Matthias' swagger diminishes, a little. He sneaks a glance back toward Hightown, and the bloody haunted de Foncé house.

"I'm meant to be working," he says. It's not an excuse. He's cool. He could skive off for a drink, if he wanted to, but he is meant to be working, so. There's that. "And, y'know. Commander Flint."

There's that.

“But he’s so pleasant and understanding,” Benedict remarks, “what’s he got you doing, anyway?”

"Ha ha," Matthias says. He hasn't yet turned back but is instead still keeping pace with Benedict, and--after a moment--stops looking back toward Hightown. The threat of Flint isn't unreal, but Flint also isn't the type of boss who stands over you making sure you've got your ts crossed properly. Flint is the type of boss that is often very busy with his own things, and whatever those things are will remain a mystery as he isn't likely to bring you into his confidence, which is all right with Matthias, really, as that confidence seems a bit intimidating.

And besides, they're all more or less on their own in this field office of theirs. It's not as if he's got to get back at a certain time and give a report or anything. As long as the work gets done, yeah?

"More of the same, really. Paperwork. This," jabbing his thumb back toward the ferry, "but I think it's shit, really, and he's got to do his private important correspondence-carrying on his own 'cos I only ever get sent to the ferry and if he really wanted something said to someone at the Gallows, he'd just say it, wouldn't he? S'not very interesting at present. Though I'd take it over entertaining the bloody Chantry any day. S'ppose I'd rather get sent on a private solo mission, but it doesn't happen to all of us, then."

"Does he ever tell you what you're delivering?" comes an idle thought, given voice before Benedict can stop himself. "I'm surprised he sends any correspondence at all, he seems like the type who'd keep a grocery list in a locked vault until he personally needs it."

He smirks to himself, partly still putting on airs to Matthias, and partly to cover his ever-present terror at the mere concept of Commander Flint.

"It wasn't that interesting, I just had already existing connections," he explains with a wave of his hand, "and it all sort of went tits up anyway, come to think of it."

"I don't touch his correspondence," Matthias says, with an eyeroll, "'cos yeah, you're right about him--and that's all assuming he sends any. I dunno that he does--can't imagine it, but I s'ppose he must. How else d'you get messages out and make plans and all if you're not sending letters every now and then? No, I get to carry meaningless bloody paperwork from one place to the next and then create new paperwork based off of the paperwork that gets sent back and, you know."

Assistant work. Glorious.

"Boring. So what happened? Your mission got fucked?"

Benedict's gaze takes on an unexpectedly glassy quality, like the question tripped him up and sent his mind elsewhere even if he's the one who broached the topic in the first place.

"Well," he says distantly, a pinprick of anxiety in the word, "it went fine in that I got the information I needed."

"Oh, aye?"

Matthias, sensing a story, turns to get a better look at Benedict as they're walking along. Interest gleams in his eye.

"But what else happened? 'Cos it sounds like something else happened. Go on, you might as well say."

With a deep sigh of concession, Benedict slows to a halt. He's not fully resistant, but there's clearly a bit of hesitation still as he glances around, keeping his voice low.

"I sort of-- killed someone." In a military organization, no less! "--by accident. But," he quickly adds, "he tried to kill me first."

Matthias comes to a stop as well, as he's looking at Benedict when he slows. Had he been distracted, he might have gone a few steps further without realizing that he was leaving him behind. And then: the confession. He raises his eyebrows a little. He does not, actually, laugh.

"Sounds like fair play, then." Honestly. "Who was it?"

Though perhaps nervous isn't the word to describe Benedict's demeanor, he certainly still looks uncomfortable, especially after having said the words out loud.

"I... don't know," he admits, "an assassin, I suppose. Not who I thought he was."

"No one's ever tried assassinating me." It's not precisely jealousy that colors Matthias' tone, but the distant cousin of jealousy, a sort of resentful respect. "Don't sound so weird about it. If someone were after you like that, I reckon you must've been brushing up close to something big and important. Practically a good thing. Especially as you're, y'know, alive now. Definitely fair play to've struck first, anybody'd agree."

"I think I made the mistake of being recognized," Benedict admits, glancing at the ground with an uncharacteristic sheepishness, "I took for granted people from outside Minrathous wouldn't know I'm... well. Where I am now."

He hunches his shoulders. "It could've gone worse. ...could've gone better, though. Feels a bit fucked-- I should've been more prepared." And not ready to slam the guy in a completely different way, but that's not important to the story.

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[open] so what did I miss

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