[open] so what did I miss

[altusimperius]

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.

Comments

[bouchonne]

Mood very improved.

"Glad you made it back without murdering any more of your lovers, by the way, lad," he says. "Well done."

[altusimperius]

Just as quickly, Benedict turns back around and folds his arms over the back of his chair. "He wasn't my lover," he insists, "it would've just been a one-time thing, if it hadn't..." You know.

His eyes take on a familiar look, like doom creeping in against his best efforts to maintain poise.

"Did you tell anyone? ...should I tell someone?" The doom enhances. Some might not see it quite so charitably.

[bouchonne]

"You should tell everyone," Byerly responds with vile cheer. "An assassin attempts to honeypot you, and you beat him with your trousers off? You should be boasting of it."

[altusimperius]

“Well—- sort of.” He hasn’t told Byerly the manner in which said assassin was conveyed out the window, but it’s worth letting him think he just gave him a proper shove.

“…I always thought I’d be more upset, if I killed someone. Especially by accident. Sort of.”

[bouchonne]

That earns Benedict a slightly startled look. "You haven't killed anyone yet? Not even on the battlefield?"

[altusimperius]

Benedict gives a sheepish shake of his head.

“I’ve helped, like on the fields of Ghislain, and that high dragon. But my magic is less,” uhh, “kill-y than some.”

[bouchonne]

Byerly grunts. He supposes it makes sense. One could, of course, argue that helping still counts - but the emotions of it don't tend to respond much to arguments.

"Well," he says, "congratulations." And then - "I suppose I was about your age the first time I killed someone. So. A fine time for it, perhaps."

[altusimperius]

For a moment, Benedict looks pleased by the affirmation. It doesn't last long, however, as he pauses to actually think about what's being said--

"Bleak that that's a rite of passage," he admits, "even if it makes sense."

[bouchonne]

"Not for most," Byerly points out, shrugging. "Most people get to live their lives without ever committing a murder. But then there's us sorry sons of bitches."

[altusimperius]

"I meant for us," Benedict clarifies, "for Riftwatch." He does feel a little bit more belonging now, even if he'd never dare say so out loud.

"What was yours like?"

[bouchonne]

Byerly's quiet a moment. Then he draws in a breath.

"A woman I loved," he says, "told me that her husband was cruel to her. And made it clear that the only way she could be free was if he died." There's something grim and sad in his manner, even though this story should be a comic sort of caper. But. "It turned out she wanted him dead for the money. He was just a common fool. She pinned the crime on me. Antivans."

[altusimperius]

"Antivans," Bene echoes, resting his chin on his arms, still folded over the back of the chair.
"And you avoided the law? Or was it sanctioned?"

[bouchonne]

"Not sanctioned in the least," he says. With a sigh - "I had to flee the country. Left behind what few possessions I had - even my violin. Had to beg all the way to the border, while still staying incognito." A little shrug. "In the end, Gwenaelle Baudin's father came across me, and he took pity on me and helped me - saved my life, most likely."

[altusimperius]

Between having to go on the run and receiving support only by happenstance, it’s clear to see how such an experience might begin a boy’s transformation into, well. Byerly.

Benedict watches him for a moment, processing what he’s been told.

“Was that before or after you became a spy for Ferelden?”

[bouchonne]

Byerly gives him a crooked smile. There's something funny about hearing it said so baldly in that little Vint accent.

"Well before," he says. "But after Alexandrie had broken my heart. I fled Orlais for Antiva, hoping to find a cure for heartbreak - which I did, after a fashion, as it led me to lose my heart altogether." Never fault Byerly for a lack of drama. "So then I limped back to Denerim and began rebuilding my life there. And then I caught the notice of certain interested parties. And now I'm here." A laugh - "I can't believe we could be talking about your little scandal but instead I'm giving you my whole life story."

[altusimperius]

All the while Benedict listens with a quiet, sympathetic air, his expression shifting only at Byerly’s final observation: he smiles mildly, an impish glimmer in his eye. Gotcha.

It’s possible he hadn’t noticed the change until now, but significantly, he doesn’t let on whether he did or not: it’s for Byerly to wonder.

[bouchonne]

Oh, Byerly is not going to let that smug look stand. He gives a dismissive little tut, and says, "Well, I suppose it's because you being a slattern is old news. Hardly even interesting to talk about any longer."

[altusimperius]

Byerly may as well have congratulated him on his conquest; with an infuriating little shimmy of his shoulder, Benedict turns around to face his own desk again, pleased as punch.

[bouchonne]

How obnoxious. Byerly scowls, and grumbles, "Get back to work."

A victory for Benedict. On this day, he is a man.

[altusimperius]

The rest of the day passes without incident, Benedict quickly falling into the concentration needed to catch himself up on the work that amassed in his absence.

It’s not until the next day that he’s bringing Byerly his coffee and catches that same edge as before, a distracted fussiness somewhat outside the ordinary.

“What’s going on with you?” he asks, wary but sincere.

[bouchonne]

Byerly, in a sour mood, keeps his jaw clamped shut a moment. But then - a breath out, and he rubs his hand over his mouth. Artemaeus - Well. He deserves to know.

So. Taking his coffee, he says, "I - may not be in a position to offer you protection for much longer."

[altusimperius]

A stillness falls over Benedict.

“What,” he says, very quietly.

[bouchonne]

Byerly grimaces, and looks away.

"They're talking about driving me out." Bitterly - "Because the mages don't like me, you see."

[altusimperius]

Not a baseless claim; they’ve had conversations before, along these lines.

“Why,” Benedict asks, wondering if his heart is thundering loudly enough to be heard outside his chest.

[bouchonne]

"Why don't they like me?" Byerly asks, a dry laugh in his throat. Then he catches sight of Benedict's anxious expression, and he sighs.

"We can - make arrangements. Stark and the Scoutmaster have no interest in punishing you for your past deeds, especially after your proven record of loyal service. And Flint - I'll ensure he does nothing. Even if the protection of this office goes away, I can still...safeguard you, to an extent."