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(no subject)
WHO: Gannicus and whoever should encounter him
WHAT: A former slave walks into town
WHEN: Covering a span of a few days, as he settles in
WHERE: Here, there, a little bit everywhere. Cheap taverns, cheaper inns, ditches, also the pier and around the ferry
NOTES: I am down for keeping TDM threads or using them as starters, or starting over if that is what you prefer! I will also match format, if you're not down with brackets.
WHAT: A former slave walks into town
WHEN: Covering a span of a few days, as he settles in
WHERE: Here, there, a little bit everywhere. Cheap taverns, cheaper inns, ditches, also the pier and around the ferry
NOTES: I am down for keeping TDM threads or using them as starters, or starting over if that is what you prefer! I will also match format, if you're not down with brackets.
drinking, taverning, etc
[ This is a man who has spent time on the road.
It's clear from the way he moves, the fact that the cloak around his shoulders is battered and dirty, the way that the mud clings to his very high boots. His pack that he totes around is weathered but dry, treated with wax that surely was put there months ago.
To catch him at a tavern involves watching him drink, and perhaps watching him fumble with coins as though he's not entirely sure of their current value. However he's not a fool with his money, and anyone who tries to pickpocket him will find themselves suddenly gain a few broken fingers.
He fumbles a bit but he also settles, takes a drink of wine. Considers it. Raises his eyebrows. ]
Maker knows I've had worse.
[ He says that aloud to whoever is next to him. ]
Pier
[ It's very early in the morning and he's already there, but it's not particularly clear if he's waiting for the ferry or if he's just sitting and watching the water. He has both of his swords on his lap as he sits, cross-legged, looking vaguely ruffled, a bit like a cat who didn't expect to be forced to come out so early.
He looks up as someone approaches; he has his cloak wrapped around his shoulders like a shawl, but his hair is a wild mess around his head. ]
Do you know how to do a proper braid?
[ He raises his eyebrows, like it's an invitation. ]
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Not to check for life, obviously. Only for a racing heart, or one so slow it's worrisome. ]
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Debt is between me and...him.
[He will not admit he doesn't know his name to the face of these men, and let them think other things about him. He also won't take a reward for bringing him home, and let them think he may have been the one to drug him in the first place with hopes of such.
Still, Benedict won't let go of his cloak.]
All right, pup. Release me.
[He says it with another tug of his hand. There is a pause, and a sigh.]
I would not say no to wine, if you have some to share.
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Alas, no. We don't keep any here.
[ It's said ruefully enough that it hopefully doesn't come across as denial of hospitality. Especially since Byerly follows it up with: ]
We stockpile coffee, though. [ A brew hard to come by, with trade routes disrupted by war. ] If we can rouse young Benedict Artemaeus - [ There, a name, so that this fellow is able to collect that debt for himself and doesn't need to follow up at this house - ] He might benefit from some, as well.
[ Another glance at Bastien, this one a little apologetic over giving away that precious coffee supply. ]
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There is also tea.
[ He is not offering only because the tea is less precious and less beloved. Maybe the guy likes tea.
He removes his fingers from Benedict's neck. For Byerly, as Bastien makes attempts to flatten his curling hair that will be unsuccessful until he has more than his fingers to do it with: ]
He seems stable, but I could go —
[ Go for Danil, yes. He trails off. Hidden in the casual fidgeting of his fingers on the back of the couch is a request for confirmation that Byerly would feel alright being left here alone. He keeps tabs well enough on who comes and goes from the Gallows (and what gossip the ferrymen and kitchen and cleaning staff have to offer about them) to know who he is, and a few things beside. So the strangeness of his manner isn't unexpected. But it is strange. And people have spent more time than this hanging about looking innocent before turning out to be saboteurs or assassins. ]
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He gets up, and shakes his head.]
I would not be trouble.
[Rather: he would not trouble these perfectly fine people who are just. Living their damned lives.]
Save your coffee.
do si dos the tag order
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Stale. You'd be saving us from stale coffee, later on.
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So.
He nods. Yes. Coffee. Fine.]
Are you both in Riftwatch?
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He might let Byerly do it—Byerly makes just as fine a cup, maybe better, and he's a conscientious darling about ensuring Bastien's not left waiting on anyone more than his fair share—but it's an apology, on his end. For the sighing.
Aside from the clinking and grinding and fussing with the fire, he may be quiet for a while, but he keeps his good ear tilted in their direction. ]
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What gave us away? The fact that Riftwatchers are, on average, far more handsome than the average residents of Kirkwall, perhaps. [ He frowns in mock-thoughtfulness. ] Which makes me wonder your affiliation.
[ Said much more with a vibe of oh ho ho we do love to joke here than we saw you from across the bar and love your energy and we're looking for a third. ]
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[But he does have a very prominent accent; he sounds like he might be a spy.]
I have found most unfriendly, here. But I spoke to-
[He nods over at the boy.]
-about Riftwatch, two days ago.
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And? Are you joining up?
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[He shrugs.]
And that there is work with those who ran from slavery.
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[ That's asked without any great horror or surprise; he wouldn't be Kirkwall's only self-liberator who'd managed to take advantage of the war to slip across the border. ]
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Speaking of: it will take some time for the water to boil, but while he's fetched water in the first place, he takes a small detour in his bustling-about to dump a half a pitcher of it onto Benedict's face.
Soaking the settee isn't ideal, but whether it works or is only sort of funny, to him personally, for Benedict to eventually wake up soaking wet... worth it. ]
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"Bwah," he exclaims, obviously still drunk, but at least awake.
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No.
[But then he looks back at Byerly, and clarifies.]
I am freed for deed upon arena sands, almost three months now.
[But that doesn't make him an idiot. There is no such thing as a happy slave, only ones who hold more value in the eyes of their captors.]
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Good evening, Artemaeus. Coffee in a moment.
[ Then, back to Gannicus: ]
That rings a bell, actually. I don't know if you were the same man - but it's hardly common, is it? The name was -
[ Byerly looks over to Bastien, trying to recall. They'd spoken about it briefly when one of their sources had delivered news of Tevinter, hadn't they...? ]
Gannus?
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[He shrugs; it’s odd to think that his achievement has been spoken of even here. Even if this man doesn’t know his name properly. It’s fine.]
I am he. I did not know you had much news of Tevinter.
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[ Bastien says from beside the fire, where water is working its way toward boiling. As everyone knows, it will boil faster if he doesn't stare at it the whole time. ]
We do. Congratulations on the freedom, monsieur.
[ And even though Benedict is not any further away than Byerly and Gannicus, Bastien speaks up a little louder, to try to cut through whatever fog he may still be in: ]
How do you feel, Benedict? Do we need to fetch someone to keep you from dying?
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…sorry.
[His gaze lands on Gannicus, and he winces:]
Thank you. [The words are mumbled, but sincere.]
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[ Byerly winks at Gannicus. Even though he doesn't seem to be paying much attention to Benedict, a keen eye might notice that he's gotten quite a bit saucier since the boy came to consciousness. Almost like he'd been stressed and worried, and that had put him in a subdued mood. ]
Artemaeus, your rescuer is famous.
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Most famous.
[He agrees with that, and gives him a nod.]
I did not save the pup for anything but he is the only man I knew here, after I met him sweating in fear as he managed new recruits.
[That's a slight exaggeration. But only slight.]
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