faderift | (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.

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. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Byerly, of course, is more than capable of making verbal responses. Lots and lots of verbal responses. ]

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. ]

Unaffliated, now.

[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.

[ Interesting to hear that this isn't the first time that Benedict has encountered this man. ]

And? Are you joining up?

I have heard tell that they are hostile, mostly, toward those from Tevinter.

[He shrugs.]

And that there is work with those who ran from slavery.

Is that your own situation? Did you escape from slavery?

[ 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. ]

[ At this Bastien looks over with interest. Not that he wasn't interested before, listening in—but while Gannicus isn't the first (potential) escaped slave they've encountered, he might be the first who introduced himself going out of his way to drag a Tevinter mage out of danger.

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. ]

[A horrified gasp followed by frantic sputtering announces Benedict's full return to the world of the living, and he shoots bolt upright, quickly shaking the water from his head and then (of course) tucking his hair back behind his ears before it can become too unsightly.

"Bwah," he exclaims, obviously still drunk, but at least awake.

[Gannicus watches the treatment of Benedict impassively, without comment.]

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.]

[ Byerly, meanwhile, nods at Benedict. ]

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?

Gannicus.

[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.

Kirkwall doesn't,

[ 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?

No, [says the world’s most ragged individual, now aware enough to realize exactly what’s happening and who’s here,]
…sorry.

[His gaze lands on Gannicus, and he winces:]

Thank you. [The words are mumbled, but sincere.]

We're nosy sons-of-bitches.

[ 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.

[Gannicus actually laughs at that.]

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.]

[ From beside the fire, Bastien tosses Byerly a towel—warm from hanging near the fire to dry from previous use and washing—which might, in turn, be passed along to Benedict for his cold wet face.

No warning. He expects Byerly to catch it anyway. If he doesn't, he'll get a towel to the face.

To Gannicus: ] And he did not manage to recruit you? [ Bastien clicks his tongue. ] Benedict.

[ It's an affectionate scolding. ]

I know, [Benedict mumbles sheepishly-- that's why he spoke to him in the first place, after all was said and done.]

...I wasn't sweating. [Spoken dully, as he tries to catch up. He might've been, but he's decided he wasn't.]