WHO: Benedict, some other people, you?? WHAT: just a catch-all WHEN: tra-la, it's may, the lusty month of may WHERE: around and about NOTES: If you'd like something bespoke I'm happy to include it!
Even if he was capable of deftly spinning lies into existence on a whim to suit his purposes, he's not sure what good it would do here. Octavius meets Benedict's eyes, then sighs and looks aside and tucks his hands into his pockets.
What happened in Qarinus is, in truth, the instigating factor behind why Octavius has spent the last seven years in Hunter Fell. There was no safely going back, after that.
He clears his throat and begins, "Magister Artemaeus wanted to," hmm, how to put this delicately, "put pressure on Mother's family to work out some arrangement with the Inquisition, so that you would be returned to Minrathous." The ends of one of the tapestries still draped across the desk are perfect for fidgeting with while he tries to get out this next part. "She, um. Evidently thought that kidnapping me and my cousin Otho from the Nautia estate, and holding us for ransom, would be the most effective way to do that." Reluctantly, he looks up at Benedict again.
As soon as he hears his mother's title, Benedict braces for the worst: and he receives something close to it, precluded only by the fact that Octavius is still here, alive, and talking to him.
He sinks into the chair behind the little desk, lips pressed together tightly.
It's hard for Octavius to mask his dismay over Benedict's clear distress at hearing this news, but he at least manages to stop himself from saying anything about it. Instead he just sighs and hoists himself up so he's sitting on the edge of the desk, shoulders hunched and feet crossed at the ankles.
"We behaved ourselves just long enough that I suppose she thought we wouldn't ever try to find a way out." Plucking at one of the tapestry tassels again, "Once the guard on us was relaxed, we slipped out through the kitchens. Theovas was with us; I'm not sure we'd have managed it without his help."
A little huff of breath-- that's not so bad, but the tension doesn't dissipate entirely-- if there's one thing of which Benedict can be completely certain, it's that Calpurnia Artemaeus doesn't let a slight go unpunished.
"She didn't try to find you? Or go after your family?" Perhaps she was too busy with her efforts to get him back. Perhaps she didn't even notice. That'd be nice.
He glances backward over his shoulder at Benedict, then lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Mother's been living in Nevarra since I was sixteen, and I joined her in Hunter Fell once I escaped. Otho was safe once he made it back to the Lurias, they're virtually untouchable." Aunt Ismene had married into power and influence the Nautias could only dream of. "Father was here with you at the time, and Gran--" A pause, before he goes a little pale and looks away. "Gran Vedici did die. I don't know how; I only heard about it months after the fact."
Silence for a second or two. A breath, then, "Anyway, there's no one else left for her to go after."
A dry, mirthless little laugh: sure there is, Bene's expression seems to say, and they're right here in this room. But it's been a while since his mother took any stabs at either him or the organization-- and she may not even know Octavius is here-- which works in their favor, at least for the time being.
It's somewhere in this thought process that somehow, out of the abyss of characteristic self-involvement, there wiggles a mote of concern.
"I'm," he says haltingly, looking into the middle distance, "sorry. That that happened to you."
Octavius is still silently deliberating over just how likely it is that Magister Artemaeus might have murdered his grandmother when he hears that apology. He blinks, drawn out of his melancholy, and peers back over his shoulder at Benedict. After a second or so, he presses his lips into a little smile.
"It's all right. It wasn't your fault." Another small shrug. "None of it was."
The smile, the absolution, it hits him like a wave of nausea. Benedict turns his head quickly with a little toss of his hair like an agitated horse, fixing his attention on the wall instead, where he pretends to concentrate hard on what hanging should go there.
Apparently this leg of the conversation has ended.
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no subject
"You didn't hear about what happened in Qarinus?"
no subject
"What happened in Qarinus?"
no subject
He clears his throat and begins, "Magister Artemaeus wanted to," hmm, how to put this delicately, "put pressure on Mother's family to work out some arrangement with the Inquisition, so that you would be returned to Minrathous." The ends of one of the tapestries still draped across the desk are perfect for fidgeting with while he tries to get out this next part. "She, um. Evidently thought that kidnapping me and my cousin Otho from the Nautia estate, and holding us for ransom, would be the most effective way to do that." Reluctantly, he looks up at Benedict again.
no subject
Of course she did.
As soon as he hears his mother's title, Benedict braces for the worst: and he receives something close to it, precluded only by the fact that Octavius is still here, alive, and talking to him.
He sinks into the chair behind the little desk, lips pressed together tightly.
"How did you get out?"
no subject
"We behaved ourselves just long enough that I suppose she thought we wouldn't ever try to find a way out." Plucking at one of the tapestry tassels again, "Once the guard on us was relaxed, we slipped out through the kitchens. Theovas was with us; I'm not sure we'd have managed it without his help."
no subject
"She didn't try to find you? Or go after your family?" Perhaps she was too busy with her efforts to get him back. Perhaps she didn't even notice. That'd be nice.
no subject
Silence for a second or two. A breath, then, "Anyway, there's no one else left for her to go after."
no subject
It's somewhere in this thought process that somehow, out of the abyss of characteristic self-involvement, there wiggles a mote of concern.
"I'm," he says haltingly, looking into the middle distance, "sorry. That that happened to you."
no subject
"It's all right. It wasn't your fault." Another small shrug. "None of it was."
no subject
Apparently this leg of the conversation has ended.
So many things were his fault.