Vlast's frown only deepens. Once upon a time, not so long ago, any hint of those noises would send the Exalted scattering and they were fairly sturdy compared to this scrawny fellow.
Vlast chalks it up to how far he really has fallen and nothing more.
"Agreed," he says, and Benedict finally gets an appraising look of his own.
"Do they starve you? Because you are from Tevinter?"
None of these words mean anything to Benedict, but that little cat-smile reappears when the word ‘humans’ contains such disdain; it wouldn’t be all that strange coming from a Qunari, really, even if he knows that isn’t actually the case.
“Fine,” he says primly, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear, “I was captured by a demon who stole my likeness and posed as me for two months while I wasted away in the dungeon with the others, where they stashed us.”
A derisive little sniff. One would think him an aristocrat grousing about a disappointing trip to the seaside. “There wasn’t much to eat there.”
"Demons," he practically hisses. He may have said 'human's with a hard 'h', but there is nothing but pure contempt in how he spits out 'demons'.
"Damned parasites."
If there is one thing that isn't alien to Vlast, it's the presence of demons, feasting on mortal misery. An unfortunate commonality between both Tyria and Thedas.
Still, there's some relief the little diplomat isn't being maltreated for his origins.
"You are lucky to still be standing. Help yourself to whatever portion of rations I'm entitled to if it will help you recover. I'm well enough to hunt my own food."
And it would be good practice in the long run. He needs to get used to weapons.
sweet. Benedict's smile blooms into a larger one, warm and curious and a little amused-- oh, you gonna go hunting in Lowtown?-- and he shakes his head.
"There's enough for everyone," he assures Vlast, folding his arms with the book in one hand, apparently finished writing in it. "You've got experience with demons?"
Tilting his head with clear interest-- ever since he saw some of the Rifters' worlds, it's been an experiment in learning about all the different ways people can exist--
"A broad question with no simple answer. I might as well ask you what kind of place Thedas is, for all the good it will do. But..."
He hesitates for a moment, his sharp features softening only briefly.
"...Tyria is beautiful. The finest jewels would weep with envy, for they could never compare to the vibrancy of the Crystal Desert, or Maguuma Jungle. It is a pity there is no way to return - our worlds could benefit from contact with each other."
Benedict opens his mouth as though to disagree, and closes it again, a flash of emotion crossing his eyes that he does well to conceal after the fact.
"...we were able to visit some of the Rifter worlds, once," he pivots, "maybe I'll see it someday." And maybe you'll vanish into the ether and nobody will know if you're dead or blinked from existence or just went home.
"Maybe," he agrees. Humans crossed the Mists into Tyria from... somewhere, and he's found himself in this strange land. Ways exist, surely. Finding them, traveling them safely... that is another matter altogether.
"You may find it preferable - there are far fewer taboos on magic for starters."
Benedict pauses as he thinks on something that he doesn't disclose, his eyes going distant a moment-- then he turns back to Vlast.
"Well," he says cheerfully, "I've kept you long enough. But you can reach me via the crystal, or come find me in my office most days." and there's no accounting for where he is after hours, that's nobody's business, shh
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no subject
Vlast chalks it up to how far he really has fallen and nothing more.
"Agreed," he says, and Benedict finally gets an appraising look of his own.
"Do they starve you? Because you are from Tevinter?"
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"I," he begins to say, and decides that this Rifter doesn't actually need all the gory details, "have been ill." Sure. "Nobody's starving anyone."
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He cuts himself off, stops himself from saying mortals. The distinction is rather moot given the changes he's undergone.
" - humans. If it is none of my business, then simply say."
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“Fine,” he says primly, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear, “I was captured by a demon who stole my likeness and posed as me for two months while I wasted away in the dungeon with the others, where they stashed us.”
A derisive little sniff. One would think him an aristocrat grousing about a disappointing trip to the seaside.
“There wasn’t much to eat there.”
no subject
"Damned parasites."
If there is one thing that isn't alien to Vlast, it's the presence of demons, feasting on mortal misery. An unfortunate commonality between both Tyria and Thedas.
Still, there's some relief the little diplomat isn't being maltreated for his origins.
"You are lucky to still be standing. Help yourself to whatever portion of rations I'm entitled to if it will help you recover. I'm well enough to hunt my own food."
And it would be good practice in the long run. He needs to get used to weapons.
no subject
sweet. Benedict's smile blooms into a larger one, warm and curious and a little amused-- oh, you gonna go hunting in Lowtown?-- and he shakes his head.
"There's enough for everyone," he assures Vlast, folding his arms with the book in one hand, apparently finished writing in it.
"You've got experience with demons?"
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"Yes. In my world, anyway. But from what I've read, demons in Tyria are not so different than those in Thedas."
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Tilting his head with clear interest-- ever since he saw some of the Rifters' worlds, it's been an experiment in learning about all the different ways people can exist--
"what kind of place is Tyria?"
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He hesitates for a moment, his sharp features softening only briefly.
"...Tyria is beautiful. The finest jewels would weep with envy, for they could never compare to the vibrancy of the Crystal Desert, or Maguuma Jungle. It is a pity there is no way to return - our worlds could benefit from contact with each other."
no subject
"...we were able to visit some of the Rifter worlds, once," he pivots, "maybe I'll see it someday." And maybe you'll vanish into the ether and nobody will know if you're dead or blinked from existence or just went home.
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"You may find it preferable - there are far fewer taboos on magic for starters."
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"People use it more openly?" he asks, with an intrigued little tilt of his head.
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"Yes. I believe it is the most striking difference between Thedas and my home. That and the singular deity."
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Benedict pauses as he thinks on something that he doesn't disclose, his eyes going distant a moment-- then he turns back to Vlast.
"Well," he says cheerfully, "I've kept you long enough. But you can reach me via the crystal, or come find me in my office most days." and there's no accounting for where he is after hours, that's nobody's business, shh