[open-ish] I am the wheel

[altusimperius]

WHO: Benedict Artemaeus and his many friends and admirers
WHAT: catch-all
WHEN: Solace
WHERE: around the Gallows
NOTES: HMU if you want a closed prompt, wildcards also welcome

I. Diplomacy office (open to first taker only please)

It's sweltering at the top of the central-- only-- tower, but nonetheless Benedict is there to dig through the files he himself organized over the past however many years, possessed by some spirit of Diligence (not actually, don't worry) to overhaul the whole system once he found what he was initially looking for.

A mug of forgotten coffee sits on the desk that used to be his, and he himself sits on the floor, cigarette in mouth as he leafs through some folio or another, sorting its contents into new piles.

II. Birthday Boy (ota)

The heat has temporarily broken for the evening, with a lovely little breeze slipping into the Gallows over the harbor. Benedict has parked himself out on the makeshift beach where he'd hosted the party, resting across a blanket and some pillows, with a bottle of wine and his water pipe to accompany him. It's a familiar sight for late July: a small party thrown for himself, to which anyone who feels like stopping by is invited and offered a drink and a toke.

He rests back on his elbows over a pillow, the pipe's hose pressed thoughtfully between his lips as he looks out at the sea, the picture of quiet serenity.


for Clarisse

It's midday, and the tower is quiet, with everyone heads down over their respective tasks; but if Clarisse is concentrating, this is likely interrupted by the little rap on her doorframe as Benedict pokes his head around. Neighbors.

"I'm making coffee," he sleepily announces, "want any?"


for Caius

The person in Caius' tent is not the person he met up in Tevinter, though that should hardly be a surprise, considering how the mission resolved; Benedict still, uncannily, maintains all of Fausta's mannerisms, even if he's not required to play-act anymore.

"I tried to snatch the best-smelling one," he informs Caius as he shows him to the tent, "which isn't saying a lot, but. We do what we can."
Batting the flap open reveals that he's done his best to make it homey, with an assortment of pillows and throws and tapestries that all seem to convene around his beloved water pipe, currently sitting dormant. A smoky, strong but not unpleasant aroma lingers within the space, suggesting that it was used recently-- but at least not inside, or they'd be suffocating.


for Abby

The Noose is moderately busy for a weeknight, but not so packed as to be suffocating. It's not unusual to find Benedict there, tucked comfortably against one of the walls with a mug of wine as he works or draws or just people watches-- it's safe to say he hasn't gone on one of his little dockside excursions since before the Envy Demon Incident, as much as he may want to. If nothing else, security is key, and getting too drunk is antithetical to that.

When he sees Abby's familiar face, he meets her eyes with a playful little quirk of his mouth and a nudge of his head. Sit with me?

Comments

i

[dissolving]

Cedric raps the side of the open door. Hauled himself up here enough times now to spy it less strange; still, an echo of that first meeting, an office below.

Unrecalled by half the room.

"Heard y'were up here," Some face on the stairs. "After those guides?"

ii.

[bouchonne]

"Felix natalis," Byerly says, his Tevene accent so broadly Southern that it's practically a provocation.

He strolls up, elegant as anything, a jaunty scarf around his neck, and drops a soft but weighty package directly in Benedict's lap.

[laruetheday]

Clarisse is... well, she's in her office, if not concentrating. She has some paperwork sitting in front of her, but when Benedict pops his head in he definitely catches her doodling on her forearm with some black ink and a little brush.

"Oh, hey." A very smooth recovery as she sits up straight and smears ink across one of the papers with her arm.

"Fuck. Uh, yeah, actually. Coffee sounds good."

ii

[allthatgleamsisgold]

The party has long since reached and passed its zenith by the time Vlast drops by, carrying a small wooden box in his hand.

It doesn't take much for him to find Benedict - the man is sprawled out like Vabbian nobility with their little pleasure barges, complete with one of those water pipes humans seem to like so much.

(He never understood the attraction - whenever he spews smoke, it's because he managed to eat something that disagreed with his not-so-delicate constitution.)

The little wooden box is thrust unceremoniously under Benedict's nose.

"I am told gifts are customary for such occasions," he says, the unspoken implication being that if they aren't, someone was messing with him and taking advantage of his ignorance.

"You certainly like parties."

(The contents of the plain wooden box is nothing more than an equally plain looking penknife, folded into a plain looking wood handle. The thrum of magic coming from it suggests there's a bit more going on under the surface.)

[armd]

Yes, she will sit with him.

It's good to see him in The Noose, and not (yet?) completely drunk — she's supported Benedict more than once in getting back to the Gallows but this evening she's not entirely in the mood for it. To be clear, she'd do it anyway if she had to, but she'd be way less sympathetic about it. Everything is kinda... hard right now. She can feel herself closing off and it's not great, knowing that but doing it anyway, but Abby thinks this might be what she needs for right now.

This, and an ale.

"Hey." She might seem a bit tired to him: the result of late nights and keeping herself mercilessly busy. "You good?"

[sumptus]

"I've smelled worse."

There's been a lot of new in his first days in Kirkwall, and a lot of tight-rope walking over a pit of deepstalkers in the days since he'd reached out to Riftwatch, so the tent, even with its slightly alien touches of fanciness, draws something more like relief from him.

But the water pipe, that earns the crack of a smile.

"D'they even have anything to smoke here?" They don't even have streetlights.

for Vlast

[altusimperius]

Everyone's been busy with the latest mission, and it's entirely possible neither Vlast nor Benedict has even really seen the other in their newly-assigned shared room until now.
But one evening, Benedict is taking advantage of some downtime by sitting on the floor by his bed with a mirror, a small bowl of wax beside him that he proceeds to heat and spread across his lower face. He looks up when the door opens, but is careful not to emote and disturb his process.