PLAYER PLOT | Forgetti Catchall, now in the right comm

[wythersake]

WHO: Ennaris Tavane, Julius, Bastien, Viktor, Clarisse La Rue + OTA
WHAT: Strangers arrive at the Gallows.
WHEN: A week in Haring.
WHERE: The Gallows / elsewhere
NOTES: Check out this OOC Post for details.

This is a catchall post for threads with or about the forgotten characters plot. Feel free to thread about it elsewhere as well!

• OOC Info
• Rookery Post

 

Comments

[cozen]

That's worth removing the blanket, looking at Benedict with an odd sort of blankness: the result of annoyance running head-first into a potion that makes it difficult to feel very annoyed.

"It's very stupid," is not why he's almost annoyed, but it's what he's saying, earnestly. "If I was what you think I am, I could kill him. But I'm not, so you don't need to protect him from me."

That's the annoyance, blunted but struggling its way to the surface.

[altusimperius]

“Interesting,” Benedict snips, “I didn’t think I was asking you.”

[bouchonne]

"All right," says Byerly, a little too forcefully. Having Benedict exhibiting any sort of protectiveness would make Byerly feel uncomfortable under the best of circumstances. In this strange situation, in front of this stranger, the awkwardness is even more keen.

"Yes, I'm allowing him to stay here. I'm certainly not sending him out into Lowtown in this state. He wouldn't make it two blocks."

[altusimperius]

Stung, Benedict recoils slightly from Byerly, but holds his ground otherwise: Rat Red needs scratches, and by the Maker she is getting them.

"So?" he asks, incredulity growing, "he broke into your house."

[bouchonne]

Byerly shoots Benedict a look.

"I've broken into dozens of houses during my life. If not hundreds. I hope that doesn't make my life forfeit."

[altusimperius]

"Maker's breath," Benedict sighs, dropping his head back against the chair, "fine. But let me stay here too, then."

This is weird. Byerly is acting weird. Something is wrong.

"We don't know who these people are, or what they're capable of."

[cozen]

He is still not asking Bastien, whose frown has been deepening through this entire exchange—though only to the point of looking sulky. He doesn't have the capacity for fury. He says, "I'm Bastien," helpfully, in case Benedict missed that part, "and I am capable of embarrassing you so badly I would feel a little sorry for it later."

[bouchonne]

"Not least because I would certainly ensure you regretted it," Byerly replies to Bastien, his voice sharp. Not a threat of violence - this is Byerly - but of a cooler sort of revenge.

Then he turns to the man more fully. "Who are you, then? Do you have any recollection of what you were doing before you came here?"

[altusimperius]

The way Benedict's hands tighten their grip on Rat Red as if to clutch her for security is indication enough that "Bastien" has just threatened something far worse than pain or death, and Benedict's immediate instinct is to glance at Byerly-- do something-- only to relax slightly when he does.

It's as good an opportunity as any to shut up for a little bit. Rat Red, concerned, begins to lick Benedict's face, and he stalwartly endures it as he keeps a close eye on the prisoner.

[cozen]

Byerly's sharpness snaps Bastien's attention to his face. The resentful sulk that had been growing every time Benedict said another dismissive word while holding his dog melts — not away, but into a slushy puddle of wounded and betrayed. They're not entirely immune to snapping at one another, him and Byerly, but Bastien can't help his face right now. Not fully. His self-control is fighting to resurface now, close enough for something distant in his head to shout that he's embarrassing himself and give him the earnest impulse to get the fuck out of here. He sits up, swinging his legs down. He said he would leave. Benedict thinks he ought to leave. He—

He pauses where he's sitting, leant forward to reach for his stolen shoes and socks, while his stomach threatens to betray him too.

Once that moment has passed without any horrors, he says, "The Venatori were fucking with time, and we went to stop them. We did stop them." How? Great question that his mind doesn't pause to ask. "I'm Bastien," again, "and I work for Riftwatch, and I live here with you. My name is on the lease."

[bouchonne]

It’s easy enough to read Bastien’s intentions. Byerly puts a single hand on his shoulder and pushes him back. If Benedict’s alarm had weakened Byerly’s resolve at all, this re-strengthens it. Perhaps because it’s a reminder of just how dangerous it would be for him to go out there in this state - or perhaps just because Byerly is feeling stubborn.

Still. There’s some loose thread there. The lease has some strangeness about it. Where is the lease? Its location doesn’t come to mind right away, and the thought of finding it feels exhausting and difficult. But why is that? The papers are usually decently in order, aren’t they?

The thing is, of course - When you have watched so many cousins and aunts and nephews go mad, you aren’t left trusting your own mind. Byerly believes that this poor Bastien is the one who’s deluded; he feels it in his bones. And yet he knows, intellectually, that his beliefs are always to be questioned.

“Artemaeus,” Byerly says, looking to the young man beside him, “you would not indulge me if you suspected I was mad, correct?” No doubt the inbred Artemaeus clan also has insanity in their blood, but the odds of both of them losing their wits at the same time seems small.

[altusimperius]

It's a disturbing thing to watch, this back-and-forth, and Benedict isn't a cruel enough person to find any triumph in it. Especially not now, with Byerly's question causing him to wrinkle his brow and draw back to shake his head hurriedly.

"Of course not," follows, but with unease.

[cozen]

Bastien goes down when he's pushed. But then he sits up again — this time not to leave, not to try to gather his shoes, but to grasp for Byerly's hand. Which is very stupid. He would have too much pride for it if not for the stupid drugs he's stupid for drinking.

"If you're mad, everyone's mad," he says. "Fifi doesn't know me. Benedict doesn't know me. I passed Elinor and Walter in the street and they looked right through me. I was going to ask Beatrice to let me stay the night and borrow some things but as soon as I said hello she looked worried I was going to try to sell her something. It's not you."

[bouchonne]

Byerly doesn't know whether or not to be relieved. In a way, it would make for the simplest answer to this whole riddle, after all. This is especially true given how tenderly Bastien grips his hand - how he speaks of Fifi, of Elinor and Walter, of Beatrice. It's all too much familiarity to explain away.

And yet there are explanations. There are. Fifi is a nickname that's used, at times. It's no secret that Byerly is fond of the warm and bawdy Beatrice, nor Elinor, nor Walter. He finds his mind jumping to the explanations of how this is all some great manipulation - and almost clinging to them. Like there's something repulsive about the idea of knowing this man.

Maybe it's - Perhaps he'd slipped from another world into this one. A sort of Rifter from a dream that resembled their own world. Perhaps that was it.

"This thing you know that would embarrass Artemaeus," Byerly says. "It's something not many people would know?" He looks over to Benedict. "Proof that you do, truly, know us?"

[altusimperius]

Looking no more comfortable than before, Benedict's hand stills over Rat Red's frame as his face pulls into a grimace at Byerly. Why would you invite this, he seems to say-- even if he can't fault the logic, even if there's no way this person could really know that much about him, he's not sure it's anything that needs to be proven.

[cozen]

"No one knows but me and an asshole spirit," Bastien says, before honesty requires him to add, "but everyone who knows him could probably guess. I know more about you."

His grip on Byerly's hand lingers a moment longer before he pries his own fingers loose. He knows more things about Byerly that no one else knows than about Benedict, but Byerly will write it off as spying. He knows there's a letter upstairs — one left behind in case he dies or disappears — but Byerly will write it off as a plant.

He lies back down.

"It doesn't matter."