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[altusimperius]

tell him how pretty he is

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crystal;

[coquettish_trees]

[ Softly, with a general air of conspiracy that sounds more mirthful than urgent: ]

Are you alone?

[altusimperius]

Um. Yes?

[Lexie please you're a married woman and we saw how this went last time,]

crystal.

[poleaxed]

[It's been a few weeks, but certainly not six.]

Oi! Benny me lad. How's Kirkwall holding up?

[altusimperius]

It's holding.

[He sounds exhausted, run ragged by the current situation.]

Is all well where you are?

in the latter bit of the current plot; crystal

[kantikoy]

Hello Benedict.

Is he still not sleeping?

[altusimperius]

I've been gone, so it's hard to say.

[A defeated sigh,] ...but I've got a pretty good guess.

Crystal

[muckspout]

[All business.]

Benedict! Have a question.

[altusimperius]

[A bit surprised,]

Uh-huh?

[bouchonne]

Dear Benedict.

[altusimperius]

...yes,

shortly before the Mage Meeting

[bouchonne]

Are you going to the gathering of the mages, Artemaeus?

[altusimperius]

I…

[cautiously,]

think perhaps I should, yes.

[bouchonne]

[ It's after the truth event, and after Cumberland, when Byerly finally says to Benedict, out of the blue one day in the office - ]

Listen. Artemaeus. I've been wanting to say - I'm sorry about my...rough treatment of you before that meeting of the mages.

reanimates

[altusimperius]

[The scratching of Benedict's quill pauses mid-word, and he holds still for a moment, like a rabbit caught in a hawk's gaze. Then, he turns to look behind him, casting a quizzical look at Byerly. An apology?]

action;

[glossator]

With half the company having gone running off toward Nevarra, the Gallows has lapsed into an odd state of semi-quiet and skeleton crew assignments. It's the ideal state wherein a man who ordinarily makes a practice of boarding himself up in the library might instead drag all his work out into the sunshine of the Gallows courtyard, or into the little chapel-adhavent garden, or simply to the dining hall—anything for a change of scenery, given the relative quiet he might find wherever he goes.

That is not what Laurentius Vesperus is doing today.

Today, he is standing in the assistant's office designed to head off inquiries exactly like this one being put directly to Byerly:

"I'm interested in joining the division. Tell me what I should know."

[altusimperius]

"Hello," Benedict replies flatly, quill in hand as he was mid-stroke when Laurentius arrived and announced himself, "do you have an appointment?"

Laurentius doesn't need an appointment, necessarily, but the only person allowed to stomp in here and start issuing commands is Byerly, and even he gets sass about it occasionally.

[armd]

(Surreptitiously,) Benedict. Do we gossip?

[altusimperius]

[Almost instantly,]

do we.

[misdirection_hex]

And lo, the pitter-patter of tiny feet was heard throughout the Diplomacy office. No, it's not Bring Your Kid To Work Day, it's just Vandelin.

He's here with the intention of introducing himself to whoever's taken over the division in the years since he's last been here, and seeing as it has been years, he's not necessarily expecting any familiar faces--not a situation he likes to find himself in, dealing with the unfamiliar in any way, but needs must.

Unless the first face he sees is a familiar one. Then, Van might allow himself to look slightly, visibly pleased.

"Benedict? Aren't you a sight for sore eyes." Sore, very large eyes.

[altusimperius]

It's early, sleep has been bad lately, and sometimes the only way one can manage to stay awake through the dragging morning hours (without Byerly, who's still abed, sniping at him from over at his desk) is to doodle and hope for something more interesting to come along.

Something more interesting does come along, and Benedict almost doesn't hear him enter, his head too clouded with fatigue; but the sound of his name makes him sit bolt upright and slide the drawing off his desk with practiced agility, the very picture of a lazy student who's just been called on.
It's only when he sees who did the calling that he stops, blinking with a look of honest surprise.

"Vandelin," he says stupidly, his mind still struggling to catch up with his eyes.

[prelest]

Hello. Is this Benedict Artemaeus?

[altusimperius]

[with mild trepidation,]

Yes. Who's this?

[bouchonne]

[ At some point, after learning of Byerly's death, Benedict will have to go through his desk to get his affairs in order. And so he'll find a sealed letter, tucked away in a locked drawer that only Byerly and Benedict had the keys to. The sealed letter is addressed to Benedict himself. It's not long, and is written in a handsome but rather careless cursive. ]

Artemaeus -

Given the danger we face in this organization, it seems to me useful to write down a few instructions for if I am incapacitated or killed. Please take these as suggestions rather than commands, as I am sure that the best course of action will depend on the precise circumstances; let your judgment be your guide, as it has proven of late to be quite a sound source of counsel to you.

1. Bastien will make a fine interim Head of Diplomacy, but I would ask that you not make him the permanent head, as the position would stifle his sense of joy. I suspect, in the longer term, that Seeker Hart would be the best true candidate for replacement; however, she may be a politically delicate choice, as her position as Seeker may be disliked by the mage contingent. Work to lay the groundwork amongst them for her election.

2. You know where I keep my lists of outstanding issues and priorities we must tackle next. Do not forget about that list, and use it to guide work for the next month or so.

3. I know that I am not there to protect you any longer. I believe that you have proven yourself worthy of trust amongst the other Division Heads, and that they will not do you any harm. If, however, you find that this is not the case, you may actually be able to turn Flint into a strange sort of ally. Go to him and tell him that you are a strong believer in the liberation of the slaves of Tevinter and that this had been a project you and I had been working on. You'll find more details of my plans in my quarters. He cares deeply for this cause, and he may well overlook his dislike of you if you prove to be important to furthering it.

4. If that does not suffice, and you believe yourself to be in danger from the others, you can seek refuge with my sister. Her name is Nadine Rutyer Elsworth, and she resides in Gwaren. She knows of you and knows to expect you. She will give you everything she has, but consider this a strict order that you are not to allow her to give you everything she has; I expect you to take up a profession to assist in supporting her and her family. Your clerkship skills are certainly more than sufficient to earn you work.

5. If Bastien has died with me, I will ask that you look after Whiskey. She likes a bit of pumpkin as a treat.

Be well. It has been a pleasure to watch you grow from the boy you were into the man you are. You will be fine.

[altusimperius]

🔪

[katabasis]

No one has died, and so eventually Gallows settles back into its more ordinary cadence of weekly meetings and dispatches, cycling rota assignments, and packets of paper shuttling between one desk to another with somewhat alien efficiency. For all the urgency that itches at the back of the neck, no one is really behind in the way it feels like they ought to be—those weeks of being short staffed and working double- or triple- duty having happened to other people, in some other place, in some other time.

And so there is no reason whatsoever for Commander Flint to manifest in the Diplomacy antechamber and not simply pass directly into the office beyond without so much as a glance spared for Byerly's assistant cringing behind his desk.

Instead, he stops just inside the forward chamber. He doesn't bother to draw the door shut behind him, and the looming point of his attention swings with dread weight in Benedict's very direction.

"Artemaeus."

[altusimperius]

Benedict doesn't always look up immediately when someone enters, especially when he's particularly invested in what he's doing. This is one of those times, but the sound of his name being spoken by That Voice is enough to stop his quill mid-scribble, and he remains frozen for a long moment before turning only his head to regard the Commander.

He doesn't say anything, but there is a flicker of his gaze toward the back office as he realizes that Byerly isn't here, and if this goes poorly nobody will know how he died.

[bouchonne]

[ One day, when Byerly comes into the office, he has an unusual air of awkwardness. Not dreadfully so, but - he gives an impression of faint discomfort. ]

Artemaeus.

[ - he greets, voice light. ]

[altusimperius]

[Benedict looks up at him, pleasantly enough, but Byerly's expression incites tension in his own. If one listens closely, they can hear the klaxons beginning to sound in his mind.

Of all the words to describe Byerly Rutyer, awkward doesn't tend to be one.]

action;

[dissolving]

Cedric is shuffled to a few places before the Personnel Office. A bath wasn't one of them. It's been a long week - a longer campaign - and he wears half the road between Kirkwall and the Silent Plains when he crunches in.

"Hello?" Hands folded behind his back. "I was sent for an Artemaeus?"

Hard not to feel naked, unarmed and unarmored and still reporting for duty. Didn't he have a nightmare like this? The one where all his teeth fell out -

[altusimperius]

The desk looks empty when he first comes in, because its occupant is ducking behind it to sort through a pile of homeless parchment and scrolls. He doesn’t realize anyone is there until Cedric speaks, and then Benedict sits bolt upright, barely avoiding banging his head on the surface.

“Hello,” he says with an air of intense confirmation— “yes, that’s me.” A quick toss of his head, and he straightens out his shoulders, pushing his hair back in an unconsciously posh rearrangement of his person. It’s important to make a good impression.

crystal

[cozen]

[ From Orlais, where Benedict is not, before any kidnappings or crises have had time to occur: ]

Can your parents take a joke?

[altusimperius]

Categorically, no.

What did you have in mind?

crystal

[bouchonne]

Dear Artemaeus! How are you.

[altusimperius]

[absently,] hmm?

crystal bitching;

[quaestionespatris]

[presumably sometime after this conversation has come to an end:]

Are you busy?

[spoken like someone who is going to burst into flames on the spot unless he gets the chance to say what's on his mind first.]

[altusimperius]

Um--

[the urge to say yes is rising]

--has something happened?

crystal

[armd]

Got a minute?

Re: crystal

[altusimperius]

Mmhmm?

slides in like i promised

[laruetheday]

Morning, and Clarisse is sitting in the mess hall, shoveling spoonfuls of oatmeal into her mouth. In between bites, she happens to look up and see Benedict looking at her from the next table over.

It's not weird. People look at each other, especially when they're in a crowd.

She's actually considering getting up and moving over to his table, but then she looks up again and he's still watching her.

Clarisse drops her spoon into her bowl and says, "What?" with her mouth full.

Re: slides in like i promised

[altusimperius]

He straightens abruptly, wearing the distinct look of one who has been caught out staring without meaning to.

"What!" he says abruptly back.

[allthatgleamsisgold]

Something is wrong with Benedict.

Benedict is not, nor ever has been, a beacon of sparkles, sunshine and cheer - at least not to Vlast's knowledge. But the past few days has seen a certain listlessness in the human that has, slowly but surely, prodded at nescient feelings of concern deep in the rifter qunari.

He... respects Benedict. He supposes that's the word for it, anyway. The man has found his niche and seems to excel at it and has never made a nuisance of himself in a way that didn't somewhat endear himself to Vlast.

So. Respect. He'll go with that. And he doesn't like seeing someone he respects in such a state of misery.

Vlast looks for Benedict a little before dinner; it's easy enough. There's a bittersweet quality to Benedict's magic; the sharp tang of a storm brewing over the sweet, smoky scent of a wildfire that would have drawn Vlast's curiosity regardless, though their recent proximity as roommates has made it very familiar and easy to trace.

He finds him in the courtyard, and keeping his footfalls heavy enough not to startle, Vlast falls in line at his side.

“I'm headed out to the city,” he says. “Would you like to join me?”

[altusimperius]

Vlast hasn't known Benedict long enough to fully tell the difference between a sulk, a period of reflection, and a proper spiral: the duration varies, but the third is noteworthy in his inability to sit still, finding no pleasure or relief in his usual hedonistic activities.
It's for this reason that he's been difficult to track down, at least until Vlast manages to come across him sitting on the steps out to the harbor, smoking and brooding.

The question is enough to startle him out of it, and he blinks up at the qunari like he isn't quite prepared to make his brain move in a different direction; but, after an awkward pause, he simply nods, and rises to his feet.

"Where in the city?" he asks quietly, dropping the cigarette to ash it under his toe.

crystals, post-satinalia-ish

[pathlit]

[ In response to this, probably late morning: ] Benedict? It's Jayce. You like cheese?

[altusimperius]

[with audible surprise,]

Uh-- yes. I mean, depending. Why?

action

[sprent]

"— Hold the door?"

Said behind a stack of things, boxes in her arms and hair, having come loose of its tie, all over the place and in-between. Gela puts her shoulder against the frame and pushes through, putting what's in her arms down on Benedict's office table, on top of whatever is there. Just for a moment.

Finally she looks at him, already gathering her hair back now that her hands are free, spitting some out of her mouth, rescuing the leather wrap to reuse.

"Is now a good time?"

Re: action

[altusimperius]

Benedict holds it as requested, stepping aside with a look of initial surprise that turns pleased when he realizes why Gela is here.

"Definitely," he decides-- who cares if it actually is-- and grins, closing the door behind her. "What've you got?"

action;

[overharrowed]

Julius is a man of habit. While Benedict sees him regularly, it is somewhat irregular to have him popping in at an unplanned moment. On the other hand, it's the middle of the day, and their offices aren't far from one another, so it really is only odd because it's Julius knocking on the door frame (since the door itself is open).

"Do you have minute? Nothing dire if you're in the middle of something else."

At least his tone matches his words. He doesn't seem to be breaking his habit because anything is on fire, metaphorically or otherwise.

[altusimperius]

It’s a welcome interruption from the tedium of paperwork, and Benedict smiles up at the door from his desk.

“What can I do for you, Seneschal?”

action.

[cozen]

Not long after receiving a talking-to, Bastien turns up in the doorway to Benedict's office and says, "Catch."

The little bundle of cloth tossed at him, underhand, contains a pair of earrings, matched but asymmetrical and high enough quality that there is no way he did not steal them.

That means it's costing him more, actually, to say, "I'm sorry for giving you a hard time."

Re: action.

[altusimperius]

Benedict does not look up fast enough to catch, and the small bundle lands to nearly skid off his desk, but he manages to grab it in time. His look at Bastien is questioning, perhaps a little incredulous, until he unfolds the cloth and hears what he has to say.

He opens his mouth, thinks a moment, closes it.

"It wasn't easy for you," he says measuredly, carefully, "being forgotten."