Vlast watches him with the sort of look usually reserved for some puzzling tome he's plucked from the shelves, as if by simply looking he can discern what's troubling his roommate.
It obviously doesn't work, and by the time Benedict is on his feet, Vlast's gaze has turned to the ferry that heads to the city proper.
"I have some errands near Hightown," he says, already headed for the boat (though he keeps his strides short so Benedict can keep up). "Then a meal that isn't..."
He wrinkles his nose, lips curled in a disgusted sneer. "...pease porridge."
The food at the Gallows is never what Vlast would consider, by any standards, good, but he's gnawed on carcasses of hydras that had been laying out in the desert sun for a week and would consider such haute cuisine compared to pease porridge.
Vlast's reason for wanting to find alternative food is more than enough to elicit a laugh from Benedict-- "good choice," he says, with a wry glance at Vlast, "the pease porridge in Hightown is extraordinary." Just in case there's a possibility he can convince him it's all they eat in Thedas.
It falls flat, though only because Vlast has been here a few months to have sampled enough Marcher favourites like Mystery Meat Onna Stick (with soggy veg) and Fried Seafood That's Probably Fine (with soggy fried potatoes) and Sausage Inna (soggy) Bun, and even a Fereldin favourite of Homogenous Grayish Brown Sludge (aka Stew).
Say what you will about Orlesians, but at least they know how to cook.
The aforementioned 'errands' are little more than a quick stop at a leatherworker to pick up a parcel. The real destination is a pleasant little bistro, just on the edge of Hightown. The area is upscale enough to keep out Kirkwall's grungier riff-raff, but not so posh that the upper echelons of the city would pay it much mind lest they felt like "slumming it".
It's a nice little place. The glasses are clean, the wine's good if you know how to ask for it, and, while the selection is limited; the food is excellent.
Perhaps it's ungenerous of Benedict to be so surprised at how easily, how normally, Vlast is making his way through Hightown. He definitely gets looked at more than the average person, which is the fate of any Qunari (or non-Qunari who looks like one), but somehow Benedict had had it in his head that there would be more stilted conversations, misunderstandings, general shenanigans.
It occurs to him that this isn't kind. That it is, in fact, extremely Altus of him, in that he somehow can never escape his worst impulses and cruelest thoughts, even when to do so is all that stands between him and loneliness. Here he goes again: the spiral.
He's deep in his head when they sit down, but he looks around, offering Vlast an odd, distracted little smile. "This is nice," he remarks, unable to keep from sounding impressed.
Vlast doesn't seem to pay people much mind. It's a careless sort of naivete; the indifference of one who can afford to brush off sour looks without worry. Optics were never Vlast's strong suit; to the Elonians, he was a protector, but one to be wary of. On one hand, he stemmed the tide of Branded and kept Joko and his tyranny to one side of the Elon River. On the other, he had a reputation of being vicious, temperamental and aloof.
...It's going to be an uphill battle for him to understand the underlying source of Benedict's spiral.
"I thought you might like it," he gruffs. "You've seemed... ill at ease, these past days."
It takes perhaps a little too long for Benedict to clock Vlast's meaning: that they're here for him, and not just to find a decent meal. He looks almost concerned for a moment, staring past his companion as their wine arrives, but he eventually meets his eyes again.
"I made a mistake," he says quietly, uneasily. "Someone trusted me. And I didn't deserve it."
A low rumble of acknowledgment before Vlast falls into one of his pensive silences, turning Benedict's words over in his head, inspecting them. Maybe he can infer some hidden detail, but probably not.
"It was, as you say, a mistake, was it not? Or are you believed to have acted maliciously?"
With a fretful sip from his wine, Benedict watches him.
"I don't know," he admits, hunching his shoulders, "it hasn't come up again." YET. "I..."
He's silent a moment as he chews his words, "...I think I want to apologize. But I'm not sure how, especially if she doesn't even know it happened."
It's amazing that he still runs into these situations: a 28 year old with the emotional intelligence of a young teenager, still scrambling to catch up with his peers despite all the scrambling he's already done. He knows it's not a good look, works as hard as he can. At least, of all people, Vlast maybe understands.
"I'm not very good at them," he adds uncomfortably, "apologies."
It's a while before Vlast speaks again, though he at least uses the time to sample some of his own wine.
"Everyone falters," he finally says. "Such is inevitable. Whether one can admit their failures or not is what shows how trustworthy they are."
A platter of breads, cheeses, meats and other accoutrements both sweet and savoury are set down in front of them. Vlast nudges it closer to Benedict because the young human really does look like he needs to eat more.
"How much do you think this blunder will set back Riftwatch...?"
For his part, Benedict doesn't even notice the charcuterie being nudged toward him: he takes some selections and begins to eat unthinkingly, considering the question.
"Maybe," he admits, to the first bit, after he's had some time to chew and swallow. "I-- no, it's not about Riftwatch, really. Just one person." Another bite.
"I'm afraid," spoken hesitantly, "if she's angry. If I've-- I've really fucked it up. It won't affect the organization, it won't set us back, I'll just. Miss her."
Benedict furrows his brow as he chews on a pastry. It's a fair point. But,
"Couldn't she say the same of me?" He frowns-- it doesn't seem right, that Abby would react that way, but the theatre of the mind is an incredible thing.
If there is a single person in Riftwatch who has been unaffected by the conflict, he'd be shocked.
"You speak of her trust in you," he says, "but it seems you have little of your own to spare her. Already you have reached the conclusion that she will end things over, as you said, a mistake. How much harm have you actually caused? To me, the scope seems quite small."
Opening his mouth, then closing it again, Benedict is unexpectedly offended by the assessment. First of all, how dare you--
"--I-- well recently--," he stammers, ultimately shutting himself up by drinking from his wine again. "...it can be hard to tell," he concludes with a frown. Perhaps the scope is small. Perhaps he's blowing it up out of nothing, focusing, as always, on himself and his own significance. He scowls at the table.
Vlast's pale yellow eyes remain fixed on Benedict.
"Your only path forward is to speak with her and confront the matter directly," he says. "Then you will be able to tell. However it goes, at least worry will no longer eat you from the inside."
There's a thoughtful frown as Vlast tries to find a logical reason for Benedict to be so afraid of his friend.
"Is she particularly territorial...? I can subdue her first if need be."
Feeling Vlast's eyes on him, Benedict glances up to meet them, but not for long-- it makes him uneasy, but a strange warmth blossoms in him as well, not unlike how he used to feel when Gabranth got stern with him. It's oddly pleasant, comforting in an undignified way, and he finds himself blushing slightly.
How he misses Gabranth. But Vlast is here, and his eyes are so eerie and intriguing, and--
"--what?" The question snaps him out of it, and he almost laughs outright. "No-- no, don't do that."
It's Vlast's turn to look away with a huffy little exhale.
He's not really sure why that expression on Benedict's face has him so flustered. He is Vlast! The first scion of Glaust! The grandchild of Kralkatorrik! He was in line to inherit the role of an Elder Dragon! Nothing should make him feel flustered like some sort of giddy little hatchling! He's beyond such things!
"Have it your way. If she bites you, you can't say I didn't offer."
Between the unusual tension of the situation and Vlast’s specific warning, something breaks. Benedict erupts into laughter comprised half of genuine hilarity at the mental image of Abby biting him, and half Something Else.
Vlast stares in utter bewilderment at the outburst of laughter (to say nothing of the other tables, startled by the noise).
It's hard for him to tell if what he said was, unintentionally, quite funny or if the stress Benedict has been putting himself under has driven him a little mad.
"Ridiculous," he scoffs, grumbling under his breath as he takes a draught of wine.
But as his lips touch the rim of his glass, there is the faintest hint of a smile - almost as though he's pleased with himself for getting Benedict to laugh again.
It is a double-edged sword for Benedict that Vlast's very limited experience with interpersonal relationships leaves him rather oblivious to the implications.
On one hand, what Abby biting Clarisse means has flown right over his head. On the other, it's going to take a lot of work to get the rifter qunari to recognize the obvious for what it is.
"...Ah. They're quarreling. Is it over food? Territory? ...No, forget I asked."
He shakes his head. Not his circus, not his monkeys.
"Stop fretting. I already said I won't get involved."
Normally this would be the perfect opportunity to let the subject go, but one might say Benedict has a vested interest in Vlast being able to read certain signals. He arches his eyebrows over his wine at the qunari, waiting for the punchline- and when it never comes,
“it’s…” he begins, and, realizing this is a delicate needle to thread without digging himself deeper in his own guilt spiral, adds, “good biting.”
Vlast's upper lip curls in his confusion and disbelief. Benedict may as well have just said there's such a thing as good hemorrhoids.
Biting is for warding off rivals, it's for catching and killing prey, it's for ripping flesh from bone.
Perhaps in some cases that's good, but only for the victor.
Then again, humans are full of quirks and nuances. Once upon a time, Sadizi had tried to explain, but Vlast had brushed him off when he soon learned that very few of those matters applied to him.
Trapped in this mortal form, Vlast is reconciling with the fact he may have to re-assess.
Benedict takes a breath, blows it out, and picks up a pastry to bite thoughtfully into it, staring past Vlast for a moment. This clearly isn’t about gossip anymore.
“It’s like,” he continues, once he’s finished with the bite, “well how do your kind show that— that they like each other?”
The innocent bite of pastry holds his fascination, at least for a moment. The question hangs in the meantime.
And then Vlast's gaze turns inward.
"We don't."
...Like each other, that is.
Vlast reaches for the bottle, refilling their glasses. It's something to occupy his hands while he tries to find some way to summarize the ongoing conflict with his immediate family.
"Whatever affection endures between my kind decays under the weight of time, duty, or death."
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2024-11-25 03:09 pm (UTC)It obviously doesn't work, and by the time Benedict is on his feet, Vlast's gaze has turned to the ferry that heads to the city proper.
"I have some errands near Hightown," he says, already headed for the boat (though he keeps his strides short so Benedict can keep up). "Then a meal that isn't..."
He wrinkles his nose, lips curled in a disgusted sneer. "...pease porridge."
The food at the Gallows is never what Vlast would consider, by any standards, good, but he's gnawed on carcasses of hydras that had been laying out in the desert sun for a week and would consider such haute cuisine compared to pease porridge.
"I'd like your advice on the latter."
no subject
Date: 2024-11-25 07:22 pm (UTC)Just in case there's a possibility he can convince him it's all they eat in Thedas.
no subject
Date: 2024-11-26 04:12 am (UTC)Say what you will about Orlesians, but at least they know how to cook.
The aforementioned 'errands' are little more than a quick stop at a leatherworker to pick up a parcel. The real destination is a pleasant little bistro, just on the edge of Hightown. The area is upscale enough to keep out Kirkwall's grungier riff-raff, but not so posh that the upper echelons of the city would pay it much mind lest they felt like "slumming it".
It's a nice little place. The glasses are clean, the wine's good if you know how to ask for it, and, while the selection is limited; the food is excellent.
no subject
Date: 2024-11-26 08:19 pm (UTC)It occurs to him that this isn't kind. That it is, in fact, extremely Altus of him, in that he somehow can never escape his worst impulses and cruelest thoughts, even when to do so is all that stands between him and loneliness. Here he goes again: the spiral.
He's deep in his head when they sit down, but he looks around, offering Vlast an odd, distracted little smile.
"This is nice," he remarks, unable to keep from sounding impressed.
no subject
Date: 2024-11-26 08:32 pm (UTC)...It's going to be an uphill battle for him to understand the underlying source of Benedict's spiral.
"I thought you might like it," he gruffs. "You've seemed... ill at ease, these past days."
no subject
Date: 2024-11-26 09:32 pm (UTC)"I made a mistake," he says quietly, uneasily. "Someone trusted me. And I didn't deserve it."
no subject
Date: 2024-11-26 10:28 pm (UTC)A low rumble of acknowledgment before Vlast falls into one of his pensive silences, turning Benedict's words over in his head, inspecting them. Maybe he can infer some hidden detail, but probably not.
"It was, as you say, a mistake, was it not? Or are you believed to have acted maliciously?"
no subject
Date: 2024-11-26 10:35 pm (UTC)"I don't know," he admits, hunching his shoulders, "it hasn't come up again." YET. "I..."
He's silent a moment as he chews his words, "...I think I want to apologize. But I'm not sure how, especially if she doesn't even know it happened."
It's amazing that he still runs into these situations: a 28 year old with the emotional intelligence of a young teenager, still scrambling to catch up with his peers despite all the scrambling he's already done. He knows it's not a good look, works as hard as he can. At least, of all people, Vlast maybe understands.
"I'm not very good at them," he adds uncomfortably, "apologies."
no subject
Date: 2024-11-26 11:00 pm (UTC)"Everyone falters," he finally says. "Such is inevitable. Whether one can admit their failures or not is what shows how trustworthy they are."
A platter of breads, cheeses, meats and other accoutrements both sweet and savoury are set down in front of them. Vlast nudges it closer to Benedict because the young human really does look like he needs to eat more.
"How much do you think this blunder will set back Riftwatch...?"
no subject
Date: 2024-11-26 11:10 pm (UTC)"Maybe," he admits, to the first bit, after he's had some time to chew and swallow. "I-- no, it's not about Riftwatch, really. Just one person." Another bite.
"I'm afraid," spoken hesitantly, "if she's angry. If I've-- I've really fucked it up. It won't affect the organization, it won't set us back, I'll just. Miss her."
no subject
Date: 2024-11-26 11:21 pm (UTC)(Thinks the man who's never had to deal with a single interpersonal problem in his life.)
"If you are honest with her, and she abandons you over such a small thing, then was there truly any bond there at all...?"
no subject
Date: 2024-11-26 11:25 pm (UTC)"Couldn't she say the same of me?" He frowns-- it doesn't seem right, that Abby would react that way, but the theatre of the mind is an incredible thing.
"She's been through a lot this year."
no subject
Date: 2024-11-26 11:31 pm (UTC)If there is a single person in Riftwatch who has been unaffected by the conflict, he'd be shocked.
"You speak of her trust in you," he says, "but it seems you have little of your own to spare her. Already you have reached the conclusion that she will end things over, as you said, a mistake. How much harm have you actually caused? To me, the scope seems quite small."
https://i.imgflip.com/5walpg.jpg
Date: 2024-11-26 11:42 pm (UTC)"--I-- well recently--," he stammers, ultimately shutting himself up by drinking from his wine again. "...it can be hard to tell," he concludes with a frown. Perhaps the scope is small. Perhaps he's blowing it up out of nothing, focusing, as always, on himself and his own significance.
He scowls at the table.
no subject
Date: 2024-11-27 12:33 am (UTC)"Your only path forward is to speak with her and confront the matter directly," he says. "Then you will be able to tell. However it goes, at least worry will no longer eat you from the inside."
There's a thoughtful frown as Vlast tries to find a logical reason for Benedict to be so afraid of his friend.
"Is she particularly territorial...? I can subdue her first if need be."
no subject
Date: 2024-11-27 12:45 am (UTC)How he misses Gabranth. But Vlast is here, and his eyes are so eerie and intriguing, and--
"--what?" The question snaps him out of it, and he almost laughs outright. "No-- no, don't do that."
no subject
Date: 2024-11-27 01:22 am (UTC)He's not really sure why that expression on Benedict's face has him so flustered. He is Vlast! The first scion of Glaust! The grandchild of Kralkatorrik! He was in line to inherit the role of an Elder Dragon! Nothing should make him feel flustered like some sort of giddy little hatchling! He's beyond such things!
"Have it your way. If she bites you, you can't say I didn't offer."
no subject
Date: 2024-11-27 03:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-11-27 03:49 am (UTC)It's hard for him to tell if what he said was, unintentionally, quite funny or if the stress Benedict has been putting himself under has driven him a little mad.
"Ridiculous," he scoffs, grumbling under his breath as he takes a draught of wine.
But as his lips touch the rim of his glass, there is the faintest hint of a smile - almost as though he's pleased with himself for getting Benedict to laugh again.
no subject
Date: 2024-11-27 03:54 am (UTC)“It’s sweet of you to worry,” he chides, “but Abby’s not going to bite me. She’ll have to save it for Clarisse—“
He claps his hand over his mouth. IDIOT,
no subject
Date: 2024-11-27 04:14 am (UTC)On one hand, what Abby biting Clarisse means has flown right over his head. On the other, it's going to take a lot of work to get the rifter qunari to recognize the obvious for what it is.
"...Ah. They're quarreling. Is it over food? Territory? ...No, forget I asked."
He shakes his head. Not his circus, not his monkeys.
"Stop fretting. I already said I won't get involved."
no subject
Date: 2024-11-27 04:21 am (UTC)“it’s…” he begins, and, realizing this is a delicate needle to thread without digging himself deeper in his own guilt spiral, adds, “good biting.”
no subject
Date: 2024-11-27 04:31 am (UTC)Biting is for warding off rivals, it's for catching and killing prey, it's for ripping flesh from bone.
Perhaps in some cases that's good, but only for the victor.
Then again, humans are full of quirks and nuances. Once upon a time, Sadizi had tried to explain, but Vlast had brushed him off when he soon learned that very few of those matters applied to him.
Trapped in this mortal form, Vlast is reconciling with the fact he may have to re-assess.
"Explain."
no subject
Date: 2024-11-27 04:47 am (UTC)“It’s like,” he continues, once he’s finished with the bite, “well how do your kind show that— that they like each other?”
He innocently bites the pastry again.
no subject
Date: 2024-11-27 05:12 am (UTC)And then Vlast's gaze turns inward.
"We don't."
...Like each other, that is.
Vlast reaches for the bottle, refilling their glasses. It's something to occupy his hands while he tries to find some way to summarize the ongoing conflict with his immediate family.
"Whatever affection endures between my kind decays under the weight of time, duty, or death."
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