action; immediately post-forgetti, like The Day it wears off
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altusimperius
2025-01-03 09:27 pm (UTC)(link)
Judging by how out-of-breath Benedict is when he enters the dining hall, making a beeline for Bastien's little work station, he just ran all the way here. He approaches with desperate purpose, claps his hands on the table, and freezes: whatever he had come to say with such confidence immediately eludes him.
"Bastien," he says instead, hushed in timid apology. whoops
"Bastien," he says instead, hushed in timid apology. whoops
Edited (words) 2025-01-03 21:28 (UTC)
Doing his best to catch up on a good week's worth of work that he wasn't allowed to touch is as good a reason as any not to immediately look up, despite the breathless purpose. But the raise of his eyebrows is still visible even with his head angled down and his eyes on the notes he's taking.
"Hm?"
"Hm?"
"Your name is Bastien," Benedict clarifies, and sits abruptly, hands still on the table.
"I'm," he squirms a moment-- how to encompass the magnitude of what happened in one pithy statement-- "I'm sorry."
"I'm," he squirms a moment-- how to encompass the magnitude of what happened in one pithy statement-- "I'm sorry."
Bastien looks up as he sits, with a bland, quizzical sort of expression. The expression one might wear if a total stranger came to their desk and informed them of their own name with no context.
He hums. He puts his pen down.
"I'm sorry," he says politely. "Who are you?"
He hums. He puts his pen down.
"I'm sorry," he says politely. "Who are you?"
Sucking in a breath, Benedict gives the briefest impression of having been stabbed right in the heart. He’s quick, however, to remember how easily Clarisse recalled him, and this is enough to get his mind on straight.
“You’re not serious,” he says weakly, calling Bastien’s bluff as sweetly as he can.
“You’re not serious,” he says weakly, calling Bastien’s bluff as sweetly as he can.
Edited 2025-01-21 01:45 (UTC)
Years of grueling training and decades of do-or-die refinement all lead to this moment, now, when Bastien doesn’t crack even a little. He shakes his head, faint and wondering and a little apologetic not to recognize this poor confused man.
“Sorry,” he says again. A freshly ordained Chantry brother couldn’t be more sincere.
“Sorry,” he says again. A freshly ordained Chantry brother couldn’t be more sincere.
There’s a pause, in which the oft-credulous Benedict struggles to believe him, but he simply knows Bastien too well by now. His face reddens with indignation, his expression darkening. He doesn’t deserve this, he thinks.
“You’re an arsehole,” he says in an undertone, his voice quavering, and he gets up from the table just as quickly as he sat down.
Before he’s completely stepped away, however, Benedict turns with a toss of his hair to snip, “and Rattie loves me more than you.”
“You’re an arsehole,” he says in an undertone, his voice quavering, and he gets up from the table just as quickly as he sat down.
Before he’s completely stepped away, however, Benedict turns with a toss of his hair to snip, “and Rattie loves me more than you.”
The quavering is right on the verge of making him crack — because no, Benedict doesn't deserve it, not for more than a few seconds — when the comment about Rat Red lands and all hope evaporates. His eyebrows pinch together, a faint hint of what are you talking about to maintain the pretense in place of a more genuine and more miserable I fucking noticed, and he doesn't try to stop him from going.
[It's a normal day of normal work; Fifi walks by Bastien in a hallway, offering her standard more-familiar-than-most smile of greeting. It's only after they've fully passed by one another that she stops suddenly with a loud gasp.]
[ His passing smile is friendly, too, if maybe a little embarrassed as well, for reasons that may not have been clear until she gasps.
Bastien stops and turns. He's not a flincher, never frantic, but he's half expecting to see a ghost beyond her in the corridor or a dead body he somehow entirely overlooked on his way past or, barring those things, something subtler but equally worrisome. Small deadly scorpion?
He's quiet, is the point, searching the floor and the space in the hallway beyond her for a reason to gasp. ]
Bastien stops and turns. He's not a flincher, never frantic, but he's half expecting to see a ghost beyond her in the corridor or a dead body he somehow entirely overlooked on his way past or, barring those things, something subtler but equally worrisome. Small deadly scorpion?
He's quiet, is the point, searching the floor and the space in the hallway beyond her for a reason to gasp. ]
[The reason reveals itself before too long, as Fifi turns, her eyes wide and immediately brimming with tears. She steps back toward him quickly, taking barely a moment to set down her cleaning basket before she tightly embraces Bastien.]
It was you, [she whispers, muffled by his shirt,] you needed help.
It was you, [she whispers, muffled by his shirt,] you needed help.
[ they haven't spoken much since that spot of trouble. that's by design. ]
Hey, if you ever meet a Bastien, his mail got misdelivered —
[ he doesn't bother at mangling any orlesian today. (there's plenty of trade to mangle) ]
Hey, if you ever meet a Bastien, his mail got misdelivered —
[ he doesn't bother at mangling any orlesian today. (there's plenty of trade to mangle) ]
This one's flash. Got an invitation to a — [ 'effigial bonfire of the virtues' ] — Street play, and a bill for the farrier, and the rest's sealed.
[ so. pages shuffle. ]
'S alright. [ it's not. it's weird, and squirrelly, and reminds him on that kid kept making up stories: beloved of his lady mother one day, abandoned by pirates the next. always something new. radu kicked his ass for it, but that didn't stop anything. just made him quieter. ] You alright?
[ so. pages shuffle. ]
'S alright. [ it's not. it's weird, and squirrelly, and reminds him on that kid kept making up stories: beloved of his lady mother one day, abandoned by pirates the next. always something new. radu kicked his ass for it, but that didn't stop anything. just made him quieter. ] You alright?
[ It's instinct to wrap his arms around her as soon as she's there, even though he's still trying to catch up to what's going on until she speaks. ]
Oh.
[ He squeezes tighter for a moment, then leans his head and shoulders back to try to get a look at her face and make her get a look at his: he's smiling still. All's well. ]
I did alright. It's all fine. I shouldn't have scared you that way.
Oh.
[ He squeezes tighter for a moment, then leans his head and shoulders back to try to get a look at her face and make her get a look at his: he's smiling still. All's well. ]
I did alright. It's all fine. I shouldn't have scared you that way.
[ Flash. He laughs, quick and politely embarrassed by the evaluation. Among other things, of course. ]
I'm alright. It is kind of you to ask, especially, [ given everything, ] but I'm fine.
[ A beat to decide before disclosing: ]
I was doing my friend Dimenche Cellier. Or, friend is a strong word. Someone I know. His family came from Perendale and he is still taking all of that very personally. As far as sworn enemies of my country go, I think Nevarra is great.
I'm alright. It is kind of you to ask, especially, [ given everything, ] but I'm fine.
[ A beat to decide before disclosing: ]
I was doing my friend Dimenche Cellier. Or, friend is a strong word. Someone I know. His family came from Perendale and he is still taking all of that very personally. As far as sworn enemies of my country go, I think Nevarra is great.
[She doesn't look up, not right away-- a wave of guilt rages through her, made worse by his attempt to take responsibility.]
You didn't know. You couldn't have known. None of us could.
[Finally, sheepishly, Fifi pulls back and brushes herself off, raising her head with a faint, tearful smile.]
It-- was an awful day, [she admits,] but that isn't your fault. I'm sorry.
You didn't know. You couldn't have known. None of us could.
[Finally, sheepishly, Fifi pulls back and brushes herself off, raising her head with a faint, tearful smile.]
It-- was an awful day, [she admits,] but that isn't your fault. I'm sorry.
[ He shakes his head. ]
I had an idea. I could have known.
[ What might logically follow is that Bastien, aware something was wrong and people did not remember them, tried with Fifi anyway because he hoped their care for one another would be stronger than whatever magic had fallen over everyone. And because he was desperate enough to be stupid. But he's hardly going to say that while trying to make her feel better.
Instead, he kisses her forehead. ]
You have nothing to be sorry for, but if you insist, you can make it up to me by coming over for dinner this week.
I had an idea. I could have known.
[ What might logically follow is that Bastien, aware something was wrong and people did not remember them, tried with Fifi anyway because he hoped their care for one another would be stronger than whatever magic had fallen over everyone. And because he was desperate enough to be stupid. But he's hardly going to say that while trying to make her feel better.
Instead, he kisses her forehead. ]
You have nothing to be sorry for, but if you insist, you can make it up to me by coming over for dinner this week.
[She closes her eyes, surprised but charmed by the gesture, her smile blossoming anew when Bastien straightens again. It's nice to have people around, she realizes, whom one really likes, and doesn't just say hello to out of pleasantry.]
It's a deal, then, [she agrees hoarsely,] I'll bring dessert.
It's a deal, then, [she agrees hoarsely,] I'll bring dessert.
Noooo,
[ drawled out with rising intonation. He's social, is what he is, and booked up all week. But the drawl buys him enough time to decide to leave Byerly to the wolves (who are their friends who they like and who will be perfectly entertaining company) for this rarer opportunity. ]
All right. I'm in. Did you have one in mind?
[ drawled out with rising intonation. He's social, is what he is, and booked up all week. But the drawl buys him enough time to decide to leave Byerly to the wolves (who are their friends who they like and who will be perfectly entertaining company) for this rarer opportunity. ]
All right. I'm in. Did you have one in mind?
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