escordvi | open 🪶 the world owes me a debt, and i've come to collect.

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open 🪶 the world owes me a debt, and i've come to collect.

Who: Benedikta Harman & you.
Status: Open.
Where: All around.
What: Oops, all MANTA stuff. And a not-date with Cid.
Warnings: FFXVI spoilers, foul language, suggestive content. The usual.

🗡️ i. bite-sized blessings

[Apparently, Benedikta's ears are looking quite delectable to one small, pink dragon today. This is why she hates Eltrut—half the time she comes here, no, a majority of the times she comes here, there is always something. A goose, a conning healer who sends her out to do his grocery shopping... Today, it is a small pink dragon that has bitten her ear and tries to do it again. She's attempted to swat it away, walk it off, but no matter how fast she moves, it follows her and nips at her, or finds joy in playing with her hair.

Fool her once, shame on her. Fool her twice—]

You little brat!

[—it's managed to grab at her hair, and it pulls, before swooping away from her grappling hands with a chirp, as if it thinks this is some sort of game!?

Someone please help this woman. Or this dragon. She has yet to hear all about how this thing is meant to be returned to Elah, so if you are looking for said pink dragon, here it is.]

🗡️ ii. a steamy winter heist

[It was the exorbitant prices that drew Benedikta to the job first. The black market was always open, and she was always willing. Call it doing someone else's dirty work, if it put a good sack of coin into her pocket, then who is she to complain? Besides, it's not as if stealing something off a ship in the dead of night was difficult—she's done it dozens of times before.

The fact that it was a special sort of tea was only a bonus, so of course she would pocket some for herself... Maybe a handful. Or maybe a whole crate if she could get away with it.

Now, that is the question, isn't it?]

༄ a. getting to the ship. [Perhaps it is your lucky night and Benedikta is feeling somewhat charitable. Charitable enough that she is willing to use anyone she finds as a decoy while she sneaks in to steal the goods. Of course, she isn't about to say as much, as she stands on the docks and stares out to the merchant ship coming into the shore, its lights blinking against the darkening sky.

She has her pipe between her teeth as she almost always does before a job like this, letting the smoke swirl on her tongue before letting it billow outward.]

So, that there is the ship? [She scoffs.] She is certainly impressive.

[As large as a rich, black-market-selling merchant's ship should be. Which is why she's agreed to a "two-person" job.]

༄ b. caught red-handed. [Or, maybe she wasn't feeling so charitable.

As if being caught matters all that much to her. She's in the middle of making off with a whole crate—and the last one, too; people have been busy—of these tea bags (there must be hundreds of them in here) when she hears footsteps coming. She hardly flinches, if at all, and stands there with it tucked haphazardly under her arm while she stares the other person down with a smile before she tosses her head back.

Yep. You saw right. A whole box.]

Sorry. As they say, the early bird and all. A shame you came all this way only to come out empty-handed, but try again another night.

[There may have been a threat underlining her voice somewhere.]

🗡️ iii. poke 'n prance

[Well, at the very least, being paired up with Benedikta for a challenge like this cannot get any better... or worse than this, depending on who you ask. Having a history of torturing others means that she knows exactly where to put the sword and how much pain it will inflict. After all, when fishing for information, it is best to poke and prod it out of someone, and you can't very well gain much from a dead person, now can you?

Which is why she walks up with her own sword in her hand with all the confidence and arrogance of a pretty peacock, her fingers caressing the sharp edge of her blade, from hilt all the way to its jagged tip.]

Now, pay close attention to where I stick you because we can only do this once. Perhaps twice, if you can withstand it.

[She smiles, so sweet and saccharine and sarcastic.]

So, consider this a valuable lesson.

🗡️ iv. coins of the crescent

[Well. What she thought would be a nice, peaceful ride out to this island to fetch some coins turned out to be... well, everything but. It had been fine for the most part, but as the island came into view through the fog, things had started to tip and tip and tip until everything went fucking tits up.

Not only did the crew start to howl and turn rabid, much like those stupid wolves she can hear in the distance, but so did the captain, and now the ship is wayward on the seas at the behest of the waves. Fortunately, she can use the winds to guide them true, but it will take a little more concentration than what she can afford as she drives her sword into the shoulder of one infected crew that lunges at her with what could only be thought of as a kitten's claws.

Don't worry, that won't kill him, but it will send him reeling to the ground wailing in pain, and she kicks him in the gut to quiet him.

Whoever might be standing near her, she will shout at them with no shortage of rage in her voice as she gives her sword a brandish, the blood spraying from her blade.]

Might anyone spare a moment to take care of them while I attempt to not crash this fucking ship!?

[Must she do everything!?]

🗡️ v. untitled goose bounty 2

[Well, this is certainly not what she was expecting to see when she arrived on Eltrut, or tried to. She'd heard sounds from above across the ship's deck first—the worried shouts of the crew and riftfarers alike. Benedikta had been enjoying the peaceful ride in her cabin aboard the Stormbringer, and had half a mind to ignore the noise and go right back to sleep...

...

Until she hears something else.

The loud, low, rumbling sound of a... honk?

Something visceral shatters through Benedikta's whole body then, forcing her to sit up when the flashbacks of those eight-headed geese attacked her not even a month ago. She rushes to her feet and then out the door, shoving people out of her way as she storms up to the deck where she beholds—]

You've got to be fucking kidding me.

[—an eight-headed(?) goose large enough that it could peck out Eltrut's eye.

Much, much larger than she recalls it being.

And she is pulled out of her reverie only by the sounds of magitech cannons being blasted off.]

I see it's come back for another taste.

🗡️ vi. wildcard

[None of these prompts work for you? Want to do something that isn't from the MANTA board? Feel free to hit up my plotting comment, or via plurk @

crystariums! I'm also around on the game discord, and PM works, too! Also open to texts/bottled messages!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She stares at him over the rim of her glass, still flustered by his earlier answer to let up just yet, but at that brazen comment, she throws back a much larger sip than she should for the first one.

Yeah, she's going to need several glasses of wine tonight.]

And what exactly do you have in mind?

[Just casually leaning an arm against the counter right next to her, eyes gleaming with his usual mischief as he looks at her over the glass.]

I have to keep a few more surprises still. However...

[And just dips his head slightly towards her, lowering his voice.]

You won't be leaving disappointed...if at all.

[A cocky quirk of his brow along with a matching smirk before he takes a sip of his wine.]

[She'd be tempted to take another large sip of her wine for that... if it weren't for the shiver that threatens to overcome her when he leans in, just far enough that his voice once again awakens something within her. Something that should not be awoken here and now.

Instead, she'll lift her glass so that it's between them, hiding the not-so-subtle way she presses her lips together.]

You had best be careful, Cidolfus. You are once more setting the bar too high for yourself.

[An arch of her brow over her glass.]

We haven't even made it to our table yet, and here you are, making all these promises. [A pause.] You know I don't like surprises.

[A low chuckle as he eases back, content at once more ruffling her feathers.]

Who knows, if you try hard enough you may convince me to tell you yet.

[He really needs to stop, but he's honestly having fun teasing her.]

But I assure you these are pleasant ones, perhaps not even so surprising at all.

[He really does need to stop.

With a light groan under a breath, Benedikta sets her glass down firmly on the counter as someone comes up behind her to call over the bartender for a drink, forcing her closer to him whether she wants to be or not. And... who's to say whether she does or doesn't?

She does take this opportunity to look him straight into his eyes, though, catching that amusement in them that tends to bother her far too much for his own good.]

What is not surprising...

[Her gaze does that thing where it roams over him again.]

... is that you are so lofty that you think I will enjoy myself at all, surprises or none.

[And with a light smirk, she reaches up and gives his hat a firm tug so that it covers that annoying glint in his eyes that calls her out and makes her feel so very seen.]

Now. When do we get to eat?

[And that glint will remain even as his view is reduced to just her lips and chin and everything below—though that's not so bad, either.]

A good question. I saw a few groups head out so hopefully soon.

[He finally tilts his head back just enough to peer at her from beneath the brim of his hat.]

I can check if you'd like.

No.

[She takes her glass back with one hand, the other reaching for the collar of his suit's jacket and she gives it a firm tug as if to readjust it (no need for it, really), but she keeps her hold on it even after.

If it means walking away, then she would rather just wait their turn, impatient as she is.]

I am feeling a bit peckish is all.

[A slight arch of the brow at how aggressive she reaches out to hold onto him, even if it's under the guise of adjusting his collar.

...

He could say another brazen thing, but he doesn't, that playful smile that ghosts on his lips the only clue of his thoughts before he half turns to the bartender.]

Pardon, but do you serve any hors d'oeuvres?

[Hearing this, the bartender's eyes widen slightly in recognition and quickly apologizes before making a quick gesture with his hand towards a server that happened to be walking past. Aha, well that's one problem down.

And they are complimentary, likely for them to sample in hopes of them ordering them once at the table. The tray has a variety of crackers, cheeses, and bite-sized quiches, all made with the finest ingredients of course.

The bartender will even go and check on their time, so Cid drops the alias and away the young man goes, apparently very eager if pressured to please the potentially very rich patrons.]

I hope this will help tide you over.

[Even as he calls over someone else, Benedikta never once lets go of him, nor do her eyes ever leave him as he places an order for... what? Hors d'oeuvwhatevers? There's a surprised arch of her brow, hearing him talk like this and having him take charge doing unspeakable things to her as she gently and not so subtly slides her leg against his.

Founders, she hates it.

She sets down her glass so that she can take a small quiche from the platter and turn it over in her fingers, curious as to what it is. She's never seen a fluffy, savoury pastry like this before.]

... What is this?

[Again she surprises him and there's a quick glance when he feels her leg against his, knowing full well it's no accident. However the meaning...

...Hmmmm.

Tucking that observation aside for now, he just watches her instead while listening with one ear to the stork lady(?) explain.]

Ah, seems to be a special kind of quiche...what's in this?

[And as the stork lady (?) explains while he takes one himself, there will be subtle tap of his foot against hers, reminding her they have to pretend to be more than what they are. Even if he's at least familiar with the dish in general, at least this is the kind where it's not too unusual for someone to not immediately recognize due to the varying ways for it to be made. Not to mention its small sample size.]

[He isn't the only one who can be full of surprises tonight...

She's far too busy examining this strange little pastry to listen to the lady, and instead, her attention is drawn to Cid when he gives her foot a tap, and she gives a subtle read of the look that he gives her...

...

And it's all she needs to understand that... right. They need to "pretend".

Just a light roll of her eyes before she takes a bite of it. It's warm, savoury, and just as fluffy on her tongue as it looked like it would be, and there is no hiding that look of surprise that widens Benedikta's eyes.

"Do you like it, ma'am?"

Once she swallows, she answers, playing at her disinterest.]

It's alright.

[Ah, true to form. But he just smiles a bit before he takes his own taste.

Oh.

Yeah, there is good reason this place is as highly rated as it is. If their little appetizer samples are already like this, he can only imagine the main courses.]

I quite like it. Might consider ordering some once we're at the table.

[More like he will order them for Benedikta since she clearly likes them.

And what luck, the bartender returns to inform them they should be ready in a few minutes.]

[She eats the other half of her "quiche" and washes the rest of it down with some wine, eyeing the bartender when he approaches again but making no effort to move otherwise.

And when he's gone back behind the counter, Benedikta sighs.]

At last.

[He made a reservation and they were still made to wait...! She only grumbles about it because she wants to get out of this crowded room, but... if she's honest, the wine and the appetizers were not all bad. It certainly heightened her impression and opinion of this place.]

I've grown tired of waiting. I thought you'd made a reservation.

[When her eyes land back on Cid, she sets aside her glass and reaches up instead to run her finger along his chin and the corners of his mouth, swiping and brushing the crumbs that had gotten themselves stuck in his beard away.

And perhaps her thumb accidentally brushes over his bottom lip, and accidentally lingers there.]

[A low chuckle as he glances at his watch.]

For half past, ten minutes ago. But given the crowd, I can only guess running over is commonplace.

[Perhaps even on purpose it allows people to meet and socialize. But then he feels her finger at his chin, and that at first surprises him, but only a little. It's everything else that gets her the slightly widened eyes of disbelief.

Is she...really wiping his mouth right now? Part of the act, perhaps? It leaves him questioning, but her touch also leaves something else behind—especially the one that accidentally lingers on his bottom lip. It makes his eyes move towards hers, noting the way it still glistens from the deep red lipstick that's managed to stay on—which is a bit impressive, really, given they certainly don't have that kind of quality in Valisthea.

And for a moment, he's sorely tempted to take her hand, to forget where they are and press his lips to her fingertips...

But it's right then that their name—well, alias—is called, and it takes him a moment or two longer before it registers.

Right. Donnelleys.

Another beat, another lingering gaze before he smiles and raises his hand to indicate their presence before he holds out his arm to her.]

Shall we, my dear?

[Yes, he is using it.]

[She does not miss the way that his own eyes linger on her lips, and he won't miss that quirk of hers when she catches him staring before they part with a silent sigh. She wonders if he'll take her hand as her fingers trail down to his chin, sorely and strangely tempted to wander further down his throat and to his tie, but she holds fast. Or maybe not so strangely, with the way he's staring at her...

The sound of their "name" doesn't register with Benedikta at first, forgetting herself and the monikers that they have put on in light of recent events, and it's only when Cid breaks his gaze away that she realizes what's going on, and that it is, indeed, their name being called.

My dear, he calls her so casually, so nonchalantly, as if it were completely normal, and there's a threatening look edging her saccharine smile before she takes his arm.]

Lead the way.

[She can threaten him all she wants, she'll just have to deal with it, and he's only giving her a playful, knowing smile in return before he leads her through the busy parlor to where the staffer waits for them.

From there they are led to a lift that's lined with gold and are taken to the top floor. It's not too much of a walk down the well kept and decorated hall, again reflecting the wealth that has been poured into this establishment. They can hear the quiet din and chatter of those seated outside the terraces they pass, some with the curtains open, others closed, all with glass doors that give them a hint of what to expect. Until at least they reach theirs, the curtains and doors open for them to step out onto the well decorated table, the cool night breeze gentle and pleasant. They are told should they feel cold, they could either turn on one of the heating lamps nearby, or pull a lever that will activate the bubble shield so they can still enjoy the outdoor view while maintaining a comfortable atmosphere.

More words are said, explaining this and that, and after informing that their server will be there shortly, he leaves the two of them, closing the doors and the curtains behind to give them some privacy. Seeing this, Cid can't help but be a little amused—they certainly know their clientele—before he turns back to see where Benedikta has gone, knowing she wouldn't have the patience to wait and listen.]

[He's right.

She does not have the patience for any of that. She's figured out how this place works and doesn't need an explanation given to her. So, when they are led to their terrace after Benedikta's eyes had curiously scanned the gilded, decorated hallway, she slips her arm out from Cid's and strolls past their table to stand at the edge.

Theirs is a view of the city that stretches out down below on one half, the other the sea, and her fingers wrap around the cool rails as she looks out, tuning the voice of the host out of her head as they continue to explain, waiting for them to leave and the telltale sound of the door clicking shut. But even then, her attention has roamed elsewhere, out to the skies.

Up to the moon that hangs over their heads, and the stars that dance around it, and her hand lifts to brush against the pendant resting on her collarbone, remembering that wish that she had made. It's a bit strange, not seeing Metia there, but maybe it's for the best... She never did grant her wishes anyway.]

[Seeing Benedikta standing there, he stands there a moment, once more taking in her visage. Of how she stands with the moonlight cast down upon, as if to specifically be her spotlight for him to stare a little in wonder.

Of how they manage to come to be together like this.

Slowly feet move, as if drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and before he knows it his arms have slipped around her, hands resting on the railing as he presses gently against her back. As wanting to cage her so she doesn't fly away.

Doesn't slip out of his fingers again.]

Nice view.

[Just quiet words, face near hers but not quite touching.]

[She doesn't move. Doesn't even breathe when he comes up behind her. She knew it was coming before she even heard his footsteps, and perhaps she had wanted it to—perhaps she had led him here on purpose. Her fingers fidget with the pendant for a moment longer before it drops to the rails, her pinky lightly brushing his thumb where she rests it.]

Mm.

[She turns her head just so, bringing them a touch closer.]

You chose well.

[A light smile as he glances down at where her hand rests, feeling the warmth even if it's just a small brush.]

Glad you like it.

[She would turn around fully, but with him so close, she is honestly afraid of what she might find if she does. It had been different when they were out there surrounded by all those people. She hated it—she doesn't like loud crowds, but at least it was easier to distract herself from the sound of her own heart racing or how his voice burrows into her when he speaks so low and quiet. But now that they are alone...

Things feel different.

Tense. Heavy. A little bit frightening.

But... this was just a dinner, wasn't it?]

Does it remind you of anything?

[There's just a pregnant stretch of silence as he doesn't answer at first, his gaze going back to the moon and the stars that fill the night sky. A weight slowly seeps in then, the silence growing heavier before he finally hums in answer.]

Aye. A lot of things.

[Rather than say out loud past memories that can be painful, he keeps it vague. But the way his thumb stretches out to lightly grab her pinky and how his face moves a little closer to hers is a hint that he knows what she's referring to.

Of those nights in Waleod, of them standing on the balcony of his old quarters. Of staring up at the same night sky. They were...different then. Lighter. Air filled more with soft smiles and laughter. Until slowly...the nights became darker and the same heaviness started to cling to them as things changed. They changed.

And here they are now, the results of the bad hand they were played.

...But.

Slowly his arms tighten around her, that small brush now changing as his hand moves to cover hers more fully, fingers threading between hers.]

Think I might like this better.

[She can feel her pulse quickening when his hands brush over hers, the warmth settling into her fingers quickly, but she doesn't pull away from it. Instead, she parts them just enough that he can slip his own through and weave them together. This much, she can handle.

Perhaps.

For a little while.

Though, her heart feels as if it might shatter right through her ribcage.]

Could use a cigar right about now.

[They had always shared one on his balcony in the middle of the night, just like this, as she thinks back to that last night when they did. The last night that they did any of this together.]

Have some with me.

[In his inside coat pocket like he usually carries. However, he makes no move to reach for them, instead remaining where he is.

How much is he pushing her, he wonders. How quick is he moving himself, he contemplates. How desperate is he really, he self admonishes. Yet, together like this, it's hard not to. Hard not to want to hold her closer as those old feelings and memories surge up again, clawing through his once well guarded walls and defenses. Hard not to want to push further, to rectify all those mistakes from their past...

...

But those thoughts and anything else that was forming is shattered when the sound of the glass doors behind them open and there is the startled call from the server who looks up and sees them.

"Ah, pardon the intrusion..."

...

Cid closes his eyes and take the opportunity to slowly pull back.]

It's all right.

[And neither does she, too lost in her own thoughts to do much of anything right now, except to tap her thumb against his. Not so unlike him, she finds herself being pulled back to the present by the sound of his voice right near her ear, taken away from those old memories and placed into this newer one again. This one where she has no idea what to do with herself, or what she's doing at all.

She really should be backing off or telling him to back off. To throw the peaches in his face again when she has to remind herself to breathe, but the moment that she does, she's met with his scent enveloping her, overpowering in all the most inconvenient ways.

And, like him, it's hard not to find herself stuck in the moment. Stuck with his arms around her and not wanting him to let her go. She had longed for this for so long, allowed that desire to turn into something awful that still stirs in the pit of her stomach, but would it be a waste to simply let it slip between her fingers just like she had before?

Would it be a waste not to indulge just a little?

All of her thoughts are broken, and she starts at the sound of the door clicking open, and the voice of the man standing at the threshold. She has half a mind to swing the doors shut with her winds if it weren't for Cid answering him instead. She's tense now against him, and Benedikta takes a moment to breathe in and then out slowly as he pulls back before she's turning around and moving to the table.

Always something.

And she might look a little irked that they had been interrupted at all.

"Are you two ready for some drinks?"]

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