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

[He speaks of this man so nonchalantly, as if Benedikta knows who he is, and it makes her nose crinkle slightly as she picks up one of the small "quiches" and turns it over between her fingers, observing its crusty outer shell and the soft, puffy center. How come she never got to try such foods in Waloed? Barnabas never did like trying new things... That, or the cooks were more mediocre than she thought.

She watches him over it as he pours her some wine, her eyes caught on his hand around the bottle before she lets her gaze rest on the quiche again before popping half of it into her mouth.]

And what other things could this Kenneth make? Certainly far more gourmet than what I imagined you would be eating in your little hiding hole.

[A soft chuckle as he he sets the bottle back in the bucket, places it on the table, and then pushes the tray back to the door before returning to his seat where he will finally join her.]

I wouldn't call what we had "gourmet." The kind Kenneth made was a lot simpler, just a mash of ingredients all together. Something anyone could make, easy to serve, and perhaps under a different name. But I do believe something like this quiche is found more often in Sanbreque, so we had more dishes based of their cuisine than others.

But it just came down to what we had at the time.

[She finishes her quiche with only a second bite, and she lifts her glass to her lips as if she means to wash it all down, but she doesn't sip it just yet.]

And what of you? Did you do any work in the kitchen, or you just made your men wait on you every time you felt hungry?

[It occurs to her that she knows very little of the life that he had led after he left Waloed, and while there is something of a bitter taste on her tongue at the thought of it—that she had missed it all, that pang of regret hitting her right where it hurts, she pretends to take it all in stride. She always was good at lying, after all.

She does remember that morning she had woken up with him in her kitchen, cooking a simple meal of bacon and eggs, but beyond that...]

[Just an arch of a brow.]

What, like some lord?

[A small scoff. Even when he was in Waleod he wouldn't trouble the cook if he wanted something, even if it was more normal for one to send someone and make that order.]

No, if I just wanted something on my own I could make it. Only reason why I wouldn't is if the cooks wanted me to stay out.

[Still swirling her glass with one hand, and she spears her salad with a fork in the other.]

... I imagine that would have been all the time.

[She scoffs right back with the slightest roll of her eyes.]

You do have a knack for putting your fingers in too many pies.

Now, I only had one mishap.

[By now he had reached for the bread and was tearing it before he waved it a little.]

And it wasn't completely my fault, the pot was cracked. Also not my doing.

[It's her turn to arch a brow, curious.]

Oh? And how did the pot crack? I imagine it was not your doing...

[No, she totally does think it was him.]

It was a hairline fracture, and bloody hell if I know, it was already like that. Had a witness who admitted they knew about it but didn't say anything thinking it was just some dirt.

[This was years ago, yet it's clear he still holds some bitter resentment of what happened, muttering under his breath as he takes a harsh bite out of the bread before continuing.]

But because of that, it couldn't handle the heat and—[A pop sound from his mouth.] Soup now all over the floor.

[Ah. She's struck a bit of a nerve, has she? From behind the rim of her glass, she grins.]

And he still allowed you back into his kitchen after that?

[Just a little.]

It's not like it was on purpose.

[But there is a...

...

Rather long stretch of silence as he slowly sips his wine.]

All right, there may have been one other mishap that was my fault.

[Ah, well. If he's already going to sip his wine, then no point in finding the opportunity for a toast first, so she's going to join him in that very first taste, grinning into it.]

I'd think you'd have learned from the first not to step foot in there again.

[As Benedikta makes a note to herself not to let him in her kitchen ever again if she can help it. Though, his eggs and bacon weren't that bad. They could have been better, though—

Setting her glass down, she breaks off a piece of the bread and sits back, her foot slipping out from beneath the slit of her dress to bump gently against his leg.]

I admit, I am almost impressed that you managed twice, but I will hold my verdict until I hear the story for myself.

[SHE MADE HIM DISTRACTED BY HIS EMBARRASSING PAST.

And there is definitely a look at her words, with him nudging her right back.]

Now see here, I may not be the best chef in the world, but I do now how to cook something decent. I don't remember you complaining about it earlier.

[Pointing it out!! He's pointing it out!!]

Just that particular time I was feeling a bit more... Adventurous. And while I admit the flavor was a bit strong, is it really my fault that they couldn't handle a few extra peppers? They wanted something different so I gave it to them.

[Oh, he is so upset right now and Benedikta is relishing in this. She just sits forward, chin propped up on her hand, and watches him unravel.]

Either your men are weaker than you say, or it was more than just "a few extra" peppers. You make it sound as if you'd almost killed them, Cidolfus.

[He's not upset.

Just a little ruffled.]

Now that is an exaggeration. Or perhaps I should try and recreate it here for you to try?

[How does it feel, Cid? Meanwhile, Benedikta looks so pleased with herself.]

Hm. I'd like to taste what it was that nearly felled your best men. Though, I doubt it was anything that I could not handle myself.

[A few extra peppers... please.]

You did like things on the hot side, didn't you?

[She's going to regret this.]

[Her foot runs up the inside of his leg, her smirk pulling a little wider.]

Several things, yes.

[All (not) jokes aside—]

So you will recreate this for me? I warn you, I am a harsh judge.

[...Is she trying to tease him or soothe him? He's thinking the the former, but he's not going to stop her, either.]

If that's what you want.

[He leans closer to her.]

Perhaps you really will be able to handle it better than the rest.

[Definitely very much the former, and when he leans in, she just slowly leans back still wearing that grin.]

Could even add a few more peppers than last time. I am feeling brave enough.

[Braver than his men, at least. That isn't the point that she's trying to prove though, because just like his pride is on the line here, so is hers. If he isn't sure that she could handle it, then she will prove to him that he is wrong.]

Surely they did not let you back in after that.

[Oh he will definitely keep that in mind. However, flirt time is over when she brings that up again, and with a sigh he straightens back up. But he does cock a brow at her because he knows what she's doing.]

Not for a while. But I managed to negotiate that so long as I just cooked for myself I could use the kitchens during the off hours.

[And now he's going to scoop up a cherry tomato off his plate and just drop it onto hers with casual nonchalance before taking some of his salad to bite into.]

[A cherry tomato should not surprise her as much as it does, but when he drops it onto her plate without looking like he has much of a second thought, or even a first, about it, she stares down at it with slightly widened eyes.

... He remembered.

And something settles in her chest again as she pokes at it with her fork first before very delicately poking it to take a bite.]

Well. You will be using your kitchen for whatever it is you plan on making. ... What was it anyway?

[He is watching her from the corner of his eye, hiding the small upturn of his lips with that forkful of salad that he chews through.]

Hm, what was it... Some kind of stew I think—in a bread bowl.

[She pauses her eating of the tomato to stare at him in disbelief.]

What are you doing putting that many peppers into a stew? [She barks with an amused laugh and waves her fork at him.] No wonder they all wondered what you were doing.

I kept tasting it, but it just didn't have enough...

[He just waves his fork a bit.]

You know, spark. Taste to it. In hindsight, I should have tried to make a sauce instead.

There are other ways to give things a bit of a spark.

[Rather than just dumping peppers in until he can taste much of anything.]

Well. Consider it... our next dinner.

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