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

[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.

[...Hmmmm.

He sees what she's doing, and he will not protest at all. So there is a bit more of a knowing smirk.]

I have no objections. However...

[His hand will now slip under the table to brush against her knee and slide slowly up her leg as he leans in closer.]

...What about you?

[He'll see her lips part with the most breathless of sighs when she feels his hand wander up her leg, and she sits forward, leaning in just a touch as if she means to meet him in the middle.]

... What about me?

[Her head cants to one side, her hair tumbling over her eyes, a soft hum tumbling out from the back of her throat.]

You've heard of my escapades, I'm curious about yours. And if I'll ever have a taste of your cooking.

[Now there's a mischievous gleam, as if he just did a bait and switch by luring her in before asking such questions.

Especially when he knows well she doesn't like to cook much.]

Me?

[She barks out a quiet laugh, her foot sliding up and down his leg subtly beneath the table.]

I had men who would do everything for me. You think I would have been the one to strip our hunts and cook them over the fire?

[Please, does he know who he is talking to? If she has someone else to do something for her, then who is she to say no? Never mind that she had done plenty of that in her lifetime...]

Which is to say...

[A playful gleam in his eye.]

You can't cook.

[As in, she would be a bad one.]

[It's her turn now to look absolutely offended by his insinuation, and she snaps back from him with a frown.]

I did not say I didn't know how to cook.

[Excuse you???]

I can just fine. I simply preferred to have others do it.

Then you don't mind bringing something for our next little dinner.

[He's even being generous by not milking this into a third dinner.]

[Oh, he doesn't have to say it for her to know that it's even implied. She's no fool...

Nor is she someone who would back down from any sort of challenge where her pride is at stake, so whether he is intentionally milking that or not—]

Fine. What would you like me to bring?

[She can be so easy to catch like this—]

Surprise me. Something you think I might like.

[He knows he's opening himself up here, but he's curious what she might come up with.]

...

[There's something of a twinge in Benedikta's chest then... Something that causes her to pull back, only slightly, but enough that it's noticeable. The realization that she does not immediately know what he likes... not anymore. With a life that was no doubt filled with more adventure, including with cuisine, is there anything that she could make that he would enjoy? Especially when what she does know are the basics—the things that they would eat together in Waloed's dining hall. Stews and soups, breads, vegetables...

She pretends that she had meant to go for her glass of wine instead, and sips it, keeping the red-stained rim of the glass close to her lips.]

Then a surprise it will be. And do not complain if you don't like it.

[Read: Don't complain if it's bad.]

[He does notice her pull back, but he would never be able to guess why. Maybe just disgruntled by the idea at all, which he could easily see and not mind much. It just only makes him grin in some amusement.]

I would never complain a meal made by you.

[—Probably. But it wouldn't be that bad, would it?

And speaking of meals, about time for those steaks, huh.]

[Probably better that he thinks it's an entirely different reason, because she isn't about to say what the real reason was. She'll just... have to figure something out later, and in the meantime, be annoyed with herself for caring even a little bit about what he might enjoy or whether he would like it or not.

It's not as if she's some housewife... for fuck's sake.]

Yes, you would.

[She rolls her eyes at him and sips her wine, and when there's a small tap on the door, her eyes move to it, seeing the waiter peeking in through the glass.

With a toss of her head, Benedikta motions for him to come in this time, and he does.

"Your food, sir and madam Donnelly."

Right. She'd forgotten about that again.]

No I wouldn't.

[Just an amused counter, still unaware of the real reasons of her troubles before he also hears the tap and looks up to see the waiter behind the door.

And soon the steaks are brought in and set in front of them, and Cid had to hand it to them. With the mashed potatoes, asparagus, and other side vegetables, and with how juicy and freshly cooked the steak looked, this was certainly a fine presentation, deserving of an "elite" class.

The waiter asks if they need anything more, and after topping off their glasses of both water and wine, he leaves to let them once more have their privacy.

Glancing over at Benedikta, he picks up how glass of wine.]

Bit late, but shall we have a toast?

[The waiter spends his presence talking about the meal, but it isn't what she is looking at, and Cid will feel her intense stare on him instead, waiting for the man to finish his spiel before he leaves. It's then that she brings her wine glass up, and notes that he does the same...

...]

And what is there for us to toast to?

[She's honestly a bit curious to know what he might think...]

There could be a number of things, but...

[...Hm.

He looks at her for a moment, and some of that earlier playfulness fades into something more serious as the glass spins a little in his fingers before he finally raises it to her.]

To new beginnings.

[It seemed fitting, not just for the two of them and whatever relationship they forge, but for them separately as well.

For her, a new life without the shackles of Barnabas and their world hindering her. To have that freedom she is so scared of.

For him, a new life where death isn't at the end of his road. Where he can finally live the life he's wanted not bound by the chains of fate.

And for them, a new chance, a new start to become something they couldn't before. Something different. Something better. Something real.

Three simple words that are not so simple at all.]

[She is not sure what she was expecting from him, but it was not that. Perhaps something more playful, a joke or two thrown in there. Not the deeper stare, the seriousness in his voice and, most especially, the actual words he says.

Three words.

Three very simple words... but Benedikta knows the meaning behind them. She knows what these "new beginnings" are... For her, for them, at least, but that is all she needs. It really does feel like they are starting over anew, in an odd sort of way. And while they will not ever be able to shake away their pasts, she can see him trying so very hard to forge a new life for them. A new path for them to take, as far away from the fate and duty that bound them for so long as he could possibly make it.]

To new beginnings...

[There's a moment where Benedikta just stares at him, those thoughts swirling in her gaze, before she brings her glass to his—]

... Down with fate, I suppose.

[—and taps it.]

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