kobes | inbox for saltburnt

koby one of the fuckin cat faces chipped off when i was sharpening my sword

( ☹️ )

[What is that username what is HAPPENING.]

They do that, yes. It's not meant to be permanent. Do you want me to fix it?

( if you don't put something in for a username just generates shit for you. he doesn't fuckin know!! )

oh well yeah nami invited me to your spa day for her birthday and i told her you painted them so

[You know what, bless, it looks great dude.]

Ahhhhh, I see. I could turn some of them into something else, if you didn't want to have all cats. Tangerines, maybe? [Shut the hell your mouth, Kobert.]

( HELLOOOOO???? )

oh holy shit that would be do you think she would like it?

I do. That's why I suggested it. It's a good thing to let her know you're thinking about her on her birthday.

[Koby's dating advice.] I could redo them all. This place has a LOT of supplies. It's like they knew I'd be in that exact room, which is a LITTLE concerning.

that is a little concerning, yeah at least they knew where to put my sword and nobody tried to take it during the scavenger hunt which is probably for the best because i'm not trying to slice and dice anyone here yet

( but more importantly: )

i'm definitely thinking about her even when it's not her birthday because i love her so tangerine nails it is

( zoro maybe just wants to know what it feels like to say it more than one time in the heat of the moment. it's casual.

shut up, koby. )

Don't remind me. That Michael guy was REALLY upset. How was the Rest of that night, for you? [It was a very blurry night, but Koby's 95% sure there's only one person here with green hair, so he's preeeetty sure he saw Zoro in the club.]

I see. [Heh.] I can make yours match with hers. If you'd like.

yeah that would be good and it would probably piss the cook off :-) so i'm in

( That Night. )

oh yeah uh it was interesting. didn't really go how i thought it was gonna go because i drank a bunch of those fancy drinks they had and i was pretty fucking drunk you know, i thought i saw you but realized i was just seeing double crazy ass night at least we survived

Most of the things you do seem to, so I'm not sure what difference it'll make. [Text cannot fully communicate the level of eyerolling Koby is reaching right now.]

No, that was probably me. There's someone here with similar hair.

[And they were, in fact, doing exactly what Zoro may or may not have witnessed them doing.]

Are you okay? Some of those drinks were Weird.

yeah they were definitely weird that's a word for it

( yo, are koby and zoro about to have a sex talk rn... this is new territory... )

i'm okay are you? i mean i dunno what i saw really but

( if there really were two tiny pink guys going at it against a wall, well. )

Did anyone um Bite you? [Because how do you even treat that. He's just been slapping a bandage on and calling it a day.]

I'm okay. A little sore, but I think that's to be expected. Sort of concerned about I mean. Nobody used ANY protection.

[Sex talk and pregnancy talk, wow.]

? pretty sure nobody bit me

( apparently koby got up to freakier shit than sucking a stranger's dick and subsequently getting railed by one's girlfriend — good for him? maybe? he thinks?

this is why he doesn't talk about this shit. )

i was gonna say thank fuck we don't have to worry about that but maybe that's insensitive considering the cook but anyway i'm sure these rich people have fancy medicine if there's stds

( he doesn't Know, koby. )

Oh. It wasn't like back in the village, I don't think. I mean I'm maybe 80% sure he wasn't trying to drink my blood or anything.

[Oh.

Oh, wait. That's. Hm.

Koby takes a long. Loooooong time to answer.]

Zoro, I'm worried about MYSELF.

koby i really doubt you got someone pregnant no offense i didn't think that you did you have sex with a girl??

[Oh god.]

No, I did not. That isn't really something I'd do. But even if I did, I couldn't have gotten anyone pregnant because I'm not a girl. But for a while everyone thought I was and treated me like one. Because I looked like one. Does that make sense?

( sorry if it's, like.

a possibly nerve-wracking amount of time that passes before zoro answers. really, it's just because he rereads koby's message approximately ninety five times, which is a hell of a lot for a guy who doesn't read. )

i think so you weren't a girl but you were a girl but then you weren't a girl because you're a guy my friend used to tell me she was jealous of me because i was a boy and it always pissed me off

[It's intensely nerve-wracking, less because Koby's worried Zoro will be mean amd more because he's worried he'll need to get much more blunt. Maybe draw a diagram or something.

But no, finally, a response and a heaving sigh of relief.]

That's actually it exactly. I wanted Well, I knew. For a long time. Everything felt wrong until I changed my name and my hair and clothes and things and then it started feeling better. Why did it piss you off?

huh cool

( he's a Simple Guy — it's why he'll never fully understand people like sanji who have an incessant need to wring their hands and freak out over dumb shit like kissing a dude or having a pussy. )

because she said that being a girl meant she would always be weaker than men and she could never become the world's greatest swordsman which was bullshit and insult to injury since she beat me 2,001 times (yeah we counted) i don't know if it was the same thing as you but maybe things would've been different for her

[And that's -- well, that's it. Just "cool". It's such a Zoro reaction that it actually makes Koby bark out a laugh, right in the middle of the library.]

2,001, really? She beat YOU? She must've been the greatest swordsman then. I sort of feel like swordsman is it's own thing. [The three genders...]

But maybe if she'd known it was something she could do... Maybe it would've been easier, yeah. I've never met anyone else like me, but it's Nice to know there were. Maybe. Did you ever beat her?

yeah yeah hard to believe i know but no never beat her

( and yeah, she probably was the greatest swordsman, or at least on track to be. at the very least, kuina probably could've left a duel with dracule mihawk without a scar bisecting her torso. )

my sword was hers her dad was the dojo master who taught us and he let me have it when she died

( are they for real lore dropping rn..... this is also weird and new.............. )

Did that drive you crazy? Or were you less stubborn when you were younger?

[Wow, Koby, you're finally having a lore-sharing bonding-moment and you're being so rude.

And then, of course, he immediately feels guilty for being a brat.]

Oh. That's I'm sorry. That's terrible.

yeah but we promised each other that one of us would become the world's greatest swordsman, so if not her then it's gotta be me

( shrug, etc. )

besides who knows if i would even be here right now if it didn't happen might not know you weirdos if not

( he can be a brat, too!! )

i was even more stubborn then for the record and yeah it still pisses me off sometimes

Ohhhh, that makes sense. That's why it's so important to you.

[Koby thinks of Sanji and his cooking, Nami and her maps, Luffy and his -- well, his everything. How there's something else beneath it all, something that drives them, motivates them to be what they are: someone special. Zoro and his friend, his swords...it fits right in.]

I think you'd still have found your way to the crew. Luffy is sort of a force of nature that way.

[Koby doesn't dwell on the fact that, in the real world, he and Zoro wouldn't be friends. He tries not to do that, ever.]

It's a good thing your swords are here, then. So you can train. Have you ever I mean Not with swords but Have you ever trained anyone?

( damn, the koby stringboard is definitely going wild right now. )

yeah i miss that idiot not enough that i'd want to see him here but

( ha ha, unless ... )

no i haven't trained anyone probably wouldn't be good at it since i'd have to explain stuff why marine training din't kick your ass enough?

( ok time for feelings talk is over, thanks koby. )

Me too. I'd almost want him here, but. It'd be hard for him, I know.

[Oh, alas, so sad, what an impossible desire...unless...]

You could explain things. Or you could learn. It did, but I haven't exactly kept it up for a little while. [On account of Seal Reasons.]
It'd be nice to get back to it.

i don't know how to explain shit so i guess you could just like follow me and copy me if you wanted but i'm not stopping to tell you what to do deal?

Deal. I've been looking for somewhere to train, but I haven't found anything so I usually just swim in the lake or something. Or do 200 pushups. I hate pushups. Garp loves pushups.

you can do 200 pushups? prove it tiny marine

( 😎 back to cool guy mode for reals. )

300. On a slow day. Any day, any time.

[Koby you're going to Die.]

( Koby You're Going To Die. )

400 tomorrow after breakfast

Deal. If I win, you have to do whatever I say. If I lose, I'll do whatever you tell me to.

[Like he doesn't already.]

yeah ok you're on

( this is gonna be good!!! )

Writing assignment: "How I'm doing emotionally." Keep it punchy, don't talk about your research.

[ normal ways to ask someone how they're going. ]

Oh. Okay. I can do that. When's it due?

[Immediately missing the point, bless.]

Today. Can do an extension if you're busy.

I'm not busy. I feel fine. A little hungover from the other night, somehow, but I'll manage. Still finding glitter in my hair. You didn't Go to the um Underground sex club, did you?

Me and Matt found it, and that was good enough for me. Not really my scene anymore. Good for you, though.

[Oh god.]

I just that's good that I mean I didn't I mean I DID but I hadn't ever BEFORE and I wanted to see how many people I'd embarrassed myself in front of. That's all.

Sure. Been there.

I take it that means you don't fully remember everything that happened.

Have you? [Mentally copy pasting Daniel into the hot gay nightclub scene brb.]

I remember the broad strokes. Someone definitely bit me at one point, but I don't think it's uh Anyone you share a bathroom with. [Babe, wake up, new euphemism for "vampire" just dropped.]

Sounds like a rough kind of first. Tell me if this is an overstep: I'm here if you need to talk about any of it. Help you get it straight in your head.

Mostly because I wish someone had said that to me when I was blacking out on 714s and blow and embarrassing myself in the club.

[ He's resisting impressively the urge to ask for more details about the vampire, to make sure it is one of the three he knows and not a new factor. ]

It was more I mean, everyone was very nice and I enjoyed it much MUCH more than I thought I would. It just wasn't like me.

[Tight-laced and controlled and allergic to fun, he means.]

I didn't think I'd ever That anyone would ever want to You know. That's all. What's blow? [Koby, no.]

Cocaine. Highly addictive, life-ruining drug. Stick to GHB or whatever they're putting in the drinks down there.

I get it, though, it feels good to shut your brain off and feel wanted. Just don't take too many risks chasing that feeling. You're extremely cute, I promise you most people you meet would want to fuck you.

Oh, I see. They don't have that where I'm from.

[He has a mental "don't do drugs" presentation all cued up, but. He refrains.

Especially because:] Oh. That's Nobody's ever called me that before. [Fuckable or cute? A mystery.]

??? You didn't tell me you came from a world where most people don't have eyes.

[ He's not even flirting this is just an objective truth, have some confidence Koby! ]

Don't tease me. I'm good at being unnoticed, I guess. People tend not to think I'm much of anything at all. Who said I'm cute? [Not that he cares etc etc]

Me. You're not doubting my observational skills, I hope. If you put yourself out there more, I guarantee everyone would be "thirsty", if I'm using that correctly.

Oh. Thank you. That's a Nice thing to say. [Blushing kicking his feet twirling his hair etc etc shut up.]

I have no idea if you're using it correctly. I didn't know thirsty meant anything other than what it means.

I think I'd like to live in your world, then.

Found any interesting rooms lately? I've been starting to think maybe we can keep a list, and people can write down what floor they last saw it, instead of revising the floorplan over and over.

It has it's perks. I miss the sea, mostly. I'm still not used to not being able to smell or hear it. That's an excellent idea, yes. Nami was saying there are patterns to how things move -- she's the best navigator I've ever met, so I believe it. I have a typewriter now too. An embarrassing one, but it gets the job done.

Embarrassing how?

[Pause, Koby's still very bad at taking photos, but eventually, blurry:]

[IMAGE ATTACHMENT]

I don't know who that woman is, honestly. [He means Barbie.]

Barbie? That's Barbie. She's a toy, and also kind of a mythical figure.

I...see. Those are two very different things to be at the same time.

Not if you're a kid.

Didn't know they made Barbie typewriters, though, that's a new one. My oldest went through a total Barbie phase: pink Barbie shoes, pink Barbie bed, pink Barbie bike... if you keep asking for stuff maybe you'll get a whole set.

I see. ["Mythical figure" and Koby's slowly-forming idea that Barbie is some sort of god has him mildly alarmed about Daniel's children being in some sort of cult, but, more importantly:] Your oldest? You have children? The typewriter is enough. I don't really care much for pink. [...Koby, you have pink hair.]

Two, girls, grown and left the nest a while back.

Don't you dye your hair pink? Or is that a fashion thing I don't get.

Oh. I see. I grew up around a lot of girls. They're a handful. No, it's natural. Which is apparently interesting enough to be gossiped about. I don't have enough time to maintain dyeing my hair.

Hey, that is interesting, just on a genetic level. Natural pink hair isn't a thing in my world.

Really? Not at all? That's Fascinating, actually. I'd thought humans were basically the same between worlds, but I guess not. You don't have Devil Fruit either, though, I'm assuming. I haven't found anything about that in any books here.

A fruit from the devil?

Some people think so. That the devil touched them and gave them incredible powers, but in exchange, the Sea Gods abandoned anyone who dared eat one, making them sink like stones in the ocean. Not great when your entire planet is ocean, basically.

Hi, Koby. It's Tim. :)

You have people here that yoy knew from before, right? Do you all have the same memories from home?

Hi, Tim. How are you? [Polite! And adding the username to his running list.]

I do, yes, three of them. For the most part they do, though we were in drastically different places most of the time. Why?

Better, actually.

Well, I know someone here from before. I remember things that he doesn't. I thought it might be an important detail, in figuring this place out. Or maybe that just makes it more confusing.

Good. Me too. Turns out I just needed to sleep and take about four showers. I'm still finding glitter in my hair. No, no, that helps. Maybe it has something to do with people suddenly getting BACK memories, "catching up" to each other. It'd be nice if more people from our homes would show up, so we could see if there's any variation in what they remember. Who do you know here? From before?

I was picking glitter out of chest hair.

Can you keep a secret? He's trying to keep a low profile.

That sounds intensely unpleasant. [Not a problem he has, for better or worse.]

I can. I'm very discreet.

Hawkins Fuller. Blue eyes, jaw of steel. Walks into every room like he owns it.

I remember a whole week that he doesn't. Tell me about this "catching up"

I see. Good friend of yours? [Koby's not particularly adept at emoji yet, but the 👀👀👀 is heavily implied.]

Something Louis described, where he experienced events like in a dream, and woke up with more memories. Maybe Mr. Fuller will do the same.

It’s complicated right now, but yes. More than that. We’ve been close for a couple years, now.

[ Being where he’s from, with the issues he’s already told Koby about, he doesn’t need the emojis to pick up what he’s getting at. Nor does he have to blabber outright that he’s in love with him to get the point across, hopefully. ]

Maybe. A lot of stuff happened in between, and I explained most of it. It’s not the same as seeing for himself, but I think we’re okay.

Edited 2024-07-05 20:49 (UTC)

I can imagine it's complicated, with what you've said. I'm glad he's here with you, then. That you have someone that important.

[For an instant, Koby almost lets himself think about -- no, nope, he can't, he can't summon Luffy to his mind without letting that tightly-locked-away grief out. He'd iced it away for a reason.]

He might catch up to you, later. But it's good you were able to warn him, especially if so much happened.

Thanks. He's good at this digging around stuff, he might be able to help.

None of it was very good. But it's good that we talked about it, yeah.

I'd be happy to assist him, if he'd like. Anything I can do to be helpful. The more of us we have working on resolving things, the better. I hear a rumor that's healthy. Good for you, Tim. I wish some people I know of here could do the same, but...well.

I'll ask him about it when he's not so cranky.

But what?

That sounds like a...wise choice? Unless he's frequently cranky. But sometimes it's complicated. You can have a lot of things you know you SHOULD say, but you don't have the words to say them.

He'll always find something to be mad about.

That makes him sound awful. He's not, really.

For me, it's less not having the words, and more not being sure how they'll be received.

No, it's okay. I know people like that. I don't take it seriously. That too, I guess. I tend not to talk about things at all, and that helps?

I don't see how that could possibly help.

Firstly, I hope you're safe. I haven't seen you at the hospital so I assumed you were, but still.

Second. Can I ask you a very stupid and inappropriate personal question?

Not because I'm a pervert. But because the library gave Hawk a list of gossip items and I want to know if they're yanking his chain.

Edited 2024-07-12 17:51 (UTC)

Hi, Tim, yes. I'm safe. Why wouldn't I be? People are in the hospital??

[Did someone go home with a hot hot stranger and completely miss the entire wolfman thing? Yes.]

Gossip items? Again? You can ask me anything, I won't get upset.

You went home early.

There was a beast. It was like something out of a movie. A wolf that stood on two legs. It attacked people. It was awful.

[ Not thinking about that right now. Not the important part. Tim sends a photo of nine scraps of paper with vsrious runors on them, ranging in nastiness. ]

Is the one about you true?

I did, yes. I was Preoccupied.

[And now he's worried.] Who's been hurt? Are they okay? Are YOU okay? Do you need anything? Is it still out there? I think they match fine, but that seems to be the case in all the rooms, not just mine. I'm not an expert in decor, but they look matching?

[Not a clue. Not the slightest clue.]

That’s not

It means the hair on your head and the hair not on your head. Lower. If you get what I mean.

I think it’s gone. And I’m okay. Hawk is hurt, but he’ll live. He’s knocked out on pain medication right now. Which is good, if he saw me taking pictures of this he’d break another rib trying to get up and chase me around.

Oh. That's a stupid way to ask that. And why does it matter? It doesn't seem nearly as scandalous as eating babies or stabbing people or whatever you've redacted. But yes, its all pink. It's always been pink. I don't dye my hair. Hawk is your [Meaningful pause.] companion from your world, right? I have more painkillers in my room, if you run out. I've been stockpiling everything. Well, his input would be helpful, if he's open to giving it. Either this place is watching us or someone is feeding things to the Balfours, and I don't much care for either option.

No, it’s not a scandal compared to the others. But it’s invasive. They seem to enjoy things like that.

Took out one I knew was a lie. For focus.

That’s him, yes. The medication he’s getting is doing the trick, but thank you.

He wouldn’t even share this with me while he was awake, he thinks he can do everything himself. And he’s paranoid about being watched, but I think we’re past that. Any entity powerful enough to bring us here would already know who we are. Chose us for some reason. Why us, out of everyone, in every place and time period? Of course we’re being watched.

I suppose, yeah. There are much worse things they could say about me. So there are lies AND truths in the list? Interesting. Why is that, do you think? Is Purgatory still your main theory? [From anyone else it would be sarcastic, but Koby means it genuinely.] I'm still trying to sort out why us. What's consistent about everyone here, why we were chosen, why we can't leave. Then again, I tried that the last place and I didn't get much of anywhere, but I was admittedly distracted.

To throw us off, I imagine.

It is. I just don't see how any human could do all of this. Though I think my understanding of what it's all for will have to go through some adjustments.

Distracted by what?

I guess that makes sense. So the point is to embarrass, whether it's true or not. Maybe they feed off our discomfort? Like vampires. It could be witches. It was witches the last time. [Koby, it isn't witches.]

Well, I was a seal. That took up most of my time.

That would explain some things, but there's enough discomfort in the regular world. They wouldn't need to do all this if that's all they wanted.

I haven't seen any satanic imagery other than the jokey stuff at the underworld party. Probably not witches.

A seal.

Maybe it's about this place, then? Portia said something about portals and the house being ancient. Maybe we're feeding the house. No, you're probably right. Witches are a bit more ostentatious. A seal, yes. A pink one.

For what purpose?

The animal.

To keep it compliant? Or maybe the Balfours get something out of it. They certainly have enough money and now, apparently, magical powers. Correct. Part-time. I was a selkie, technically? Do they have those where you're from?

You think the manor is a living entity?

No we don't. Not for real. Just in fairy tales.

Maybe? I know it sounds ridiculous, but at this point I don't think we can disregard anything for being too "out there". Especially if people are getting hurt. I don't think we do either, really, but that was sort of the theme of the entire place. Fairy tales. It was sort of nice, actually.

I didn't believe in half-man/half-wolf beasts until very recently either, so I guess not. How crazy is it that the house being alive is a better theory than a government plot?

I'm glad you're human again. After the other night, I've had enough of monsters. Even friendly ones.

Honestly if it were the government I'd expect a little less bodily fluids, but maybe I'm naive. Me too. Are you SURE you're okay? Even if you weren't physically hurt, that sounds like a terrifying experience.

I think you're right.

I am. I'll feel better when Hawk's out of the hospital, but I'm alright. It's just given me a lot to think about.

Goodly Commander and Navigator of the Saltburning Seas - I've left a gift for you somewhere on the grounds.

I'm afraid you'll have to locate it yourself. I've left a map to assist you, but I'm certain you'll have no trouble.

[ the map will lead koby everywhere - to the indoor pool, to one of the studies, to the solarium, the dining room... every stop having a little slip of paper hidden somewhere with an haphazardly elegant scrawl on it - a clue to find the next strip in the next location.

why, yes. a navigator has made another navigator a scavenger hunt of sorts.

the final spot - where the little X is marked? koby's room - a single little bloom left on the pillow he used, and a little scrawl of paper - fair winds and following seas - a sailor's thank you for a piece of home. ]

Edited 2024-07-17 04:14 (UTC)

[Koby's in trouble.

Because the messages come in written form, scraps of paper he can hold and fold up and study, ink he can trace as he puzzles out the hints, chases them here and there throughout the house. Because the map is written in a practiced hand, neat corners and skillful charting, a navigator's work. Because as Koby follows the map, seeks out the clues, he's smiling like a fool because of who's responsible, because of the care and attention put into creating it. Because it's a hunt specifically for him, someone who delights in maps and mysteries and puzzles and riddles.

Because honestly, just a message from Quentin would've been enough, would've made Koby grin just as helplessly, just as happily as he does when he makes it back to his room, finds the single bloom on the pillow. He flops down, breathes in the faint scent of Quentin still on his sheets and stares at the flower for much, much longer than he'd admit.

But, finally:] Found it. Thank you. It's a really good map, too.

I nearly wrote it on one of the handtowels at breakfast - it took some time to find paper.

[ don't ask him where he stole it from - it's not worth it. ]

But impressive - I'll have to make the map more difficult next time.

[ yes. next time. ]

I think that might've made it mildly harder to read. But I think I could've figured it out. Did you get home all right? The other night? Or I guess morning? I sort of remember [Snuggling, tucked up against Quentin’s chest, sleeping heavier than he has in months] you saying goodbye. Next time?

Of course you could have figured it out.

It was mid-afternoon, but yes. I made it all four doors down to my own rooms, a harrowing quest but I survived, somehow.

You were very tired when I left so I tucked you in and went on my way. And why wouldn't there be a next time? I must get to know all the maps on your walls - I cannot be a good navigator if I am not snooping through all your materials to know the way of this world.

Was it really? I'm so sorry, I don't usually sleep in that late.

[But he also usually sleeps alone. Koby almost mentions that, almost...thanks Quentin, maybe? But how do you say "thanks for rocking my world repeatedly and cuddling afterwards I haven't felt this rested in years" without saying that?

So instead:] Four doors down, wow. To think you underwent such a treacherous journey at the early hour of mid-afternoon, all alone. No dragons or sea beasts, I hope? I mean, I'd like there to be a next time. For the maps and You know Everything else. Once you're healed, of course. Are you resting? You should be resting. Do you need anything? I can bring it from the kitchens or infirmary or wherever, but you should be resting.

You looked too comfortable to wake. But I was hungry and had to piss something fierce.

No dragons, but there was quite the sea beast in your bed. Many armed, suctioning, relentless. It was harmless, though.

But tell me - everything else. I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re speaking of. I am a simple sailor, Commander. My body will rest but my mind is aflutter with questions - tell me all the everythings I don’t know.

[There's a moment of mustered courage, then:]
You could've come back. If you wanted to. Relentless, really? It's a miracle you survived, then. You're teasing me. But I'll be blunt: if you wanted to come over for reasons not having to do with cartography, that'd be okay. Actually, that's too mild. I'd like it. I'd like that a lot. I'm asking you to come back whenever you want, whyever you want. If that's something you want.

[Can Quentin feel him blushing from four doors down? Probably, which is why Koby's hiding his face in his pillow now.]

I assumed that all reasons not related to cartography might be approved, all things considered. What we did was hardly cartography, Commander.

Have you taken a breath? How red are you now? Has your lip bled for how you've bitten it to pieces?

[ teasing, teasing, teasing. ]

Whenever and whyever. That's a dangerous thing to say to a sailor, you know.

I wouldn't be OPPOSED to cartography too! Is what I mean!

[There's actually an affronted gasp, because -- Koby is absolutely blushing, holding his breath and biting his lip. Stop perceiving him, Quentin!]

My lips are perfectly fine, thank you very much for your concern. Why? Are you going to tie knots or swab some decks with me? [Koby.]

Oh, I have no complaints about your lips.

But if you would like me to demonstrate my ability to tie knots and swab your decks then who am I to say no, sweet Commander?

Good, I'm glad you approve. I think they've performed admirably. Though more practice is always good, right? That I walked into that one, I can't even be annoyed. Even if only part of that innuendo makes ANY sense. There's nothing seductive or sexy about swabbing decks.

Practice can improve even the best of techniques, yes.

But - you're simply not thinking creatively. Tell me, if your body is the veritable ship I am meant to sail upon, then why would I not find ways to maintain it?

Though I certainly don't have to.

I don't flatter myself by thinking I'm the best at anything. But I learn fast. And I want to learn. I didn't Know anything could feel like that. Until here. No, perhaps I'm not. Still, you're the more experienced navigator. Just sail me somewhere nice and I'll be happy. You're really only four doors down?

Then you should make your former lovers walk a plank into the sea.
It is an experience best shared equally, in whatever way that looks like.

Maybe it looks like two navigators both charting the unknown, with a spinning compass and strange lands on the horizon. I think it best they both try and sail for something nice.

And whether or not this house has decided to move my rooms, yes. Four doors down. Why do you ask?

I don't have any of those. I mean Besides the ones here, and they've all been very nice, so I wouldn't want to penalize any of them for my personal inexperience.

[Meaning -- yes, he was a virgin when arriving at Saltburnt. Somehow.]

How very treacherous. You're putting a lot of faith in my navigational skills, sight unseen. At least I have some of your work for reference, now. I just like knowing where you are. In case you need anything or in case you'd ever want me to visit. I like checking in on people. Is that okay?

[ there's something to be explored about the fact that koby is only beginning to experience the many of firsts here. something that makes quentin's stomach roil with heat. ]

I've seen the maps on your walls - your maps are elegant and precise. Do not undersell yourself.

But if you want to map out where I am and visit my shores then by all means - who am I to stop a handsome man from passing through my threshold. The company is nice - I'm unused to being on land for so long.

You noticed? When? [Koby hardly remembered that he had walls, in the midst of the decadent heat of the other night. Then again, Quentin had woken up first -- maybe he'd examined the maps then?] Thank you. This place gives me lots of practice. Me too. It has it's perks, though. I like the library. And the company, of course. Can I bring you anything?

You're a heavy sleeper, and I had to find my clothes. I got distracted on the journey.

[ he's nosy ]

You could bring anything you wish and my door would still be open to you. That's the fun in it, isn't it?

I'm not, usually. Normally I sleep very badly.

[But instead -- curled up like a kitten in Quentin's arms, dead to the world for hours and hours.]

The possibilities are limitless, yes, but I was more asking if you'd had breakfast. I'll start thinking bigger after you've eaten.

Well then, glad I could be of assistance.

[ oh yes, he's acknowledging that he likely fucked koby into a good night's rest. ]

I haven't. I'm currently enjoying the exquisite company of this fine bed and myself. But if you insist I have to play at breakfast before I play at having you for breakfast, then who am I to deny you, Commander?

I'm not going to deny that you helped, considerably. And didn't even hog the covers afterwards. So...thank you. I'm glad you understand the proper order of things. Any particular requests? For breakfast. The food kind.

Something sweet. Pink. Soft. Maybe a little crunch, a little bite.

Is that helpful?

I'm not sure if there's any grapefruit left, but I can check. Are you worried about scurvy, perhaps?

[Brat.]

Please do. I'm sure it will be ripe, the juice will drip down my chin and the taste will linger on my tongue all morning. I might have to have a second.

But no scurvy - are you? I would eat more grapefruit on your behalf.

[Pause because Koby's very nearly dropping the precariously balanced breakfast plates at that message.]

Toast. You get toast.

They cut their toast into triangles here. Slather them in butter, jam. I particularly enjoy strawberry jam.

What are you having?

Do you not like triangles? I'll bring the whole jar. Coffee, I think. I don't get hungry that often.

I enjoy them very much. Sticky sweet, jam overflowing. Sometimes going back for seconds, licking it off my fingers.

Bring something you enjoy. I’m sure you’ll be hungry and regret it.

Incorrigible. Don't get jam on the sheets, they'll be sticky for ages. I brought one of everything, in case. Open the door?

[And then: kicking at the door. Four down, like Quentin had said.]

[ the kick at the door makes him snort and he rolls out of bed, moves to open it. he's pleased to see koby even if he's balancing plates. quentin himself is only in a pair of low slung, black harem pants, nothing more. his room is tidy enough save for his bed, and there are a few things on the bedside table - paper, pens, a daisy from the garden.

there's a book of world maps and something that looks more like fiction on one side of his bed. ]

Want help with that? Or are you worried I'll get jam everywhere?

[ a grin, and he's reaching for a plate anyway. ]

[It's a good thing Quentin reaches to help with the plates because Koby is just -- staring. That intent, wide-eyed, absolutely enthralled look he'd gotten in the tub, in his bed, when Quentin's everything arrests him in place and all he can do is gaze in admiration. He very nearly forgets he's holding anything, zeroed in on the marks scattered over the other man's neck, his shoulders, the vee of his hips and the contour of his stomach.

Then, blinking, eloquently:] Huh?

[ koby stares and quentin can't help but notice. it's endearing really, the way the other man basically drinks in the sight of him. quentin, amused, takes both plates instead of just the one and backs into the room, taking the plates over to the bed that's left unmade.

it looks like he just woke up - hair unkempt, a little tangled. ]

Are you joining me for breakfast or would you rather have it in the doorway?

[ a grin. ]

-- oh. [Koby clears his throat, coming back to himself, face immediately flushing red. He's got his glasses up on top of his head again, keeping the hair back, and some truly spectacular rainbow-striped shirt and -- overalls. He's wearing overalls. Absurd.

He reaches to push up the glasses that aren't there, bumps himself in the face instead and trails along with the two mugs the plates had been balanced on.]

Sorry. You're just -- [A pause, a cleared throat.] You look nice.

[ koby's brightly colored to his near stark utilitarianism, wearing what shows up in his closet without thinking much on it. he watches koby in the doorway and huffs a little, shaking his head and climbing up onto the bed. ]

Pass me one of those.

[ he holds his hand out, lax and still a little tired from sleeping so much over the last two days, body needing time to heal. ]

And you look nice - whatever these are - [ and if koby comes close enough, he'll hook a finger into his overall strap, giving him a gentle tug forward. ] Are interesting.

[To be fair, this is exactly what shows up in Koby's closet -- and while he resists it sometimes, pulling on the sort of loose, ill-fitting things he'd lived in for years, occasionally he gives into the urge to wear something brighter. The overalls make him think of his uniform, long since sacrificed to this place, though the multicolored stripes clash horribly with his hair.

Quentin doesn't seem to mind, though. Koby passes over one of the cups of coffee, then holds the other out of the way when he's tugged forward by one strap of the overalls. It makes him laugh, shuffling closer on socked feet.]

Overalls. They're pretty comfortable. My closet keeps filling up with them. [And they have deep pockets too -- ones that Koby pauses to pull handfuls of sugar and cream packets out of.] I'm not used to wearing so much color.

[ quentin would bottle the sound of that little laugh if he could, smiling up at him in a way that his cheeks almost dimple. he takes the mug, sips at the scalding liquid and hums, pleased at the heat of it. he sets it on the bedside table, blinking at the handfuls of sugars and creams. ]

I've seen people putting this in their coffee. How do you take yours?

[ he sits at the edge of the bed, reaching to take koby's mug if only so he can nudge him with a thigh to sit down. ]

The color is nice. But overalls. I'll have to ask for those. Useful.

[ nevermind he gives a tug with his free hand yet again, this time reaching for one of the deep, back pockets, to goose him just slightly. he's impatient today. ]

Eat with me. Tell me about your coffee.

Black, actually. I'm not used to--

[Koby breaks off in a little squeaking gasp at the grip through the back pocket, stumbling forward, fortunately after Quentin's already taken the coffee.] Hey! That -- tickles, stop that!

[A huff, a light swat at Quentin's upper arm -- boyish, playful, the way he'd smack at Helmeppo or another cadet -- and Koby obligingly climbs onto the bed, scooting the sugar packets out of the way.] I'm not used to anything but the coffee. All the cream and sugar and things were for the captain, when I was at sea.

[It comes out -- mostly smooth, only a slight hitch in Koby's shoulders as he settles cross-legged.] But I've been trying a little bit of each, since being here.

[ quentin laughs a the way he's swatted, smacked, moving a little to make more room for koby, and to get a little closer to him. it's a travesty he's not in his lap, but he doesn't push, warmed actually by the lightness of his company.

he's not been sleeping well. he stretches out, enough for their knees to touch, stay in contact. he passes koby's mug to him once he's settled, reaching to inspect the sugar and the cream packets. how convenient. ]

And how did your captain take his coffee? [ there's a little raise of his brow before he opens a packet of sugar for himself and dumps it into his coffee, then a little cream packet. ]

We would put whiskey in our coffee on cold mornings.

[Part of Koby considers it, thinking about the warm press of Quentin against his back, the protective circle of his body. He misses it, has for a few days now, and being close again just makes it ache more.

He settles for the moment, for the gentle knock of his knee to Quentin’s, prompting a little quirk of a smile.] She took it with six spoonfuls of sugar and one third of the cream in the pitcher. Not one fourth. One third. She could tell the difference.

[There's a definite change in Koby when he tells the story, the way he leans closer to Quentin, fidgets with the sugar packets, lining them up, the furrow between his brows.] That was my job. Most things were my job. That was -- before I enlisted.

[ quentin drinks from his mug, the coffee sweetened in a way that tastes foreign, but not unpleasant. he, too, will have to experiment some himself. but he listens to the story, the way koby speaks of it so quickly, familiar, leaning closer. but there's something else there.

he's tired, not as sharp as he might be, but something about koby draws his eye. with his free hand he reaches to stroke along koby's calf idly, adding more contact even if he wants to reach and press away the little furrow between his eyes. ]

Ah - you worked as a hand on your ship before you truly enlisted. That's difficult work. But I'll have you know coffee isn't your job here, nor is breakfast. Commander, or not.

[It's the hand along his calf, beneath the cuffed leg of the overalls, warm and solid and real, that let's Koby do it, let's him breathe out, loosen his shoulders, come back to the moment. It says you're here, not there, it can't touch you ever again.

He reaches for the other mug, leans across Quentin’s lap as he does, then sits back, wrapping both hands around the warmth.] I was a prisoner on a pirate ship for two years. When I first went to sea, after leaving the home. That's -- when that all happened.

[A breath, in, hold, out. Focusing on the warmth, of the mug, of Quentin’s hand.] And then I was rescued and I joined the Marines. [An end on it, over and done with, let it lie, let it die.]

[ quentin's palm stills on koby's calf as he listens. i was a prisoner, koby says and it seems like the sea roars angrily in his ears. he squeezes his leg softly, listening. a prisoner for two years. how has he come to find this little navigator here, of all places - where their damaged, frayed ends line up so well. ]

You joined the marines. In an effort to stop that from happening to anyone else, or was it something else?

[ a world full of oceans, he remembers koby saying, and there's no wonder there had been a vast array of priates. ]

You escaped.

[Koby sips the coffee, wrinkles his nose, then grabs a sugar packet to tear open with his teeth, pour into the mug, swirling it slightly to mix it in. The comment gets a smile, a pleased, surprised thing, a lean closer so their shoulders bump together.]

That's it exactly. To help people who couldn't help themselves. Keep them safe. [Another sip, more satisfied this time.] People like me.

[Then, shaking his head:] Rescued. I was too scared to try and escape on my own. If I hadn't been saved, I would've stayed there the rest of my life.

[ a small smile pulls at quentin's lips, his eyes falling to his own mug, a swirl of sugar and pale cream not quite wholly blended together. ]

You have good friends, then. To come find you in the end and free you, but I don't believe for a moment you wouldn't have found the strength to discover a way out. You don't survive harrowing things like that and come out defeated.

[ he shifts a little, letting their shoulders stay touching, his hand sliding to koby's knee, thumb gently pressing little circles into his kneecap beneath the denim.

it's hard not to think of the regent, the whole ship full to the brim of men and women he was raised with, his home and the spray of salty air. his father's blood staining the deck. the cold room he'd been kept in for months, watched, studied. the slithering snake of a man with his hands on him, his tongue against his ear.

you will win this war for me. ]

You're making your own way, now.

[There's something there, something in the way Quentin’s gaze flickers away, the circle of his thumb over Koby's knee. Something that tugs at the explorer, the investigator, the navigator charting mysterious waters.

But Quentin isn't the sea. He's a man with a life writ long before the dusty arena, the steamy bath, the nest of sugar packets where they sit now. And for once, Koby holds his tongue, though he leans closer, one hand coming to settle over Quentin’s, trace the notches of his knuckles.]

It was another pirate, actually. We hadn't met until then, but he saw I needed help, so. He helped me. [A bemused, soft huff, another coffee sip.] He's a funny sort of pirate.

[Koby glances up, glasses tangled in his hair, those serious eyes searching Quentin’s face for a long moment.] I am. We all are, here. Sort of a...fresh start, strange and dangerous as it is. Uncharted waters, if you like. [A squeeze of Quentin’s hand.] Drink, before it gets cold.

A pirate saving a civilian from pirates? That is rich.

[ he smiles a little at the idea, drinking again from his coffee but finding he doesn't exactly have a taste for it now. he'll drink it anyway - he doesn't waste anything, certainly not when it has been carefully brought to him.

koby's hand over his own makes him turn his palm up, enough to lace their fingers together idly over his thigh. his eyes raise, meeting the clear blue of koby's and he grins a little, the easy, warm façade returning with practiced precision. there's no need to draw anyone's attention to the obvious - this place is as fleeting as a sea storm. they've been brought here, but how long until they're returned?

it's better not to hang one's hopes on anything. quentin learned that a very, very long time ago. ]

I wouldn't think to waste a drop of it, even if it turned cold, as it was brought so sweetly to me by your own hands.

[ he takes another sip for good measure, pulling his free hand away from koby's then to pick up a piece of toast from the plate. ]

Yeah. Hard to separate people into good and bad when there are helpful pirates muddying the waters. [A touch of self-deprecation there -- Koby knows his urge to rigidly categorize doesn't hold up in the real world. People aren't that simple.

Including Quentin, even as he laces their fingers together, as he smiles with carefree ease. There was something there, gliding like a shadow beneath quiet waves. Koby unconsciously leans forward, intent, like he can pull the secrets free by just gazing up at that smile. Then he lets it go, slipping through his fingers, disappearing into the depths.

Quentin will reveal things in his own time, if he chooses to or -- or he won't. Koby doesn't need to unravel him like a snarled net to enjoy being here, breathing in his scent, resting his cheek on Quentin’s bare shoulder.] Yes, it was very taxing to pour it into a mug and walk upstairs. My culinary skills have been exhausted. [A pause, then he seems to remember something, straightening up and pulling -- an entire jar of jam out of his pocket.]

Almost forgot, sorry.

I think there are only people - neither good, nor bad. Just with all too wide a variety of amibitions and goals. After all, the dictator thinks he's right and believes he's right and good. The priest does the same. Who is good, then, if we're made to decide what that is.

[ he shrugs a little, blinking over at koby who presses closer, whose cheek comes to rest briefly on his bare shoulder. it's nice, though - the closeness, the nearness, when his chest feels like he's lost at sea. and he's never lost. he almost looks disappointed when koby pulls away, but it's short-lived. instead, he sees the jar and he laughs, surprised, bright and loud and open. ]

Those things hide that?

[ he takes the jam jar, delighted, and pops open the top. he's not had something sweet like this in so long, so he dips a finger into the sticky sweet substance and licks it into his mouth, humming at how tangy and sharp and sweet it is. it's good - expensive and fresh and flavorful. he almost looks boyishly excited over it.

he doesn't even think when he scoops another dollop onto his finger and offers it out to koby. ]

Try this.

Mmmmm. [It's a noncommittal sound, but it's not dismissive. Quentin sounds like Shanks, like Garp, like Luffy, in a way. If there's good and bad Marines, there are good and bad pirates. Nothing is as simple as Koby had believed it to be, regardless of what world he finds himself in. He nudges a little closer, thinks about flopping back into the tangled sheets and taking Quentin with him and not thinking about how complicated the world is for a while.

But then -- jam, the pop of the lid and Quentin's grin (bright, warm, delighted) as he digs his fingers in. There's nothing complicated about that, and Koby grins right back, patting the pockets of the overalls.] Very, very deep pockets have their uses.

[There isn't any hesitation, because the sea is a place of hardtack and canned pickles and dried lemons, and the sugary strawberry drips down Quentin's fingers and Koby doesn't want to waste. So he leans forward quickly, takes the jammy finger in his mouth, sucks it clean before he can second guess himself. A hum, pleased, surprised at the sharp-sweet flavor, eyes widening approvingly as his tongue curls around Quentin's finger, savoring every last bit.] Mmmhmm -- s'goo. [Mumbled, careful of his teeth, one hand reaching to hold onto Quentin's wrist so he doesn't pull away yet.]

[ he should be more disturbed that this manor plucked him up out of his home and dropped him here, but he's not. it means settling solastra behind him, coming to this place that seems so strange and foreign but so simple. he's been given a bed, a room, food, clothing. he can roam as far as he can, he can do what he wants.

he can share strawberry jam with a pretty-faced man in his own bed. he smiles a little, letting koby lick his finger clean and he does indeed go to pull back, but is halted. well, then. ]

It is. I've never had anything like this.

[ not sweet - not straight from the jar. freely offered and freely taken. but if koby thought he could keep his hand captive for long, he thought wrong, he does pull away - he even licks his own finger clean though koby has done a sufficient job. it's almost sheepish when he says it, smiling a little down at the jar, turning it in his hand to read its little labels. ]

Can I keep this?

[ like a sailor who is not given nice things often. he looks at the spread of food on the plates and decides to try it with bread - and instead of using utensils to fish it out, he merely dips a corner of the bread in the jam and takes a bite. he hums, delighted yet again, and offers the other half to koby. ]

It's better on this.

[Koby leans back, swallows, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to savor the taste. It's summery, sunwarmed, the kind of fruit that grows far from the sea, but it's layered with the salt of Quentin's skin, and Koby thinks -- well. He thinks about the taste of Quentin elsewhere, other ways, about what else he could put his mouth on, swallowing again, the tips of his ears pinking.

But then he sits back, watches the curve of Quentin's smile, a subtly different one, this one soft and a little -- shy, almost. Koby feels like he could spend a long, long time learning the different ways Quentin's handsome face breaks into a grin, all the slight variations, could spend hours just gazing at him. This one, though -- this is one of his favorites.]

Of course. I brought it for you. [Chipper, like it goes without saying, like slipping the jar in his pocket hadn't been an impulse sparked by wondering about that exact look on Quentin's face, wondering if he could inspire it again and again.] They have plenty, anyway.

[The bread is accepted, nibbled at thoughtfully. Koby's appetite is tricky on a good day, stomach usually knotted or distracted, but he nods in agreement, settling back with his shoulder pressed to Quentin's.] Not better necessarily, but. It's good.

Mm, bread is not as easy to come by where I'm from. There's war - the country that grows the land's grain has restricted trade with my home.

[ he reaches for another piece of the bread, pressing it between his fingers, the soft, open texture pleasant. he even brings it to his nose to smell it before popping it into his mouth with a pleased hum. koby settles in with their shoulders touching and he relaxes a little, unable to help the way he reaches for bite after bite - sometimes fruit, sometimes bread, sometimes a piece of egg cooked to a little fluffy shape.

but he comes back to the jam, dipping a finger in once and licking it clean, then sweeping up another fingerful to offer koby. ]

I'm a sailor - my stomach is easy to please so long as it's full. But this? This is one of the best things I've tasted here.

I see. [Koby files it away, thoughtfully -- war isn't unfamiliar to him, but the idea of it being countries at conflict, of different pieces of a world, rather than one supreme whole... It's different than what Koby knows, of a world order and the pirates who threaten it with anarchy. It feels more complicated.] They have lots of bread here. [He means: I'll bring it to you. He means: I'll remember what you don't have and make it for you.

He eats less, watching quietly, sipping his coffee and nibbling his toast, shoulders loose and eyes thoughtful. Quentin has some of the easy, open gratitude that Koby's always liked in sailors, a simple understanding of sea and sky and salt, of the fleeting enjoyment in things like a good meal, good company, a tankard and a song and a favorable breeze. It makes the homesickness ease, replaces it with a warmth that has Koby smiling, propping his chin in one hand and watching Quentin eat.

The offered jam is obligingly licked off again, without embarrassment, and Koby mumbles around it:] I'll bring you more. They had other flavors, some I'd never even heard of. [There's jam on his lips, his chin and he grins around the strawberry in his mouth.] I want to try them all.

[ he eats probably more than he should, picking at cheeses, bread, fruit, and little pastries. the eggs are rich and savory - all of it is beyond a breakfast he would have on the sea. and while it's not dissimilar from the breakfast he'd have at alonso's bedside, it comes with so few strings attached here.

it's why he looks pleased when koby takes the jam from his finger again without question, and quentin's eyes remain on his as he speaks. ]

We should make it our mission to try them all.

[ the idea is so simple and so frivolous - so unimportant in the grand scheme of things - but the idea of sharing jars of sweetly flavored jams with someone feels so freeing. to make plans and believe, even for a moment, that they can happen, is heartening.

his eyes flicker to the smiling line of koby's lips and it's impossible to ignore how he can see the sticky pink glistening on his skin. he reaches to thumb at koby's chin first, wiping some away and bringing it to his lips to taste. he hums, amused: ] And I didn't think it could get any sweeter - how do you do it?

[ and he wastes no time leaning forward and kissing koby, almost chaste were it not for the way he sucks the swell of his bottom lip into his mouth to clear it of the jam. ]

[There's something to seeing that, to watching Quentin eat that soothes that fretful, fussy part of Koby, the part that still looks down to where the bruised ribs are, that thinks of the weariness, the exhaustion in the man's dark eyes, the way he'd collapsed into Koby's bed and slept until dawn. Sailors eat quick and simple and just enough, no time to enjoy, to indulge. But Quentin indulges, and it's because Koby brought him something, made sure he was eating, made sure he had time. And it feels -- good.

Just like it feels good to laugh about the idea of setting a mission to try every sort of jam in this gilded prison, to think of something so silly, so light, instead of the grim weight of their captivity.] Quite the mission. You've seen how big that breakfast table is. We'll be eating nothing but jam for weeks. Are you sure you're up to it?

[And it feels so, so good to have Quentin reach out and touch his face, the warm roughness of his thumb like a familiar song, Koby's head tipping towards the touch almost without thinking. He laughs, rolls his eyes at the anticipated, still-amusing line, and leans forward to accept that kiss, with an eagerness that bumps their noses together, has him huffing another laugh into Quentin's mouth. One hand comes up, cradles the side of the other man's face, like Koby's savoring the feel of him, the taste. Like he'd missed it.]

[ koby laughs into the kiss and quentin echoes it, what with the way their noses bump together but he tilts his head just enough to deepen the kiss, to feel the sweet and sticky jam on koby's lips. it's easy to relax in koby's company and usually he doesn't trust or relax so easily, but something about the other sailor...

he pulls away slowly, nudging their noses together like they'd bumped before. ]

I'm up for the task. Nothing but jam and you? I do not know for a moment how I will survive.

[ he presses another soft kiss to koby's lips before he leans back, unable to help but reach again for bread to dip into the jam, pleased with the taste of it the moment it hits his tongue. ]

This is all very kind of you - the healing of my battle wounds, the bath, your company, and now breakfast... I should find a way to repay you.

[ his smile is easy, and finally with the last piece of bread he seems sated, falling back onto the mess of covers. it's foolish the way he reaches for koby's hand, the way he wants to touch him and be close to him. ] What payment will you accept?

Mmmmhm, well. You've proven yourself capable of handling jam, at the very least. [Considering the jar is nearly a third of the way gone, at this point -- a fact that has Koby looking pleased, satisfied with himself. There's a relaxed looseness about Quentin, evident in his broad, bare shoulders, the softness of his jam-reddened mouth.

There's a moment where Koby chases after Quentin's mouth, leans forward and thumbs over his cheekbone, mindful of the bruise from the other day. But then he sits back, clears his throat, sets aside the plates and the empty mugs -- and just in time, too, since Quentin is flopping back into the blankets.] Mmmm, let me think...

[Koby kicks off his shoes, then lets Quentin tug him down into the messy sheets, to the scent of linen and a few stray crumbs, which are negligible in favor of their fingers lacing together, callus to callus. He settles on his side, cheek pillowed on his free hand, smile curling almost shy, now.] Could I stay, for a little? I woke up too early, I think, so I could use a nap. And my room's a whole four doors away, you know.

[ quentin looks up at koby, stretched out beside him, looking at every line of his face, the soft lashes, the big eyes, the soft pink hair with the glasses ruffling and tousling it. he can't help but wonder if they'll ever be on the same sea - if they could sit like this in the bed of a rocking ship on easy waters. ]

Do you think I'll turn down good company? Stay.

[ he grins, as though he means something else by company, but it's all play. at least in this moment. he shifts a little closer on the bed, letting one leg tangle up with koby's. he's on his back, one hand in koby's that he's dragged to his chest, the other up under the back of his own head. ]

I would be a monster to send you back to your rooms four doors down. [ he's tired, too, even behind the smiles and bravado. there's a moment of stillness that comes over him then, quentin's eyes studying koby but also somehow far, far away. he wants to commit this man to memory, of course. but koby shared with him earlier - his commander. his escape. lying here beside him like this, it feels disingenuous to not offer something in return.

he might not wear his heart on his sleeve like koby, but he's not a complete asshole. ]

My father captained the ship I grew up on. He took me in when my born father died at sea and my mother was unable to handle the grief, I suppose. I never really asked about her. I was three years old and it's history from there. He died, two years ago, but him and your Commander sound quite a bit alike.

[Koby laughs at it, reaching to rub at the marks on his nose from his glasses, then thinking to reach up and pull them out of his hair, folding them on the pillow. His hair falls into his face, then, and he's brushing it away when something in Quentin's face shifts, subtle like a seabreeze. If Koby hadn't already made a habit of studying the subtle change in the smooth, sculpted features, the endless flickers of light in the constellations of Quentin's eyes, the furrow of his brow and the curl of his mouth, he might not have seen it.

But he does, and he stills, thumb pressed lightly to one of Quentin's knuckles, stroking back and forth gently as he speaks. Having a father of any sort on the sea is rare -- sailors pass through ports once, then not again for years and years, leaving sons and daughters behind them, wondering. Koby's own parents are a nonentity, people he's long since forgotten how to mourn. This, though -- it's different, the man Quentin speaks of much more than a concept.

He's real, he's vivid, there's fondness for him like a more acute version of a sailor's loyalty and love for their captain. Quentin is a sailor to his bones, and that his father was his captain...it makes sense. It makes sense too, that he's gone, that the sea itself is laced with grief, with loss. Koby's brow furrows a little, tucking closer to Quentin's side, until he's pillowing his cheek on his shoulder.]

Do they? [A prompt, an invitation. Quentin could say yes, could leave it at that or -- say more, share more. Either way, Koby knows he's been given something rare, something held close and quiet. Either way, the knowledge of Quentin's father is a gift.]

[ quentin's body adjusts for koby as the other man settles down against his side, shoulder becoming a pillow to the soft cheek of the pink-haired boy who brought him breakfast. but he naturally moves one arm to wrap around koby, draw him nearer into his side, his warmth, a hand rested on his side. ]

Mm. My father was loyal to the sea above anyone, and it got him in trouble sometimes, but otherwise - he was a good man. Grew the fleet, opened paths for trading among other countries. He was very talented - and cared people about his people.

[ he closes his eyes when he speaks, as though putting together the pieces of the man's face again in his mind - his warm smile, the way his braids would occasionally flop into his face as he moved to help a deckhand, or the knowing smile he'd share with him when they climbed up to the crow's nest together a sunset and sat watching it, eating something pilfered from a port. ]

Protected the people who worked for him. Protected me. It's what got him killed, in the end. Did you know that being the most excellent navigator in the whole of Anandara could cause such a ruckus? When the Regent sent his men, do you know what my father said to me? I can hear the way he laughed.

[ he laughs a little at the memory. ] You had to go and fall in love with the sea, didn't you? If I hadn't stayed on his ship and left when I had the chance - before all that happened - he might still be alive.

[It's evident fairly quickly that this isn't a happy story. This is something deep, something buried beneath layers of that careless grin and flippant words, something that Quentin carries beneath his ribs like an old wound. Or -- not so old, not with the tenderness in his voice, the weight of every word. Not so old at all.

Killed, Quentin says, and Koby is already still, but he goes even quieter at the word, at the picture being painted. A Regent -- a ruler, a general of some kind? Someone with power -- and a struggle wherein Quentin's father tried to protect him. It's whispering something that turns Koby's stomach, makes him think of blood on a splintered deck, of the way a crew splinters too, when a captain dies. Dies protecting a son, a talented son with a gift that caught the eye of someone dangerous, someone who attacked to gain control of that gift. And then -- and then what? What happens next, when a ship is conquered, when the resistance is destroyed?

To the victor go the spoils, of course. Koby knows that. He's seen it.

He doesn't ask any of those questions. They build up in his throat, threaten to choke him for a moment, but Koby just presses closer, warm against Quentin's side, squeezing their laced fingers tight for a moment. I'm sorry, is there, and it wasn't your fault, but Koby knows damn well how deep guilt weaves it's roots into someone's soul, where no amount of platitudes can uproot it. So instead he tugs Quentin's hand up, kisses his wrist, softly.]

He sounds wonderful. [Because he does. Because that's who he is in Quentin's mind -- wonderful and alive, still.] And...he knew you can't help it when you fall in love. Especially with the sea. [Again, hidden in the words: not your fault, he must've known it wasn't your fault.]

[ he wakes to the sounds of his father's voice calling the crew to deck sometimes after he dreams of waking in the crow's nest, feeling the way the ship rocks and turns as it floats lazily toward their destination. the very fond, booming: quentin, get your lazy ass up and point us in the right direction. but he wakes to a canopy over his bed, strange wallpaper, stranger surroundings. landlocked.

quentin sighs a little, squeezes koby's hand back and turns to nose against his forehead, humming a little. ]

Mm, maybe. He taught me to love it, so it was inevitable, really.

[ there's a laugh there and he shakes his head, shifting to allow koby closer still, reveling in the comfort and the warmth of someone beside him. he'd woken on those dreams today - sun at his back, waves beneath his feet, and his father shouting something he couldn't hear over the rush of it all.

and just like that, it passes, he feels the ache in his heart and the pull in his gut of yearning and longing, and he tries his best to shut the doors. quentin can't live long in the past - it's better he doesn't get so distracted. (it's better he doesn't get hurt). ]

You didn't eat much - do I need to bring breakfast to you next, or is this going to be an uphill battle to make you enjoy more than just the sticky jam from my fingers? Not that I minded that part at all.

[Koby feels the mystery of who Quentin is, the threads that weave together to create the man lying next to him, strange and familiar in equal measure, a sailor, a navigator, salt-taste and ocean spray, all things he knows as well as his own name -- feels that retreat like seafoam on a retreating wave, slipping through his fingers. Something's been revealed, some great and terrible grief, and Koby could speculate, could note it down and turn it into one of his many reports about the guests/prisoners of this place.

He won't. It's too -- raw, delicate, something fragile in his hands that he could crush if he's too rough or careless in handling it. Koby longs to know more, to ask his thousands of questions, but not for his notes. He just...wants to know. He wants to know Quentin.

But that gets swallowed back, the seafoam of it tickling his fingers as it slips away, as he shifts to tuck closer into Quentin's side and huffs a little laugh.] I don't get that hungry, I told you. I'm used to not needing much. [Read: used to going without.] Maybe after we've slept. [Stern again, looking up with glasses-marks on his scrunched nose, with his cheek pressed to Quentin's shoulder:] You should sleep as much as possible. I haven't forgotten you're hurt, you know.

I’m fine. I didn’t disappear over night and I even made it to my own room in one piece. Incredible, isn’t it? My magic is far reaching and powerful.

[ but koby is warm at his side, a pleasant weight against him as his mind tosses and turns with memories. this place is a small paradise, sure, but for how long? how long until he’s thrust back into a world of cold, dark rooms and greedy hands?

he’ll take this for what it is. koby against him warm and soft, beaming up at him, ordering him to rest and heal. he grins and with little preamble leans and kisses koby, the kiss itself chaste and soft, a mere pressing nad lingering of lips.

he comes back a little heavy eyed, sleepy, and squeezes him to his side a little closer. ]

You can go if you want. While I sleep.

[ because he does want sleep, he does want to heal and rest and soak up as much of this energy as he can. he traces patterns on koby’s back, closing his eyes, his cheek pressed to the man’s forehead. ]

[That gets a huffy laugh, one knee tangling around one of Quentin's legs, just to be closer, just to feel him in one more spot. There are questions still buzzing in Koby's mind -- now as always, that'll likely never change -- but they're quiet for the moment.] You don't melt in the rain either, I bet. Amazing.

[Tipping his chin upwards, Koby watches Quentin's eyes slip closed, hears that soft, weary note in his voice. What would it mean if he started counting each restful night he was able to give this man? Would it need to mean anything more than a port in a storm, a place to batten down the hatches and ride out whatever comes? Would he want it to?]

I don't want to leave. [Softly, settling closer against Quentin, hand slipping over to find the steady pulse of his heart.] If I wake up before you this time, I'll just eat the rest of the jam, hm?

[ his eyes don't open again as he settles into the warmth of a body beside his, of the bed plush and thick beneath him. he hums a little in acknowledgement, lips pulling into a faint, sleepy smile. ]

Then don't leave. Stay as long or as little as you wish to stay. But if you eat all the jam I'll have you know I'll have to find a way to it through you.

[ there's a teasing, tired lilt to his voice that is covered up by a yawn next. ] See how very much you taste of strawberries when I allow my mouth to do the chasing.

[ his words slur sleepily and he shifts to nudge a little bit closer to him, nose falling into the faint, pink hair. ]

did you know that talking snails exist in other worlds? my suitemate asked the library for one and it supposedly sends messages, but this one simply keeps talking about a place called arrge?

have you heard of it? i figured in all of your reading you might have some idea.

[ and look luffy's texting style is wearing off on him. ]

[Koby responds promptly, as per usual, not really thinking about the answer for a moment:] They're called den den mushi, they're a very reliable form of communication.

[Give him a minute.]

Wait.

Wait your suitemate has a den den?

Wait your suitemate is LUFFY??

i don't think this one is reliable.

but yes, the pirate king? i call him your majesty and i'm not sure he appreciates it but it's very entertaining.

do you know him?

No, we think he might be sick. He only says one thing.

[Wait, wait, priorities:] He's not a king YET, he's a captain. And of course I do, he's

[A pause, those three dots appearing, disappearing, appearing.] the one who saved me. From the ship I was on. It was Luffy.

Luffy is the one that saved you?

[ whoa, that hits harder than quentin had anticipated. he sits with that information for a moment, chewing it over before responding again. ]

he's a good captain, then. a good person, if he saved you.

He is. He was in a barrel and ended up on the ship and when I tried to help him escape but we got caught and he went all You know, gummy. And there was this terrifying, fantastic fight but Luffy won and he asked me to come with him which was definitely the best option because the ship was on fire by then. He is a good person. One of the best people I know. I can't believe I didn't realize you were suitemates. I guess I always come to your rooms by different hallways? Are you I mean do you get along? Do you like him? [It's -- very important, somehow, that he does. That the suite is a good place, a lively, noisy, chaotic one. For both of them.]

gummy? what do you mean he went all gummy?

but if he saved you and he asked you to come with him - how are you a naval cadet and he on his way to becoming a pirate king? seems a little odd, that you would still consider yourself a naval officer.

he's nice. i'll admit the kitchen staff won't much like us by the time we're through with them but we've been on a handful of wily and exciting excursions.

Oh, he hasn't mentioned it yet. He's made of rubber.

[Okay, sure, why not.]

I didn't go with him. I mean, he offered and I I said no. I'd always wanted to be a Marine and Luffy talks a lot about dreams and not giving up on them, so I enlisted and he sailed away.

[And was it a good decision? Koby isn't as sure of that anymore. The Marines were so much more complex, more intricate and confusing and unfair than he'd imagined.]

He's sort of a bottomless pit, yeah. I'm not sure if it's because of the rubber thing or just because he's Luffy. But that's good. He has a way of making friends of everyone. I'm really glad you like each other.

how is it possible that anyone can be made of rubber? he looks flesh and blood to me.

regardless i think it must be something about sailors, because i can be a bottomless pit as well when i'm allowed. i've also been stealing lettuces for his snail. it apparently enjoys it.

so he sought out to be a pirate king and you became a marine - the way he talked you'd be enemies in your world.

There are these fruits where we're from, called Devilfruit. If you eat them, you get strange powers. Luffy ate one that made him rubbery. I've sort of noticed that. You have a lot in common. [Like what, Koby. Like what.] Thank you, that's really nice of you. I think he got a little scrambled in the journey, unfortunately. Sanji -- our cook -- keeps threatening to eat it. We should be. I spent the last few weeks trying to hunt him down, with the rest of my unit and our commanding officer. But when it came down to it, I couldn't. Probably makes me a not very good Marine, but it felt too wrong to try and capture him and the crew.

did you eat one of them? what power did you gain?

maybe it makes you a piss poor marine but have you considered that it makes you a good person? sometimes what our commanding officers believe and what we believe won't align. that's when you get to decide the kind of marine you'll be, the kind of person you'll be.

it's what my father did. made the ship what he knew it could be and protected those who needed it, even if they weren't the regent's direct responsibility.

all that aside - a cook. you have a cook? is your whole crew here?

Me? Powers? I don't have any powers. [Well...] I'm just regular. Not a lot of people eat devilfruit, because if you do, you can't swim. Which is a bad idea in a world made of water, you know? Vice-Admiral Garp said something like that. That every man has to make his own code to follow. It's not as simple as I thought it was when I enlisted, though. He sounds like Well, like Luffy. I personally don't have a cook. It's [Not his crew, not technically, but...but they are now.] He cooks for all of us. He's here and our navigator and our swordsman.

you're hardly regular.

i don't know if he's like luffy exactly, but i think my father would like luffy. would like you, and no doubt the others. it's good you have your crew here. better to have your sea family here if the tides change.

[ if they get pulled from here - at least koby will be back on the ocean with a crew. he's not jealous, necessarily, but there's a pang of something he's glad can't been broadcast in text. ]

i will have to meet this cook of yours one day and try his food then. is it better than the food they serve here already?

Not magic or superpowered, I mean. I’m just Koby. He sounds like his own man, is what I mean. Not rigidly attached to rules or ideas of what a captain HAS to be, just because that's how it's always been. You think he’d like me? [It’s a little shocking how important that is, the idea that Quentin’s father (beloved, missed, longed for) could meet Koby in all his awkward, too-earnest, too-rambling messiness and like him.] Really? It's much better. I got so used to eating whatever Alvida left over that I forgot food could taste good. But Sanji's really good at making things even better than this place does.

he'd like you. he liked people who asked questions. who wondered about the world just like he did. i think that's why his wife left him - she couldn't see any value out on the sea. never understood people who planted roots and refused to see the rest of the world.

you don't have that problem.

but that said, i'm glad you have a cook, and that you're out of that old bitch's grasp.

i like the food here, too. the opportunity to try things that would be out of my reach is a pleasant and welcome surprise.

I think I would've liked him too. I can't imagine wanting to stay on land your whole life either. All I've ever wanted is to go to sea. Me too. It's been nice having them here and in the last place we were stuck. I don't really talk about it much, but I would've died if it weren't for them.

[The insult towards Alvida is an odd thrill -- one Koby almost reflexively corrects, actually looking over his shoulder to see if she's there, somehow.] I am too. It's better, without her. Everything's better. It feels a little too hard to believe, doesn't it? But you can trust anything Sanji makes, it'll be safe. I'll ask him to make something. For you.

a good crew will never fail you. i'm glad you didn't die, and i'm glad you're here with them.

but don't put him out on my behalf - i'm fine with what they server and the jam you brought me. i've left it with some bread for luffy to try.

you did not warn me that pictures could be given to the wrong people.
but it’s a nice surprise

I Wasn't aware that could happen either. Can you send it again? [He doesn't want to miss out on hot pictures ok.]

it can. things are so much easier in person.

[ but he sends the picture - shirtless and a little damp from a swim. but then he sends another, this one a crooked selfie that shows the long line of his muscled torso - and though it’s not in the image, there doesn’t appear to be the waist band of underwear to be seen. ]

i didn’t send them the second one.
that one is your punishment for not teaching me better about these devices.
i could have sent it to anyone and you’d have never seen it.

[ sorry, koby. ]

Edited 2024-07-29 19:26 (UTC)

I can't argue with that but

[Looooong pause because he's just. Enjoying those photos, thanks. Give him a minute.]

there's something to be said for being able to take photos whenever you want.

[The last message gets a huff, albeit an amused one. Is that how we're playing, Q? All right then.]

Hmmmm, spoken like someone who doesn't want any photos back, I think. That's fine, I'll save them for later. 😌

there is. i don’t mind taking pictures.

and if you don’t want to send them then by all means.
why would i make you?
if you’re too busy to see mine then i suppose i will have to find someone else’s room to visit this afternoon.

🙂

[Koby makes it all of .05 seconds before:]

Your negotiating skills would put every captain I know to shame. I stand defeated.

[But Quentin will get a photo too, Koby in his typical casual uniform of one (1) stolen button-down and socks and nothing else.]

it sounds like you don’t know many talented captains then. i’m surprised, mr. marine.

but if defeat brings me such treasures then i certainly won’t complain.
i suppose i’ll have to stage an invasion.

Only two, maybe. And one's a Vice-Admiral, so he hardly counts. An invasion? Oh dear. That sounds serious. Are you going to steal your shirts back?

[A beat, another photo.]

I like this one. I'll fight you for it.

invading and stealing from you would make me less a sailor and more pirate wouldn't it?

if you'd like to fight for it, who am i to deny you?
once i get my hands under it, of course, you'll be finished.

[ there's another picture - the bathtub they both shared some weeks ago, full to the brim with steaming water. ]

but i'm a little busy at the moment, i'm afraid.

I don't mind pirates. Anyway, I stole it first, I'm more of the pirate here. That sounds like a challenge. Is it? I see. Well, that's all right, I need to do laundry anyway.

[Not that they do their own laundry, but it's an excuse to send a photo of the shirt unbuttoned, gaping open slightly in the front, revealing that Koby truly isn't wearing anything else. He's also blushing furiously, because sending pictures like this is very new for him, still.]

now i have it in writing. you're a pirate.

[ but there's the picture and he finds himself unable to look away, staring at the line of koby's body in the image.

he sends one back - this stomach sinking into the water, his knees peeking above the surface, fingers of one hand dipping into test the temperature. ]

does it smell like me still?

Is that how it works? I didn't realize it was that easy.

[The sight of Quentin's soaked body is -- definitely one of Koby's favorite pictures he's ever sent.]

It does. Not as much as last night, but enough that I can almost pretend you're here.

it does now. pirate of my closet and my bed - how does that sound?

[ he's enjoying his bath and this little play back and forth. he'd not been too sold on the phones, really, until now. ]

you do realize my door is open and the bath is warm?
unless you wish to pretend him there. hands up your shirt, mouth on your shoulder.

I can't imagine how THAT'D Jolly Roger would look. A closet and a bed, I guess? Or I'd just use a stolen shirt instead of a flag...

[It's -- kind of fun, actually, to Koby's surprise. He likes the playful, light, easy nature of it, an echo of the easy back-and-forth he's gotten used to with Quentin.]

I do. But I'd have to get up and put something else on and I don't want to. I already did. Twice, this morning.

your ship made out of bed posts and rope.

[ oh yes, he knows too well what he's implying there.

but wait. ]

and what did you do when you pretended? paint me a picture.

Rope is useful to have on hand, just in case. Never know when you'll need to tie a knot.

[He actually probably means that in a completely innocent way, too.]

You're the wordsmith, not me. I can't paint a good picture just Tell you the truth. I woke up smelling like you and just Thought it'd be quick. It used to be quick. I didn't use to take so much time.

you're right - you never know when you'll need to tie knots.

you can paint a fine picture. try - for me?
sometimes things taking their time isn't all that bad.
did you imagine my mouth? my hands?
or something else.

i can tell you what i imagined when i smelled your soap on my pillow.

Exactly, yes. What if there's a fire and we need to scale out a window? Better to have rope on hand. Your hands. For starters. How warm they are, how they always know exactly where to touch when I'm half-asleep. You always take your time. Like you're unraveling me, bit by bit. It's new but it's It's nice.

[More than nice, it's addictive, it's consuming, and if Koby's acting out what he's writing, well. What of it?]

Yes. Tell me.

Edited (html failure) 2024-07-31 01:06 (UTC)

oh, my hands? i do enjoy unraveling you and all those sweet sounds you make.
i imagined my hands on your thighs, getting my hands up under your shirt, running them slowly up your hips, your stomach, to your chest.

you know where they'd go next. and i was sad to find you weren't there, with your face in my neck, keeping that love mark nice and dark.
don't think i didn't notice.

Your hands, doing just that, yes. The way you fit against my back, the way I can feel you waking up. The way your breathing changes, the way you pull me a little closer. I've thought about you not waiting for me to wake up before just Pushing my shirt up and getting back inside me. Maybe you never left in the first place. Did you? You left a matching one, on my neck. I haven't bothered covering it up. I don't mind it.

and here i was thinking of waking you the other morning with my head between your thighs
having my breakfast in bed and savoring it until you woke
and then having seconds

i like getting your shirt off of you though
up to your chin and watching you squirm when you can't see me around the fabric
cleaning up the mess i make on you after with it

oh? walking around with it on parade are you?
well then.

Were you? That'd be I wouldn't mind it I mean, I'd like it. I know. I had it in my mouth this morning, to keep it out of the way. Make sure nobody walking by heard me. They might've anyways, though. Maybe not the first time, but the second, when I stopped being careful. A bit, maybe. Is that okay?

noted.
i'm certain i can find a time to surprise you.
put your shirt in my mouth to keep it up sometime, perhaps.
though i will be gravely disappointed if you try and hide the little noises you make
what if i could have heard them down the hall? robbing me of sweet, sweet music.

why wouldn't it be? it's your body to tell the stories you want.
i'm honored to make people wonder a little bit.

I can think of better things to put in your mouth.

[Pause while Koby screams into his pillow at himself, it's fine, it's a canon event, he's new to sexting.]

All the way down the hall? I could go for round three, I guess. Since you're preoccupied. See if you can hear me. Really? You don't mind it? I mean, I don't mind it either. I like it. A lot.

oh, really? like what?
if was there, where would you have me put my mouth?

i'm sure i'll hear you
i know the way you get when you're worked up
but i don't mind
do you tell people how you got them?
how you keep ending up with more?

On mine, for starters. All the places you left marks, all the places you didn't. Lower. Take your time, like you always do.

[There's a pause before the next message, sheets kicked away, shirt left open, because Koby was serious about round three. The next photo is blurry, the unbuttoned shirt framing his marked-up chest, his stomach, his hips, hand slipping down, just out of frame, between his legs.]
Can you hear me right now? Some people. People I trust. It's not that I'm embarrassed, its just I only want to share it with people who deserve it.

[ the picture is infuriating - makes him impossibly hot beneath his skin and makes him slide a hand over his own aching need. so he sends a picture back - the broad palm low on his belly, over the rising black fabric of his pajama pants. ]

i don't hear you yet.
take your hand and touch yourself - but you're not allowed to
the little button you like so well? don't touch it.
think about my tongue working you open
tasting you
working you up and loose

deserve it? and what makes them worthy?
love bites must be serious business.

[That photo-- Koby very nearly just abandons his phone and goes striding purposefully down the hall, half-naked, to resolve that subtle rise of fabric himself.

But he's too intrigued by this new back and forth, written word, rather than spoken, like sending letters that arrive within seconds, instant gratification. So:]

Understood. But you can't touch yourself either. You always take care of me first, so if I'm imagining that, you wouldn't be using your hands anywhere but on me. Deal? They'd need to be happy for me, I guess. Understand that it's Special. To me.

oh you’re sneaky
very well then, hands off
i’ll imagine what i’d be doing to you
i can almost taste you on the back of my tongue

[ he almost wants to ask more lewd questions, press on and on and get koby wailing a few doors down. but the next message takes him by surprise. ]

special?
well then. i’ll have to make it my priority that you don’t ever go without those marks
and i expect you to repay it in kind.

Edited 2024-08-04 12:25 (UTC)

Who's sneaky? I'm just giving you rules in return. But I need proof you're obeying, of course.

[nudes plz~

Though he does pause a moment before replying.]

Yeah. Special. Deal. I'll take it as a solemn challenge. I might need a lot of practice, though.

demanding, as always, my sweet commander.

[ though it’s no complaint, considering a few moments later, it is indeed a nude picture. he’s wriggled out of his pajama pants, nothing beneath, and if koby looks closely he can see the flared tip of his cock resting on his belly, untouched. ]

it’s my turn for more pictures, isn’t it?
and we’ll have to arrange training sessions
lots of things to go over
i need practice, too.

[Of course he looks closely -- he'd requested so nicely and Quentin had been so kind as to oblige. And there's the smooth plane of his chest, his stomach, the tip of his cock that, when he swallows hard, Koby can still feel nudging at the back of his throat.

And, a few moments later -- another photo in kind, Koby also on his back, knees bent, thighs pressed together, though it's easy to see the soft curls of pink, damp and gleaming in the low light, along with the streak of wetness where his legs press together.]

See? Following orders. You certainly do not NEED the practice, you're a veritable expert already. Practically an admiral of bite marks.

and what am i to do if i cannot touch you?
i wish it was my mouth on you now
spreading you open with my tongue
or maybe i would just make marks on your thighs
never get where you want me to be

You say that like you couldn't make me finish just by marking up my thighs. By saying all those wonderful filthy perfect things and making me beg for your mouth. Like I couldn't come right now, just from imagining it. Do you want me to?

mmm, and why should i reward you?
what have you done to earn such a delicious prize?
i can't touch myself and the thought alone of you coming so empty

why it makes me quite sad for you.

if you feel so bad you should come and stop me

[The reduced grammar, the lack of punctuation is a clue to what the next photo proves -- thighs spread, fingers slick to the knuckle where they're pressed into slick, wet, unfurling pink folds.]

or help up to you

[ the picture is enough to make his mind spin, make his whole body alight with heat. that koby is taking care of himself so expertly makes a strange sort of possessiveness rush through him. and so there's no answer to the message. only enough time passes for quentin to slide of his bed, throw on some loose fitting pajama pants and head down the hall.

his whole body hurts with the want of it and it's a miracle he makes it to koby's room. he opens the door with little preamble, wastes no time in shucking off the tented pajama pants and moving to climb on the bed. koby laid out on his stomach, rutting into a pillow like something feral has captured him makes his cock absolutely ache with want.

the mattress shifts around him and for a moment he simply admires koby's work - the delicate arch of his hips, the swell of his ass, the very bloom of his pussy slick and pink and puffy from all the work that's been done. he'd taste like honey, he's sure, and as much as he wants to dive in, to press his face between wet folds and drink from him like a man dying of thirst, he doesn't.

he plasters himself along koby's back, letting the hard line of his dick catch some of that slick, pressing between folds but with no intention of sinking into the divine heat. he mouths along koby's back, beard burning the skin as he bites and sucks marks all along his spine, uncaring that the bristle on his jaw will leave angry red marks come morning. he presses his weight against koby's back and breathes hot and husky against his ear, barely able to control the way his hips grind into the pretty flush of koby's cunt. ]

Tell me again what you want. Beg me for what you need, Commander, and I will bend.

[Had this been exactly what Koby had hoped would happen? Yes, of course -- that's the ultimate goal of such text conversations, as he sees it. But between the teasing words and the photos, he's not about to wait any longer, not when his cunt is throbbing and insistent and unbearable, and he's so wet it's puddling in his palm and streaking down his wrist as he works two, three fingers inside himself and damn it, it's not enough, not anymore, not when he's gotten used to the blunt, thick fullness of actually taking a cock inside him, not when he has the photo of Quentin’s still pulled up, on the phone beside his panting mouth, even as he whines and ruts against the pillow, his hand, and chokes out obscenities against the sheets when it isn't enough, when he still needs--]

God, Quentin, I-- [The ragged words break off in an open-mouthed, needy whine at the slip of Quentin’s dick through the mess of his cunt, pulling his slick fingers free to fumble at the thick, hot length, guide it to grind up against his clit, because the rules just said Koby couldn't touch himself there, not that Quentin couldn't. And it's good, it's so damn good, and Koby doesn't think about the door being open, doesn't think about anyone hearing the way he moans into his pillow or seeing how he arches his back and ruts the weep of his cunt along Quentin’s dick snug between his shivery thighs, but it's still not fucking enough. Maybe with another few minutes of movement, of the rasp of teeth and tongue against his back, of Quentin's voice in his ear, but Koby needs it now.

So he does as he's told, he grinds his ass back against Quentin and clutches at the sheets and twists to look teary-eyed and desperate over one shoulder and he begs:] In -- inside me, please, please Quentin, I ne--fuck, I need your cock inside me, please.

[ there’s nothing left in his mind that’s decent or human, not with the way koby’s fingers circle him, drive the aching tip of his cock against his swollen clit. his own hips jerk, rutting hard against that precious pearl between koby’s dewy lips, letting the drag of slick and hard flesh make him moan raggedly against koby’s shoulder blade where he sucks a hard, red mark - letting the little imprints of teeth bloom red beneath his mouth. let him feel it tomorrow, let him earn the soreness that comes with all those teasing commands.

he huffs, wanton and amused, curls already sticking damp to his forehead. ]

Good, good. You asked so nicely.

[ one hand slides between koby and the bedsheets, sliding down to the pretty vee of his front and letting his fingers dip into his weeping folds, forefinger and middle finger gently bracketing the sensitive little nub they’d been working at but seconds ago. the other aligns his cock after smearing it once again through the mess between koby’s thighs and with little preamble ruts his hips forward in a sharp, hard snap. there’s no gentleness here now, just the grunt turned moan of a man tortured by the searing tight velvet wrapped around his cock.

his pace doesn’t stall, doesn’t ramp up - instead he begins to fuck hard into koby, wet skin slapping, the fingers gently framing his swollen clit only applying pressure with each thrust. His free hand slides up, catches in the soft hair at koby’s nape and pulls, sharp and hard to keep him looking at him over his shoulder. ]

Your cunt is immaculate - fuck. Like a voyage - want to see how deep we can get. How full you can be before you will - ah, Koby, shit -

[ a hum as he shifts his hips, gaining more leverage to fuck into him, going as deep and hard with each thrust as he can. ]

- before you cannot take me. Watch my… my seed pouring out of you and let you say I’m not here next time. M-make you walk the manor with me leaking from your thighs.

[The sound Koby makes – half whimpered into the heated, hazy air, half moaned against the pillow as his head drops, tips forward from the force of that delicious, devastating first thrust inside him – is nearly feral, broken and splintered and pleading and so greedy that he almost (almost) feels ashamed. But there’s not room for shame, not with the smack of Quentin’s hips against his ass, not with the tight snarl of Quentin’s hand in his hair, and Koby gasps, shivers molten-hot and slick around the cock plunging inside him, driving to the hilt in a way that his fingers can’t, that nothing else can, nothing in this world or any others. He might actually come from that alone – it’s hard to tell, hard to say, hard to think about anything but arching his back and propping himself up on his elbows so he’s at a better angle, so that Quentin can fuck down into his needy, dripping cunt without hesitation, can fill him up again and again and again.

And his words –] God, Quentin, y-you – can’t just – say that, you – [It’s breathless, laughing, tears in his eyes and a grin on his gasping mouth, one hand slipping down to cover the one teasing at either side of his clit, feeling the throb of each almost-touch in his bones, in the clenching pulse and weep, the filthy, messy sound of Quentin plunging inside him. He’d be sobbing against the pillow if his hair weren’t tangled in Quentin’s fingers, giving him nowhere to hide, nowhere to muffle the words that stream out, filthy and shameless:] Your fault it’s your fault I’m l-like this, you m-make me so wet and leave me empty, need you to f-fill me up so I can taste it, so I can f-feel – fuck, feel you in my throat, please–

[One particularly deep thrust gets a sharp, shuddering gasp, and Koby’s toes curl and his thighs quake and there’s a sense of something building, building in the way his usual climaxes don’t, stirred into a frenzy by the thought of sitting in the library, at breakfast, in the garden and feeling Quentin’s spend dripping down the insides of his legs. He’s almost at something, somewhere, and his thumb slips, disobediently circling that aching bud and the words just tumble free:] W-Want you to, want you to f-fill me up, Quentin, please, please, please come inside me, please, I need it, f-fuck me full, please–!

[ koby props himself up on his elbows, changing the angle almost instantly of the way his cock presses inside the tight heat of him and he groans loudly, hand leaving his sopping cunt to grab at his hips, to hike him higher and harder back against him. it gives him enough leverage to lean hard over him, weight against his back, fingers yanking hard at his hair to keep himself balanced as his hips jackrabbit into a needy frenzy.

the sounds of their joining fill the room - wet and sloppy, skin on skin. quentin is so close to cumming himself but it takes a great deal of tightened muscles and will to keep from absolutely blowing it all when koby begins to prattle on and on about feeling his cock where he shouldn't like this.

but there's the disobedient little hand, sneaking down between them where his own was and he growls, leaning to bite hard at koby's shoulder. ]

I won't - you won't get what you - if you keep -

[ he's panting hard against his skin, hand sticky with koby's mess sliding back down and pushing between them, replacing koby's frantic fingers. his thrusts grind to a halt on a deep, throaty groan, his cock pulsing in a way that's begging to be released, but instead he lets koby suffer the consequences of his actions. grinds his hips slowly into him, head of his cock nudging hard against that little sweet spot, finding the shuddering, clenching walls of his cunt absolutely unbearable. ]

You want fingers so bad then?

[ he doesn't touch his clit, no. instead allows his long arm to hook over a hip, their bodies slick with sweat, and presses his fingers against koby's entrance, sliding his fingers to where his cock shifts and grinds into him and presses. just the tip of a finger, stretching him carefully, nothing more. ]

That what you're after, love? [ a hoarse laugh, his fingers giving a last little tug on his hair before leaving, using koby's body as his stabilizer, his newly freed hand reaching to circle his clit once, twice. ]

What was it you wanted?

[God, he’s so close, he’s clutching at the sheets and arching back into every deep, punishing thrust and he’s going to feel this tomorrow in a thousand different ways, the fucked-out, weary, delicious exhaustion that lingers into the next day, and when Quentin bites him, Koby almost comes right then and there, whining open-mouthed and going tight and shivery around the cock inside him – so much for remaining demure about the marks, about being bitten, because the press of Quentin’s teeth into his overheated skin is deliriously good and then –

– and then he slows, he stops and Koby makes a sound halfway between a gasp and a growl, hand jerking away too late, too slow, because he’s been caught disobeying and must suffer the consequences. And he knows it, whining pathetically and glaring over his shoulder, a mutinous pout on his face as he fists both hands in the sheets too late, too little.] That’s not f-fair, I was almos– [But then Quentin’s shifting inside him, pressing deeper, gliding his fingers through the slick, dripping mess and Koby’s words cut off in a shivery gasp at the press of one inside, just slightly, just the subtle shift of pressure that sends a jolt up his spine.

And suddenly all the fight is gone, all the scowling brattiness, and everything is molten hot and liquid fire inside Koby’s body, in the shivering, shuddering grip of his cunt around Quentin’s cock, Quentin’s finger, and his stomach goes tight and his breath shudders in and in and in, and there’s the tease of one finger at his clit, the ghost of a circle that makes Koby jerk and whimper brokenly and gush around Quentin’s cock inside him, everything white heat and light and he’s only barely conscious of himself choking out:] Y-Yeah, yes, yes, yes, please–

[ koby's body goes pliant and warm and desperate, his words becoming a litany of nothing more than desperate agreement. it's intoxicating, grinding his hips hard down into him, feeling the way his walls clench around him, the way his own dick hurts for the way he's holding back, just barely.

and koby goes utterly wet around him, hot and sticky and drenching the sheets and something about it is so wildly fucking hot he cannot think straight. he cannot deny this precious, wonderful man a single thing. he leans hard and heavy against koby's back, begins to finish thrusting hard to the point the slapping of their skin is almost louder than their moans, his fingers working desperate circles around his swollen clit.

his hand slicked by koby's need goes back to koby's hair, gripping hard as one more thrust brings him to his hot release, hips stuttering, filling koby up hot and full, his cock twitching desperately and a low growl coming out against koby's nape. ]

So good - you - the sea took you, brought you to me - [ a panting little laugh, his whole body twitching and burning from the orgasm, hips grinding still through his own to bring koby to an even higher peak in his once he crests over the wave. ]

The way I wanna taste you right now... you're so perfect.

[Part of Koby wants it to go on forever, wants the dizzying, aching, wonderful heat plunging inside him over and over and over for hours – wants to beg Quentin to keep him on edge for hours, keep him wet and wanting and ready and pleading. But the messages, the photos, Koby’s own fingers working himself open to both, the frustration seared away by Quentin’s chest pressed to his back, Quentin’s fingers replacing his own, Quentin’s cock inside him – there was no way he could’ve held on that long.

Besides, Quentin gives him what he wants, what he’s begged for, what he’s vaguely aware he’s getting accustomed (addicted) to – the heat, the release, the sense of Quentin filling him up, cock pulsing inside his clenching, dripping cunt. And Koby is gone, he’s gone from that alone, the tormenting bliss of Quentin’s fingers at his throbbing clit just keeping him there, thighs shuddering, breath coming in gasping, whimpering, sharp sounds. And everything is heat and light and bliss and Koby coming so hard he sobs and clutches at the sheets and moans Quentin’s name loud enough that they can probably hear it in the dining room.

Somewhere, he’s aware of how soaked he is, how the angle of Quentin taking him from behind and the relentless pressure circling around his clit had his climax accompanied by a release he’s never felt before, and Koby whimpers shakily, hazily, one hand slipping down to feel the ticklish trickle of Quentin’s cum and his own dripping down his thighs. A breathless sound, half-laugh, half-moan, and he doesn’t think, just presses his slick fingers into his own mouth, sucks them clean, his own taste and Quentin’s coating his tongue as he turns, reaches, tangles his fingers in dark curls and tugs the other man closer to kiss him, to share the sweet-salty-tang.]

There. [Breathless, between the press of his tongue to Quentin's, between shuddery breaths, whole body liquid and shivery.] G-Good? [Monosyllables is about all he can manage, still riding the aftershocks, the continued throb of his cunt around Quentin's cock, hips shifting slightly to keep him buried inside. The sheets are soaked, but it's a big bed, and Koby doesn't mind where they go, where they rest long enough for round two, as long as Quentin doesn't let go of him.]

[ koby is perfect in all ways, their bodies heavy and burning together, his cock aching and twitching against every pulse of koby's dripping cunt. but the kiss is what does it, makes him moan heavy and low into the other man's mouth, chasing the taste of them and chasing for more even though he's molded and pressed against koby's back.

he wants to face him, wants to devour him again already even though his own body is wracked with sensitivity. it doesn't stop him though, from dragging away, chest pressed against the other's back, but his dick slips free. it's short lived, what for the way quentin reaches and encourages koby onto his his back. he can't be away from him long, refuses to, and slots himself between koby's thighs again, nudging inside him again, feeling the wet rush of where they meet and humming low.

the sheets are soaked beneath them, their bodies sweaty and sticky, but it changes nothing about the way he kisses koby, slow and deep, licking languidly into his mouth and chasing the taste of him on the boy's tongue. he slides one arm under koby's head, pillowing it against his forearm so his fingers can tangle in his hair again, the other braced on the bed so that he can grind his hips down against koby once again. ]

So good.

[ he breathes against koby's mouth, nudging their noses together and chasing little kisses over his lips. ] Wanted to see your face. [ a little breathless still, hazy in the afterglow and the simmering burn of more. ]

Missed you.

[Predictably, there is a soft, whining sound of protest when Quentin pulls back, when his cock slips free -- not yet, not enough, not done yet -- but then Koby's being nudged to his back, and he lets his shaky, trembling legs give, heedless of the damp cling of the sheets to his back, his thighs, spreading them wide, eagerly. He grabs at Quentin, clumsily, tugs him closer and kisses over his cheek, his nose, lips parting on a moan against the corner of his mouth when he nudges back inside, settles between Koby's quivery thighs like he was made to be there. Sensitive, breathless, he opens his mouth to each languid, lazy kiss, smiles into them, half-expecting Quentin to settle heavy and warm against him.

But he shifts, he moves, still hard enough inside Koby that his oversensitive body pulses, clenches, drips onto the soaked sheets, and one shift of his hips has him gasping, shuddering, back arching up, seeking that angle again. Quentin's -- not done yet, not quite, the texting and the heated coupling of moments before not enough. The realization makes Koby laugh breathlessly, arms up around Quentin's neck, holding him close enough that the gently, rhythmic grind of his hips hits just right, stirs that slow-glowing ember of pleasure back up towards a flame.]

You m-missed me? [Still a little slurred, still trembly with aftershocks, fingers seeking out the sweat-slick curls at the back of Quentin's neck, tangling into them, chest hitching at the slowly-building sparks of pleasure.] M'right here. Not going anywhere. [It's the endorphins -- a word Koby knows now from a few too many biology books, from reading and studying pleasure and sex like it can somehow explain what happens when he's spread out in the sheets, when he feels hands on his body, on all the places he believed nobody would ever want, when this man kisses him. It hasn't, yet -- but his face is raw in it's pure adoration, in the worshipful way his free hand comes to cradle the side of Quentin's face.] I'm not going anywhere.

Koby - you alright out there tonight?

I'm sure Tim already checked in. But just in case.

[It takes a long time (for Koby) to get a response, a whole twenty minutes. Then:]

I'm so sorry, I was keeping Luffy from climbing out the window. I'm just fine, yes, how are you?

Luffy - sounds like the kind of thing you'd name your dog, but I'm guessing that isn't the case. It's a long way down out there, which I'm sure you already know too.

Fine. We've got royalty in our midst tonight.

Monkey D. Luffy is his full name. Not that you have any room to talk, respectfully. "Hawk". [Rude!]
He's made of rubber, so he'd probably be fine, but I'm not taking any chances. Oh? Who?

His first name is Monkey? Did his parents - not care for him?

Hawkins is a perfectly upstanding name, on the other hand.

Are you pulling my leg or is this some euphemism I haven't learned yet? I'm pretty on the up and up with those.

The Dowager Queen - Alicent, if you've met her. Tim's the closest thing she has to a knight around here.

Technically it's a family name? Where I'm from, family names come first, individual names come last. It's made things confusing here, that's for sure. No, it's a literal description. Ask Tim about Scrabble and Devilfruits, he'll tell you. I haven't yet, no, but I do recall Tim mentioning he'd saved her from the wolfman. That makes sense to me. Tim would make a good knight.

Slightly better. Still concerning.

Devilfruits - christ, did you tell him there's something else out there he's gotta be saying his prayers over? Or is this why he was asking me about the Eucharist a few nights ago?

He would. You too, probably. Don't go getting any ideas though.

It's important, if you know your family name, even if it's "Monkey". Most people don't know it, since nearly everyone's an orphan. It's a type of fruit that grows where I'm from that alters people's bodies and gives them powers. I used it in Scrabble and he used "eustace rice" or whatever it was and we got in a fight. And then he texted you and mysteriously disappeared, which I have no opinions on. :) I'd be a terrible knight. I was barely a good Marine.

I didn't realize. Were you one of them, or do you have family out there somewhere? Never had any siblings to keep track of, thank christ. I have lunch with my mother once every few months. Or I used to, anyway.

[no word about his dad. la la la.]

Powers. Like - superheroes? The radioactive ones I was telling you about? Not really sure what good rubber does anyone, unless Monkey has no aspirations of fatherhood.

Uh huh. He overindulged. [on more than just liquour.] Well, I appreciate that very much.

You've got morals, ideals. Followed a dream. You're good to your friends and loyal. All qualities that are difficult to teach. I think you'd be a fine knight. It's not always about swords and bloodshed or cannons and capture.

Edited 2024-08-11 21:40 (UTC)

I grew up in an orphanage. I guess it's possible I have siblings out there, somewhere? Who knows. What's your mother like? [He sees you Not Mentioning your dad, Hawk, get perceived.]

"Heroes" implies that they aren't mostly pirates using what they can do to get more money and power. Luffy's different, though. He's not like anyone else I've ever met. The rubber comes in handy. I saw him get shot by a cannonball and bludgeoned by a mace and he just shook it off. Thank you. That's I've been wondering if I've somehow gotten too far away from my dreams, here. If I've given them up. I don't THINK so, but it's been hard to hold onto them when I'm stuck in one place and I can't change the way I wanted to. Sometimes I envy Tim's belief, you know? His faith.

What happened after the orphanage? I had a surrogate family for a while. Took me in like their own. But my mother - she's a strong woman. The best you could ask for, really. Our relationship is exactly the way it's meant to be; we understand each other.

Well, I'm guessing you don't mean the ones from Pittsburgh that play baseball.

Luffy's a pirate though. And you're...a marine.

[do u see where he is going with this. he's going to walk by the rubber thing for a minute because he just cannot wrap his head around it.]

What do you want to change? So there's no shipyard here - doesn't mean you can't do a different kind of work to build character.

...Yeah? He's devoted, and I know it's important to him. But I told him once: I didn't really much see the point. God's got nothing to do with anything going on around us. I try not to remind him how I feel about it.

I left when I was sixteen – that’s usually when the other girls got married off or found employment, and I wanted to go to sea. [He drops “the other girls” in there casually, half-wondering if Hawk’s figured it out or if he’ll need to break out the diagram like he almost did with Tim.] And then I got kidnapped by pirates for two years, so that sort of derailed that plan. I see. That’s nice, to be understood. Especially with what I’ve heard about your world. I have no idea what Pittsburgh or baseball means, I’m sorry. He is. And I am. And it’s just as complex as you’d imagine, trying to figure all that out. I don’t know. Get stronger, be a little less pathetic, that’d be nice. I haven’t been slacking on training, at least, but it’s hard on land. Lot of running laps, mostly. It’s more that I envy how sure he is, at least about all that. He’s positive there’s some larger purpose that’ll happen regardless of what us limited mortals can do, that there’s someone watching out for him no matter what happens. I don’t think I’ve ever believed in anything like that. I’ve always known I was in it alone.

[hawk is good at reading many things, and the semantics in language and careful word choice is certainly one of them.]

The other girls. Were they your - friends? Or did they allow boys and girls together?

[there's something there, hawk just can't quite tell what yet.]

Ah. Well - let me put it together then. You probably don't think too highly of pirates if you were kidnapped by them. But Luffy is different, so now you're torn between duty and upholding ideals versus challenging the status quo.

How'd I do?

...No baseball? Christ, what do you kids even do for fun over there?

Well, there's always asking the library if they can get you a boat. No guarantee they won't give you a handheld version though. Could always try the pool, too. If the marines are anything like the army, it's not just about physical strength. It's about taking orders, upholding honor and duty to your country, and having courage. And trust me, it doesn't apply to everyone the same way.

[rather than say anything derogatory about the absurdity that is a higher power, hawk instead chooses to address the last part, which hits a lot closer than he'd expected.]

Yeah. Well, you and I have that part in common. That's one of the reasons I know flat-out you aren't pathetic.

Not precisely. I grew up in a girl’s orphanage. [Allowing a pause for that to settle in, to see if Hawk catches on or if he needs a diagram drawn like some people (coughTimcough).]

You’re not entirely off the mark, I guess. [Translation: Hawk is absolutely spot-on with that assessment and Koby’s a little shook by it.] The Straw Hats – Luffy and his crew – have a way of challenging people’s ideas about what being a pirate means. It’s sort of their thing. I used to fish, for fun. Most kids run around pretending to be pirates or Marines or learning a trade, in the villages. If they survive long enough. I guess I could try and patch up the boat, at least. Shouldn’t be too tricky. I’ve patched lifeboats before. We have that in common? Really? That’s Sort of surprising.

A girl's orphanage. Except...you weren't a girl. Or at least, you didn't feel like one in the face of everyone telling you that's what you were, did you?

[the cozy corner is no stranger to that kind of person. maybe frankie isn't one of them: dressing in drag, all pretty garters and lace and cosmetics as vibrant as any young lady out on the town, but taking it off at the end of the day - going home a confident man in the arms of one of his best friends. but he's seen a few - men and women alike who don't fit the mold of traditional masculinity or femininity. who feel trapped in the confines of their own body and societal expectations. when he stops to think about it, it sounds worse than even dealing with fucking m-unit. at least he's only hiding who he sleeps with. having to hide everything that made him himself just to survive? sounds fucking miserable.]

When did you know...who you really were?

[part of him wishes this were face to face, so the lack of judgment and the softness in his question were easier to read.]

Sounds rough out there. So maybe this Luffy shaking things up is what everyone needed.

I'll bet they can get you a real one. They seem to be offended by the concept of manual labor, though.

The only person I trust is myself. There have been times where it's lonely - but it beats getting burned.

[There’s always that beat of anxiety, of waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the response to turn from surprise to disgust, no matter who he’s talking to – but Hawk takes it in stride, and honesty Koby almost prefers the cut and dried explanation, letting out a soft sigh of relief.]

More or less, yeah. I looked like one – an awkward, weird-looking, ugly little one, but still enough to blend in, and I did my best to act like one, it just all felt Bad. I can’t remember a time when it DIDN’T feel bad, but for a long time I thought that was just me. That I was built wrong or something. The first time I KNEW, though was maybe Eight, nine? It was a Marine-funded girl’s home, and occasionally some officers stopped by to deliver supplies. It was good PR, looking back, but at the time I thought we were just special. And there was this one officer who was always nice to me, and I wanted to be EXACTLY like him. Like, not just be a Marine -- there were women Marines, of course, it wasn't about that. It was just The way he acted and the way he looked and the way he moved through the world. I wanted to be that. Maybe then's when I knew.

[The comment about Luffy gets a snort of amusement.] Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll corral you in as an ally to his campaign to become Pirate King. I guess. I mean, you could argue it’s better, but It’s not the worst thing in the world, trusting people. A few people. I trust you, enough to tell you all this.

Koby? Sorry, are you busy? I don’t mean to disturb you. It can wait.

Sorry.

[she is KEEPING her COOL and doing JUST FINE]

You don't need to apologize, Jennifer. I'm just in the library. Are you all right? Is everything okay?

[IMMEDIATELY protective.]

Oh, yes! Everything’s fine. I’m just

Nervous. I suppose.

I didn’t know who else to talk to about these things and you’re my closest friend.

[She starts and stops several sentences before she just ends up with:]

Do you know about sex?

That’s not what I meant. I mean, a little.

I thought this would be easier in text.

I know this is terribly personal. I’m sorry. Have you had it?

[There's a loooong pause.]

Those are two very different questions. But: yes, I know about it and yes, I've had it. Why?

[She sits with the question for a while. It's such a simple question, but it feels... silly, almost, to try and talk about it.]

Is it

Fun? Nice?

This places seems to push about it, a lot. It seems you can't go anywhere with having it pushed in your face. I never tried to think about it before. Just that it was dirty and bad and all those sorts of things. Something to do when you're married and never before and you aren't supposed to enjoy it or something's wrong with you.

[not that any of this had been told directly to her face, but it was the general attitude of shame and everything being hushed up, off-hand comments overheard by other adults, etc. It all built up to an image that it was Bad And Wrong]

But here it's clearly not that. No one else seems to be really bothered by it. I'm wondering if I'm just being silly, holding on to something I shouldn't be?

[Oh dear, maybe this would've been better in person. But Jennifer is important, and Koby cares a lot about her, so he musters up his courage to get over his awkwardness (while also wondering how he became the One Who Has Sex in the friend group.]

It can be fun and nice, yes. When it's with someone who wants to make sure it's fun and nice for you. I can't speak to everyone here and say that they're all that way, but I've been very fortunate. I've met a lot of people who are wonderful and who know what they're doing, which helps. I was always told it was something I'd need to do, whenever I got married off, or if I ended up working for a certain kind of noble. That it'd be painful at worst and boring at best. But that's not true. I think maybe you were told some of the same lies I was, Jennifer. And I won't say that you're silly or wrong to be cautious, because if you're not ready, you don't need to be, but I can promise you: those were lies. They were all lies.

I knew.

I knew that. I know I did.

Adults always lie. I should've come to that realization earlier, on my own. I guess I needed someone else to confirm it. I thought it had to be boring or painful, that people only insisted on it for children. I never knew what I thought about that. I guess I knew I'd have to, eventually. I don't know.

This seems about as good a place as I could get to try

something. I guess.

It's not your fault, Jennifer. For believing or coming to the realization late or any of it. You're here now and you're free and you can do anything you want. And it's When it's good, it's like nothing else in the world. I didn't know anything could feel so good. That I could want to be inside my own body again. I'm sorry, that's Probably too much information.

No, I think that's wonderful.

I feel like I spend too much time not even thinking about my body. I just... exist? I don't know how to explain it.

Maybe I should ask Miss Nami for help? She's always seemed so confident in herself, as a woman.

That's what it feels like, yeah. It's I have a body, and it's fine, it's better than it was, but I don't know it, yet. It doesn't quite feel like mine? I mean, the fact that everyone sees me as myself is nice, but When it's good, when it feels like it should, it's like feeling okay having a body. For me, at least. Nami usually has good advice, yes. She might be able to help. And I have some, um Things. Just in case. I don't know if you like men or But there are some Risks.

[He's dying even bringing this up, but he cares about her well-being, okay!!]

I think I understand that. It'd be nice to be, well. Me, I guess.

[. . .]

Things?

And, I suppose I haven't thought about that much either. I suppose I like men too? I know I like other women, but I think it's another thing I haven't put much thought into.

[But she thinks for a long moment on what these 'things' might be. But she can connect why men would be brought up and connect the dots. She turns bright red]

Is that...a concern here? I didn't think it could. [It hadn't seemed like a problem with the Witches and she hadn't thought the rules might change]

It wouldn't hurt to have something laid by in case of emergencies. I didn't think it was an issue either, but um Certain cyclical, monthly things have resumed, since being here. Unfortunately. Which suggests other things are possible.

Oh.

[She had noticed such a thing, which raises some new questions about this place and its motivations]

It's so strange. This place seems to have power over so much, but not that? I'm a little worried about what this play intends for us.

But thank you. I'll take them. I don't know what I'd do without you, Koby. I'm sorry if I'm relying on you too much.

I don't know for sure about the risks, but it definitely stands to reason that they're there. Especially if things are cycling again. Better safe than sorry, right? You aren't relying on me too much, at all. I like being able to help, remember? It's sort of my thing.

You love him.

[ Texted from the armchair where Tim is reading, while Koby and Quentin flirt at the desk, or on the bed, or wherever else near enough to distract him from the history of 20th century social movements. ]

[On the bed, reading innocently and normally!! It takes Koby a moment to check his phone, because he's snuggled up to Quentin's side, reading through some book about historical world leaders.

When he does, though, his eyes shoot over to Tim, brow furrowed.]

Who? Abraham Lincoln? I admire him, definitely, but I don't know about LOVE.

[ Tim presses his lips together tight to keep from laughing, because despite the timing of the non-question, he is, in fact, trying to have some discretion about it. Otherwise, he'd just say it.

His eyebrows shoot up, like a knowing parent waiting for a kid to admit they're fibbing, and he angles his book up to make it look like he's reading again, but is actually hiding his face from Quentin. His eyes point over in his direction. Come on, now. ]

[Koby blinks a couple times, following Tim's gaze up to Quentin, who's nodding off, warm and relaxed against his side. It takes a moment to click, but Koby's smart. He's very, very smart.

His breath hitches and he looks back at Tim, eyes wide, face immediately turning the same color as his hair. Swallowing hard, he rapidly texts back:]

What do you mean?

What do you mean, what do I mean?

I mean what I said.

It's not a bad thing. You're sweet together.

[Koby's eyes flick over, wide behind his glasses, back to Quentin for a long, long moment.]

It's complicated. I don't I mean I hadn't thought about it too hard, I guess. Maybe because I didn't want it to disappear or something.

Acknowledging it doesn't make it disappear.

[A long, quiet pause -- it's harder like this, when Koby can't hide his facial expressions, his emotions, the way raw, aching fear flickers across his face when he looks up at Tim.]

How can you be sure?

Calm down. He's gonna know if he looks up and you look like you've seen a ghost.

Sure about which part?

He's asleep, practically. [But Koby reaches out, smooths Quentin's hair back from his forehead a couple times, like soothing a fretful, restless cat, waiting until he stills completely. So subtle.]

Sure that it won't disappear. Or sure that I That. [He can't even write the word.]

It's my experience that even if you want it to disappear, it won't.

The way you soothe him to sleep like that, first of all, not caring one bit that I'm looking. It's not the first time, or the second, or the third.

The way you look at him.

You can't stay away from each other. There's no other reason to spend so many nights over here.

I don't. But it

[Another pause, and Koby watches Quentin for a long, long moment before looking back at Tim. He looks -- hopeful and terrified at the same time.]

What do I do? I don't know what to do. I've never I mean only once and it did disappear.

what do you mean when you say "disappear"?

It's not Whatever he feels is fine, it's okay, I'm not going to Demand anything. But nobody stays. Eventually everything good ends. At least with Luffy I knew he was somewhere in the same world, which helped a little, even if I never saw him again.

You don't know that. And even if it does, it doesn't mean it wasn't worth it. I don't regret Hawk.

You'll go to the same place when you're through here, I know it.

You don't?

[Another of those pauses, Koby's expression far away, watching Quentin sleep.]

I know you're right. I don't know what's going to happen next, anything is possible, I can't control it if it does. Usually I'm okay with that. But [Looking back at Tim, meeting his gaze, speaking soft enough that it won't wake Quentin:] I'm scared.

I regret a few specific choices I made. But no. I know what I want and what I don't want. That's valuable.

[ So easy to talk about it in the past tense when he's barely seen him for a couple weeks. Anyway, ]

Nothing about this place is under our control. That doesn't mean we should ignore its blessings. What are you afraid of?

I see. [Again, Koby being physically there means that he can't hide the flat, eyebrow-arching skepticism of his expression.]

I promised Quentin that if he ever left here, I'd find a way to go after him. I wouldn't let him be alone. I'm afraid of not being able to keep that promise.

[ Shut those eyebrows up Koby, this isn’t about him! ]

Maybe not immediately. I know you don’t believe the same things I do about what all this is, but I believe you will both end up in the same place, eventually.

Edited 2024-08-19 17:49 (UTC)

[Eyebrows continue, he sees you deflecting, Timothy, but he has a sleepy Quentin on him so he isn't gonna push it.]

I don't, but I wish Sometimes I wish I did. That I didn't lie awake wondering about what might happen if we go back to our own times and worlds and just Forget. Don't tell him. Please.

Why would you forget?

I won't. That's not my place. But I could have this exact conversation with him, you know.

I've been reading, about people who get taken to other worlds. Sometimes, if they go home, rhey forget.

[It takes another moment for the meaning of that statement to hit, but when it does, Koby looks -- comically stunned.]

What? You mean He What??

That can't happen.

[ It isn't an option, and he won't consider it, and if you make him, he'll throw up, and the commotion will wake Quentin. He looks nauseous. ]

I'm nearsighted, not blind.

[There's a glance upwards, over the tops of his glasses. Then:

You're probably right. I shouldn't get guidance from fairy tales at any rate. Well, neither am I. What are you talking about?

He's sweet to everyone, so it's not as obvious. But he's still here constantly. He looks at you like you're the most precious thing in the world.

[Oh god, he's red-faced again, but it's -- worse now. Here come the rationalizations:]

He IS sweet to everyone, that's just how he is. And he's here because I have nightmares when I sleep alone and I told him about them and It helps. That's all.

[Because that's...less gay, somehow?]

And he looks at sunrises and the lake and breakfast and the microwave like that it's not He's just I'm not I'm me. I know what I am. I'm just me.

I've been here for two weeks. He knows you're not alone, he comes anyway.

I think he likes you better than the microwave, Koby.

Well, that could mean anything. Okay, yes, better than the microwave, obviously, but That doesn't mean he I mean, I don't doubt he's very fond of me and has been a very encouraging emotional support and maybe I've done something similar, I don't know? I don't know.

It means he's doing it because he wants to.

I know it's overwhelming. And probably unusual, for you sailors.

Well. That's

[Putting down his phone for a moment, crossing his arms and scowling over at Tim. In a stage whisper:] What's your point?

Nothing.

[ Barely above just mouthing it. ]

Just that you move around a lot. "Someone in every port," you know.

Do you want me to back off? I didn't realize I'd be interrupting a honeymoon.

[Huff, huff, picking up his phone again, ears so red you could see them in the dark, likely.]

That's for sailors and pirates and privateers. Marines aren't supposed to have any of that. Bad for the image. You aren't interrupting anything, stop that.

I know, I'm just teasing.

But I mean it, Koby. If you want it to be serious, I can figure something else out, it's a big house.

You are? You ARE. When Quentin wakes up I'm throwing this pillow at you. Do you think "serious" means "no room for anyone else"?

Just the every port thing. The rest of it is completely true 😊

That’s how it’s always been for me.

[ they both know damn good and well Tim’s only ever been serious about one person, but that's not the point. ]

I felt bad just texting with Quentin, when I was with Hawk. For a minute, I thought that was why he was leaving. “Room for other people” isn’t done, where we’re from.

[Have a scowl, Tim, and a meaningful look at one of the nearby decorative pillows.]

I know it isn't. We're from very different times. Did you really? Is that what he said? If what you're saying Quentin feels is true -- and I'm not saying it is, so stop smiling -- then him enjoying himself with other people isn't going to change that. Because it hasn't, yet. People are complex enough to feel multiple ways about multiple people I think.

No, he didn’t, but his explanation didn’t make any sense, so i thought it was something I’d done. It wasn’t. I was just scared.

Won’t it? You can have all the love in the world in your heart, but only so much time and energy. If it were me, I’d want to give my partner all of it.

Of course it wasn't anything you did. It's something he has to sort out in his own head. You didn't do anything wrong.

[Meet him in the pit, Hawk, etc etc.]

Well, I know for a fact that you have plenty of energy, Tim. But if that's what you want, that's fine too. I'm still figuring out what I want, but I think I think it's more like a crew. There's a captain, of course, and a first mate and that relationship is special, but it doesn't make the rest of the crew less part of it. If that makes sense?

That's not completely true. I said some things I shouldn't have.

I understand what you're saying. I don't know if it's a perfect metaphor (what am I, a lieutenant?) but I get it.

Just let me know if you start to feel differently, okay? Quentin's charming and handsome and all of that, but you're my best friend here. I don't want to do anything that would hurt you.

Everyone says things they don't mean or shouldn't say. It's actions that matter. Lieutenant works. Don't tell Quentin, he'll start calling you Lieutenant Sweets or something. I'm your best friend? Really? [Yes the rest of it is important, but this is the part that has Koby looking up, eyes immediately welling up.]

[ Koby, please. Who else would be—he's been hiding out here for the last two weeks, be serious. Tim smiles warmly at him, and then, after a moment of fishing around in his lap for his bookmark, gets up to join the other two on the bed, carefully scooching in on Koby’s other side. ]

Yes, obviously. [ Speaking softly and ruffling Koby’s hair. On second thought, Tim puts an arm around him, pulling him in for a half-hug, as much as he can do without jostling sleeping beauty. ] You think I would stay involved in... [ a vague gesture. whatever this is. ] otherwise? You know I take it seriously. I’m not saying you don’t, just that if you weren’t that important to me, I wouldn’t let you watch while I blow your boyfriend.

[Sniffing, rubbing at his eyes – irrepressible crybaby, even now, even after everything – Koby laughs softly and leans into the arm around him, to Tim fluffing up his hair, even as he makes a bit of a face at it.] Sorry, I just – nobody’s ever said that to me before, so. It’s new. It’s all a bit new, that’s all.

I know you take it seriously. [Gently, resting his chin at Tim’s shoulder and looking up over the purple rims of his glasses.] I know. And – thank you. For trusting me. Both of us. Whatever.

[Then, as the word sinks in, Koby turns absolutely crimson again and elbows Tim in the ribs, hissing:] He is not my boyfriend, stop that.

[ It's hard to believe, just from knowing Koby, and his kind heart, generous nature, his curiosity. But, knowing his story, it makes sense. He maintains the tact not to press it, because there are much more fun things to press instead. ]

Hey, no fighting. He'll wake up and know you've been bad.

[ With a snort. ]

[It's -- nice, not to be pressed, actually. It helps Koby feel more able to elbow Tim again, looking deeply outraged and offended (really, totally) and definitely not hiding a smile.]

I'll tell him you started it. And you'll be in trouble.

Ow!

[ More painful than bodily harm? Losing your spot in your book. Tim nabs Koby's book and holds it away with his much longer arms, a real troublemaker, a real ruffian. ]

Maybe I want to be. You don't know.

Edited 2024-08-21 02:06 (UTC)

[Koby gasps, reaching for the book in vain, eyes wide.]

Stop that! I'll lose my spot and I want to see if Abraham Lincoln has a nice night at this theater he's going to. [...is he kidding. He genuinely might not know that Abraham Lincoln dies. Spoilers.

Then, leaning across Tim and grabbing for the book:] I think I do know. Based on evidence. Give me that.

[ He should not laugh. He was a great man who changed the world and his death was a tragedy, not to mention, Quentin asleep mere inches from them, and yet, he laughs. ]

He doesn't. Does this one say anything about how he might have been queer?

[ Are Koby's rib's ticklish? Let's fine out. ]

I don't know what evidence you're talking about.

[There's more scowling and more attempts to lunge and grab the book without disturbing Quentin snuggled comfortably beside him, somehow.]

What do you mean he doesn't? And no, not yet. Maybe that comes after the theat--

[And then he breaks off in a sudden squeaking gasp, squirming away from Tim and clamping one hand over his own mouth to stifle a giggle. Muffled:] Do not. And yes you do, don't lie.

[Very ticklish, sounds like.]

Koby, President Lincoln is about to have a very bad night.

[ Not to spoil it. But better that he knows now than start crying about it later. The tickling does not stop, but he drops the book on the floor. ]

You think because I've been hanging around a couple weeks you know everything? You don't.

Don't tell me that! He's a magnificent leader! He deserves a peaceful end to his presidency!

[In between giggling, as Koby tries to squirm away from the tickling and also not jostle Quentin, face the same shade as his hair.]

I know enough! I'm very observant! [Jabbing his own pointy little elbows into Tim's ribs now.]

[ Quentin, it seems, can sleep like a rock, with all the shifting and squirming being done to dodge tickles or elbows, and good for him, because the ruckus is escalating, Tim swooping over to grab Koby’s forearms and pin them down. ]

Quit jabbing. Lincoln dies. John Wilkes Booth shoots him in the theater. Sorry.

[Koby is stronger than he looks, yes, but not that strong -- Tim can pin him fairly easily, because he's trying not to thrash too much and wake up Quentin. His only defense is to flop onto his back and try to wiggle free -- though that stops immediately when Tim drops this news.]

He what?! Are you sure?!

Yes, I’m sure. You’re reading about my country, remember?

[ It doesn’t require a history degree (which he does have, by the way) to know what happened to Lincoln, that’s grade school stuff, Koby. ]

I’m surprised it didn’t say so on the book jacket.

That’s terrible. [All the fight goes out of Koby at this injustice, and he sags back against the pillows, looking up at Tim with wide, beseeching, slightly teary eyes.] Why would someone do that?

I don’t read the jackets, it wastes time. I’ll find out what the book is about by reading it. [He’s used to dusty tomes and leather-bound volumes, none of this glossy dust jackets and cover blurb nonsense.] Though I’ve had a little trouble finding objective accounts, I’ve noticed. Everyone has very strong opinions about everything.

You did read it, right? The Civil War had just ended, there were a lot of people on the losing side still angry.

[ Tim just settles, unpinning, but still sitting on him. Really regular behavior and not at all an indication that he’s getting way too comfortable here. ]

People like to think history is objective, but it isn’t. Not everyone gets the opportunity to tell their story, every writer has a point of view of their own, even when they have all the primary sources in the world. Sure, certain events did objectively happen, but you can contextualize it a bunch of different ways.

[ A beat. ]

Not to defend the slaveowners, obviously. But if they’d won, the tone of that book would be completely different, even the parts before the war.

Well, yes. But they lost. [Sternly, wiggling for a moment, then sighing and folding his arms behind his head. Might as well get comfortable if Tim is going to stay there for the time being.] They should move on with their lives, rather than shooting people.

[Koby, please, this is why you’ll never be a diplomat.

The explanation gets a soft hum, mildly displeased, but – understanding, in a way.] I guess that makes sense. It’s like the fishmen.

[What.]

In a perfect world, maybe.

[ Koby this is why you're even more baby than Tim. ]

Don't even tell me what that is. I don't want to know. The snail thing is weird enough.

[ Alright, that's enough wiggling around on each other for now. Tim scoots himself off, and gives Quentin's leg a pat too, on his way off the bed. ]

I'm going to the chapel. Let me know when you tell him.

You think this is gonna work?

( hao says it incredulously, kind of laughing because it seems so fucking dumb, squeezing conditioner into a bowl of faint pink powder before setting it down on the counter and flopping down onto the closed lid of the toilet. honestly, it would probably be quicker and easier to just, like, mix it up himself and run it through his hair and be done with it — considering he's dyed his hair a billion times before, but sitting there with an ultra plush towel pulled tightly around his shoulders, fingers curled tightly to keep it closed at his neck, and looking up at koby putting on a pair of gloves a little too big for his hands, it's kinda ...

something. nice, he guesses. hao doesn't really do nice unless he wants something out of it, but koby wants to do something nice for him ... for some reason? because hao nutted in him? because he just feels like doing something nice? there's a prickly kind of feeling trickling up his chest and it's annoying. so sure, whatever, he'll leave his fate in the hands of a hair dye virgin. )

I'm putting a lot of trust in you, y'know.

[Koby is scrunching his fingers, trying to get used to the feeling of the gloves -- a texture he isn't used to, not leather or cloth, but some sort of clingy plastic -- but he pauses long enough to give Hao a flat look where he's perched on the toilet.] I dyed half my rug pink as an experiment. Yes, I'm sure.

[More or less -- fur isn't the same as hair, and the roots along the part of Hao's hair are darker than the creamy, champagne-hued rug in front of the fireplace in his room. Still, the result had been vivid, a bright, florescent, clearly artificial shade of pink that smelled faintly of lemons, so it stands to reason that it'll mellow itself out, right? Besides, if Hao keeps moping around the library, Koby's going to lose his mind.

Plus it's...a nice thing to do. Koby has his books, his quest for knowledge to keep him occupied, like Zoro has his training and Nami her maps and Sanji his cooking and Luffy the care and keeping of all of them. Hao is more of a mystery, his desires and motivations tangled up in the sharp-toothed grin that sends phantom throbs of stinging, giddy pleasurepain from that place on Koby's neck every time he sees it. He deflects, he insults, he pushes and teases, and the one thing he's expressed a desire for is hair dye, of all things.

So. Koby's finding a way. Because nobody deserves to have the one thing they ask for denied. He grabs the toothbrush he'd found packaged beneath the sink, clean and unused, the closest thing he could find to the brushes in the eight or so tutorials he'd found online, and starts mixing the conditioner with the several packets of pink powder] It's not going to kill you, you don't need to be dramatic. Hold that towel closed, though.

Yeah, yeah, okay, mom, ( hao teases through a laugh, but either way, he complies, fingers tightening into the towel where it meets itself at the base of his neck. koby definitely doesn't scare hao, but it's probably a good idea to listen to the person with his hair's very life in his hands.

for once, hao doesn't have much to say — he only watches as koby dutifully mixes the jello powder into the conditioner with the toothbrush, eyebrows raising as he sees the color it's starting to take. it's. really not that bad, all things considered. smelling like lemons and sugar is probably not the worst thing in the world, either — and is probably something some of the smellier people at the gym could take note of. )

If this turns out good, I think next time I'm gonna try to steal some bleach from the maids who work in the laundry room. Then I won't have to deal with my roots getting worse.

( it's the same thing, right? )

And anyway, I don't think I'm being dramatic. You'd be pretty pissed off if you woke up and your hair was, like, black or something, wouldn't you?

[Koby makes a quiet, disgruntled sound at the mention of the bleach, stirring the powder a couple more times to make sure it isn’t grainy.] I don’t think that’s the same sort of bleach at all. You could end up bald, using that on your head. [Fuss, fuss, fuss.]

Here, lean like – [He steps forward, one hand reaching to tip Hao’s chin upwards, then tilt his head to one side so the first of the vividly-hued goo can be brushed onto his hair, slowly, from roots to ends. Multiple grainy videos had taught him that much, and the rest seems self-explanatory – put the stuff on, cover with the (dumb) plastic shower cap, let it sit for a while, rinse. Should be foolproof.] At least if this stuff doesn’t work, you’ll only have to deal with smelling like a dessert for a while.

[There’s a little huff of amusement, as Koby works his way along the roots of Hao’s hair, meticulously, gently, so focused he doesn’t think about how close they are, about how he’s leaning in until he’s resting lightly against the other young man’s shoulder.] I wouldn’t really mind. It’d be easier to blend in, I think. Less noticeable, especially around here.

( hao wrinkles his nose at koby because, like, bleach is bleach, isn't it? you can fry off your hair with the bleach he uses back at home (and, thankfully, has not suffered any casualties minus his hair being dry as fuck because he's not a dumbass). koby's supposed to be the noob at all of this, so what the hell does he know?

any kind of retort is bitten back, however, because what's more important right now is letting koby tip his head back and to the side and get to work. hao watches from the corner of his eye as the other boy finishes prepping the dye and starts painting the dye on — and the expression on his face, so completely serious about his task, is enough to make a grin slowly spread across his cheeks, maybe possibly definitely endeared as fuck, entirely unbothered by the proximity as koby leans against his shoulder, very diligently studies his own work. )

You say that like standing out's a bad thing, ( hao laughs, sneaking a hand from its place holding the towel tightly around his neck to poke koby in the side instead. ) If you blended in then I never would've found you at the club and we wouldn't be here right now. Sad.

[Koby wrinkles his nose right back, and would do more, but he's diligently working his way along Hao's hairline right now, and that takes absolute priority. He doesn't want to do a bad job, not with this being the first (only?) thing the other boy's expressed a strong desire for. Well -- first G-Rated thing, at least. So he's meticulous, focused on the roots first, trying to get an even layer all the way down so there aren't any spots.

The poke to his side gets a sharp, squeaky sound, though, startling Koby enough that he instinctively jabs his pointy elbow down into Hao's shoulder.] Don't -- do that, do you want to end up patchy?

[Huff, huff, scowling downward with his pink-smeared hands. The mention of the club, though, softens Koby's expression minutely, has his scrunched shoulders relaxing a bit.] Right. Because I was so stunning, you couldn't look away. [There's a flat note in his voice, clear sarcasm dripping from every word.]

( the sound that koby makes is so absurdly cute that hao can barely contain what may as well be a delighted giggle, grinning as he makes his valiant effort to stay still — even if the sharp pain of a bony elbow to the shoulder makes him start all over again.

koby might really be the easiest person hao's ever had the (mis)fortune of spending time with; he lets hao make his silly little remarks, absorbs all of his teasing like a sponge and lets it manifest in stammered words and blushing cheeks and occasionally, he gives it back in tiny little bites. he's surprised it doesn't piss him off. maybe it's the whole earnest and kind thing koby's got going on, in spite of literally everything else hao throws at him.

presently, it's an eye roll, tipping his chin up so he can really give koby A Look, practically squinting at him. ) Listen, the whole self-deprecating thing is sooo old. ( and he looks straight ahead again, keeping still and behaving himself because no, he doesn't want it to turn out patchy. )

I don't fuck people I don't think are hot.

It’s not self-deprecating. [Said very huffily as Koby tugs a little harder than strictly necessary at the next hank of dark-rooted hair, smearing more of the pinkish goo onto it.] It’s self-awareness. It was dark, there was a lot of alcohol involved, I know that. I don’t expect–

[A lull in his words, the sounds catching in his throat for a moment, mouth open for an embarrassing pause before Koby mindfully shuts it, crossing over to Hao’s other side to start slathering more dye onto that half of his head. When he speaks again, it’s quiet, resigned, seemingly unconcerned, though there’s a vivid flush spreading from the tips of his ears down his neck.] I don’t expect anything, from you. [From anyone. He wouldn’t know how to ask for it if he did, anyway.

Still, it makes him think of – something he wants to add, wants to say, tongue flicking over his lower lip as he works. So:] You were kind when it mattered, and I’m grateful for that. I’d never – you know. Done that. Before. [Koby lets it linger for a moment, turning even redder.] So. Thank you. For that. For being [gentle, caring, careful, in the club, if nowhere else] that way. I realize I didn’t thank you, before.

Uh huh, sure — ( hao starts to protest, but the yank of his hair, blessedly, shuts him up — if only because he kinda likes it. because of course he does.

honestly, he has no idea where the hell koby is going with all this, a sudden seriousness falling over him like he's afraid he'll say the wrong thing. the dichotomy between the kobies in his head — the bratty koby in the club, drunk and giggly and clingy, going pliant underneath hao's touch, and the vaguely nervous, unsure koby that's here right now, purposeful with the way he applies the makeshift dye to hao's hair, cheeks flushing nearly maybe even more pink than his hair — is kind of funny. and funnier even still is koby — thanking him? )

You were a virgin? ( forgive him for sounding surprised. hao's grin makes its grand reappearance, creeping slowly across his cheeks, perhaps sinister if it weren't so god damn genuine. there's a silly kind of pride in this revelation, warm and tingly and glowing in his chest — even though virginity is a construct, blah blah fucking blah, whatever — because it means that koby's forever, like, tied to hao. intrinsically, if hao knew such a big word. you never forget your first, and all that. ) Wow. I've never taken someone's virginity before. And I've definitely never been thanked for fucking someone. ( he leans back a little, absolutely beaming up at koby. )

You sure know how to make a guy feel special.

[If Koby were a little less flustered, he'd note the way Hao is immediately quieted by the hair pulling, would file that away to use later, in some other circumstance. But he's focused on applying the dye, gloved hands smeared with pink, held out of the way carefully whenever he reloads the goo onto the brush.]

I was. Is that so shocking? [A little huffy, but not quite as embarrassed as he might've been the night of. Koby's still a bundle of anxious nerves, most of the time, but he's definitely come (a lot) a long way since that first night in Otherworld. Much of it's hazy, the people he encountered, the heated encounters with friends of the Balfours, but the warmth of Hao's body against his, the sharpness of teeth at the place his neck and shoulder meet (gone now, though sometimes Koby feels a phantom ache, like there's still a bruise in the shape of Hao's mouth) -- that's very, very vivid. He remembers how he'd clung to the other boy, how he'd teared up at the end, how Hao had been laughing and teasing, but not cruel.

It matters, that he hadn't been cruel. That Koby's first time was something bright and dizzying and exciting, instead of overwhelming or scary. So even when he's being an enormous pain in the ass, Koby doesn't snap back, doesn't do much else except roll his eyes and start wrapping the dye-smeared ends of Hao's hair in aluminum foil.]

Well, there's a first time for everything, including being thanked, I guess. It made all the times after less intimidating. [There's a smug note in Koby's voice, in the curl of his pouty mouth, one hand tugging Hao's hair to prompt him to look up, back.] Hold still. [Stay put and think about how often Koby's getting railed.]

Kinda, ( hao can't help but answer to a question that was probably meant to be rhetorical. because yeah, it is kinda surprising that koby was a virgin, what with how quickly things escalated like a head-on collision in the middle of a freeway — but he guesses it was probably just the drinks. or, better yet, it's because hao is that unbearably attractive and alluring.

definitely that one.

all the times after. yeah, okay. cue an eyeroll in return as hao tips his chin back, watching koby work from beneath his lashes. all the times after. apparently things weren't so sparkly and magical and special between them after all. — not that hao gives a shit. koby can fuck other people, just like hao does. well, could. would. doesn't, presently. but whatever.

an idea creeps into his silly little mind, expression softening and practically batting his eyelashes up at koby, declaring before he can even dare think about changing his mind due to some ... uncertainty: )

Yeah, well. You're gonna let me give you head after we're done here, right?

Why? [Koby says it on a bit of a snort, going over the tips of Hao’s hair one last time with the brush, making sure it’s fully saturated, entirely focused on his task. His teeth press into his lower lip, half because of the job and half because – well, because he’s remembering. Because as hazy and foggy as Otherworld had been, he can still picture every movement, every touch, every needy, desperate sound he’d made, pressed up against a wall he can still feel at his back, if he focuses hard.

The empty bowl of makeshift dye is tossed neatly into the trash, the brush following – wasteful, maybe, but Koby doesn’t really want a bright pink sink, thanks – before he grabs one of the plastic shower caps he’d snagged from the endless supply closet, carefully covering Hao’s slathered hair with it. And then – that question, startling enough that Koby lets the elastic of the cap snap hard against Hao’s forehead, immediately turning six shades darker than the dye.]

What. [Savagely, blushing and blushing and pulling off his gloves, heat crawling up his spine and into his cheeks as he throws them in the trash as well, because – because he can imagine that too, he knows what it feels like now, he can put together Hao’s smirking, sharp-toothed grin and the feeling of someone settled between his thighs and imagine him there, imagine him laughing as he makes Koby into a whining, sobbing mess again and–]

Do you even know how to do that? [Flatly, embarrassment making him blunt.]

( oh, there it is. the blushing, the stammering, the way koby immediately avoids eye contact by ditching his gloves. the snap of the shower cap against his forehead is a worthy price to pay for this — something hao's been missing. something like victory. )

Duh, ( he laughs, rolling his eyes as he reaches for koby's wrist, tugging him back into hao's orbit. ) I'm not a fucking idiot.

( even if he's never actually eaten pussy before. what, like it's hard? hao's sucked plenty of dicks in his life, has even bent one of his dumb idiot situationships back at school over his kitchen table and eaten him out until he was crying and begging for hao to stick his dick in him. it's a pussy! whatever! he'll be fine! he's not worried!

— mostly. but any hesitation is quickly hidden with behind a wry little grin, parting his thighs to pull koby in between them. he definitely looks super hot and enticing and sexy with his little shower cap on. how can koby possibly resist? )

So it's a yes, right?

[That gets an arched eyebrow, an unspoken ”really?” written all over Koby’s face. It’s easy with Hao, easy to snark and roll his eyes and let down his guard, to be as sharp and petty as he (always, always) feels deep down inside. To not be so good all the time. Maybe Koby should feel worse about that. Maybe he should feel guiltier.

But he lets himself be tugged back, between Hao’s thighs, looking down at him with his dumb little shower cap and his sharp-toothed grin and his annoying, maddening, baffling confidence that radiates like looking too long at a sunrise. And Koby softens a bit, settling his hands on Hao’s shoulders, thumb absently stroking over where the collar of his shirt ends, over his neck.]

No biting there. [Firmly, reproachfully, finding the line of Hao’s collarbone and tracing with a fingertip.] Your teeth hurt. And you bite too hard. I had bruises for weeks. [Said like it’s a bad thing. Said like Koby hadn’t found the fading marks and pressed hard against them to send lightning sparks up and down his spine, in the middle of the night.] And if you’re bad at it, I’m going to tell you so.

Thanks for the report, I've sent back corrections, we can circle back next week. You got a minute to chat about something personal today?

Thank you. Not nearly as much to mention in the lull between parties -- I've updated the timeline in Appendix A with all the descriptions I've found of the "rainbow party", but they're admittedly a little vague. I'll keep updating as I go, though. Something personal? Are you okay?

Fine. Just wanna run something by you. Not work stuff.

Oh. Okay. Of course. Yes. [He can be so chill, look at him being chill!] What is it?

[ ripping the bandaid off: ]

Armand's gonna turn me into a vampire.

[Processing...]

Okay. Today?

Next week.

I see. What will that look like? I've done some reading, but it's hard to be sure what is and isn't true. Some sources say it takes a while, some say it's instant. What will you need during, is what I mean?

I think we're doing kind of a closed ceremony: me, him, Louis. Impression I've got is the process is quick and gory and then you spend an hour or two riding the high as your body shits out mortality.

Interesting. Less traumatic than I imagined, too, that's good. I haven't met Armand yet, but if you and Louis trust him, so do I.

More than anyone else.

I don't know if Louis' gonna handle it well, even if I want him there. It brings up bad memories for him. I mean, hey, we fought about this for a week. So. Maybe you can bring him some blood, or organize a massage afterwards or something.

That's why you fought? I guess that makes sense. He didn't tell me a lot about his um Turning? Is that the right term? But he said it was complicated.

It's all really complicated.

Louis begged Armand to turn someone about eighty years ago, and he wouldn't do it. He'd vowed he'd never turn anyone. So when I said hey, can you maybe ask your husband to break his ancient vow before my terminal fucking illness hits, it went badly. A week on the roof badly.

Ah. That makes sense. I can see both sides of it. But you're not telling me for my opinion, are you? Why, then? So I can look after Louis? I will, of course, but. Why?

Don't dismiss your own value, it's not cute.

I'm giving people important to me a heads up that I'm euthenizing my humanity. Also we'll have to reschedule morning meetings.

Being cute wasn't on the agenda for today, sir. Oh. [Immediate mood pivot -- he's important.] Well, thank you. And that's fine, I've been told lately I should sleep in more. And I'm glad. I mean, it's your life, your choice, but I'm relieved.

Really?

[ Not the reaction he expected. ]

You're in pain. And now, you won't be. It's pretty straightforward.

I don't think everyone would see it that way.

Probably not, but that's why you aren't telling everyone. You're telling me. Contrary to popular belief I CAN keep secrets when I want to. I'm not going to say not to change something about yourself that's causing you pain. Even if it's in a risky, painful way.

[The cosmic parallels are a bit vague, but not lost on Koby specifically.]

OK.

Thanks.

You're a good friend, Koby.

You're welcome. I try to be. I'm just doing what any decent person would do, and hoping that's enough, most of the time. Will you come by, when its all When you're When it's done? So I know you're okay?

Once I'm off leash, I'll come knocking.

Louis would tell you if anything happened to me.

I don't want him to need to. You're going to be able to read my mind, aren't you. [Oh god.]

Yeah? Is there anything I should know about in advance?

[Besides the completely normal thoughts of any young assistant for his not-boss?]

Nothing scandalous, don't worry.

want to tell me about that other place you were in?

(From what he's heard, it was A Time.)

[Oh, hello there, Luffy. Koby's already in the library, posted up with his books, but this is more important.]

Which part? All of it?

(Probably for the best Luffy doesn't know where Koby is right now, or the library would get all the louder.)

as much as you want to tell?

[Libraries are not enjoyable for Luffy -- Koby knows and accepts this.]

Well, it was a village, in the winter. We were there for a few months -- Nami, Zoro, Sanji, Shanks and me. We'd been changed so we had to drink blood to live. Also I was a seal.

( Before Luffy had arrived, he would have never understood the concept of being changed. Having spoken to people from other worlds and seeing things, he can almost understand it. )

you were all there. people blood?

wait, were you a pink seal?

Not all. You weren't there.

[And that had been the worst part, a crew without a captain, a ship without a rudder.]

Any blood, as long as it was red and fresh. It ended up being fish, mostly, as the winter went on and on. Yes, I was a pink seal. And Zoro was a green cat and Sanji was a yellow bunny. It was all very color-coded.

i'm glad you had each other.

fish are probably easiest to catch too but the rest just sounds cold, winter isn't a warm one.

the colours! was nami orange and shanks red?

We did. We tried our best, but It's difficult, a crew without a captain. It was terrible. But easy because we knew what we needed? What to expect. Not like here, where things change so much. Sort of? They weren't animals, they were witches. That was the whole thing, we were brought there by these witches who wanted us to become some sort of army, so there were witches who could use magic and then animals to provide energy. It was all very confusing and complicated and cold. Shanks had a boat on the river and I lived IN the river and the other three had a cabin. But stuff happened there every month, like here, and there were way more chances to get hurt. I prefer it here.

sounds to me like you all did great no matter what happened, or who was there and not there. :)

witches and animals. and everyone got made one or the other. it sounds impossible but after seeing things in this place, it isn't that.

was anyone hurt?

We missed you, is what I mean. I thought Zoro was going to lose his mind, especially. They're not the same without you, Luffy. It just sort of feels like a weird dream now. I can't say I always PREFER what this place does, but it's been fairly safe thus far. Zoro was -- some circus towards the end, tried to dissect him. He got out, but he has scars, still.

wish i could have been there to help. i still don't understand how i never noticed.

not sure a wolf and fire is safe, but they gave us notice which sounds more than what the last place would have done.

a circus? was it buggy?

I have a few theories about that -- I think time passes differently in places like this, so we could be here for weeks and weeks, but the real world doesn't move at all. That's true. But yes, they've been very Communicative. Which is weird. I don't trust it. But at least they're feeding us and giving us comfortable places to sleep. No, that was our worry at first. Just some creepy circus, though.

but people would remember when they got home and say something?

for a prison they sure do talk a lot. they're probably reading all this too, they did give us these things. and i would sleep on the ground and be uncomfortable if it meant being out of here.

okay, no one wants that guy again.

I don't know. It seems to depend, in the books I've read. Sometimes people remember, sometimes they don't. Sometimes they initially remember and then start to forget. It's sort of an upsetting thought, isn't it? I agree, they most likely are. They already know I don't trust them, though, I've said it often enough. It IS dangerous here, though, with the wolfman and the other things. But it doesn't seem to be totally the Balfours causing that? I don't know. Some people think they brought us here to make us happy. You guys REALLY don't like him, wow. I never really heard what happened -- Zoro and Nami would just mutter about how much they hated "that fucking clown".

makes you wonder just what can do that, i don't think even a devil fruit could give someone that much power. i'm still gonna punch them when i find them.

i don't believe they brought us here to be happy. i was already happy before i woke up here. being stuck here is the opposite of that, though i can't complain when i have friends here.

he is really annoying! though he helped us out once, because i stole his head and kept it in a bag. but that was important. buggy didn't think twice about trying to wipe out orange town and keep the people prisoners there and he made them watch his shows and forced them to clap and laugh and stuff. and he talked bad about shanks.

[Koby momentarily considers advising Luffy to not immediately go to punching, but – in his defense, that usually works? At least that he’s seen.]

It seems like it might have gotten out of hand? They were really scared when all the wolfman stuff was happening, and they went RIGHT to fire to “purge” the place, which is pretty extreme. It’s probably wise to be cautious around them.

[And not punch them, hint hint…]

I guess that makes sense. You’re a pirate, you want to be free to make your own choices and go where you want and do what you want. Then again, that’s not just a pirate thing. Everyone wants that. Are you happy anyway? At least sometimes? In a bag. [Okay…] I thought there was maybe some sort of weird history there. Shanks is impossible to get a straight answer out of, though.

i think we can be much scarier than any wolfman if we put our minds to it. and it'll take more than fire to deal with us.

(Nope. All the punching.)

i haven't spoken to anyone here yet who wants to stay if they have a choice, but there's a lot of people here. i am happy we are fed and safe, but at the end of it all we still have to do what we're told. there's no way home that we've found yet. i don't think it's right for me to be happy too much, as a friend and captain, when my friends are being played with.

i can tell you what happened, you're always helping us out with information so i can share this one. he attacked our ship because we found a map, you remember at shells town? anyway he knocked us all out and kidnapped us, and held us hostage because he wanted the map. he'd ruined a town just to set his tent up or whatever it was. anyway we finally beat him and freed the prisoners, didn't see him again until baratie and then arlong was keeping his head hostage in a bag. so i swiped it, cause buggy knew where arlong's hideout was. he did at least show us where to go but then ditched us when the fighting started again.

he talked awfully about shanks, lied about him. and buggy's show was awful there wasn't even any popcorn. what kind of show doesn't have snacks?

The four of you, maybe. Plus Shanks. [Notably, neatly removing himself from that equation – Koby still thinks of himself as a liability, rather than an asset.]

But you’re right. Being here isn’t the same as being home – not the same freedom, not the same ability to make our own choices. It’d be easy to get too comfortable here, to not try and figure out how to escape. Way too easy. Still, I don’t think it makes you a bad Captain to be happy here. Some of the time. There have to be things here you like. I remember the map. I remember worrying about how many pirates would come after you because of it. It sounds like that was a wise concern. He really has a whole SHOW? Where he makes people clap for him? That seems… Pathologically weird.

koby. i KNOW you can count better than that.

(Gently scolds in return. Please, Koby is definitely on the friend list.)

the food is okay and it's free. bed's a bed. and the people here can be fun too. it isn't a bad place, but the reason for it is bad.

maybe but if we didn't go there and we didn't get caught we wouldn't be where we are now. or were before we came HERE here.

big show, with all kinds of show people throwing knives and breathing fire. something about a lion? but we never saw him he didn't show up. sad really, i wanted to see the lion.

yeah the townspeople were shackled up and someone would hold up a sign that told them when to laugh or to clap. i'm glad we fixed that. oh and don't let him fool you if you ever see him, he's a devil fruit eater.

I mean -- I wouldn't be an asset, yet. I only just started working on getting stronger and being useful in a fight. It's not like you and your crew, yet. I've seen you fight, remember? It's Still the most amazing thing I think I've ever seen. No, you're right. I think it definitely is. I've been trying to enjoy the parts that are good, but I don't think this place being pretty and luxurious and whatever means it's safe. We're still trapped here. We still don't know why. I'm not giving up until I figure that out. Why would they promise a lion and not show a lion? Was the lion ever real? I've never seen a lion. [No, wait, important things, this is a terrible story, move on from the lion, Koby.]

You fixed it. You saved them. I knew it. I knew you'd never do anything to hurt people, not on purpose. He's a what [What.]

but it's not about fighting, it's about being a crew. usopp hates fighting and he's an amazing crew member, and so would you be. if we all did the same thing it'd be pretty boring.

thanks! i keep hearing i'm sloppy at fighting. maybe i should train?

we'll find a way out. for everyone. :)

and yeah, we got a shock when we found that out. he ate a chop chop fruit so when you go to cut him he just sort of detaches....?

You think I'd be a good crew member? Of YOUR crew? Really? [Listen, if Koby says he hadn't thought about it, he'd be lying, but...]

You're very Energetic? When you fight? I don't think that's necessarily "sloppy". But more training is never a bad idea. There's a nice enough gym here. I go every morning. That is A really weird power. And I've seen YOUR powers. No offense. I'm guessing that's why you could carry his head around?

totally! everyone likes you and you're really efficient at things i'm not. why wouldn't you be a good crew member? ( Luffy is baffled Koby could ever think otherwise. )

you're not wrong. i punched him and his head flew off, i thought i'd killed him for a minute!

yeah we let him out of the bag occasionally, and he would talk or sing shanties. moment he got his body back at arlong park he bailed.

Because I was a Marine? Am a Marine. It's complicated, here. Besides, I was a pirate, sort of, for two years and I was terrible at it. That's So gross. I'm sorry, I don't think YOUR powers are gross, but That's really gross. He could still talk and sing and all that? How does No, nevermind, I don't want to know how it works. Of course he did. Pirate.

you're whatever you want to be, koby. marine, pirate, fishmonger, chef, musician, whatever. you're still welcome.

definitely gross. he can just detach things and move them around and they all float in the air. makes you wonder what else he can do?

yep. talking head. he was with us, and his body was miles away on the conomi islands. when he got close enough just pop, back together.

There's blood in the fridge.

Edited 2024-08-27 23:24 (UTC)

Oh no, did the bags leak??

koby why is that your only question

what do you mean
how did it get there
are you sure

all better questions

Well, I know how it got there, because I put it there. My main priority is whether it's leaking, because that's going to be a huge mess to clean up.

why????

where did this come from?

For emergencies. I asked the kitchen.

what do you MEAN this IS the emergency

who did the kitchen bleed out to get you this???

do you want me to leave? you can just say so, before you put snakes in my pillowcase

It's not an emergency, it's blood bags. Sometimes people need blood, and it's better to have some on hand. You're being dramatic. I can put it in the other fridge, if you're that squeamish.

Why would anyone be coming to your room for it instead of a hospital?

I'm not squeamish, and I'm not dramatic. This is WEIRD

They most likely won't, but what if we're trapped in our rooms again and someone's hurt? I don't want to be stuck watching someone bleed out if I can stop it by being prepared. Tim, you believe in the wolfman, right? You saw him?

You would need equipment, Koby!

Yes, you know I did.

I have most of it. IV lines, needles, syringes. I've been doing my research. Do you believe in other things, like that? Monsters, werewolves and vampires and magic and things?

There's people on the network claiming to be vampires. You don't need to be the one feeding them.

If not me, then who?

????

they're vampires. nobody!

I'm not going to let ANYONE starve, Tim. Besides, it'd be safer to have sated, fed vampires around, if things go bad. I'll keep it in the other fridge from now on.

There's no safe way to invite someone who eats people to your room. I sleep here!

I wouldn't bring them to the room, I'd go to them. I'd never put you in danger, Tim. Ever. I promise.

I believe that you think that, but you are bomb prepping for blood suckers.

I feel like that's probably an unkind term to use. Did I tell you that in the last place I was, between here and home, we had to drink blood? I don't, anymore, but what if we all wake up and suddenly that's what we need? Or someone we care about gets turned? I need to prepare for everything.

Undead murderers. Is that nicer?

No you didn't because that's insane

Did you hurt people?

Tim. There are some very nice vampires here. I know it's insane, but it happened and it was terrible. No, we didn't. We drank animal blood, mostly.

Who?

I'm sorry that happened to you. But it wasn't permanent, like someone who is actually calling themselves a vampire. It's not the same.

I promised I wouldn't say. But they're trustworthy. And I want to make sure they're taken care of. Maybe not, but it's similar enough. Besides, blood is also helpful if someone gets stabbed or shot.

Are they? If they eat people?

You need the right type for that, too. You're not a doctor!

Yes. I believe they are. I can't explain without giving them away, I just need you to trust that I'm being careful. I know enough. I stitched up my own injuries for years.

You sound like Hawk.

Have you ever given yourself a blood transfusion?

That's not fair. No, but only because I didn't have blood bags lying around. Or a donor.

"I know this seems completely messed up in every way, but it's the right thing, I just won't tell you why"
his playbook exactly.

that is so dangerous koby.

this isn't usable anymore anyway.

Have I given you any reason not to trust me? I didn't have a choice. Sometimes you don't get a choice. Why? Did you spill it? I'll come clean it up.

[ He knows it’s not the same, but it’s a kneejerk defensive curl, trust issues newly developed and not at all addressed. ]

No.
But you’re making me sound unreasonable. Im not.

I dropped one of the bags when I realized what it was. You don’t need to come though, we’ve got it.

Edited 2024-08-28 20:46 (UTC)

[Deep breaths over here, because Koby knows. He doesn't have the words for what it means when hurt sinks tendrils into everything, every action, every word, but he knows. He's not the one Tim's mad at.]

I don't think you're unreasonable. I trust your judgement more than anyone here. I just promised someone I'd keep their identity a secret. And I know they'd never do anything to hurt me or anyone I cared about. "We"? I have a mop in the bathroom, it's behind the door. Use vinegar, it's better for cleaning blood. Did any get on the carpets?

Okay. I trust you. I’m still moving it to the other room.

[ He will be mentally flipping through people close enough to Koby to be candidates later. But right now, there’s a mess. ]

Me and Quentin.

Yeah, some of it. That’s the hard part.

That's perfectly fine. Just don't throw out the paper bag, that's where I'm keeping my extra kidneys and livers. That was a joke. I'm joking. Ah. Quentin. Have you two talked? [Listen, he's been trying to figure out how to tell Tim "actually you were right ughhhh" for a hot second.]

The vinegar. Mix it with water, soak the spot, then blot it with a damp cloth after ten or so minutes. Don't scrub. It'll get the blood right out.

Edited (spelling :() 2024-08-29 01:55 (UTC)

We see each other every day. Should we be talking about something specific?

No, no, not necessarily. Just We went out on the lake and it was nice. Talked about some things. Go clean blood. [Do not perceive him!!]

[ fine, he will go clean blood. It’ll take about an hour to do that, and then take a shower, and generally calm down. Because he trusts Koby, he does, he wouldn’t be a very good safe house if he didn’t, but it’s disturbing. Dangerous at best, and at worst, something insidious to chip away at his faith and all he thinks he knows about this place. Tim just needs a minute. ]

Talked about what? 😁

[During that hour, Koby will try (and fail) to think of a casual, chill, cool way to explain, and then will hope that Tim forgets the topic entirely.

Of course he doesn't do that.]

You might've been Correct In some observations That you made Maybe A little Stop smiling I can feel you smiling because you told me so Stop it 😠

🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂

Did he tell you?

Stopppppp that!! Yes.

I can't. It's sweet.

I'm happy for you!

[ And jealous. Not because he wants Quentin quite like that, but just of the happiness, of having someone who can bring himself to say the words. Or having someone at all. Tim isn't bitter about a thing though, living vicariously through him instead. ]

Tell me more.

I hadn't ever Nobody's ever said that before. To me, I mean. I burst into tears immediately, so that was how maturely I reacted.

I'd probably do the same, if it makes you feel any better.

Maybe a little? I felt incredibly embarrassed at the time. You were right. I'm only going to say that once, but. You were.

I'm sure he wasn't mean about it. He loves you.

You're welcome.

He was wonderful about it. He's always wonderful. I'm so scared, Tim. I'm so scared. What now? I found something out, something awful, about this place and I'm so happy but I'm so scared.

Yeah, he really is. You're lucky.

What do you mean?

People can leave here. Not because they choose to, they can just They can disappear. I spoke with someone who's had it happen. Someone she knew was here one day and the next he was gone.

Well, yes.

Purgatory isn't meant to be permanent.

What if I don't want to go? Or I go and you and Quentin and everyone are still here?

if you go first, he'll follow you. Or you'll follow him. But you'll be in heaven eventually, both of you.

I don't want eventually. I want right now. Don't you?

Of course that's where I'd rather go. Obviously.

But I'm here for a reason. Until I know what it is and see it through, I won't earn it.

[Koby wants to ask how Tim can believe that, whether he truly does deep down. But -- he already knows the answer. And even though they're ostensibly talking about Koby himself, about the home he's making here, the next question is about Tim alone:]

Tim. How long do you have to suffer to earn being happy?

It's not all bad here. I'm not suffering any more than anyone else

and before you bring up Hawk, it would be the same back home

Well. Maybe I don't want you to suffer at all. That doesn't make it BETTER.

Everyone suffers at some point. A little bit is important, I think. It teaches you empathy.

Well, I think you've suffered enough. I think you deserve a break. I'm sorry about the blood. I should've asked you or told you or Sorry.

Thanks. But I think it'll be up to the house.

You should have. It's fine, though, as long as it's in the other room. I think I just need to lay down.

For the moment. Until I figure out how to change that. You do? Are you Do you not like the sight of blood? [He might just be a normal person, Koby.]

Change it how?

I don't like the sight of blood of unknown origin all over the floor of the room I'm staying in, which nobody told me was a safehouse for vampires, Koby.

[ Which is NORMAL. ]

Figure out how it works, who's in charge. Make sure it's safe. Don't worry about it. Well. I guess that makes sense. Somewhat. It's not a vampire safehouse, I'm not bringing any of them back. Permanently, I mean. [Koby.]

Stop telling me not to worry about it. Has that worked on you, ever in your life?

You know what I mean.

Well. No. It hasn't. I do, and I promise I wouldn't just invite them to our room if an emergency happened. I'd go to them with supplies, same as anyone else.

Okay. I trust you.

I’ve seen you around the library quite a bit, piglet.

I’m impressed. When I was in the navy, I was one of a handful of men on any given ship who was even literate.

[Looooooong pause.]

"Piglet"?

You were in the navy??

Small, pink, enamored with the taste of boot leather.

When I was a boy. It was the only prospect available to an orphan who wanted to see the world.

I'm not THAT small. [The rest he cannot argue with though, oops.]

That's [incredibly, embarrassingly familiar] interesting. Why did you abandon that for piracy? Too many rules about appropriate facial hair?

Small is good on a ship, you don’t have to duck around below deck.

I liked being at sea, but I hated the navy. Every captain I ever had bought the position, had a rich daddy, or an old friend, had never worked a real day in their lives. Any officer worth a shit lost the position over politics. Petty tyrants, for which there was no recourse. And for what? The fruits of our labor went straight towards enriching the English crown, not to us.

I read in a paper one day about a pirate named Charles Vane. Nobody knew who he was, or where he’d come from, unlike most of the big names who were privateers gone rogue. No family, no connections that any reporter could puzzle out, but he was the right hand to the most notorious pirate of them all. A complete nobody, feared from the other side of the world. I was inspired, so I got myself demoted to the shittiest floating rat bucket in the Atlantic that happened to be headed that way, and off I went.

There was the murder of that innkeeper, which sped up the process, but it worked out in the end.

It also makes you a target. Pirates like to pick on people smaller and weaker than them.

[If he'd received this message six months ago, a year ago, Koby would've immediately disregarded it as exaggeration or lies, or would've said "that's how the navy works in YOUR world, maybe".

But now...]

I imagine being declared AWOL helped with the whole truancy from justice thing. Do you regret it?

That’s nothing to do with piracy. It's the same anywhere you’ve got too many men congregating. I haven’t got a logger’s physique either. You can still do well for yourself if you’re clever enough.

It was justice, what I did. He had it coming, every man on that crew knew it, and not one of them had the balls to see it done.

Do I regret which part of it?

They're a little less likely to kill you in the marines. In my experience. Anyway, I'm still alive, that makes me clever enough, right? You killed the captain and took over. A mutiny. How'd that work out? Any of it.

That isn't mine, but I wasn't brought here to deny you your truth.

An innkeeper. Not a captain. This was on dry land.

I don't regret a single minute.

That's very diplomatic, for a pirate. You'd make a good ambassador. But there was a crew. Your crew? Or one you joined? Did you kill the innkeeper to win them over, or just for fun? I see. Also very piratey of you. I guess lack of introspection is a required trait.

We were at the end of our shore leave, posted up at this inn for a few days before sailing out. We were to be running soldiers to the new world, simple ferrying business. The ship was rather aptly named the Carcass.

I didn't kill the man for kicks. I killed him because the walls were thin, and every night we were there, we could hear him beating on his young - very young - wife. Breaking things, forcing her. Nobody else was going to do a damn thing about it, so when I heard it continue for a third straight night, I slit his throat. We hid the body, and when it was through, she had no place to go, so she came with me. A stow away. Couldn't keep that charade up long-term, so we had to escape to the Caribbean straight away, rather than bide our time.

That's what the navy is, piglet. They don't care about injustice for me or for you or for anyone else but those who already have power and influence. There was nothing we could do for her, it was so very important that we transport these soldiers to subjugate the natives, right away.

As a pirate, insults are answered, and problems are seen to. It's harsh, but so is the rest of the world. We're just refusing to play make-believe. I'd rather live like that than smile politely under someone's heel.

Introspective enough for you?

Edited 2024-08-29 14:35 (UTC)

[Koby's knee-jerk reaction is to say that Jack should've involved the authorities, should've let justice take it's course. But -- he knows better. He knows most police, most Marines wouldn't care about what a man did to his wife. She belonged to him. It was his right, as her husband. She probably did something to aggravate him, to set him off, to make him hurt her. He can remember the older girls from the orphanage, the ones who were fortunate enough to get married, the tight-lipped, dull-eyed hollowness they carried when he'd see them in town, the heaviness in their voices, their eyes.

That had been why he'd left, after all, among many, many other reasons.

So, instead:] What happened to her? After you killed him. You sound like Luffy. [It's both the highest of praise and, judging by their interaction on the network, a deep insult.] The pirates I sailed with would've gotten along better with your innkeeper than you.

Stowed her away on the Carcass, and when we got to Savannah, we deserted. We cut her hair, I passed her off as my kid brother for a while and taught her how to defend herself. It sounds laughable, since she’s surpassed me in strength several times over by now. In my estimation, Anne is the fiercest pirate in Nassau, better than any five men put together. We've been partners ever since.

Until the last place sent her back, at least.

I won't pretend that the profession doesn't attract its share of brutes. But at least they're disgusting because that's what they are, and not because they've got a boss breathing down their neck to keep them from making waves. It's more honest.

It doesn't sound laughable at all.

[It sounds -- well, It sounds like the beginning of a begrudging respect for Jack, which is incredibly annoying.]

She was in the last place you were? But not here? It being honest brutality isn't much comfort for the people they've hurt or murdered. If there are honest, noble pirates, then there have to be honest, noble people in the navy too. It goes both ways. It'd be simpler if it didn't, though.

That’s right. We arrived together, but she departed before I did.

There are honest, noble men in the Navy. They become warped by their circumstances. Or they maintain that goodness and pay the price for it.

I knew a man [ loved a man, settled down for a man, killed for a man, died for a man ] in that place who had been a lieutenant in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy. He was a good man. More loyal and true than anyone you’ve ever met, and a damn good navigator, too. But soft spoken, and from modest means. Passed up for promotion endlessly. Sent on a suicide mission to the Arctic to find a new trade route that might make a few rich men more money and faster. They got trapped in the ice for years, as supplies dwindled. Ravaged by scurvy and lead poisoning from cheaply soldered tins, waiting for help that never came because the Navy deemed it less expensive to simply cut their losses. When things got desperate, the bad men ate the good ones, but it didn’t buy them much time. Two entire ships full of men, dead on the ice because the ones in charge, thousands of miles away, deemed it so.

If the building has been rotted out, it doesn’t matter if there are a few good planks left in it. It’s still got to be torn down. And there's the difference. "Pirates" are not an organization, there is no power structure enforcing everyone's misery. We elect our captains, we are free to leave without the threat of prison, and we stay in the sun, for God's sake.

[That's -- so much to take in. A horrible story, all told, the kind that gets whispered as horror stories in taverns, scurvy and starvation and ghosts on the sea.]

You knew him. You were friends? [Nosy, nosy.] That's terrible, though. That's I want to say the Marines in my home would never, but [But he can't. Not when there's people like Morgan, people who don't share Garp's view of the world, of people.]

Maybe I'm a little biased, yes. I saw a lot of the worst of what piracy could be when I was younger, and I couldn't leave. And it was Bad. It was really bad. That doesn't just go away because the system is inherently flawed. I can survive and make the Marines better. [With more confidence than he feels; the metaphor of a rotten house is too close, too accurate.] I couldn't do that among pirates.

Lovers. Partners, in everything.

[ He's not ashamed of that one bit, despite the best efforts from pirates and navy men alike. And if koby hasn't gathered, he loves to talk about himself. Ask away. ]

You weren't crew, then. A slave?

You can't. Many many men have tried, who were stronger, wiser, better connected, and luckier than you. You can't, my partner couldn't, nobody can. It's the nature of these things. Centralized power doesn't stay well-intentioned for long.

Oh. That You were in love with a soldier? A navy man, I mean? Really? YOU?

[One moment while he adjusts everything he'd believed about Jack, welp.]

More of a pet. Or a toy or Some other object. Like a mop, maybe. What's the alternative? Piracy world-round, the same pillaging and looting and violence left unchecked forever?

How long has it been since I was brought here from Duplicity, a couple weeks? I'd say we're still in the present tense.

[ Actually let's not examine that any further okay! ]

It already is unchecked. Do you think the English navy will face any consequences for leaving John and 128 other men to die? Do you think the Balfours will be punished for this elaborate kidnapping scheme? If the pirates who mistreated you go down to your marines, it won't be for that, it'll be because someone important lost too much money to their prize hunting.

You're currently in love with a navy man.

[One who isn't here. Who hasn't been for a couple weeks. The thought has Koby's stomach clenching, the idea of going somewhere else after this, without anyone he cares about.]

I can't accept that, Captain. You can believe whatever you want, but I have to believe that there's a way things can be better someday. That it can be different. I have to keep trying to make it different.

If you'd like to get technical about it, the last time he sailed was with me, and he did it under the black. We built a ship and tried to escape. Didn't work.

But yes. I am not railing against them out of ignorance or taking it on faith, piglet. We were members of the same institution, over a century between us, and nothing changed.

You're young, smart, and curious. Those traits will serve you well if you don't make yourself the next victim of the powers that be.

Your escape attempt. It was with a Navy man who you are actively in love with. [He keep repeating it to try and make it stick, the concept so incredibly out-there that it barely seems true.]

No, I believe you. I don't expect any pirate to be favorable towards any sort of law enforcement or military. [Hence why the "in love with one of them" thing keeps sticking.

Then, after a pause:] I'm not THAT young. You think I'm smart?

I believe that's been established, yes.

You are. On both counts. I've done my research, combed through the network history. Roughly half these idiots seem to think they're on vacation, but not you.

Sorry, yes, it's just Huh. It's interesting, that's all. You have? I didn't really take you for a researching type. But no, I don't think I'm on vacation. I think there's something very, very dangerous and wrong behind all of this, frankly.

Yes yes I know, make your stupid comments, I've heard every one under the sun about it.

And why didn't you take me for a researching type?

No, I think it's Nice. We're trapped in a strange, dangerous place for unknown reasons, by people with unknown motives. It's already proven possible for us to be hurt. If we find someone we love, that's a good thing. Because you're a brash, obnoxious, devil-may-care pirate and why would you care about that?

Hold your sonnets for when he gets here.

[ Yes, he knows this is exceedingly unlikely. ]

Because, when you haven't the muscle to pull yourself to the top, you find power in other ways. Information is the big one.

He might. I'll keep an eye out. What was his name? That's extremely astute, which is annoying, from you. I've been keeping notes since I arrived. If you're You know Interested in seeing what's happened.

3rd Lieutenant John Irving. Blue-grey eyes, like the sky before a storm. He wears a full beard. If he's taken from his original home instead of the one we shared, he'll be rail-thin.

I would be very interested. People reveal too much on these networks, but not everything. I'm sure you know more than what's been made public.

Edited 2024-09-01 00:55 (UTC)

[Okay, well, if you don't want Koby to wax poetic, stop being so romantic about this guy, Jack, damn.]

I'll let you know if I see him. People tend to arrive fairly regularly -- once a month or so. I know a good amount. I listen and I pay attention and I read a lot. People talk, especially in Otherworld. [The only reason he goes there is, of course, to eavesdrop. No other reason.]

[ Only he's allowed to! No one else! ]

I'd owe you one.

The nightclub? Just awful. The music is too damn loud, I don't see how you could hear a thing.

[Okay, sap.]

You wouldn't, I'm keeping an eye out regardless. You sort of tune it out after a while. People are usually yelling to be heard, too, which helps.

The last place had a lot of those kinds of establishments. I never warmed up to them.

The piano bar is nice.

A lot? Like more than one? It's nice. I'm usually in the library, but I've been there a couple times.

It was an entire city where everything was about sex, all the time. It's not nearly as fun when it's mandatory.

you might want to explain why you have blood in your ice box, love.

i've gotten it cleaned up, gotten tim settled. but he's telling fairytales and i still can't imagine why it's here to begin with.

[Hehe, love~

Wait, this is a text, he needs to respond, oops.]

I'm so sorry, I thought they were better sealed than that. I didn't mean to make you clean all that up. It's for the vampires. [Welp.]

right, the vampires. that's what tim was saying - something about crosses and holy symbols and drinking blood. i'll have to find a book on them.

but i'd rather like to know why you have blood for vampires in your ice box???

is it for you?

Well, the crosses and holy symbols are debatable, but the blood thing is true. I have a list of good books in Appendix V, if you're interested, in my files. Oh. OH, no. No, no, no, I promise I'm not a vampire. Really genuinely not. I don't need to drink blood anymore. [Koby.]

anymore????

what does that mean?

That sounds really bad, I'm sorry, I'm messing this up. I was in another place before this? Between my home and here? And we were brought there by a bunch of witches and they changed us so we had to consume blood to live, but not human blood, it ended up being animal blood most of the time, but it was terrible all the same because it was winter and there were almost no animals and I know that all sounds really weird, I try not to talk about it too much because of that. But the blood in the fridge is for the vampires, here. In case the house stops supplying them with food.

you're not messing it up. take a moment won't you? take a breath.
it's me.

i'm sorry that happened to you. i knew you were at another place but i didn't realize.
is every other world as wild and dark as this one?

but the vampires. do you know these creatures?
tim acts as though they're very dangerous and in theory they do sound terrible. but bears and wolves also sound terrible.
i need to understand, that's all.

[It's me. Koby breathes in, out, slow, letting go of that tight little knot of anxiety that he's ruined something, that the slightest missteps will always mean cataclysmic things.]

Right. Okay. It's okay, you didn't know. I don't talk about it much because it was like that, so dangerous and violent and awful. Also I was a seal for most of it, so I don't really remember a lot of it clearly. I know a couple of them, yes. They've been very kind and respectful and haven't done anything to threaten me or any of the guests. They're stuck here, just like any of us. In theory, yes, they're dangerous. But so is Luffy. So is anyone who's capable of things that most aren't. There are a lot of legends and stories about them in this world, and therefore in Tim's, so I guess that's why he's scared. I'm saving canned food and frozen things too, I just wanted to make sure I have supplies for everyone. I don't trust that the Balfours are always going to provide what we need, and it's better to have sated vampires than hungry ones if things go badly. And I care about them. I want to make sure they're safe. Does that make sense? I know I should've warned you two, and I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry for having it in the first place.

[ well, count on koby to make something so wildly insane sounding seem perfectly reasonable, rational, kind. and it is, at the core of it. storing food for all types, careful to measure and collect and think about the future.

it's one of the reasons he loves him as much as he does, but it's also so startling. ]

if they ever threaten you, you'd tell me? do i know these people?
i trust you to know if they're dangerous or but i hardly expected to be cleaning up blood from the carpet.

i've gotten tim a little calmer and i'll find something that looks like a holy symbol to ease his mind but.

how did you get the blood? do you know how the house gets the blood?
it seemed fresh.

[ and we won't talk about the reason he knows the difference. ]

If I thought anyone here was dangerous, I'd tell you, of course. I'm not sure -- there's at least one here who's been VERY open about it on the network. [To a degree Koby personally finds annoying, but. He'd still stockpile food for someone obnoxious, because nobody deserves to starve.]

No, you're right. I can handle it, really, just cover it with a towel and I'll finish cleaning it up when Tim's at the chapel or something. I really am sorry. It's not pleasant to clean up, I know. I went to the kitchen and took it. I haven't really thought about where they're sourcing it from, honestly. It comes in bags, like from a hospital, so I'm assuming the house gets it however they get our food. Magic or some supply line we can't seem to find. Yet.

yes, i read that but I admit the comments only seemed more and more convoluted as it went.

[ and that guy seems unapologetic for who and what he is. there's a threat, of course. there will always be a threat in this place, and the fact that koby seems to be circling closer to a handful of them will always make him worry. ]

it's already cleaned as well as it can be and covered and i've very politely told the staff about the incident.
they'll clean it when you're out tomorrow.

we should probably consider where the blood is coming from. just in case.
with all the things going on around here i don't want you to get in trouble for taking it.

They did, didn't they? It makes it much more tricky when there's another world and another structure in play, and we know nothing about it. Next we'll have people who eat feathers and sneeze butterflies and forget to mention that because it's so "normal" to them. Right. The staff. [With the resignation of someone who knows damn well he's been forbidden from cleaning the magically-self-cleaninh house.] Thank you, again. I'll keep it in the other fridge from now on. With the eye of newt and all that. Oh. I hadn't thought about that. [Local reckless busybody doesn't consider the risk busybodying creates for himself, everyone is shocked.]

you do realize that not everyone here is your responsibility love?

[ there's a thrill calling him that even in serious talks. he loves this man, and loves that he wants to help and wants so badly to take up the helm and stand at t

he front of the line. but they don't even know what they're fighting. ]

but it's kind of you to do this for your friends. but who needs the eye of newt????? what is that?? a bad ale?

koby you are a marvel to me.

[The weighted pause suggests that Koby does not, in fact, realize this. Not until that exact moment.]

I don't really know how to Turn it off, I guess. [He almost tacks on an I'm sorry, but it's Quentin. He's not saying this to shame or chide, just as a gentle, loving observation.]

Oh, it's from another of those plays, the Shakespeare ones, like that Midsummer one I read you? This one is much less romantic, but the phrase is funny and it pops up all over the place. I don't actually have any newts in the fridge. Am I? I feel like a mess, mostly, but. As long as YOU like me, that's okay.

it's hard. and i don't know if you should because it's part of who you are, but it might be best to take a moment to yourself sometimes. protect you so you can protect others.

it's difficult to learn.

[ a beat, then: ]

you're not a mess. you're clever and creative and perhaps a little too bullheaded but it's very flattering on you.

so yes i very much like you. shall i say it again? :)

And you're kinder to me than I deserve, running around putting blood in our fridge and making alliances with vampires.

[The slip isn't one Koby notices -- our, instead of my -- too busy feeling fond about it all. About not just simply being told he's a bleeding heart who doesn't understand anything, but told the things that make him frustrating, complicated, annoying are still lovable.]

Thank you. I mean It's hard to turn off, when it's just me in my head, you know? When you say it, I hear it, and I can slow down and I don't know. Remember to breathe. So. Thanks. Yes, you should. I like hearing it, even if it's the hundredth time. :)

i'm not kinder than anyone deserves. everyone deserves some kindness but i think you deserve a little more.

even if you're putting blood in our fridge and storing newts in the other.

i'll handle tim, he'll be fine. i'll get the house to help get rid of the towels and let them know about the carpets.

and i lied to you i'm afraid. i don't like you. i love you.

I think you're a little biased, but I'm not going to complain about it. Thank you. No more blood, I promise. And if something happens here that I'm trying to figure out I'll talk to you.

[Kicking his feet maybe!! Shut up don't perceive him!!]

I love you too.

im having someone ocer
over

you two shouks stay out

as in keep having fun. not kicking you out oof your own room

Oh? Someone ocer? We shouk?

[Listen, Koby doesn't need a reason to stay at Quentin’s, obviously, but this is highly amusing.]

Anyone I know?

shush

You know everyone.

That's completely untrue, there are at least 5-10 people here I don't know. Nightstand is restocked by the way. If you need supplies 🥰

["Restocked" like he's ever used a condom in his life.]

It's not for sex

Of course not, it's for Scrabble. Tell him you cheat, so he knows up front.

You don't believe me

could be a she. because it's not for sex

If it was a casual chat between friends, you'd a) tell me who and b) not kick me out cruelly to sleep in the library.

[Now he's being a heinous brat, he is fully in Quentin’s room eating all his snacks.]

youre texting me from quentins lap right now

[ do you really want to have a brat-off, koby?? ]

That's very presumptuous of you, Mr. Laughlin. Maybe he's in MY lap.

he'd squish you

I'm hardier than I look. And anyway, you're deflecting. I don't mind if you have someone over, even if it is for sex. I don't do the laundry.

drank too much I'd just lay there no sex

Ahhhhhh, I see. That's probably for the best, it'd make you seasick. But still, you want privacy. Hm. Very interesting.

so? do you want me in all your conversations??

Maybe. I value your input in most situations, Tim.

fine it's Hawk.

🤬🤬🤬🤬

ifnindont check in in 45 minutes I've been seduced by a demon and you'll have to save me

Whattttt really Hawk I'm completely stunned and blindsided by this fact. 45 minutes, on the dot. Unless I'm busy. 😊

I could meet someone else you know

don't be busy I need help im serious

You could. But you wouldn't care if I eavesdropped on you, then. Tim, if you truly needed me not all the pirates in all the seas in all the world would stop me. But I'm also extremely comfortable right now, so please let me know if it's a true emergency in 43 minutes.

You're the best if you were here I'd kiss you

talk later

If I was there, you'd push me out of the room, Tim.

[42.5 minute later:] All good?

No I'd go find my own

OK here's here later

[ later... ]

👍good

[Pfft. He almost teases more, but -- well. He's distracted too.

So, instead, later:] 👀 he's still there?

[ He's gonna fall asleep. So later for Tim really is the next morning, ]

He is. Sorry. We'll be out in an hour, tops.

[Bemused, awake but somehow not out of bed:]

Don't be silly. You don't have to rush. I haven't even made it to the gym yet today. There's more of those headache pills in the bathroom, if you're hungover.

I do. You should have stopped me.

Ah. Unlike some people, I'm not going to decide I know better than you, Tim. You get to make your own choices. I'm not going to drag Hawk out of there unless you ask me to. ARE you asking me to?

I understand your point. So consider this permission in advance to stop me from doing something stupid next time I'm drunk.

You don't need to now. We're headed down for breakfast soon.

How stupid is stupid? Well, you didn't kick him out. Is it just Seeing him again? That's hard?

Meeting with Hawk is stupid!

Being around him is hard. He says he misses me, but he can't be with me right now. He's unreliable, because he always has a reaaon to leave. He doesn't even want me as a partner, he wants me as a ward. I need to move on, not spend the night with him.

It's not STUPID. Mildly self-destructive, maybe, but that doesn't make it stupid. Besides, if you hadn't pulled off the bandaid and seen him tonight, you'd still be wondering what it'd be like, right? Do you WANT to move on?

Yes, I do.

Then next time Hawk shows up, I promise to kick him out, by force if possible, no matter how drunk you are.

Thank you.

I should probably move back to my own room soon, though. It isn't doing me any good to avoid it.

You know you're welcome as long as you want. But it might be nice to have your own space, too. Make it your own. Decorate it with posters, like in those movies.

I know.

You think so? I didn't do a lot of decorating in my room back home. A few family photos, which I don't have here. Some plants. And the Virgin Mary. That was about it.

Mary, that a friend of yours? [He's teasing; he knows perfectly well who the Virgin Mary is. She comes up in countless books, he had to get some idea of what the significance was.]

You could do anything you wanted, really. Maybe move furniture in or out, add more bookshelves, more places for plants. New curtains, I don't know.

ha ha. :p

I'll just throw random papers all over the floor so I'm always reminded of you :)

It's not RANDOM, I have a SYSTEM! I can always come by and leave eyeballs in your fridge, too. I mean, if You know You want me to come by and uh Hang out? That's what people do, right?

Gross.

Yes, of course. That's what people do.

Is this yours?

[ Photo attached: It's a book thst must have gotten mixed in with his things as he's packing them up. The Art of Edging. ]

[There's a long pause wherein Koby is definitely screaming into his pillow in embarrassment.]

Yes. You can keep it. I've read it a couple times.

A couple times? How much is there to say about it?

[ It's a slim paperback. But still. ]

Edited 2024-09-11 18:10 (UTC)

Well, there are nuances and intricacies that I'm less familiar with, okay? It's a delicate art. I want to make sure I do it right.

I don't think you're patient enough.

I can be patient!! It's not about PATIENCE!!

It is a little.

You're a goal oriented person. Which is a good thing to be. Just, maybe, not so suited to this, because you're eager to make the other guy finish.

You're biased, perhaps. I can tease. I can take a VERY long time. You just haven't seen it before.

It's not biased, it's an observation.

Based on ONE experience, that's hardly empirical evidence. Besides, it was a Unique situation, too. You had a lot going on.

I always have a lot going on. Don't we all?

The diagrams are unnecessarily explicit. This is almost pornography.

I meant in the moment, but yes. We do. Is it nice, the quiet? Having your own space? Well, it helps to have everything labeled, I didn't know half of this stuff. Different equipment.

It doesn't feel like my own yet. He's still got stuff here.

Right, sorry. I just don't know if this is the kind of thing you learn from books. It's better hands on.
which there is no way to say without sounding crude, shut up

Ah. Do you want help? Boxing it up? [Maybe he misses you Tim, shut up.]

No, no, please, go on, I think you have a promising future as a sexual kink lecturer :) Tell me more about hands on experience.

I don't know. He says he's coming back in three weeks, if I let him. I don't know if I will yet.

👨‍🏫

Well, Koby, I think you ought to try things before dedicating yourself to reading a whole book about it. There's all kinds of things I've enjoyed that I would have thought were crazy if you'd asked me before. And some things that sounded good, but weren't in practice.

It's based in emotion, not facts and diagrams.

Three weeks. Interesting. He talked to me too. He wanted me to warn you about certain guests. Where'd that little guy come from? He looks like you. 👨‍🏫👨‍🏫👨‍🏫 🦭🦭🦭 there's a seal, too. I know! I know. In theory. Facts are safer, though. I can't ruin facts.

Does that mean something to you?

Danny? You can just say Danny. I'm not involved with him and I told Hawk that about thirty times

🥛✝️🇺🇲🌲

A lot of it is gonna be subjective. Or situational. Or depending on the person. Not a lot of hard facts.

Not yet. I need to check a couple books. Yes, Danny. [The sigh is almost audible.] He does have a point, sort of, but I think an abundance of caution is appropriate with everyone. Milk purple x flag tree. What's that mean? I forgot too, if I told you about when I was a seal, in the last place. I'm sorry if I didn't, it slipped my mind. That's a lot of complicating factors. So far I've liked Everything? That doesn't mean I've been any good at it.

For what???

There's nothing to be worried about, since I'm not involved with him.

that's a cross koby. they don't mean anything together it's just some that I like

Well for me, sometimes I like things with one person and I won't like them with another. A different dynamic changes things. Like I said, it's all emotional.

Date significance, historical correlation, the usual stuff. "Involved" means "talking to" in this case, I think. I trust you. I trust your judgement. Oh! I thought you were sending me some sort of code. 📚⛵️🎣🎩 Huh. I hadn't thought about it like that. How many people HAVE you been with? Or is that a weird question.

The usual stuff? The end of September isn't inherently interesting.

It would be inappropriate, usually. But I trust you, too. You can't tell anyone this.

Eight people, if you include yourself. Half of them since I've been here.

Not on the surface, no, but there are all sorts of histories and traditions -- old farmer's almanacs, festivals and birthdays and deathdays. I'll figure something out. I won't. I can keep a secret. [Haha....hah.]

Does it only count if Well. What makes it count? What are the parameters?

"Three weeks, interesting. There might be a birthday. I better do more research."

???

If you're being physically intimate, it counts for me. Hawk doesn't count blowjobs.

CLEARLY it's a significant date to Hawk, otherwise he wouldn't have specified. Also it's interesting to see when famous people were born! Did you know Abraham Lincoln was born three months and one day before me??? That's practically the same day. [Koby.]

Really? That brings my number down. I think it counts, though. So -- Seven. All here.

I don't think it is. And I thought you didn't even share the same calendar as us.

Really? In 3 months?
Sorry
that sounded bad. it's fine. it seems like they want us to.

Who?

Not the same years, but the same months, for...some reason. And the seasons are vaguely the same, in some areas. Also, apparently, some of the same holidays? I'd never done ANYTHING before, remember, I hadn't really had time. Plus a lot of it was influenced by this place. My first time at Underworld I was Sort of all over the place. It was nice, really nice. You first.

Do you have Christmas?

Okay, fine.

My first was a junior chaplain in college, his name was Bob. A couple more bad hookups, and then Hawk. Luci, Quentin, Lestat, and you.

Edited 2024-09-13 03:53 (UTC)

Yes, actually. Which is confusing. I don't know what a chaplain is, but college -- you were my age. How much later did you meet Hawk? You hadn't mentioned exactly how long you've known each other. [The other names get filed away, carefully, to cross-check his notes with, later. Not to tell anyone, just -- Danny might not be the only dangerous person here.]

Hao, Bellamy, Erik if it counts without getting undressed, Quentin, you, Luffy sort of and Shanks. Wait, does it count if they aren't guests? Not the Balfours, some of their friends. I think.

With no Christianity?

A chaplain is a representative of the church, I went to a Catholic college. They were there for spiritual guidance. So the junior chaplain is like an assistant. I was 19, then. I met Hawk when I was 22.

They count. What did you do with Erik without either of you taking your clothes off? Just rub on each other?

It's for some sort of World Government reason, it's above my pay grade. I see. Like a church...officer, almost. Was he nice? Was IT nice? After you left the board game party, yes. More or less. There were handcuffs involved, it was all very interesting.

He was really sweet. And it was nice, I guess, for a couple of inexperienced, scared boys figuring it out. I told you how it is at home, nobody tells you how it's supposed to work between men. We saw each other for about four months before he broke it off. He was so ashamed of himself, every time. He couldn't handle it anymore.

He cuffed you?

[ Hot. Authoritative. Tim's weakness for older men strikes again. ]

I've used ropes. And makeshift things like ties, belts. I like it.

You did, yeah. I'm glad it was nice. I mean For a little while. You deserve that. Someone to be nice to you. How DOES it work? With two men? I mean Men like you? He has this power, metal manipulation? So he did it without even touching them, kept them above my head and Well. It was very impressive, how he could do that at the same time. That makes sense. For you, I mean. [Get perceived, Tim.]

Thanks. I mean, I have that now. You and Quentin are nice to me.
but hold on, how did you find the edging book before the one about anal sex?

do you think he likes brunettes?

If I ask what you mean, you're gonna say something rude.

It's not EXACTLY the same. It's scary, the first time. I mean I was pretty drunk the first-first time, but the first sober time was a little scary. It helps to have someone who's kind, which I did, both times. I'll get there! I have a lot of books! Would you like me to ask him? Or just go ahead and introduce you? No, not mean, just You like giving control. I think it makes you feel safe. It's not bad.

Yeah, it is. We were both nervous, he was really clumsy. It took so long to get ready that I was sure my roommate was gonna come back. I was in a dormitory, in college. He would NOT have kept it a secret if he knew.
We both cried after. Not because it hurt. We were going to Hell, we thought.

no don't! I talked to him once and put my foot in my mouth.

You're not wrong, I guess. Most of the time. It's hard to feel safe like that with someone you barely know. Other times I just don't
want the pressure, of having to choose? it's hard to explain.

Edited 2024-09-14 04:24 (UTC)

You had a ROOMMATE, even? That's very daring. [He's?? Actually so proud of you, Tim, wow, good job.]
You don't still think that, right? That you're going to Hell? I can be very normal about it! I can say "this is my friend Tim who is very normal, just like me." No, that makes sense. You have a hard time turning your mind off. [Pot, kettle.] Sometimes you don't WANT to think about every possibility and make sure you've prepared for it. You want to just Lose yourself, a little.

It's complicated. I don't know.

Yeah, do exactly that, that'll work. 😛

Something like that. I have trouble with only losing myself a little, though.

Oh. I'm sorry, I know it's complicated. We don't need to talk about it, unless you want to. It could! You don't know until you try. The worst thing that'll happen is he'll think I'M weird, and I can live with that. Is that a bad thing, sometimes? We're not going anywhere, it might be okay to get lost every once in a while. Especially if it helps with everything else.

I just dont know. I thought it was why I was here. But this place encourages it. They don't care if it's a man, or you're not married, or you're in love or not. That's not what I was taught. Those were all sins.
I told myself it was okay with Hawk because I loved him but what about the rest?

It can be. I get so lost in it that I can't see reason.

Those don't seem like very logical rules. What if you don't love them until after? Or you love them, but it's in a different way? Or you're married to someone but you DON'T love them? Then maybe doing it with someone you feel safe with is best. There are things I don't think I could do unless I really, really trusted the person.

That's what makes it confusing. I don't feel bad about what I've done with you and Quentin. But I don't love you. At least not like that.

I just don't know. It's hard.

That's what I've done. Except for when the food gets drugged.

Good. I don't either. I mean I liked it? I liked it. In case you were worried, I don't regret it. But I don't love you in quite the same way either. It is. And you're hard on yourself. Except for when the food gets drugged. I WILL say Erik had fantastic manners. And he's very Substantial. If that matters to you.

I don't regret it either. I thought I might, the first time. But it didn't feel bad afterwards.

That isn't...the MOST important. But it doesn't hurt.
Well
Unless you're impatient

Good. I mean You deserve that. To not feel bad about it. Well, obviously. I've gotten THAT MUCH via osmosis. You can be too impatient in my circumstances too, but it's Different.

It's not about deserve.

You could try it for yourself if you wanted to know the difference.

It is to me. There has to be SOME justice in the world or I'll lose my mind. Oh. It's so much quicker the other way I hadn't Really considered that. I mean, not as the one um Receiving. Giving is a different story.

I don't think that really applies here.

I don't know if you would get much out of it with your anatomy.

Giving....how?

Because I'm already losing my mind? You're not wrong. Ohhhh, right, right, on account of Yes. Yeah. Well. There's some um Equipment, down in Otherworld. Toys and things. You've seen those, right?

[ Because justice is relative, because it's decided in the end by God, because His thoughts on Tim's actions matter more than Koby’s - but he's not interested in justifying his own sense of guilt right now, so sure. ]

Might be worth it just to know. Research.

So you would use a fake penis.

[Koby has the sinking suspicion that it's a god-related reason, but he lets it go, for now.]

Right, right, research. A complete understanding is important. Knowledge. Well, yes, I'd need to. You don't need to sound so clinical.

And you...wear it?

There are harnesses, yes. Fairly straightforward. It's a little weird, to start, but I think I'll get the hang of it.

Do you like it?

I haven't had a chance to use it YET, but Yeah. I like how it feels.

Not even with Quentin?

I'm working up to it. Hence the research. But we've talked about it, so.

You might want to research anal sex before edging.

Yes, okay you have a point there. I'll figure it out.

...do you have questions? It's been a while since I've been on top, but I know how it all works, obviously.

Um A couple? I don't know I don't want to Do something wrong. Or bad or I don't know.

You can ask.

I didn't have anyone that I could ask. It was a Catholic college. I wish I did.

But I don't think anything you do could scare Quentin off. He's crazy about you. And he's patient, and sweet. If it's not working for him, I'm sure he'll let you know as nicely as possible and point you in the right direction.

Do you promise it's not Painful? Right, you just had to sort of figure it out alone. That's sort of terrifying. No, you're right, he's good about that. He's very, very good about most things. I'm just in my head about pretty much everything, I'm realizing.

It can be, if you're not patient and careful. Take it slow, better to be messy and use too much lube than not enough and hurt him.

Unless he likes that. But you should probably take it easy until you get the hang of it. He'll let you know when he's ready. He's good about that, too. Not shy about letting you know he feels good.

[There's a pause, because he's taking notes, because of course he is.]

I can be patient. And you know I'm good at asking if someone's okay. Maybe a little too good. I'll practice. Somehow. Work out the kinks. Don't say anything about that word choice.

You are. I think you'll do fine.

...I could help. If you want to practice. I've never tried the fake ones.

Practice? Like With me? Really?

If you want to. Is that weird?

I think it'd be a little weirder if we hadn't You know Already done things. But no, it's not weird. I don't think it's weird.

If it's not weird, then.
Let me know, if you want. No rush, obviously

Not weird. No rush. But Yeah. I'd want that.

Good.

Unrelated to that, but have you seen the collars down at Otherworld? What do you think about that?

[Does he pick this exact moment to take a sip of whatever he's drinking and immediately inhale it yes he does.]

I have not I mean In passing? I haven't What? What do YOU think?

I don't know yet.

It seems possessive. But I like that, sometimes.

It does, a little. But it's nice to feel Wanted, I guess? Protected?

Yeah. I wore that bracelet for a while.

[ The one he made out of the tag from the wolf man party, with Hawk's name on it. ]

I liked it. Having that reminder, you know?

Around the neck seems more intense though. More of a commitment. And a lot less subtle.

I remember. And I get it, yeah. Something to remind you where you belong and Who to, I guess? Is that what the cross is for? [And, more specifically: is that why Tim takes it off?]

The cross isn't like that.

[ yes it is. ]

[Sure, Tim.]

Oh, I see. They're all symbols, to me. Like my uniform, which is Gone, now, so there's some irony in that. I don't know how I'd feel, belonging to someone again.

I get that. After all you've overcome.

But for me...when it's someone you know will take care of you, there's no better feeling in the world.

You make it sound much more noble than it is. It just sort of happened. I understand that part. And I hope it You know. Feels that way again someday.

It doesn't matter how you did it, it only matters that you did.

Thanks. Maybe someday.

[ Should he call Hawk..............no. ]

lemme pierce yoru ears im sober

You aren't. Do you even know how to do that? Will it hurt a little or a lot?

of COURSE i know would i mislead u a little not a lot

Maybe if you had some sort of Nefarious goal to embarrass me. [Telling more people about his embarrassing seal phase!!]

But okay fine I can do a little hurt. Can I borrow your strawberry earrings, after? Those are my favorites beside the daisies.

duno what your talking about kobes !!! what about both we can each wear one & match thatsso cute

Uh-huh, sure. Okay, I'll come over. If Zoro can get three, I can get two. Oh that IS cute. Okay. Maybe the house will start giving me cute ones too. It really wants me to wear cute stuff, I'll bring some of it over. The underwear, especially. Embarrassing.

you cant get a bf and expect me not to tease you two like zoro? in 1 ear? BRING IT i need to see i have stuff thatll look hot on you too also bring ice pleaaaaaase

You have TWO and I don't tease you!!! Much. NO no one in each ear let's start slow. You have yours done, right? I get normal stuff and then sometimes it's just like hot pink shorts and half a shirt. I like what the room gives you. Cubes, crushed or a pack?

who even knows if they're my boyfriends here!!! they love having sex with other people does that sound like boyfriend behavior and yeah one in each you should wear pink more often it's cute anyway my closet is your closet you know that cubes please

I mean. So do I. So does Quentin. But we've talked about all that already. Do you want more? I'm sure I could figure out how, once I watch you do it. [He might also be tipsy.]

Yeah? I guess for a while I didn't want to seem too You know. Girly. But I think I might actually like it? I don't know, I still can't pick out an outfit to save my life. Be there in ten.

and you don't want to kill him ?

( just when you think someone is starting to understand you........and they say the dumbest shit you ever heard........... )

YES totally yes that's so fun i guess i'll ask everyone if they want piercings. we can have a party you look really cute with your whole studious good boy dork thing but i also think you look cute more feminine. and we're pretty much the same size so you have double the closet and so do i 😍 actually now that i think about it you just always look cute. how is that fair

No? Because he comes back to me, after. And I like knowing he's having fun, I guess. I don't know. I guess it's because I know about it ahead of time. A piercing party, hah. I know Zoro has his earrings, but Sanji might like one? And Luffy. And Usopp. And Shanks. Are you going to invite Shanks? You'd look cute in some of the stuff the house has been giving me. Lots of overalls and sweaters and things, for fall. I like knowing you're warm. Nami, you are the most beautiful woman in the entire world, don't be ridiculous.

( sudden fear she's the shitty one for getting mad at them for sleeping around. she already knows she's functionally unhinged about it and has dragged them both over the fire about it – this does not bode well for her sanity. )

ugh

( luckily, there's always more alcohol. )

shanks already has his ears pierced i think? i'll ask actually they're all getting invited you're a softie oh shut up

( what are these lies!!! )

"ugh"? i still think the boys are idiots, though. that part hasn't changed. they aren't. we've been training together and i'd have noticed. [Is that what the kids call it?]

I mean it. There are some very pretty girls here, but You're the only Nami.

they are idiots they're alright tho "training together"? koby ew

( actually getting drunk was a terrible idea, because now she's all emotional about koby thinking she's pretty. he knows what he's doing, the asshole. )

okay fine i'll marry you jeeze

They have their moments. Sometimes. YES training together. It's We've Don't "ew" me, he's actually very very nice about That. [Shanks is a generous lover and now you know that too, Nami.

A huff of a laugh, then he's kicking on the door to knock.] Let me in, wife-to-be, my arms are full.

( and to the door — one bouncy nami, a nearly inedible cocktail in her hand that is maybe four parts vodka to one parts orange juice, because sanji didn't make it for her. she opens the door with a little more grandeur than it probably deserves, an arm extended in a ta-dah, it's me way, without actually offering to help him with the clothes. her hands are full (with cocktail). )

Yay, come in. You can just drop those on the bed.

( see also, her humble piercing operation: needles, a lighter, a cut up apple, alcohol wipes and paper towels, all laid out on her desk. she waits until he's inside before following up with, )

And you better not flirt with Shanks when he gets here. I'm so serious. Deadly serious.

[Even though the vague whiff of that cocktail has Koby's nosy scrunching, his mouth watering with a perverse sort of desire and revulsion, he still smiles at Nami's pose, at her braided-back bright hair and her tipsy grin. He's got his phone in one hand, both arms wrapped around an armful of fabric, primarily patterned or pink or glittery. He looks both excited and deeply nervous, as is tradition at Nami's girl's nights.

Though most of these events don't have so many sharp objects involved. Koby drops the armful of clothes, thinking briefly of another place, another room, another stack of clothes and Nami's hands on his shoulders, the scent of citrus.] Hello to you too. That's a lot of needles.

[The clothes are dumped, one slippery-silky cherry-patterned top almost slithering to the ground before Koby catches it. His glasses are up in his hair, keeping it back -- it's grown long enough now to curl a little at the ends, at the nape of his neck.

Then, making a face:] I'm not going to flirt with Shanks. We don't flirt. I ask questions and he says nothing and smiles knowingly, mostly. [From beneath the stack of clothes, Koby unearths a couple bottles of Smirnoff, because White Claw isn't a thing yet.] Are you piercing him too?

( koby hasn't missed their weekly dinner rendezvous since they agreed upon it — and shanks has mostly lived up to his end of the bargain, though last week koby did have to yammer shanks to wakefulness and half-drag him out of bed into the en suite. it's a good thing koby was there, holding shanks accountable, or else shanks most definitely would have had hair of the dog for breakfast instead of real food. still, hiccups aside, it's been going well — and much by accident, they've stumbled into a tradition they have yet to break thus far: shanks with a pink earring or koby with red cufflinks, each of them wearing some subtle representation of the other in a simple exchange of colors.

tonight is no different.

well — at least in the sense that shanks expects koby to be wearing something red at dinner. he'd left a gift (or perhaps a reward for perfect attendance) in koby's room earlier: a simple toy set in a velvet-lined box that he'd quietly liberated from the otherworld, along with a handwritten note in shanks' familiar, wobbly script:

𝒮𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝑜𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉. 𝒲𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁.

-𝒮

the dining room, of course, is always boisterous with conversation and the sound of silver scraping against fine china, the roar of laughter from down the table, the liquid pour of more wine being served. it's loud enough to obscure the quiet hum of a motor or even a gasp if someone was particularly mindful of their breath control. so when shanks slides his hand over koby's thigh under the table just after the first course, when he leans in to whisper something against koby's ear, he isn't concerned in the slightest that someone might overhear: )

How does it feel? ( a question posed with all the self-satisfied cheekiness of someone who knows exactly how it feels, the pulse and thrum of vibration between koby's thighs practically reverberating under shanks' hand, in his chest. when he pulls back to gauge koby's expression, shanks is smiling serenely as if nothing is out of the ordinary, already reaching for his refilled glass of wine. )

[Koby's first mistake had been to assume that he'd seen all the tricks Shanks had up his sleeve -- taking the dinners at face value, just an opportunity to make sure they were both eating at least once daily, accountability, like two soldiers might arrange when trying to reach some training milestone. It's nice to check in, too, to put eyes on the man who so easily disappears from Koby's rapidly-developing senses -- here a flicker, there a flash of crimson aura on the edge of his mind, gone as soon as he's able to focus in on it. Something settles in the knot of anxiety in his chest when he sees -- yes, Shanks is fine, he's always fine.

Even the addition of the colors, accidental at first, a pocket square in red, an ear cuff with pink inlaid filigree, then on purpose, a subtle signal -- I'm here for you, tonight, because I promised, because I gave my word -- hadn't been completely unexpected. It felt right, even, adding a scarf or tie or belt in various shades of crimson. Granted, Shanks had never given a gift for Koby to wear, but even still, the box isn't completely out of the blue. Until he opens it up.

The second mistake was the exact angle of the...item, object, toy. Not that it's painful -- far from it, the sleek, rounded shape nudges up inside him perfectly, slipping through the mess of lube he'd carefully slicked himself up with. He'd never had anything that wasn't a person inside before, and by the time the thick bulb of the toy is settled where it should be, the jeweled base is tucked up against his clit, which seems a perfectly satisfactory place. The pressure is nice as Koby slowly walks down to the dining room, gradually becoming more and more accustomed to the fullness, the stretch, to the strangeness of trying to remain composed around other people.

And the third mistake was taking a sip of his drink right as Shanks reached into his pocket and pressed something that had the toy inside Koby suddenly start vibrating.

Thankfully it's just water, and Koby's coughing is enough to disguise the sharp, pitchy sounds that keep tearing out of his throat, uncontrollably, helplessly. His breath hitches at the hand on his thigh, wide eyes flicking over incredulously to Shanks, jaw dropping at the audacity, the daring. He should be scandalized. He should be completely indignant. Instead, though, Koby just presses his thighs together and draws in a trembling breath, the hum of the toy sending shocks up and down his spine, making all that lube completely unnecessary.]

I-It's fine. [Koby's voice comes out squeaky, swallowing convulsively, hand trembling a little as he reaches for his glass again.] Comp-pletely f-fine. What d-do you m-mean?

Koby, Daniel won't be joining you today.

[The stab of panic is notable primarily because it's momentarily more intense than the perpetual panic Koby’s been feeling since he woke up.]

Why?

He has fallen into a deep sleep, I cannot awaken him. It is something that our kind do occasionally, though not often without reason.

[ It's a mark of his distress that he's willing to admit even that much. ]

The timing is concerning. If you're saying it doesn't happen without reason, that's even more concerning. Are you safe? All of you. Do you have what you need to lie low for a while?

Yes, I am capable of keeping them safe. But I do not believe lying low will help us in the end. If the mortals turn against us, there is nowhere to run. If we have to defend ourselves, I hope that you will remain out of the way. Daniel won't forgive me if you're hurt.

People are scared and reactive right now, but But they're good people. They can be reasoned with. I'm on good terms with nearly everyone here, mortal or otherwise. If it comes to it If it comes to it, I'm sure Daniel's told you that even if you tell me to stay out of something, I can't. I won't let anything happen to any of you.

That won't be necessary, Koby. There's nothing you can do to help us. They will only tear you down.

People are dying. I'm not particularly concerned about being collateral damage if it helps keep people I love safe.

[Bestie, your savior complex is showing.]

You love them?

You seem surprised.

Not at all. Loving Daniel and Louis is one of the things I understand more than anything else.

It's not I mean, for Louis it's not the same way as you do. He's just been kinder to me than anyone, in a way I'm not used to. A way that doesn't give him anything in return. And they love you, so. I won't let anything happen to you either.

[ He notes the omission. ]

Your bravery is foolish. But I suppose I cannot persuade you otherwise.

I've been told that before. I'll take it as a compliment, I think. And if anything happens, please take care of each other. This place is trying to divide us, I think.

We should compare notes.

Yes. We should. I haven't I haven't taken any. I've been sort of I It's harder when you know them. [Harder to help. Harder to compartmentalize.]

Did you?

[ Tim didn't, really. Not this round. He'd met Rhaenyra, and spoke to Alicent about her at length, and so he mourns with her. As he still mourns for Embry, questions this place, questions everything. The only way to keep himself from going crazy is to run head-first into this, devote his energy to his friend, let his loyalty extend towards her son. ]

I'm sorry. This is all so...
It's so fucked up.

I don't know what to do other than investigate. I think I have some leads. Mostly about Jacaerys, the only one with any evidence.

Edited 2024-10-06 01:48 (UTC)

Erik. He and I

[What? Had a heated entanglement at a party? Koby knows that a true sailor would be careless, carefree about that, would consider it a nice memory and move on. But Koby is Koby, and his heart is tender and easy to nestle into, especially if you're kind to him. He'll remember you forever.]

It is. I have some ideas, but they're all sort of swimming around. There are a few popular suspects, but there are arguments for and against. I can talk myself into or out of so many theories. Tell me. Quentin isn't letting me out of his sight, and I'm glad for it, but I can investigate via messages.

Oh, God

I completely forgot
I’m so
Sorry. I’ll light a candle for him tonight.

It’s been a long few days.

The doctors said two things about Jacaerys - that there was no sign of a struggle, despite having been drowned, which is not an instant death and so there SHOULD be a struggle, and that they found a long blond hair on him.

So, as far as I can figure, there are three possibilities.
1) it was someone that he trusted.
2) he was drugged - his betrothed Baela doesn't believe this is likely because he was meant to meet her after the party rather than linger, but he could have been drugged forcefully.
or 3) some kind of magic.

And so, three potential culprits, at least that I can think of.

1) Daemon. Which sounds completely insane, but he IS completely insane. He murdered his first wife, he’s murdered children, he’s sent assassins at night to target people in their beds. Rhaenyra and Jacaerys both have a claim to the throne he wants. He has motive, ability, is sick in the head, Jacaerys wouldn’t have suspected him, and he has long blond hair. That he can make it look easy to accuse Aemond, all the better for him.

2) Lestat. He likes younger brunettes. Parisa was drained of every drop of blood, so one of the vampires has to be involved and he’s the only blond one. And they have the power to calm people, which would explain the lack of struggle.

3) Alia. Power of mind control, she could force somebody to walk right into the lake and they wouldn’t have a choice. She’s been good to me so I don’t want to accuse her unless I’m completely sure, but she’s very nonchalant about her history of murder, and would have the easiest time of it out of anyone.

We danced, at the party. The night of. I'd never danced with anyone before.

[Yes, he's spiraling a little bit, when he thinks about that too hard. But he notes down the names, the theories.]

I think the magic is likely. I fell asleep right at midnight and you know I never sleep well alone, but nothing roused me until six. So it stands to reason that this is the fault of the house. I did some reading too, on the game of Werewolf -- it's a party game, and there are multiple roles besides the wolf. Some of the Straw Hats are other roles, so they can't be wolves -- you only get one. If any of your list got another text, another role, that's their alibi. I think of that list, Daemon is the most dangerous. He doesn't have Rhaenyra to keep him in check anymore, whereas Lestat has Louis and the other vampires from his world, and Alia has a brother, I think? We need to be strategic about who is going to have the fewest people watching them and remove that threat. The crew and I think Alexei is the most likely of the vampires, and the most dangerous. Do you know anything about his world? It's monstrous. Humans are livestock, there.

Anyone could lie and say they received a role.

All eyes are on everyone, Koby. It's getting crazy out there.

So I've heard. I've talked to him a little. He says he only drinks from the willing, but so do the rest of them.

They wouldn't lie to me. That at least I can trust. I know. I know, it's terrible. I've never I didn't think it would be this way. Trying to find justice. I didn't think it would be easy, but -- simpler, maybe? Nobody's willing if they're enslaved. That's his view of humans, that has to make some sort of difference.

I don't mean your crew, I mean. Well, those people I listed. Or Alexei, or any other suspects.

...did you get one?

That's horrible, but...I need to focus on the one with evidence. Jacaerys. For Alicent.

No, you're right. Short of confiscating everyone's phones, we can't know for sure.

[Pause while he actually considers that -- his totalitarian government roots are showing.]

No. I'm just another potential victim, I guess. There's enough of us, we should be able to divide and address at least two of the culprits. It's not perfect, but it'll have to be enough.

I don't think that's a good idea. The game isn't built to get all the wolves in one round, and in the meantime, they'll go for the helper roles.

If not two real culprits, then a crazy person who thinks he's the devil, apparently. Fine.

[ let's timeskip to the end of the night, yippee. ]

Are you guys okay?

Edited 2024-10-09 04:39 (UTC)

[After everything, after Koby's cried and thrown up and cried some more and talked to everyone a billion times:]

I think I'm going to need you to define "okay" in this context. We're physically unharmed and locked in our room?

that's...fair.

i don't think we have much time before this starts again. try to get some rest.

I can keep them from retaliating against Quentin. But if we get together again, it might be better if he doesn't come.

Probably not, no. Be sure to eat something, too. And drink something. I'm not leaving him, Tim. I'll tell you what I know, as I find it out, but I'm not leaving his side until this is over.

Good.

You shouldn't. Neither of you should. I'll share what I know too, okay? I trust you both completely.

You and Hawk. And tell Alicent again -- I told her, but it's entirely possible she's forgotten. I know. But if [A beat.] something happens to either or both of us, I'll be keeping notes of everything. I'll leave them where you can find some. As soon as I figure out how to wear my glasses over my mask.

I will.

Nothing will happen to you. Besides the...irreparable emotional damage this inflicts on all of us.

I asked the library if it can do something about that. I'll let you know when I get an answer for that, too.

In a way it supports the theory that this place feeds on us. Our energy. Maybe we were too happy and it wanted to spice things up with misery instead. I'm sorry, that's so grim. I'm not thinking straight. ...clearly, because I was about to turn my glasses into monocles. I didn't even THINK about the library. [That's how you know things are fucked up.]

Feeding on us to what end?

I'm wearing mine on a string and putting them to my face when I really need them. It's not perfect and I look like my grandmother, but it's good enough for now.

I don't know. Survival, maybe? Or they're building towards something. I haven't decided. That's the first time I've laughed all week, Tim. Thank you.

Hawk won't think I'm sexy anymore if I look like an old man, help :(

Stopppp that I'll wake q Quentin up! You're already an old man to me 😌 Twenties already, amazing...

What does that make him? Elderly? He won't wake up, he's so old he's probably deaf.

That's completely different! He's a SAILOR!

Sailors age quickly. Too much time in the sun.

Are you saying I look old, Tim? You ARE sleep deprived.

aren't you twelve?

kidding

I really am. even now in between I'm still thinking about everything, worrying about what's next. everyone here that I'm close to has made someone angry and I don't know how to protect you all

so I'd rather make fun of you for being twelve.

I know. I haven't stopped crying for more than ten minutes, for days. People HATE me now, for what I've said, and it's only going to get worse. We can only vote for two people at a time, and there are at least seven wolves. We're being set up to fail, and destroy everything we've created here in the process. I'd rather have you tease me too. Also I was wretched at twelve, I never stopped talking and I kept stealing the gardeners clothes.

We have to be perfect to get them all. And we already won't be, with Luci distracting everyone with his sickness.

Quentin's mad at me. Alia has every reason to be. Hawk thinks I should be keeping my head down, but I can't. It's only going to get worse.

You still never stop talking 👨‍🏫

Right, him. I don't know him that well, but he definitely leapt to accuse himself, which is...interesting. There aren't any right answers here, Tim. Quentin and I voted for the same reason, to show support to someone, because if we get through this and everyone's hurt each other too irrevocably, is it even going to be worth it? Which I sort of hate myself for, because that's not what a Marine would do. A Marine would just lock up everyone powerful so they can't hurt anyone and I I don't want to do that. And I can't even think about what that means right now, that I don't want to act like a Marine anymore. Sometimes I do. When I'm asleep.

I know there's not.

[ And he struggles still, with there not being an obviously right answer to everything, with the path forward into safety being littered with traps. He would rather his friends be hurt from the accusations and their fallout than be dead, but he feels sick to his stomach over the hurt he's already caused. ]

We can't lock up everyone. Even if we all agreed, the Balfours won't. We'll be stuck playing this game until it's done or we're in the ground.

Edited 2024-10-11 23:40 (UTC)

I'm not mad at you, Tim. Everyone's just trying their best. Whatever happens, I love you, okay?

[He gives it quickly, easily, because -- because anything could happen in the next few days. Koby's well-aware that there's nothing they can do.]

No, you're right. We have to be careful and smart. Try to stay in the game as long as possible.

I love you too, Koby. Tell Quentin, too.

Just remember being careful isn't just investigating, okay? You and your crew took some heat back there.

I will. I already checked in with Hawk, but you can tell him "hi" I guess? Tell him to eat something and go to sleep. I know. Everyone's...pretty upset, but. That's normal for us. I'm worried about them all. Even Shanks, though he never really lets on if he's upset. I can't Feel anyone, anymore. It's gone. Like it's been turned off. I think it's the house, the game, trying to keep me from cheating or...or something.

If I tell him to get in bed, he will, don't worry. 😊

Louis and Matt said their powers weren't acting normally, either. So they must not want interference with the game.

Check in as much as you want to.

Can I Are you Tim, I'm so Do you need Anything? That's so stupid I'm I'm so Can I just come see you? Quickly? Just I need to see you're okay.

You can come.

I'd like that

[He's there within minutes, vibrating with tension and energy and grief, hesitating at the door for a moment before slowly pushing it open.]

Tim?

[ The door is locked. But Tim will come. ]

Hi.

[ Soft, raspy. There's a welt around his neck he thinks to hide under a turtleneck, but decided against it. Someone did this to him. And until they're caught, they need the reminder. ]

[It matches the one on Nami. Koby's already in a state, though he oddly isn't in tears for once in his life. He looks for a long, long moment, then slowly brings his eyes up to meet Tim's, staring at him, thinking about the last thing he'd said -- whatever happens, I love you.

Thinking about how that could've been the last thing he'd ever said to Tim.

He steps closer, reaches up carefully, gently, cradles Tim's face between his callused hands.]

Hi.

[ He'll be jumpy, sensitive to unexpected touch for a while. Koby might not see it, because Koby is safe, and Tim knows that, so when he's touched he doesn't flinch, he leans right into it and reaches for more, pulling him into a hug, as tight as he can muster with the exhaustion. ]

How's Nami?

[Is he? Koby doesn't know anything anymore -- somewhere in the middle of the night, the entire world turned upside down again. The first round it was Erik, sweet and compelling and fun, somehow embodying the illusion that this place could be safe, could be a home.

This time it was Tim and Nami. This time it was so, so much closer to home, and while they both escaped by a hair, the act of protecting them had put a target on Hawk and Shanks. There's no way to win.

He clings to Tim so tightly it makes his shoulders ache, stands up on his tiptoes so he can hold onto him better.] Scared. Exhausted. She's with the crew, she's safe. People will know for sure it wasn't her, or you.

I wasn't concerned about being accused.

[ Because he didn't do it, and he does his best not to rustle feathers. His name had only come up once, with Armand's pettiness. ]

They'll come for Hawk next, for saving me.

No, it seems like that's the best possible option, at this point. The safest, definitely.

[Which isn't something he'd ever thought he'd say about being in prison, but. Nothing about the past couple weeks is normal, is it.

Koby leans back, wanting to insist that Tim's wrong, that Hawk is safe and sound, that everything's going to be fine. But he can't. He can't summon up the words. He has the same gut-clenching terror about Shanks.]

They might not. [It sounds hollow, even to his own ears -- they'd come for Paul, for saving Alina.] If someone else seems like a bigger threat, they might not.

No. I'm not hiding down there while someone who tried to kill me waits for a chance to do it again. I want to fight.

[ Not...literally, if he can avoid it, but with his head, with his friends, with their minds and their votes together. They can beat this. He has to believe they can beat this. ]

They will. Unless we get three, now, then they'll be few enough to go for bigger targets.

[ Alina, Pierce, Matt. He hates the way he's thinking, like they're just chess pieces, or shields he can throw in front of Hawk. Tim doesn't know if he's strong or brave enough to keep all his promises, and that feels just as bad as the aching bruise that collars his neck. ]

Edited 2024-10-13 00:56 (UTC)

[Despite everything, that makes Koby smile a little, stepping back and reaching again, instinctively, to push up his glasses, bumping himself gently in the nose.] No, you're right. Everyone I care about in the world is in this stupid house, I'm not going to run away and hide while they're threatened.

[Even though he wants to. He really, really wants to.]

You should sit down. [Fussy mode, reaching out to gently nudge Tim back towards the inside of the room, reverting to old habits. Like it's still summer. Like they're still sharing a room and bickering over sink space.]

[ Tim's exhausted and every breath is like fire in his throat, so he's not hard to convince. He complies, ruffling Koby's hair as he pulls away to perch himself on the edge of the bed. ]

Could you get the kettle? Tea with honey helps. You can bring some back for Nami.

[The gesture is comforting, and Koby has to actively bite back the urge to seek out more, more affection, more contact, to replace the void left by his newfound powers evaporating. He nods, already finding the kettle, the hot plate, the tea. He can do this part, shaky hands and bitten-bloody fingernails and all.

He can do this.] She likes tea, I think. Well, sometimes. She liked it in the village.

[ He watches Koby for a moment more, before settling back against the headboard with a wince. The red welt around his throat is the most obvious, but there's bumps and scrapes all over, a cut on his chest, road rash on his back, all resulting from getting dragged through the grounds. He's not comfortable, and probably won't be for some time. ]

Even if she doesn't. It hurts to talk.

Then you don't need to talk. [Gently, assembling the tea from muscle memory alone, honey and bag and hot water.] I'll stay as long as you'd like and talk for both of us.

I do.

[ The clock keeps ticking whether he wants it to or not. ]

Shanks, your friend. Can you convince him to save one of the witches next round?

[Koby startles a little at Shanks's name, in spite of himself, breath catching a bit. He turns and looks at Tim for a long moment, thoughtfully, ears red, before turning back to making the tea.]

The ones who can bring people back? Like Alina? I can ask him. He usually has his own plans, but he's...we're...he'll listen to me, I think. He'll at least consider it.

Alina and Pierce. If Nami keeps her head down this time, she shouldn't need him.

[ Hopefully. The doctors need to protect those that have the most helpful roles, so that the most people can survive. Easier said than done, with any chance of Hawk choosing anyone other than Tim died the second that belt wrapped around his neck. ]

You're blushing. You like him?

I'll ask. That makes the most logical sense -- we don't want to lose the witches or doctors or seers. If we vote smartly this round, they're down to half their numbers and we can figure things out.

[Koby scowls a little, points a spoon at Tim menacingly before dipping it into the honey.] Shhhhhhush, you. You're gravely injured, don't waste your energy teasing me.

[ "Menacingly"...yeah, right. ]

Come on. Tell me something good that isn't "are you okay, you should lay down, tell me everything you remember for the fifteenth time."

[ Take my mind off the feeling of the next breath being my last. ]

[The blush spreads down the back of Koby’s neck, but -- he can't make the bruises on Tim's neck go away. He can't heal what's been irrevocably broken in this place.

So he crosses the room, tea in hand, settling on the edge of Tim's bed.] Yes, I like him a lot. And he likes me, I think? I think. I mean, he cares, I know that. He promised to keep me safe, no matter what, so.

[ Tim rearranges some pillows behind him to get more comfortable, and takes the mug with a soft thanks. ]

Are you two...?

[ Trailing off, with his eyebrows raised. You know what he's asking, Koby. ]

[Koby knows damn well what Tim's asking, yes, but he blinks innocently, raising his eyebrows in response, putting on his most guileless expression.]

Are we what? You'll have to be more specific.

[ He struggles to talk at all, much less ask in a way that doesn't sound crude...bully. ]

You know what I mean. Hooking up.

[Koby makes a face at the term, because -- well, it's accurate, but it sounds very impersonal.]

I mean -- technically? You could call it that? It's -- more than that, though. Some of it's the way things were in the village and some of it is what he's been teaching me here, and it's all sort of become this...

[Have a waved hand, half-fond, half-helpless.] I don't know how to describe it, I guess. I care about him, a lot. [A beat, then, repeated, softer:] A lot.

[ Impersonal, sure. But leaves room for Koby to fill in the blanks. ]

That's sweet. Good.

[ If it were anyone else, of course, he'd have a thousand follow up questions about Quentin and polyamory and everyone's feelings about it all, but he's learned enough about these sailors not to. They behave as if it's casual, but feel deeply regardless. Sometimes Tim even admires it. ]

You're into older men.

I'm nineteen, Tim, everyone's older than me. [A little huffy, but he's blushing as he says it, hopping up to fix himself tea too.]

But...you're not wrong. I guess I feel...safer? Protected. Less like the floor's gonna drop out from under me.

He's a lot older.

[ Conspiratorial, rather than judgmental. Hawk has a decade on him, which Koby's well aware of, so he knows. He gets it. ]

Safety and experience. I like that too.

He's only thirty...something... [Late thirties. Koby doesn't actually know. Still, it's pushing twenty years. Wait til he tells Tim about his biggest crush at home, on Luffy's grandfather.] Anyway, he doesn't act old.

He's annoying, though, sometimes. [Taking his tea back and sitting next to Tim on the bed.] He drives me crazy, same as Quentin. Maybe that's my type?

So is Hawk.

[ He shrugs. ]

I think having strong feelings makes them more infuriating. I don't know how they do it.

I knew that. It's on his Butler profile.

[So is Shanks's??? Koby, please.]

I think it's strong feelings, plus height, plus infuriating smiles. That's my working theory, at least.

[ He meant annoying, Koby... ]

Speaking of height. Do you know Harry?

[Have an arched eyebrow, Tim.]

I'm not sure. Should I? Do you?

You'd remember if you did, he's 6'9".

[ A little grin. Almost enough to make him forget about everything else for a moment. ]

I do.

My dear Koby, as loathe as I am to add yet one more thing to your plate, may I prevail upon you for a favor?

[Koby's in a State -- as is everyone these days, of course -- but his need to be helpful overrides the spiraling weariness and fear, for a moment.]

Yes, of course. What is it?

As you may have noticed, the collective evil eye has been turning upon this house's vampire population, and even with that aside, there's a rather pungent stench of death in the air.

You're a reliable, responsible sort — in the event that something foul sets its claws upon me, I was hoping you'd be willing to take in little Shadowheart. It's a rather large favor to be asking, I know.

I have, and I'm sorry. I know it's likely the house making people act this way, too. I don't blame anyone for what's going on. Nothing foul is going to happen to you. But if it does, of course I'll take care of Shadowheart. I'ts no trouble at all. If anything happens to me, will you keep an eye on Abraham Lincoln? And The others from my world.

Wise beyond your years. But, yes — were we not aware of this house's nature before, I'd say we certainly are now.

Thank you, Koby. And of course. Birds of a feather, after all.

We are. Unfortunately. Please keep yourself and those close to you safe. It's going to get worse before it gets better, I think.

You okay?

I know you — careful getting your nose caught up in all this.
We should talk through some of it, yeah?

"Okay" is a strong word, but...physically, yes. I'm safe. Are you? I'm being careful. I'll be with the rest of the crew and Quentin, at least for the rest of the month. We should. I have some theories.

[Understatement of the century.]

[ there's been too much going on to keep up with messages and so - ]

I'm sorry.

For being hard on you. Just so much going on and it's not your fault. I get why you did it all.

[Promptly, immediately:]

You have nothing to be sorry for. You were right. I acted without thinking, or I thought like a Marine. The scariest and most dangerous and unfamiliar force had to be locked up, regardless of what was true or not. And I was wrong. I just I don't know I saw all those bodies lying there and my first thought was to look for a mop.

You couldn't help it. We all go back to our foundation when shit like this happens. When people you care about are hurt.

Take a deep breath. Stick with your friends. The house is up to something and the more you can stay by the sidelines and not dragged into all this the better.

You're a good person. Don't forget that.

I know your day has been as difficult as mine own, but I must ask more of you, Koby.

You understand this game. What are the roles?

[The phone pings and Koby almost doesn't want to answer it. He wants to find some corner to hide in, weather the storm, keep his mouth shut, words reverberating in his head again and again and again -- you don't understand shit about the world, Koby, you won't last five minutes in it. It'll tear you apart.

But finally curiosity wins -- and it's Alicent, something tight in his chest loosening slightly. Embarrassingly he wants to beg her for reassurance, for confirmation that she doesn't hate him too. Childish.]

I found a book on it, yes. Granted, the game explained is just that, a game. Nowhere near these stakes. So there's no guarantee that my explanation matches what's happening. But yes, the roles -- werewolf, doctor, seer, victim and a moderator. There are more already, though -- a spellcaster and a linked pair, that I know of.

Werewolves are the killers, then. Victims, self-evidenced.

Seers — visions of the past or the present?

What of one who could bring another back from the dead? A necromancer?

Visions regarding who may or may not be guilty or innocent -- like Baela. Hers were conscious, though, it seems. Not in the book I found, but it seems plausible. There are many of us and only seven wolves. We can't all be just victims. But if someone has another role, they can't also be a wolf. That's the rule.

Then that narrows the pool of possible wolves considerably.

Do you know any of the blonde’s named in my nephew’s death to possess a role? Caroline, Alia, Betty?

Edited 2024-10-07 18:59 (UTC)

It does. At least, it's a start. No, not personally. I know their faces, but nothing more. I could ask, but people are being cautious about information, now. Tim knows Alia. He may have more insight.

We can ask it of him later.

You would be wise to keep your knowledge quiet from now onward, Koby. I fear the most perceptive among us will be targeted.

What of the doctor?

It might help. People might have alibis they didn't realize.

[Unspoken: I don't care if it makes me a target, as long as it makes this stop.]

The game says that the doctor can pick one victim per round to save -- it makes sense that it's Paul. He's the only one who was awake and able to save Alina, while the rest of us were asleep and couldn't hear a thing.

Then we will find that out amongst ourselves and share the information between those we trust as needed. Roles like Paul’s might become targets, too, and you would not wish to endanger anyone.

[ gaslighting her son for a good cause. ]

Edited 2024-10-07 23:03 (UTC)

[That is, in fact, the best thing she could've possibly said -- Koby wants to disseminate knowledge, but he wants to protect people even more.

So:] My crew knows. And Quentin. I'll keep it quiet otherwise, though. And if anything happens to me, I've made copies of the rules of the game. You'll still have them.

Thank you, Koby.
I do not wish to think of losing you, too. Keep safe until I see you this night.

And do not leave our small council without saying goodbye.

[Their small council -- an effort, information shared, disseminated, to what end, ultimately? Koby's vote stands, more out of loyalty to Nami than anything else, and Quentin's --

Well. Quentin chooses a route that defends someone he cares for, and god knows Koby understands that. There's fear, though, electric-white in his veins, because he can't, he can't, he can't let anything happen to Quentin.

So, though he imagines she's just as exhausted as him, more so, losing two of her family, shattering bonds with many more:] Alicent, I'm sorry. I'm sorry to ask this of you, you need to rest, but What can I do? What do you need what does Aemond need how can I stop this Please, Alicent.

[ she is exhausted to a point she has only been once before — the king dead, her son missing, war at her fingertips in the twenty-four hours that would decide the fate of her children and the realm. any chance of peace in the realm dies with rhaenyra. any hope of it the house dies with alia and louis’ accusations. the game has only just begun, and it is ruinous.

she has not slept in days. she half wishes to ask lestat to compel her to do so, if his playing will not send her off. earlier, she might have ignored this message, because why should she look out for others when there is no one to take her side?

but someone left her bandages for her shameful wounds. koby brought her food, unasked for days prior, when the stranger first visited the manor. ]

Slow yourself now.
I saw you leave before the votes ended.
Where are you, sweetling? I’ll come find you.

[Koby hasn't either, wracked with throbbing pain in his head and his chest and somewhere in his stomach, like he's swallowed a cannonball. He knows he's dozed, curled up against Quentin's chest, trying to lose himself in the pulsing beat of his heart, knows he's eaten when he's had something thrust into his hands and been told to. Consciously, though -- no.

In a way, it's familiar, makes him think about those two years on Alvida's ship, about the malaise of misery and fear and pain he'd lived in, being told when and how to do everything. He hasn't felt that way in months.

Alicent gives him something to focus on, at least -- a command he can cling to. Slow himself. Tell her where he is.]

The library. Isn't that stupid? What's the library going to do now?

There could nothing less stupid, when your reading and cleverness has given us one of the only true means of navigating this wretched game.

I shall be there soon. Do not tell my Aemond that I have always known how to slip his guard.

[ a hint of levity. it helps that baela and gideon are now here to occupy him.

as promised, she arrives in short order, having not yet bothered to change into her nightdress — idly wondering if she would prefer to be found dead in her black lace, a worthy harbinger — but she has loosened her hair once more, waves spread across her shoulders. her footsteps are light, but she calls out, ]

Koby?

[ an ugly thought, then, that he could be a wolf and take her life. surely not, for no reason but the ache of her heart. foolish girl. ]

[That almost makes Koby laugh, through the tears, still wearing the (stupid) mask, sitting at his favorite table with books he can't read because he can't wear his glasses over his (stupid!!) mask. He's cried so much his throat hurts, his eyes are as red as the mask, and maybe there's a flicker of a thought: what if the wolf gets him? Would it be easier?

It's not a new thought, but Koby pushes it away as Alicent approaches. He's out of his masquerade clothes, at least, wearing a borrowed sweatshirt -- Quentin's, large enough that he can sort of burrow inside it. He's already small, and he knows it makes it worse, but he needs the reassurance of burying his face in the fabric and breathing.

Another sniff, then he swallows against the ache of old tears.] Hi. [It comes out shaky, childish, but he reaches slowly to grab something out of his bag -- water bottles, sealed, chill and wet with condensation from the fridge, still.] Here. If you're anything like me, you probably haven't hydrated enough. [He offers one, trying to pretend like his eyes aren't bright, like his lower lip isn't trembling, like there aren't tears streaking down his face, still.]

[ alicent accepts the bottle, fingertips brushing his before she sets it aside, atop the the table. carefully, she wipes her hands on her skirts and pulls a chair nearly flush to his own. her gaze shines red through the pink of her mask, though her tears have now dried. ]

I shall drink the whole of it. [ a promise, albeit one she will uphold later. ]

First — you have been very brave today, dear Koby.

[ hushed as she sits and swiftly leans forward, one hand tipping up his chin so she might better regard him. his tears are a weakness she has never been able to stomach in her own sons. to look upon his glistening eyes and see her pain reflected — it has repulsed her before. perhaps it is koby’s kindness that keeps the familiar nausea at bay. perhaps it is the knowledge that even her sons should not have had to be strong, learned from others in this place.

gentle fingers tidy his hair from his face, particularly where tears have stuck it to his pale skin and red mask. ]

Braver than you should ever have to be. [ he should be with the maesters, learning the secrets of this world, forging new links in a chain that may never end for one so clever, so bright. ] I know it does not feel like it, and perhaps it is more painful to hear me say such a thing, when others have suffered for it. I mislike all of this, as I know you do.

Edited 2024-10-09 04:42 (UTC)

And eat something. [It's mumbled, automatic, even as Koby closes his eyes and sends more tears down over his cheeks. They're less rounded than when he'd left home, but he knows he still must seem very young to Alicent. She seems it to him, her hair loose, her fingers bandaged where they brush his tears away. More than that, she seems vulnerable, strung tight and rubbed raw and still comforting him before anything else.

So he insists:] You need to eat something. You can't take care of everyone when you're hungry.

[A shuddery breath, sitting back in his chair and starting to pick at his fingernails -- a habit they share.] No, it's not. Not painful, I mean. I know how you mean it. I don't feel brave, I feel -- stupid and useless and naive. Like Alvida said.

[A beat.] The pirate captain who -- owned me. For two years. That was her name. She used to tell me I was an idiotic sniveling coward who didn't understand how the world worked, that I'd be chewed up and spit out without her. [He doesn't finish the thought, but it's there: maybe she was right.]

Not everyone, just you. But I will. I promise.

[ a mild correction. she lets him pick at his hands for a brief moment, before she closes her ruined fingers over his own. indeed, she sent aemond away, even though his eye begged her for something more — to grieve him as he lives? to help him face a death she would rail against?

she blinks any lingering dampness from her eyes, willing herself to remain here. koby speaks of a fate even darker than her own, imprisoned not in a royal keep but aboard a slaver’s ship. ]

Alvida could not see you. Perhaps her vileness blinded her. [ she does not say: if you are those things, then so am i. not when she very well might be. a trembling girl, missing her father’s guiding, brutal grip. a wanton wretch, toiling in service of men, with no mind of her own, as alina saw her true. worthy for naught but her womb.

alicent unfolds his hands with her own, thumb pressing into his palm. ]

If you were my boy, I’d have sent you to our greatest halls of learning, the Citadel in Oldtown, where I was born. [ would she? if he were spare to a spare, like daeron. ] You have not had such advantages in your life — and yet you are cleverer still than most of the learned men I have known. I would call what that woman thought naïve by another name: Kind. A trait even rarer than intelligence. A jewel few have in their crown.

[ she does not say. my own sons do not possess it, and it is too late for them to learn. doomed by the court or their mother. ]

Well, right now, yes, but... [Quiet for a moment, watching her fingers close over his, noting the bandages on nearly every single one. Koby's own nails are bitten and ripped raw, a reflection of how many names, how many people he fears for, how many directions his (too soft, too tender) heart is wrenched. But Alicent's are worse.] You have your family, your friends, you haven't even been given time to grieve Embry, and you're...still here. [Providing the sort of comfort an orphaned, love-starved boy craves down to his marrow.

For a moment Koby let's himself imagine Alvida and Alicent, imagines how the former would quail before the gravitas and weight of the latter's presence. Alvida kept her power through fear, violence, threats. She manipulated and terrorized the crew and saved her cruelest words for a frightened, trapped boy who'd fallen into her web by mistake.

Alicent would've eaten her alive. That thought is some comfort, amidst the misery of this week.

If you were my boy prompts a throbbing stab of longing so raw that Koby knows its written all over his teary face, stark in his bright eyes. He swallows hard, hoarse, keeps his callused palm open for the steadying press of Alicent's bandaged thumb.] I would've liked that. [The education, yes, of course, unimaginable for someone in his situation. But belonging to someone, belonging to her-- that's what he really means.]

You are too. Kind, I mean. You've been it to me, and I -- [A slow, steadying inhale, well-aware he's trembling all over, exhausted and aching and sick with fear.] I didn't ask you here to talk about my past. I asked you because -- because you've been so kind, because I trust you and because.

Quentin’s named Baela. As his vote. [The trembling intensifies, and Koby wants to just burst into tears again, lose himself to fear, but he forces himself to meet Alicent's reddened eyes.] He did it to comfort a friend, not to harm, and I -- I know your family won't see it that way, I know I wouldn't, if it were one of my crew, but.

[Shaking, cold fingers curl around Alicent's hand, pleading, desperate with love, with fear.] I can't lose him. I can't. I'll lose my mind, I won't be able to survive this place. I'm not -- asking you to intercede or -- or defend him, I just. I need to know how I can. What your family will respect. What I can do to keep him safe.

[The tears are back, choking his throat, hot over his reddened cheeks, bright in his stricken, pleading eyes.] Please. I love him s-so much, Alicent, I'll -- do anything I have to. Anything.

Please.

[ it stings, the barest flicker in her too-big eyes, to be called here to bide her family once again. she is an extension of every man with a blade, expected to hold them back from justice with her bloody fingers. koby says he will intercede himself, but he can’t.

she sees herself in koby still, for how he begs the life of one who has betrayed another — hasn’t she interceded the same for rhaenyra? for aemond? her gaze flickers to his hands and back to his face. ]

I will not lie. Your Q has slighted mine — even Aemond will mislike it. Worse, he threatened what little family remains to Daemon, who will not hear my words or forget this sin. A dragon will not lower its head to accept an apology. [ these words are not a comfort, she knows, but they are true; this is the type of mother she has always been. ]

I would say you are lucky that another killer of our kin remains loose in the manor, for neither Aemond nor Daemon will waste their time on a lesser slight. [ her mouth thins — ] Your greater concern should be this: Q has cast a vote for one he knows to be innocent, a most suspicious act in a game of wolves hunting sheep. Let us not forget, a tall man with a mask of orange, pink, or red hunted Alina and likely Rhaenyra, too. [ it could be q, it could not be. others have been accused for less. ]

He will need tread very carefully, if he is innocent in this game. I hope we do not need to repeat the affairs of this night, but if we do — you would be wise to guide his vote towards one who actually appears suspect, for his sake.

Edited 2024-10-09 15:08 (UTC)

[It's not a comfort, not at all, but at the same time it sobers Koby enough that he reels in his panic, his spiraling terror and grief and pain. Unconsciously, he sets his jaw, lifts his chin, squares his shoulders. Spine of steel, heart of stone -- neither of which he has, not now, not ever. But he can pretend, for a little. He has to.

And there is some comfort in Alicent not giving him a soft, vague answer. It means, perhaps, she thinks him strong enough to handle the stark, brutal truth: there is nothing they can do. She has her family, he has his crew and Quentin, and if the roll of the dice claims one or all, neither of them can stop it. All they can do is wait.]

Thank you. I -- think I sort of expected that. I hoped there was something I could do but. [Koby falters, looks down at her hand in his for a long moment, then curls his fingers gently around her bandages, mindful of the sting, the throb of torn cuticle.] I'm not the only one with people I love in danger.

And you shouldn't have to bear that, not from me. [A huffy, a reflexive reach up to push glasses that aren't there into place.] Not very soldier-like of me, to panic. I'm sorry, Alicent. I'm so -- sorry this is happening.

[But, because he knows she's no child too, no wilting flower that needs to be comforted:] The game is going to keep going until one team wins. Until all the wolves are caught, or... [Or we're all dead.]

[ alicent nods, a sharp thing, telling of her acceptance and unease both. of course the game will play out. there can be no end until someone wins. breathing deeply, she acknowledges his apology by returning the squeeze of his hands. ]

They will not strike him for his actions this day, not when the wolves stalk us so. [ it's he only assurance she give. there are greater threats than a single vote. ]

[ quietly urging, then: ] I still trust you in this, Koby. And Tim. But your Q — even Hawk, I do not know. How long has he known the man accused of killing Embry was a danger? [ another mask of red, pink or orange. another potential killer of her own. ] And if one I loved as mine own daughter could claim a life so young, so precious, I fear nothing is sacred. We must both be watchful, even of those we trust.

[ she does not name louis as one she doubts, but she fears for him all the same. ]

[It's not a guarantee, and that wrenches at Koby's chest, fear thrumming in the butterfly-quick beat of his heart, pulsing in his throat, in the ragged edges of bitten-close nails. But nothing is guaranteed -- not their survival, not their safety, not their own minds and bodies. They have no control, and that childish part of Koby wants to insist that it isn't fair, like Alicent hasn't lived longer and seen much more injustice. He remembers the hasty math of her age and that of her children. He remembers himself at that age.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, where if you were my boy is curled up warm and comforting, like a sleeping cat, Koby wonders: what if I'd been something else? What if I'd been what I am, but yours instead? What would you have done?

He puts the thought out of his mind, glances down at her hands, thoughtfully.] I don't know. I trust -- a lot of people, but I also believe this place can make us do terrible things, things we wouldn't do. It can make even the most wonderful, kind, caring person into a monster. [The name in his mind is the same, and he shoves it away violently, firmly, even as he opens the possibility that it could be anyone, anyone.

Then he looks up, red-rimmed eyes serious, intent. He doesn't look young and fearful and fragile, like he had even moments ago.] If it comes to it, if the evidence is there against someone I love, or...or even me, you need to follow logic, again. Don't think of it as a betrayal. Think of it as saving someone from themselves, before this place can hurt them anymore.

And I'll look. [Red, orange, pink. A man in a mask the color of sunsets. A man who may not know his own monstrosity until its too late.] I won't give up until we're all safe again.

There you are.

[ the boy she told him he was, clever and brave, coming to the same conclusion that she had this morning: even those they love may be guilty. alicent lifts a hand to his jaw, thumb arcing over his cheek. ]

Have I told you I am not a Targaryen in true? I am a Hightower by blood. And our House words command this of me: We light the way. [ a beacon in the harbour, a hand tipping the scales to achieve a righteous end. ] I will pursue justice, however dangerous the path becomes. You must do the same.

[ looking upon her and hers. she finds herself grateful baela’s role has become self-evident, protection against future accusations, if they can convince others of their theory. ]

[Similar to when she’d embraced him in her room – not that long ago, not at all, less than a week, even though it feels like another lifetime – Koby tenses a little, reflexively at the movement towards his face. But Alicent’s bandaged thumb strokes over his cheek, and there’s a sour-sweet ache in his throat, his chest, his stomach, recognizing how devastating the loss of her would be. He doesn’t want to even entertain the idea, refuses to let it snag claws into his mind, his too-open, too-tender heart, but: it’s there. It’s already there.

Tilting his head just slightly into her hand, a lifetime without touch making him hungry, greedy for it, Koby smiles a little at her description.] Hightower. Like a lighthouse. It suits you, Alicent. [Nautical themes, always, for him – but that idea fits, much more than a dragon, all the teeth and fire and destruction. A lighthouse is strong, stoic, solid, it guides and shepherds ships to safety, it pierces the deepest, darkest storms and tethers the despairing crew to hope. It’s the kind of name to be proud of.

If you were my boy twinges in his chest, but Koby doesn’t – dare that presumption. She’d said it to comfort, and she hasn’t revoked it, and that is more than he’s ever had before. Still, thoughtful, eyes closing for a brief moment:] I don’t have one. A family name. The orphanage named us alphabetically, and “K” was next up when I arrived. I guess I got lucky, more or less. There was another girl named “Koala”, there.

[Opening his eyes, even though he has to squint a bit to see her:] I’m not going to give up either. Not until there’s justice for your family and the other guests. For Embry. [Koby hasn’t forgotten. He’s panicked, he’s spiraled and been reeled back and now he has work to do.]

[ She feels Koby tense and relax under her hand, like her Aemond in this way and no other: Unused to tenderness, at least of this kind. She resolves to offer it more freely, more regularly, for as long as she can. As such, Alicent lingers, allowing him to lean into the cup of her hand.

(Part of her believes she will be targeted next, for leading a block to vote even though it was Baela who commanded the floor. Paul and Alina’s words have assured all know her role in cementing their alliance. If not her, then she fears for Baela. If not her, then she has no choice but to consider the role of her closest friends, who might spare her and her son out of love even if they are wolves.)

Her mouth quirks, a wobbly thing, no more capable of accepting Koby’s kind words than he sid her soft touch. The Hightower beacon guides ships to safe harbour, tis true; it also calls its banners to war, glowing green as her verdant gowns. She would like to be the former. She fears she is the latter. ]

[ her tone softens, matching his thoughtful lilt, ] When there is a child born outside a noble house in Westeros, a bastard in true, we name them for the land of their birth. Snow, in the north. Stone, the mountains. Sand, the desert.

[ The smallfolk do not claim any name, but it matters not. Koby deserves all. A name, a family, a home. ]

Perhaps you are Koby of the Seas, without need of a traditional House or its constraints, brave and free as you have become. [ ignoring the manor, he seems to have made a worthy life for himself among his crew. ] As you will be again, when this is done.

[ Something she would like to believe, if only for Koby’s sake. She and Aemond will return their ends, if they leave this place, but Koby — he might find more adventures, brighter shores, an endless blue expanse. She prefers that, for him. ]

[Oddly, while Koby had stuck firmly to his own crew -- even as it splintered beneath him, as Luffy and Sanji altered their votes, as the tenuous ties, strained by the panic and fear, began to splinter -- he respects how Alicent had played the game. Because that's what it is, all this misery, all this pain: a horrible game, for some end that Koby can't quite pinpoint. He has an idea, of course, and he believes to his marrow that every horrible action committed after the masquerade is the fault of the house, the Balfours (maybe, maybe or maybe they're just as trapped as the rest of them?)

Still: she's been brave. A bravery Koby admires, letting out a soft, endlessly weary sigh, curling his mouth into a slight smile that presses his cheek closer into her hand.] That's clever. Everyone would be "of the Seas" where I'm from, but...here it feels like it could be mine. It reminds me of home. Of -- the village, too. [A beat, realizing how very, very much Alicent doesn't know about him, about what happened between his world and this one.] I was somewhere else, before. I hadn't had time to mention it, I don't think, but -- there, we were changed, our minds, our bodies. That's why I think there's nothing this place couldn't do to us. And I think...turning on one another is what it wants. How it's fed.

[At her last comment, Koby actually laughs, a watery sort of sound, reaching up to cover her hand with his, squeeze gently.] You want to know the strangest part? Before all this, I'd started to feel...almost happy here. I miss home, I miss people I left behind, but...but I've been away almost a year now. I was beginning to think this place could be home too. [A pause, a quiet, knowing look.] At home, the Straw Hats are my enemies. We're on opposite sides of a war. But here, they're my crew. They're my family.

...maybe that could happen for others here. If...that's what they wanted. [It feels absurd to even suggest it, but -- a deadly feud between family, set aside for the sake of this wretched game. Koby feels naive believing it could last in any way, but if Alicent is anything like him (and he thinks she may be, she may have something within her that aches for a sweeter, softer life, without war, without what's awaiting her at home), maybe she wants that for herself.]

[ Even red-rimmed and puffy, Alicent’s eyes remain watchful, assessing the litttle shifts in Koby’s features, the wetness still clinging to his lashes. She listens, rapt, as he describes the place that came before this — a possibility that boggles the mind, when this manor already stands striking and strange.

The corners of her mouth tug downward, at the mention of war. Of course she was naive to think Koby might find a place untouched by struggle.

She musters a knowing, sad smile. ]

Our war has been written in the stars, I fear. Or in blood, when my husband took me to wife and to bed. [ twin bloodlines, doomed to struggle. One cannot take the throne while the other persists. ] We have not forgiven each other’s actions, merely united to lessen the pain for the innocent and seek justice for the lost. I do not anticipate mercy or kindness for my actions this day, not from Daemon Targaryen.

[ Any chance of peace died with Rhaenyra. If Alina was wrong about anything today, it’s this: Alicent has never believed she or her children will be spared. Viserys proved that to her on Driftmark. ]

I don't know if it's relevant, where I was in-between. But the ways they changed us, changed our bodies, turned us into something else...it might be helpful. It might change someone's mind, about whether the wolves are acting under their own power. [Talking about the village makes Koby's stomach turn a little, with nausea, with longing? With a little of each, if he's being truthful. It had been terrible, it had been familiar. He'd known how to keep his friends, his crew safe -- keep them warm, keep them fed. It was simpler.

Nothing is simple now, least of all the machinations at work within Alicent's family. Koby's brow furrows at the explanation, the words that's not fair written all across his face. Alicent had been a Hightower, an outside player, had been wed when she was younger than Koby is now. The words are childish, and he knows it, but they slip out anyway:] That isn't your fault. You didn't ask for any of that. You -- didn't have a choice.

[He knows. He remembers the older girls who'd married, who lived with a baby on one hip and another clinging to their skirts, another growing inside them. He remembers the ones who seemed exhausted and ragged and perpetually hollowed out by their new lives. How they were the lucky ones.]

And you played the game smartly, Alicent. Whatever else is at play, you made the alliances you needed to and kept them even through all that... [Koby waves a hand, meant to encompass the ballroom, the accusation and fighting and anger.] When nobody else could. I think anyone who underestimates that is an idiot. [Daemon included, thinking maybe that because Alicent and Aemond are the only Greens here that there's an advantage. Koby knows better than to assume old wounds are forgiven, just because of the house's madness.]

[ If she could, Alicent would shut out any thought of Koby in a place worse than this, just as she rejects that Aemond may yet die. It would be foolish to spurn his experiences and knowledge, however, least of all when they mirror what she believes true for Alia. ]

It is relevant, Koby. We must remind others that none of us may be fully ourselves, in this game.

[ As for his defense of her, it — it aches to hear it, in truth. After going so long without support or companionship, the presence of it now is overwhelming, as food would be to the starved. It nearly burns, even if she wants for it all the same.

Did she play the game smartly or coldly, selfishly or wisely? ]

I suppose I did not. [ have a choice, that is. She cards her hand back through Koby’s pale strands. ] I forsook one alliance for another, when I bled House Atreides. We shall see if the gods punish me for my sins — or if the Wolves target me for my role in this vote — but I will not rest, until justice is done.

[ or she can’t seem it any longer. ]

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