kobes | inbox for saltburnt

[ Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house... one particular vampire was spening his "day" (night) trying to beat Saltburn's tendency to make it difficult to get where you wanna go, so as to drop off gifts.

Daniel isn't looking to get waylaid in the awkward thanks of a direct handover, especially since he's pretty sure most of these people won't have gotten him anything in return. (Don't feel bad. He's also the kind of boomer to mail out Christmas cards to his nephew and dentist and old friend from college.)

So while he'll slip into the rooms of people he can hear are asleep (or can't hear at all), fellow night owls will get the servant who opens their curtains and announces breakfast also bringing in the gift left on the doorstep.

The gift is neatly wrapped and tagged with a generic Merry Christmas label that says From: DM. It contains a bottle of rosé, some gingerbread, and a plastic bottle of valerian root and chamomile capsules. There is also a second gift in non-Xmas wrapping that says HAPPY BIRTHDAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY on it containing a 2005 Hobonichi Techno.

Watch him surreptitiously not mention this at all next time they meet up to swap notes. Santa who? ]

Edited 2024-12-08 10:13 (UTC)

Koby. Your list for the gifting. We should compare names.

Oh, yes, we should. I'm a little stumped on what to get some people. I've never done anything like this before. How many people on your list?

About forty at present, family members accounted for. Theirs I have fairly sorted, but as for the rest - they are of a more "modern" persuasion.

What of yours?

Edited 2024-12-11 14:24 (UTC)

Wow. I think you have more than ME. Thirty-three, at last count. But I keep adding to it. Should I get the Balfours something?

I was planning to, myself, but I have no thoughts on what to get them. How many of them are there?

Without family you would have more than I, but as it stands — this will be an undertaking. We cannot choose poorly.

Four -- Portia, Bunny, Jonty and Rosie. Five if you count Giles. No, we can't. I have you, Aegon and Alicent for your family, then Tim and Hawk, of course -- we probably overlap somewhere else, too. What did you get Tim?

Giles is their castellan, he counts. He has the favour of the servants as well, it would serve to have him partial to hearing us should we ask him regarding matters of the manor.

As for Tim — a token to remind him of his faith, I would think. He hews close and dearly to his god. It would do him well to have something material to hold for it.

Would that be too personal?

If you manage to get Giles to like you, I think you'll win whatever long game this house is playing. He doesn't like ANYONE. No, I think that's a wonderful gift. You might make him cry. All my ideas are book related, but something to keep him warm, maybe. Remind him of his home. Of the people he cares about here. I don't know. I don't want to do too much, though, you know? [He said like a lying liar who lies.] What would Alicent and Aegon want? You know them best.

All the more reason to put in the effort, wouldn't you say? Imagine the respect it would bring, to be able to say we have Giles's favour in true, however conditional it may be.

And I should leave Tim's gift while he's not around, then.

[ people crying — that's not something aemond knows how to deal with at all. ]

Tim values memories, does he not? Perhaps something that aids in that way? We are made up of our memories, in truth. Comfort is the wheelhouse of gifts, too.

Mother would appreciate sincerity over the gift itself. She is fond of you, she will like whatever it is you choose if you choose it truly. As for Aegon; something he might find pleasure in. It needn't be drink. He likes to be praised, my brother.

What of you? What would you like?

That might be a good plan, yes. I'll keep watching him -- and the Balfours. Maybe it'll do SOME good. Yes, you should, though I don't know if you'll be able to escape it forever. He'll find a way to show you his gratitude. Thank you, that's all helpful. [He's taking exhaustive notes, yes.] I've never done this before, given anyone gifts, much less this many people. I want everything to be perfect, especially after the months we've had, recently. Me? Nothing. I mean I'll like anything. It's all new to me, it's just nice knowing people were thinking about me.

[ The preparations for Kobymas are something of a blessing, having allowed Astarion, without having to ask for it, the opportunity to get Koby's measurements. So, waiting for Koby on Christmas morning, wrapped in black paper and silver ribbon, are:

— A baby blue shirt with pearls set around the collar, tailored to Koby's exact fit.
— A silk ribbon in the same blue color, upon which has been embroidered in cream thread: Abraham Lincoln. That is, a matching accessory fo the mermaid duck.

The note that comes with it all reads: ]

Koby,

From one bird to another.

Happy Christmas,
Astarion

[ On Christmas Eve, the manor staff kindly deliver the gifts Alicent prepared for family and friends. For Koby,
— Wrapped finely, a small velvet box, containing a bracelet.
— A second, slightly larger gift, holding a viewmaster and slides.
— Attached, he’ll find an envelope sealed with emerald wax, fine paper stock addressed in Alicent’s elegant hand. Upon opening, a vibrant watercolour flutters to the floor. ]

Koby,

I know you wish you were not so far from the sea, yet I am glad the waves have allowed us to host you on land, even for a short while.

I once told you I was not a Targaryen in true, but a Hightower, so named for the beacon in the harbour city where I was born. There, the water swirls cerulean blue and clear as glass, so you can see the sandy floor below. If I could show you one place in Westeros, it would be this, where we might feel the warmth of the southron sun, peruse the great library, and observe the beacon's changing colours.

You are dearer to me than I can say, sweet boy.

Happy Christmas,
Alicent

[ Come Christmas Eve, Gale delivers two fully-filled notebooks, tied with a sparkling bow. Cumulatively, they contain everything he knows of ki and can recall from memory (which is rather a lot, actually).

He also attaches a note in cramped-yet-tidy scrawl: ]

Koby,

I'm certain you have received many gifts — and deserve them — in honour of the festive season and your birthday both, so I thought it better to offer my services in lieu of something tangible.

When you next miss the sea, seek me out, and I shall bring it to you. It won't be real, but it will feel that way, from the crisp salt air to the crashing waves.

Thank you again for the warm welcome.

Your friend,
Gale

Edited 2024-12-19 19:40 (UTC)

It's not that couple gifts are inherently weird, but putting our initials on them is.

Oh. Why?

Sorry, I like them, I do. They're beautiful.

But it's really personal, you know? If someone is walking around with my name on him, it should be because I gave it to him. It would be really inappropriate if we hadn't done it ourselves already.

Oh. I didn't know. This is why I failed etiquette four times.

You're lucky I went with a ring, or I'd have to throttle you.

Four? Koby.

I can return them if you want? I just Couldn't think of anything the two of you liked more than each other. A ring, really? It was mostly posture and saying polite things when someone's being a jerk. And smiling. I look seasick instead of demure.

No, don't do that. I like it. I'm wearing it now.

Not that kind of ring.

Your smile doesn't look sick to me.

You are? Even though it's a proprietary misstep? You're not upset? There's more than one kind? Thank you. It does when there's lipstick on it and I'm actually miserable instead of happy.

I wouldn't let anyone else do it. But I'm not upset. Even if it's weird.

Well, yes. Nevermind.

Oh. Right. I forget sometimes, sorry.

Oh. Well, "weird" is acceptable. I probably gave out a lot of "weird" things. I got Quentin five things and hid them all over the house. Is "ring" a euphemism now??? No, no, it's all right. Sort of nice that it isn't the first thing you think of when you think of me, actually.

that’s cute. Was he patient enough to find them all or did he stop to get your clothes off halfway through?

No, it’s not
okay, wait. Why were you surprised?

We were already close before I knew about that. It's not like it canceled out everything I already knew about you.

Well, I was gone when he woke up, and it took him all over the house, and while he was gone I finished moving my stuff in. I moved in. That's my gift. I think he liked it. I mean, he definitely liked it. I was terrified, but. He liked it. If I ask someone modern later and they tell me it's a euphemism, I'm sending you a very long message. Well, rings are a big deal. Sometimes. For some people. I know. But it has, before. With other people. You're different, I know you're different, but it's hard to forget that fear. You know?

Awww. I love that. I'll miss your room though.

Well...yes, they are. But there's levels to it. It's not an engagement ring.

Yeah, I get that. You know etiquette isn't just for girls though, right?

Well, you're welcome to set them on fire if you REALLY want to. I've relocated all my supplies to a secret location. Levels? There are levels? How many? How do you advance? What are the rules? I know, yes. I did much better in the gender-neutral part of it. Being polite, saying please and thank you, opening doors for people. It was the "husband-catching" part I failed over and over.

The fire was one time. And it was because of the murder, Koby.

It's about the intent, and where you wear it.

Seems like you figured it out 😘

I know! But if it helped, I want you to have the option, okay. If you need the catharsis, maybe. It's been a hard year. Oh. Well, that's less complicated than I was afraid of. What sort of intent is yours? If you want to share, of course. TIM. That's not I'm not I haven't even THOUGHT that far!

[He lied, lyingly.]

I have nothing but good memories of your room, I would never want to set it on fire.

I told him that I'd let him give me his name. So I wanted him to have a keepsake of that, in case I disappear from here someday.

[ if that sounds like marriage no it doesn't. You can tell that it definitely doesn't because he chooses not to tease Koby about that last thing. ]

Oh. That's good, then. Maybe someone else's room. Or a bonfire outside where there's less danger. That's sort of beautiful, Tim. I'm sure Hawk was very appreciative. And you have many more song credits now.

[Neither of them are married or anything Like That don't be silly.]

The last bonfire was fun. But maybe once it warms up some.

Yep, what do you like? Jazz? Rock and roll?

[ It doesn't count if there's no priest! ]

Do you think it will? I'm sick of the cold. I can't feel my toes most of the time. Whale sounds. And Christmas music. I haven't heard much else, except for whatever you play when I'm over. And Iggy said he'd show me real music, but that sounds a little terrifying.

It will in a few months.

I wouldn't trust Iggy with it. I'll show you some more though, I've been getting good suggestions from Wally.

That's excessively long. Oh? Have you? Good suggestions? Is that so?

[The 👀👀👀👀 is implied.]

Not any longer than summer.

You are horrible. Yes, good suggestions.

Summer is supposed to be longer. I miss wearing shorts. I am not! I like Wally, he's very sweet and smart. He's dealt with this whole world-changing thing before. Ask him about the lightning rod thing sometime.

How well do you know him?

We've had some good conversations. And we met up in the chapel last month, which was very nice. How well do YOU know him?

We linked up on butlr. We've been talking.

Just talking? You haven't met up in person yet?

[Unstated looking eyes emoji intensifies.]

A few times. Once under the mistletoe.

But my dance card is full, what about YOUR mistletoe kisses?

Under the mistletoe, you say? And how was THAT? That's a silly saying. You aren't dancing, you're existing. It doesn't make sense. [That's not an answer, Kobert.]

It was nice. It started a little awkward, but it was nice.

You're ignoring the question.

Good. That's good. He's very smart, so. I'm glad you like him. I'm not IGNORING. I avoided it for the most part, really. Except with Hyunsu -- have you met him? He's the one who stabbed Hao. Who deserved it.

Don't get too excited about it yet.

He what? You're kissing a stabber and giving me crap about Aemond?

I met his friend, or I think they're friends. Eunhyuk. He's a jerk.

Who's excited? I'm just pleased to hear about household unity, that's all. With nice people who I'm friends with. When have I given you crap? I've been very supportive and only slightly concerned. Besides, it's a unique situation -- he's only violent SOMETIMES. I'm not sure if he can control it or not. Society collapsed, it's all very grim, but Hyunsu himself is very sweet. Also you've met Hao, you KNOW he deserved it. Right, they're from the same world. I remember him from October. He seemed very Businesslike?

Uh huh.

You said you didn't trust him! Which is...well I know he's difficult, but he's not a liar.

He said I was probably a wolf for being Catholic. But tell me about Hyunsu.

I don't trust MOST people here, Tim. Not 100%. And I've seen you been hurt before. I don't worry about him lying, I worry about him lashing out at you, going too far without meaning to. That doesn't make any sense whatsoever. The two have nothing to do with each other. He's very polite. Careful. I think he was worried about scaring me. Do I seem easily frightened?

Go ahead and hook me up with someone who never lashes out or makes mistakes, then. I'll do my best to stay awake.

That's what I said!

Koby....
I'm sorry
But yes.

I just don't want to see you treated badly, Tim. I know you can make your own choices, you're an adult but I worry. That's all. What? Really? Why??

I know :) You'll be the first to know if anything happens, okay?

Well.
You're prone to tears. And panic, when you're not in control of things, or stuff goes wrong.

Good. I mean it, I want to know. I promise not to overreact. Oh. Well. I guess. Sometimes. I can try not to be? I mean I don't want to be tiptoed around. I don't want people to think I'm fragile or something.

I get the same thing from people. I hate it.

What do you mean, though? What was he gonna do that would scare you?

Is it the glasses? It might be the glasses. Kiss me, I guess? He seemed worried that just that would freak me out.

Some people think that if you're kind, that's all you can be. It makes you too soft to handle anything else.

Nonsense, obviously

Well...did you want it? It would freak me out if I didn't want to kiss, and some guy is just on my face.

Edited 2025-01-02 17:46 (UTC)

I guess so. I don't want to trade being kind, but. I wish people saw me differently. I didn't MIND it, it's sort of unavoidable with the mistletoe. But he was very apologetic and respectful, and then I sort of invited myself to breakfast and interrogated him about his relationships. But you didn't freak out with Wally, did you? [No, he isn't letting it go ever, thanks.]

You shouldn't, and I won't either. They'll just have to change their thinking.

Why do you care so much a out his relationships? You want to be one?

Only a little. It was really embarrassing, actually. But he was sweet

Edited 2025-01-03 00:16 (UTC)

Well, we aren't going anywhere, so they'll just have to adjust, right? I don't know. He's nice. But it's mostly Hao likes him. And I [like? feel responsible for? care about?] know Hao, so. You two have that in common. But good, I'm glad. Have you avoided the mistletoe besides that?

Exactly.

Hao is...well, he's friendly.

Yeah. It's been easy enough, mostly staying in one spot.

He's a pain. I can admit he's a pain. But he's still You know. He's important to me. It's sort of fun when it's someone you actually want to kiss. I don't mind it, most of the time. Everyone's been very sweet.

I'll be nice to him. But if he matters to you, you should teach him to spell. He'll need it if he ever gets back to the real world.

I would rather kiss someone I want to kiss at a time and place of my own choosing. Wally can try again. If he wants to.

Edited 2025-01-03 04:35 (UTC)

Thank you. And I've tried. It's sort of hopeless, I think he does it on PURPOSE. He tried to come find me, when I was at the lodge. Shanks wasn't having it, though. So that's a little Complicated. That whole thing is complicated. I see. Do you think he wants to? Do you want me to ask?

...oh. That might have been my fault. Aemond put him up to it.

He's okay, right?

Don't do that!

He's fine, he should've known better. We talked about it and it was Strange. He was worried, but apparently saying that in so many words is impossible. Okay, okay, I won't. I won't even mention it. I'll just talk about how great you are any time I see him.

I don't need another boyfriend, Koby. No matter how sweet or cute or blue eyed he is.

He doesn't need to be a BOYFRIEND. He can be a nice boy who kisses you sometimes.

I'm not doing casual anymore. New Year's resolution.

Oh. Well, I kiss you sometimes and I'm not you boyfriend. Or do I get an exception?

You're grandfathered in.

Well, by that logic, so is ANYONE you kissed prior to New Years. Legal loophole.

You and Quentin aren't the same.

[ Erik, not being a Christmas man, struggles a little with this, but he is doing his best! Left for Koby is a handful of gifts:

🧲 A fine glass for drinking out of, with a metal rim decorated in the shapes of waves.
🧲 One set of handcuffs, with the same wave design across them.
🧲 Some notebooks and pens of various colours.
🧲 One very fancy looking scarf, in a nice blue colour.

There's no note. ]

[Well. Who else would it be, giving him handcuffs?]

Thank you. You didn't have to get me anything.

[ Tim shows up, unannounced, in the middle of the day, with a bottle of wine in each hand. A sign of good things to come, surely. ]

Promised you'd be the first to know.

[ Tears stinging the corners of his eyes, wet, unwiped streaks on his cheeks. As clear as it is he's been crying, he looks more angry, teeth clenched and features scrunched up on his face. ]

Aemond dismissed me. Like I was nothing to him but a servant. You need to talk me down before I do something crazy.

[ He could tear that entire family apart with just a question, that Aemond never thought him strong enough, smart enough, or capable enough to ask. 'I release you of your promises.' He doesn't even know the meaning of what comes out of his mouth. ]

[Koby feels him coming, feels the simmering fury, the hurt, thinks all sorts of terrible things -- Hawk, first, but Aemond is close behind, of course. And while he'd had his reservations from the beginning, had been not-to-subtle about them, it doesn't make him happy to see it happen.

There's a sigh, soft, reaching out to take both bottles, holding the door open for Tim to come inside. Things have been -- strange with the crew, with Usopp's departure, with the ripple effect from the party. The interpersonal complexities -- Louis and the other vampires, Nami and Sanji and Zoro, Koby's own entanglements during and after the party -- are also oddly tense, complicated by the regular arrival of new guests. He's preparing a new stack of welcome brochures, taking his notes, reading the network as usual.

Tim's appearance immediately rockets to the top of priorities, though, whether Koby had anticipated such an outcome or not.] Come on, come inside, you don't need to do anything right now, crazy or otherwise. Tell me what happened.

That's it! That's the end of the story. He talked to Aegon, decided he was tired of me, and left.

[ Even with tears building in his eyes, these new ones in the face of company stubbornly refusing to fall past his eyelids, Tim is seething. There's venom in it that wasn't there when it was Hawk. Even the times he's left, he's had a reason. Marriage, dealing with werewolves, something that he can grab onto to make sense of it, even if he hates it or he disagrees.

Tim kicks his shoes off in a fuss and starts fishing around for glasses. ]

I asked him for an explanation, he owes me at least that much, don't you think? But no, nothing. He lied to me, and he used me, and he threw me out when he was done. I could strangle him.

Just like that? [There's a note of indignation on Tim's behalf, of course, sparked on by the pure fury beneath it. There'd always been that preemptive forgiveness, for Hawk -- for reasons Koby understood deeply. There are people he'll make allowances for, forever.

But there's a ferocity here, something righteous and searing, something new. Setting the wine on the little table -- amidst papers and books and other typical Koby-related mess -- on a sigh:] Sit down, I'll get them. You're about to explode and you're going to drop something or step on Lincoln.

[Because what nasty gossip session is complete without a semi-carnivorous duck underfoot?]

Just like that. I don't know, maybe I was distracting him from his baby-killer creep uncle too much.

[ Which should have been a big enough red flag, but relieved of his promises as he is, Tim's finding it difficult to feel bad about flapping his lips. But Koby's demands, he yields to, giving up on his search and flopping down into an armchair. ]

I'm not gonna step on Lincoln.

[ No rebuttal to the explosion allegations. ]

[That gets a startled sort of huff of a laugh, and two raised eyebrows as Koby pulls a couple of glasses out of a cupboard.] Daemon, I'm assuming. I'd thought they had an...interesting relationship.

[The wine is opened, poured, handed over, as Lincoln gives a broody "wak" from under the bed and Koby settles into another chair, holding his own glass.]

So just like that. Nothing prompted it, he just woke up in the morning and decided "nevermind"? [There's a sip, both eyebrows still up.] That's -- well. That's the sort of behavior I'd expect from royalty, I guess.

Yeah. Interesting. He should be less worried what Aegon thinks of him being with me, and more worried about what he thinks of him being with the psycho who killed his son.

[ Tim takes the glass and drinks deep from it. It doesn't calm him down any, he just stands up again, starts pacing back and forth and venting, bright yellow darkening into ugly, angry rust. ]

Selfish, spoiled, and stupid. He says everything is about his family, but it's all about him. And I had the audacity to challenge it. Can't let the peasants go around having thoughts of their own, I guess.

[Koby listens, quietly, one leg crossed over the other – unlike the last time, where he’d needed to talk and distract and soothe, the only way out of the pain is through. Letting it bleed clean, letting Tim vent until the furious rusty haze of his aura abates, lifts, until he’s worked himself breathless and finished his first glass of wine.

Then, nudging at the furious patchwork of yellow and rust with the calming, comforting warmth of his own aura, Koby stands, interrupts a rambling sentence with his hands on Tim’s shoulders. He looks up, big earnest blue eyes, knowing and grieving and upset on his friend’s behalf.]

He hurt you. I can feel that. I can feel you’re angry, but – you’re hurt too. You’re allowed to be. You opened yourself up and got hurt because of it, and that’s not fair. [Squeezing Tim’s shoulder’s once.] And if anyone says “I told you so”, I’ll give them a piece of my mind. Okay?

[ And vent he does, about anything and everything, in the petty, furious way that freshly hurt people do, turning every small inconvenience or imperfection into a major grievance. Aemond not liking his chest hair was a red flag and he should have stopped the whole thing then, the only reason he’s not monogamous right now is to use this place to figure out who he is and what he wants and who he is is an idiot, apparently – so on, and so forth, past his first glass and deep into his second by the time he stops to take a breath and feels Koby before he feels him, pressing in on him with the love and comfort they’ve long shared.

Tim takes a deep, slow breath, teeth clenched. He doesn’t want to cry, that boy doesn't deserve his tears, but Koby’s right. He is hurt, just like everyone said he would be, after he assured everyone that everything would be just fine. He was hurt, disregarded, taken for granted. It tears at wounds he thought were healing, pops the stitches so his guts can spill all over Koby’s floor once again.

He downs the rest of the glass and sets it down on the table, shaking his head. ]

I’d deserve it.

[ Even if it’s cruel. Maybe he needs that bruise to press on, in case he ever tries something so stupid again. ]

I’m scared I messed up everything.

[ With Alicent. With Aemond maybe, showing too much softness, forcing him to recoil. He could have spent those awful days of grieving with Hawk, or with Koby, who would welcome his presence and take comfort from it. Would have, could have, should have. ]

[Koby makes a quiet, noncommittal sound, setting his own (empty) glass on the table before crossing to the bed, climbing onto it and tucking his legs up under himself, the way they have a thousand times before, gossiping about Hawk or the crew or politics that he doesn’t fully understand. It’s a different room, now, but it feels the same – albeit with a constant, steady, warm pulse of empathy and grief and affection, poured like it’s limitless between the pink of his presence and the buttery yellow of Tim’s.]

Maybe you would. But… [He trails off, eyes dropping, reaching out to toy with the lace trim on one of the many pillows.] But I think believing the best of people is a good thing, not a weakness. It’s not something you should cut out, Tim, like a disease or something. It’s one of the best things about you.

[Still looking downward, mouth twisting in something bittersweet, wry:] If we all start holding each other at arm’s length, this place is going to be even more miserable than it already is. I’d rather let people get close and get hurt by it than keep my heart on ice forever.

[A pause. Then Koby pats the bed, gently, smiling sadly over at Tim.] Come and sit for a little. I won’t tell anyone if you want to cry about it for a while. I might even join you. I’m good at crying.

[ He couldn’t turn it off, even if he tried. Maybe in this one instance, for this one person, Tim can admit that he alone can’t offer him redemption, that no amount of patience and grace is going to save him if he doesn’t want it for himself. You can lead a dragon to water, but you can’t make him drink. He'll see the best in him, locked up with a key he doesn’t have.

These things happen. How weak would he be, to let this taint his relationship with anyone else, to blind him to the good in other people? To let some spoiled prince hold that kind of power over him? Aemond’s already said he doesn’t want it anymore. ]

I know. [ Downing what’s left in his glass, and setting it empty on the bedside table. ] And well put. You’re smart. My favorite nerd in the world.

[ Smiling, even as he sniffles and wipes at his eyes. Small blessings, that he’d left his glasses at Alicent’s when she roughed him up, so they’re not fogging up now. Perhaps he’s starting to feel it now, how quickly he’s taken those drinks to the dome. ]

I don’t want to cry. I want to throw things.

[ He won’t do it in Koby’s room, but. Let the record show. ]

You too. [ reaching for a bottle to fill up Koby’s glass. ] It’s pathetic if I’m drinking alone.

I know. We can do that at the gym later, maybe? I know you want...you know. [A quirk of a smile, looking down at his lap, at his picked-apart cuticles.] To be treated like you can throw things and be angry and strong and powerful. [There's a bit of a sniff and -- maybe Koby wants to cry for himself too, a bit.] But I think you came to me for the drinking, crying, complaining, gossiping kind of comfort. Right?

[So: he sits forward, holding out his glass, looking up with red-rimmed eyes -- he's more sensitive to other's emotions when he's upset, Tim's fury and hurt bleeding over into Koby's own grief and loss.] Fair warning, I'll probably start crying if I drink much more. It's been -- an eventful day.

[Once his wine is topped off, Koby scoots back towards the pillows, flopping back against them with a soft, weary sigh.] I can tell you all about it, if you want the distraction?

[ His lip wobbles as he nods – Koby's right. Tim has all those things in him, and nobody sees it or acknowledges it because he chooses kindness anyway. It’s what drew him to Aemond to begin with, that he saw it and appreciated it, that he didn’t think he had to be just one thing or another – at least at first. As time went on and things got hard, he started underestimating him too, until his regard for him fell so low, and so quickly, that he could be dismissed and taken out with the trash.

Koby’s disregarded in the same way, he thinks. It's good to have that understanding, to feel known in their shared grievances, but it also means he doesn’t seek his affirmation, at least not in this. In the crying, complaining, what Quentin lovingly referred to as fussing hen behavior, yes. Koby is perfect. ]

It has? [ that almost never means anything good. Especially here, no news is good news. Tim looks down into his own glass, embarrassed. He didn’t even ask Koby how his day was, he just started ranting and raving. Selfish. ] What’s going on?

Mmm. [Koby pauses a moment to top off his glass, turning the words around in his head for a moment so he can figure out how to say them calmly, evenly, without immediately crumbling into pieces. He doesn’t know if that exists, but he’s going to try his hardest. Settling onto the bed, stretched out, he looks across the room at the wall instead of at Tim when he speaks.]

Usopp and Luffy are gone. They – were sent home, or wherever it is we go after this. [His voice wavers, a touch more on Luffy’s name, remembering the sudden gutpunch of their presences leaving, snuffed out like candles in the landscape of his mind, there one instant and then: gone. Koby keeps his eyes fixed on the wallpaper, on the subtle line where one sheet touches the next, on the fall of light through the drawn curtains.]

So. The crew’s a little…bit of a mess, as I’m sure you can imagine. [The words tumble out too quick, too trembly, and Koby takes a too-big gulp of wine once they’re out, grimacing at the burn, at the heat it punches into his gut when he swallows.] It’s been – [devastating, heartwrenching, unfair, unjust] – chaotic.

Oh.

[ Oh. Tim deflates, the anger in his dissipating with that long exhale, and finally stops. He stops the pacing and the ranting, goes quiet and still except to sit down next to Koby and put his arm around his shoulders. ]

I’m so sorry, Koby. [ Quietly, guiltily. On and on about his own self-inflicted wounds, when there’s a higher power in charge of this place, taking people away on a whim with no foreshadowing, nothing anyone could have done to avoid this outcome. The departures have yet to hit him too closely, but there’s an awareness in the back of his mind that it could happen, that he could wake up one day and be without Hawk, without Koby or Quentin or any of the other people that make this place bearable. ] I know what they mean to you.

[ Luffy especially. ]

Are they gonna be okay?

[ Back home, or in their final, God-given resting place. A question he’s not sure will ever be answered to his satisfaction. ]

[Koby doesn't begrudge it -- Tim's fury, his hurt, his rage have been a welcome distraction from the ache of grief that's nestled itself beneath his ribs since he felt Luffy go. He turns into the embrace, instinctively seeking it out, setting his cheek against Tim's shoulder and exhaling slowly, shakily.]

It's not your fault. It's not -- anyone's fault. It just happens, here. [The words sound hollow, even to his ears, for how often he's repeated them to himself, again and again.] There's nothing we can do to stop it. [When it's Tim, or Hawk, or Nami or Shanks or Quentin, next time. When it's Koby.

The question gets a nod, a bit of a watery laugh before the next sip of wine.] They will. They'll be -- happy and annoying and causing trouble all over the sea. They're on a ship together, all of the crew. They'll see each other again. [A pause, a hard swallow, and Koby closes his eyes again.] And -- I won't. I hope I won't. Because if we meet again, we'll be enemies.

[ every day, two ideas wage war within him, that this is some version of purgatory that none could have predicted, and their actions here will determine where they end up when they mysteriously disappear, or that they will eventually go home, and remember all that happened while they were here. Nothing else makes sense, nothing else is bearable. To go home exactly where he’d left off, fleeing from Hawk to join the military, with no idea how evil this war will get or that things can and will be better, it isn’t something that he can accept. Werewolves and vampires and dragons and witches, sure, the meaninglessness of anything but those two options would gut him worse than any monster. Tim has to be sure, has to have that faith.

He knows that Koby feels differently. ]

You always say that. As if you don’t have a choice. But you always have a choice.

[ He used to say the same thing to a certain prince who doesn't deserve the tears shed over him today. Maybe Koby will actually listen. ]

The Marines can't make you hate good people. I know you, and I don't even think you can.

[Koby wishes he didn’t. He wishes he had Tim’s faith, that it’ll turn out okay – he’ll either find some way to bring everyone he loves with him wherever he goes next, or at least he’ll be able to remember them all, have that to comfort him. Wally’s lighthouse metaphor, a tether, a bond that can’t be broken. But he’s a doubter by nature, burned enough times that hope is always tempered with dread, fear. He wakes up every morning and reaches out – physically, mentally, psychically – to make sure the sparks of those he loves are still there, still with him, and he dreads the day he’ll wake up and find another missing. Left behind, again.

Still, it’s easier to believe in a good outcome with Tim’s arm around his shoulders, radiating warmth, even in the midst of his own grief. Koby sniffs, wipes at his eyes, sloshes wine onto his shoulder in the process.]

I don’t think I could ever hate them – not Luffy, at least. Not the others, if I – remember them. [Another sigh, dropping his head onto Tim’s shoulder again.] But I’m just one person. I can’t stop a war that’s been going on for centuries all by myself. Even if I don’t believe it’s right anymore.

It’s easier to be black and white. [A touch wryly.] That all pirates are bad, that all Marines are good. It’s harder, finding people who are in-between.

It’s like... [ Tim sighs, taking another drink from his glass, noticing the edges of the world start to blur and in no mood to fight it. ] It’s like all those history books we’ve been reading, right? No one person can force change, even the leaders. Abraham Lincoln had help. You’ll find yours and I’ll find mine. People know when things are wrong, they just need someone to give them the hope to do something about it.

[ An optimism he didn’t always have, or couldn’t apply to his own troubles. The inherent goodness of other people has always been clear to him, but his own? He tried and tried, but it took years to see the forces holding him down as something that even could be struggled against, rather than a natural consequence of his own wrongness. He accepted his lot in life of loneliness and perversion, until he met Hawk, and then accepted that as something he would always have to hide. This place has shown him otherwise. Not just in the history books where he can track the changes, but seeing so many people step up and offer help to complete strangers from other worlds when everything around them is difficult, confusing, or dangerous. How can it not give him hope?

Tim lays his free hand on Koby's head, stroking his fingers through pink hair, the shell of his ear. ]

Maybe it’s the opposite. We all sin, it doesn’t make us evil. Good people aren’t perfect and bad people weren’t always that way.

[The funny thing about drinking with someone is that the blurriness -- the softening of edges brought on by too-sweet wine, by the warmth of someone's company -- begins to bleed out, emanate, transfer between them. Tim's presence (yellow, bright, sunshiney) goes sweet, golden, thick and flowing like honey, when he's drunk. Koby doesn't try to resist or withstand the feel of it, swirling around his own thoughts and feelings. Rather, he leans it, gulps instead of sips, tips his chin up, into Tim's hand through his hair.]

You're good at that. Giving people hope. [A soft laugh, looking upwards, over the tops of his glasses, soft teary eyes.] You couldn't be more different in most other ways, but you and Luffy have that in common. You believe so hard that it's impossible to argue. Like arguing with the sun.

[Koby sniffs, plucks his fogged-up, tearspotted glasses off his nose and reaches across Tim to set them on the bedside table.] Maybe I'm one of his people, at home. He doesn't want anyone innocent put in danger by the conflict, just like me. Maybe we'll end up working together, in the end. [Settling back into his spot, swirling the last of his wine:] There's a lot of work to do at home, for both of us. You and me, I mean. I just can't leave without making sure the people I love are going to be safe.

[Grumbling:] I think some people were always evil. Alvida. Quentin's Regent. McCarthy.

Thank you.

[ Though it almost sounds like a testament to his stubbornness, it sounds nice. Heartening, that to some people (good people, who are capable of love and reliable enough to lean on) would see him not like the dirt under their shoe, but like the sun. Ever-present, nearly inconceivable in the size of his warmth, a comfort to stretch out under after the cold. It’s how he wants to be, the sort of presence that he’s honored to offer.

To be the sun, one must believe in life. Why dedicate oneself to sustaining it, otherwise? ]

I don’t think so. They were all kids once. They were all innocent until they chose not to be. They could choose again, if they wanted.

[ Will they? Unlikely, even he’s not so optimistic as to believe that Alvida will wake up tomorrow morning and decide to live a clean, honest life. But she could. Come to God with pure contrition, and He will offer his redemption. ]

[There’s a quiet, thoughtful pause, a soft hiccup, heady with wine, with tears, with the weight of this conversation, these memories.] That’s probably a better view of justice, isn’t it. I mean – Luffy didn’t do anything to hurt her, not – until she tried to hurt me in front of him. That’s how he is, though. He’ll forgive and forgive until you hurt someone innocent. Then he has zero mercy.

[Koby sighs softly, sets his empty glass on the bedside table, then snuggles up under Tim’s arm, basking in the golden glow of his tipsy aura.] I want to be that kind of fair to everyone. I want to give everyone the chance to change, no matter what, but it’s...difficult when it’s someone who’s done so much awful. Especially to someone I care about.

[Is he talking about Alvida or Aemond or the Regent or just the vague, amorphous concept of cruelty? Who knows.]

[ Tim is quiet, thoughtful for a moment, before he presses a kiss to the pink crown of Koby’s head and untangles himself just enough to reach again for the bottle. He tops them both off, and puts it back down on the table with a thud, louder than he means it to be in his tipsy clumsiness. ]

I think... [ He thinks. Drinks. ] God always forgives, if you’re really sorry. But I’m not God. And you’re not God. We’re just men. I don’t have to forgive Aemond.

[ A figure closer to his heart and mind nowadays than McCarthy, and in some ways, less redeemable. His goals were noble, once. He'd done dark things to get there, and started weaponizing and jeopardizing the mission for his own gain, but there was something worthwhile in it, when he began. What is Aemond doing, besides jerking around anyone willing to throw him a rope? ]

And you don’t have to forgive Alvida. Doesn’t mean you’re not a good guy.

Kobee!! 🩷 At my wedding are you gonna be a groom or a bridesmaid? I'm planning it right now. Hopefully it'll happen within the month. I'm so excited 😚✨

[

]

[Things have been -- strange, since the New Years party. Koby's been trying to focus on getting back to some sense of normalcy, but he's too frequently checking in on the crew to miss that Nami's felt a little...off. Part of it he'd attributed to the house, to his tenuous grasp on his new abilities, to him overreacting.

But this...doesn't feel like an overreaction. This is bizarre. Still, Usopp's just left, Luffy's left, and maybe this is just...how she's coping. So he treads carefully, for the moment.]

You're getting married? That's New.

I know, right!! Anyway — I think pink and silver for the wedding. I obviously need to get an amazing dress. Do you like roses or lilies more? Also: answer first question please!!!

When did this happen? And how? And um Who?

[And?? Why??]

Lilies. Groom? I suppose? Pink and silver TOGETHER?

Sanji, Zoro, and now you! Both together. It can't be yellow or green, that's too polarizing. I think a soft baby pink and silver will be pretty 🤩

I guess that makes sense. What about blue? Blue's nice. I'm sorry, me?

You just said you want to be a groom. Actually, you're right. Pink is your color so that's also polarizing. Blue is good. Yes! Like a cute sky blue. Blue and silver. Blue lilies and baby's breath. It's perfect.

Isn't that what the other guys up there are called? I've never been to a wedding before, I don't know all the rules. Did they ask you to marry them? [Are they complicit in this.]

( why the FUCK would you ask me that )

I mean, they said they want to! Kind of. Actually not really. Sanji said no and Zoro said he doesn't think about it. And now you don't want to?

( she's going to die alone...................... )

I see. Well, maybe Sanji was just taken by surprise. And Zoro is Zoro. And you don't ACTUALLY want to MARRY ME. You've never talked about getting married, before. I didn't know that was even something you wanted?

No, I don't think he was. He was pretty clear. Hey you don't know how to become a princess, do you? Of course I want it. Who doesn't want it? Settling down and having a nice big family is all I think about. It's all I want. I can't wait to be married so I can get to work.

He's never clear. Also if he said he didn't want to marry you, something's wrong. Maybe he hit his head somewhere. I think marrying a prince. Or being adopted by a king? Something like that? Did YOU hit your head too? You've never mentioned that. Ever.

Do you know a king here who could adopt me? No, I feel great. Why is everyone asking me that lately? Hey wait

If you meant you want to be a groomsmen why the FUCK wouldn't you be a bridesmaid zoro & sanji do NOT get you in the wedding

Not well enough to ask them to adopt you. There are some queens, too? That might count? Why does being a princess matter? Are those the rules? I thought if you were a girl you were a bridesmaid no matter what, I didn't realize people had custody? You didn't answer my question.

[A nudge, then, belated, Koby's presence against the shape of Nami's mind, her energy, feeling for something -- wrong, amiss, strange. It's not reliable, not always, but he knows how she should feel, so used to the soft sunset-glow of her aura always right there, right alongside the rest of the crew.

All that's left, at least.]

Sanji wants a princess. More, Sanji needs a princess. Those are the rules! I have dibs!! I didn't hit my head. Who hit their head? I'm fine. Better than fine. I'm perfect.

( her aura is, notably, different. not so much the rich sunset of vibrant colors that koby is used to, but a dulled aura, almost entirely devoid of color. like everything nami used to have dialed up to ten is now at a respectable number — say, zero, for instance. )

[Koby's about to argue further, but the dullness in Nami's aura is like a slap to the face -- wrong, wrong, muted and stifled and not her, and it has him going silent for a moment. Something from the house, something she ate or drank or walked under or -- something.

He wants to tell someone. He wants to tell Luffy, but. But.

So instead:] Well, I'll see what I can do about making you a princess, if that's what you want. And okay, you have dibs. Deal. When did you start thinking about all this? Marriage, I mean? Did something spark it?

8:54 AM
HAOYES added you to a GROUP CHAT.

[ there's something to the calm that comes after the holiday party that's worth noting. the house settling after months of chaos, but waiting with teeth set on edge. koby might feel a disturbance one day in the early morning. a pulse of something intense - the gale force winds of a storm, a hurricane swallowing the sea, a foundation splitting - then nothing. a torrent of squall and destruction to nothing but absolute, pin drop silence with nothing but the hint of earthy green left in its wake.

it's a few days later when whatever door had been locked opens again, releases the pressure just a little to sit ajar. ]

If you need me, I'm staying with Lestat for a little while.
Armand and I

We've separated for the time being.

[It's like a rumble of an approaching storm, right when it's about to hit, when it smells like ozone and rain, when the crackle of lightning builds and builds and -- vanishes, without culminating. Koby's left uneasy, unsure what's just happened, what he'd very nearly averted having hit him like a tidal wave. He chalks it up to the house, the party, the odd emotions afterwards.

And then: Louis. The warm forest green of his presence (which had been there, but muted, carefully controlled, and in the wake of Luffy and Usopp's disappearances, of course Koby hadn't pushed beyond a tertiary check-in), laced with something, something aching.

The message is -- alarming, yes, but less so than it would've been if Koby hadn't sought Lestat out. Still, he's worried, uneasy, reaching out mentally as well as in the reply text:]

Thank you for telling me. Are you Okay?

I'm angry.

[ honest. raw. furious. betrayed. hurt. all of this radiates across his aura. ]

I was lied to for a very long time.

Maybe I knew it, deep down. Maybe I didn't.

It changes everything.

[The door cracks open a little more and the hurt bleeds through, radiates, pulses like a heart. Koby can feel it as if it's his own, for a moment, catching his breath at it's intensity, pressing a hand reflexively to his chest. It's impossible to mistake as anything but genuine, no attempt at deflection or veiling.]

I'm sorry. I don't That shouldn't have happened. You didn't deserve that.

[Whatever sins, whatever deaths are on Louis's hands, directly or indirectly, whatever guilt he carries, he didn't deserve the pain he feels in that instant.]

You're safe? With Lestat? I know he cares about you a lot, and I know there's a history there, but If you're safe, that's all I care about.

I'm safe.

There's history here, but I think I'm seeing things clearer than I did before.
In fact I know I am.

You can trust Lestat.

[There's a slight wave of wariness, still, because history implies negativity, pain, hurt. But:]

That's good. He seemed pretty honest when I spoke with him. I mean, when I threatened him that I'd never forgive him if he did anything to hurt you. [No shame; he's proud to have done it, okay.]

I don't think he's gonna hurt me, Koby.

I won't let him.
Not going to let myself hurt him again, either.

I wanted you to know before I told everyone.

Daniel's gone. Not dead - but he's gone back home.

I know you two were close. I'm sorry. I'm here for you, though - you got that?

[The reflex is there -- are you sure? -- even though of course Louis is sure, he'd know better than nearly anyone, he'd know the instant it happened. Soon after it is the stumbling, trembling rush of Koby's consciousness, pressing up against the forest-green of Louis's, an act he repeats breathlessly with everyone he cares for here, an act he repeats multiple times daily, like a compulsion. Daniel's presence is gone, absent as if it were never there, and Koby's chest aches with it, thinking of that summer day, out on the grounds, of Daniel smiling and tossing him a bag of chips, of sharing his knowledge, his time, his care when Koby was drowning and scrambling.

And then an exhale, an ache of grief that lies like a fresh coat of paint over the still-tender pain of Luffy, Usopp. Who else. Who next.]

Is he safe? At home? Is it Good there, for him?

He's not sick anymore.

[ there's weight to that. he's been turned - goes without saying. he doesn't want to go into the details. ]

Think he's happy in much the same way as he could be here.

[That's -- something. It's better than the fate that awaits a lot of them. Koby's still for a moment, still feeling out the edges of Louis's forest-colored aura, lingering there like a fretful, blush-colored cloud.

Then:] If you were to go back, would you be safe?

I would.

[ as safe as anyone can be from the world of vampires nipping at his heels. but even now, louis doesn't care. feels the power and confidence roaring through his blood as he had then. acceptance. ]

I'll be alright. Safe. Moreso since I'll have you here fretting over me.
No world would stand against you and win.

stop staring at shanks

[SHOCK and INDIGNATION!]

I'm not STARING. I'm rolling napkins!

Next to where he's bent over stocking the low shelves?

Yes. Because the lighting is good here. Good napkin-rolling conditions. It's a very scientific practice, Timothy.

Right, obviously. I'll talk to Nami tonight about getting brighter lightbulbs in here. So you can ogle people better.

That's very kind of you. We'll have to make sure the ones at the bar are changed for when Hawk comes in, so he can see YOU properly.

Hawk doesn't work here, he doesn't need the accommodation.

His eyes are perfect, anyway.

Are you sure? He was watching you pretty intently the other night. You seemed to be sort of unnerved by it, too. Lots of blushing. Maybe you're coming down with something? [Like HORNINESS.]

He came in to be a nuisance on purpose and try to distract me.

I got all my work done, regardless.

A nuisance. Is that what you call it nowadays? You did, yes, despite the circumstances. Very impressive. You didn't even drop a single lime.

Yes, a nuisance. He doesn't understand why I want to do this at all.

...how much could you tell?

Really? Is he mad about sharing you, or is it a masculine provider thing? I've been reading about that. I only brought over drink orders when you weren't blushing, for a reason.

A masculine provider thing? I mean, he's protective. But he's not the one providing in the first place.

He just needs a hobby that isn't sex.

Bring them over anyway. Work is a good distraction.

You know, wanting to take care of you, build a home, things like that. Sociology. Psychology. We don't have any books about that where I'm from, so it's been interesting. He can babysit Lincoln if he needs a distraction. She's great at killing a mood. Sometimes she jumps on the bed in the middle of things. For YOU. My mental blocks aren't strong enough yet to keep me from feeling your You know Vibes.

He did renovate the chapel for me. I don't know if that's the same. But mixing drinks a couple nights a week isn't getting in the way of us having a home together.

She'll be perfect.

Could you feel what was going on the other night?

[ With the vibrating plug??? Humiliating. ]

He did? That's sweet. Definitely nesting behavior. [Koby, amateur psychologist here.]
Of course it isn't. It's healthy, even. Good, I'll drop her off one night before work. See what Hawk does. I try not to pry when I can tell somethings happening, but I could tell something was happening.

It's beautiful, and not a single blood stain. You should see it.

I don't know if he's a bird guy. He was really bent out of shape about the whole chicken thing during the wolf games.

...sorry. It won't happen again. He insisted.

I'd like to. Maybe not when you're doing anything formal, but to visit. Well, Lincoln is completely different. She doesn't involve herself with our affairs, most of the time, unless me or Quentin are involved. Then she bites. Hawk will just need to be nice and he won't get bitten. You don't need to be sorry. Like you said, you got all your work done. Also don't pretend you didn't love every minute, Tim, really.

You can come tomorrow morning! It's best when the sun shines through the windows.

Being nice isn't always his strong suit, you know that.

Oh, I'm not. Just...wouldn't want YOU to love it too much.

That'd be nice. Should I bring anything? How long can I stay? Remind me of the rules. I know, I know. But he IS trying. I'm sort of surprised with how much, actually. I said I wasn't prying! I thought very hard about ice fishing and whales any time I got close, so I didn't get all ambiently heated up.

You don't have to bring anything. A candle maybe, if you want to say a prayer with me. You can stay as long as you like.

He's been different since he died. He lets himself be happy now.

I don't mind if it's you. And you don't tell Nami.

That might be nice, actually. Does it have to be for someone who's died or can it be for someone who's Not here in the house anymore? Good. You deserve that, but so does he. You can tell him I said that, too. Your world hurt both of you, you just show it in different ways. I won't tell Nami about your escapades, don't worry. Was it fun?

You can pray for anyone. They don't have to be dead or missing. I pray for you all the time.

You wouldn't recognize me if you knew me back there. As much as I hated all the sneaking and secrets, I did it.

I think you'd know the answer to that even without any haki.

You do? Why? I'm fine. Maybe not. You probably wouldn't recognize me back home either. At least not when I was on the pirate ship. I was [pathetic, cowardly, a shell of who he is now] different. Don't suppress my scientific inquiry. Maybe I'll want to try something like that again someday. ["Again".]

And I want it to stay that way. I pray for your happiness and safety.

I believe it. You’ve grown a lot just in the time we’ve been friends.

Checking in on me while I’m getting teased, or letting someone hold the remote?

You do? I didn't know. That's Thank you, Tim. So have you. I don't think you can live in this place and NOT change, but I think it's been for the better? Either. Both? That's harder for me, still. Not being in control.

You're welcome. 🙂

I think it has. I hope so.

Even with Quentin? He's pretty good at it.

I think if the things that happened this month happened last summer, neither of us would've been able to handle it. We might've gone insane and ran into the lake. I can get closest with him, I guess. I can let go and surrender and all that, but I can't add anything like You know. Ropes or belts or things like that. I don't want to ruin a nice night by suddenly panicking or making a mess of things.

the person I was when I showed up here would not have survived most of this.

You know, if you don't like that stuff, it's okay. You don't have to.

But you could try with me, if you want.

Mine neither. Or he would've, but he would've done it by going to live in the lake. Or pushing away everyone. I don't know if I like it or not. I'm curious, I want to try, I want to see. It seems to feel good, when people do. That'd be nice. I've done a little bit, with Nami. It's the same sort of thing with her, it's safe. That photo, on her Butler -- that's me.

Oh, I didn't see it.

[ Why would he be looking at her butler photos? He was too busy flirting with Wally. ]

I've done a little on the giving end, though. I know what I'm doing.

She has a few photos. And a book. I could ask to borrow it, if you'd like? I won't tell her it's for you. I don't think that's the sort of new employee impression you're trying to make.

I don't need erotic photos of Nami.

Not the PHOTOS, the BOOK. It's a how-to, for ropes. There are DIAGRAMS.

I know where the ropes go.

Unless there's a highly specific way you want me to tie them.

You can tie them so they look like hearts. And there's a whole chapter on the cultural history of erotic rope-tying.

[These are maybe bonuses just to you, Kobes.]

Does it turn you on more if it's heart shaped?

It MIGHT. I haven't TRIED IT yet.

Let's try it without the hearts, to start.

Do not feed the hungry guest.

The cold comes with a bite. Stay warm.

[Likely she'd meant to text someone else and hit up Koby instead but dw about it!1 just a normal misfire text!!]

[...all right, sure.]

I'm sorry, who is this?

[???

Her brow furrows. She checks the name-- Oh]

I'm sorry. I meant to message my mother. I suppose the phone had other ideas.

I'm Queen Helaena Targaryen. But though it was meant for someone else, please take the warning to heart as well.

Queen Helaena. Please, no need for apologies, really. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm Koby, I'm friends with Lady Alicent. She'd mentioned you'd arrived recently. It's nice to meet you. And thank you. Have you any other warnings?

She did? [Actually surprised, though in retrospect maybe she shouldn't be.]

I don't know. The knowledge comes and it goes.

It was, it is, it has.

The guests hunger for things not meat nor bread. My brother prepares for a fight. Perhaps you should too?

She did, yes. She was very relieved to have you here. I've been looking forward to meeting you. I see. Thank you, then, for sharing. Maybe preparing is a good idea, yes. Are you prepared? You and your family?

[Koby's taking this with a grain of salt, of course, but -- dragon dreaming, the game in October, the tales he's heard. It might not be bad to listen.]

I'm glad to bring her some relief. It must have been difficult for her here. But I also hear she has made friends. I'm glad for her, and I thank you for looking after her as well.

[She has to think about it for a moment]

I've given them warning. I can't force them to prepare, but this time they're listening to me. It will make a difference. And sometime a difference is all that is needed. We'll survive this. [She's not sure if that quite answered the question though. Oops.]

I'm getting my embroidery in order. [There, see, she's prepared]

She has, yes. Some very strong, very kind ones. You're very welcome, your majesty. Your mother has been very kind to me, and I've made up my mind to help her any way I can. That's good to hear. [Both that the Targaryen's are mobilizing in advance of Helaena's warning and that it may, hopefully, be enough.]

You do embroidery? I was always terrible at that. I couldn't keep the stitches straight.

[That's how it usually is, she thinks. Alicent could get people on her side with little effort, so its no surprise that she's made powerful allies here too.]

I do. My mind is always everywhere. The embroidery helps. My hands can do something, my mind can concentrate and not wander. The repetitive motion is soothing.

I can embroider something for you, if you'd like. On your clothes or a scarf or something.

I see. That sounds tiring, your majesty. If it’s not too bold to say so. Are you in need of supplies? For your embroidery? That’s very kind of you. All my scarfs are very plain and boring right now, so I’ll welcome a little added decoration, I think. What do you like embroidering most? I knew a girl growing up who could make flowers and fish that looked almost real.

[She considers a moment]I would like more, yes. More colored threads, at least. Is that something we could spare?

I can do flowers and fish, if that's what you'd like. But my specialty is insects. I have many as pets, and I've been making a habitat for them in my room. I have mostly spiders right now, but a few crickets, and two dragonflies. The dragonflies are my favorites.

I'll see what I can find for you. I've been setting aside supplies and I think there might be a sewing kit somewhere in there? I like dragonflies too. We don't have many insects at sea, so I'm not used to them, but in the summer the lake had lots. You'll like the lake, once it warms up a bit. Lots of insects.

I'd like that. I can repair things, since I will not fight.

At sea? Are you in a navy?

I've plans to go to the lake anyhow. I found out my mother enjoys swimming. I think it would be nice to try with her. [To try swimming, to try...in general, with Alicent]

If things go as bad as you say, we'll need all the help we can get, including in repairs. [It's the beginning of another month; it seems likely that something is going to happen.]

I was, back at home. But my world is also mostly sea, with a lot of little islands. Your mother's told me it's very different in Westeros. It'll be warm in a few more months, with what I've learned of the climate here. Last summer was very nice for swimming and boating and other things like that. I'm sure Alicent would like that.

I can take over mending clothes. I don't mind that.

[It's something to do with her hands, to keep her focus.]

Yes. There's still a sea, but I don't usually go sailing on it. Usually I fly. Has mother told you of our dragons?

[She tries to imagine Alicent as carefree, lighter. Laughing and smiling] It's hard to imagine my mother enjoying much of anything. I'll look forward to seeing the change in her.

Thank you, your majesty. Do you prefer that? Your title? Some do and some don't, so I thought I'd ask. A little bit. Your brothers too. It sounds strange, creatures that large who can fly, and people who can fly on them. Aren't you ever afraid? I'd be afraid. Is that so? [It's saddening, but...not surprising, necessarily.]

I don't mind either way. The only ones from our world here are my family, and it can be a sore topic. You can call whichever you wish.

At first. It was frightening, but exhilarating. It's a special bond between rider and dragon. While my dragon would harm many, she would not harm me. I'm the only one who could tell her to stop and be listened to.

[And as for her mother--] My mother has had the world placed on her shoulders from a very young age. Expectations upon expectations, placed by others-- but also by herself. She clings to them. She could know peace, but no one can force her until she can accept that it must be her to bring it.

I have forgiven her for what she has done, what she is doing, and what she will do, already. The minutes tick ever closer to the hour of no return. Time works different here, though. Perhaps it is not too late after all.

Do you have any lube?

Tim we haven't showered in almost three weeks.

But yes, I do.

I know. Hawk looks like he's permanently glistening. He's out of hair product and it's getting all curly and fluffy. And his beard is coming in.

Ahhhh. I see.

[Like he hasn't been all over sweaty grimy beardy Quentin in the chilly stacks since this started.]

Well, I only have one bottle and it's the small one. We don't need it, so.

Don't judge me. You've seen him.

Your hoarding has been a lifesaver. I promise not to tease you about it ever again.

I have. He looks very nice.

[Time and place for thirsting and all that, can't have a cheeky flirty time when people are dying.]

I wish you'd been right. I wish I wouldn't have had to use it.

[ ~~Skill issue~~ Tim can ignore his urges when he wants to. He spent his life ignoring them, even when the time and place had been (relatively) safe to indulge them. If it were just about sex, he could wait until this mess blows over. But it's safer in Hawk's arms than anywhere, and that's what he needs more than anything. ]

I know. The more I think about it, the more I think you're right that this place feeds on our misery. It's like it picks our fears and baggage at random and tortures the whole house with them.

[That much Koby can understand, even if his own frenetic anxiety has kept him from doing more than dozing briefly in the protective circle of Quentin’s arms. Sleeping deeply would mean going off high alert, and he can't do that. He can't.]

Something else I wish I'd been wrong about. Still, if that part's true, then that's more than we knew before. That's something. I'll come to the chapel. I'm out on a supply run anyway.

Are you sure? I can meet you anywhere, I don't want you to put yourself in danger for this.

I'm sure -- you're due for more food anyway. Besides, maybe I want to see you both all rakish and beardy.

Rakish? I'm not rakish.

Everyone's rakish with a beard.

Hawk, maybe.

You're biased. I think you're both very handsome. I wish I could get as scruffy.

[Koby with pink stubble. We know you're imagining it, Tim.]

Well thank you, but I'm not some kind of rascal.

[ ...no comment. Sorry bestie. ]

Speaking of scruffy, how's Quentin?

No, of course not, but you can LOOK like one if you want. For a little. Very piratey. He's being very patient with me, as always. I can't feel him like I normally can, so I'm being a little [clingy, panicky, jerking awake and reaching out in the night to make sure Quentin's still there beneath his fingertips] neurotic.

Why would I want to look like a pirate?

I won't keep you from him long. Promise.

They're very handsome, sometimes. Some of the most handsome people I know are pirates. I'll bring him along, next time. We can still have nice visits, in the midst of everything. It's reassuring to see one another in person.

That's one opinion.

I'd like that. Everyone else is falling apart, and I've been on warming duty AND setting fire to the dead duty. I've been so busy I've barely seen him.

What about the broader "sailors". You'd look like a sailor with a beard. You've been doing really well, Tim. I know you hate it, you have to, but you're giving a lot of people the hope and help they need. I'm proud of you. After this we'll have dinner. All four of us. Hawk said.

Maybe. Do all pirates have bright hair?

You have no idea. But thank you. That means a lot.

You got Hawk to agree? I thought he and Quentin were still mad at each other.

Not all of them. Luffy and Usopp don't. Alvida doesn't. You're welcome. I couldn't do this without you, you know. It was Hawk's idea. He's Trying. I can tell he's trying.

Right. Can I tell you a secret?

We make a good team. You can sense them coming, and I can light them up before they get too close. I'm not surprised at all that we compliment each other.

Oh. Good then. Let's sit them diagonally from each other, just in case.

Of course. Always. Careful, you'll end up joining my trainings, once this is all over. Awaken some superpowers in you too. That's a wise idea, yes. "Trying" doesn't mean perfection, after all.

I think Zoro would be cute with normal hair.

I picked my morning training back up with someone else. But maybe. Every so often.

He's been pretty perfect lately. Except when he's jealous.

You mean not green? Is that the only thing keeping you from thinking he's cute? But yes, he's very cute. They all are. Did you? Good, I'm glad. You'll have to keep me posted on what you learn. Still swords? Are you trying to tell me you don't like when he gets possessive and jealous?

The green is just a little...shocking.

Mostly. With some other things mixed in.

It depends. If he's taking it out on whoever he thinks he needs to be jealous of, I don't like it.

Oh. Is the pink shocking? It's good to be comprehensive. Easier that way to figure out what you like. Punching's been the easiest for me, though I do like the mop handle. Ahhhh. Only when he's using it as motivation, then?

Not anymore.

The punching worries me. You get too close to them. Someone got his fingers bitten off.

That sounds like I egg him on. I don't do THAT. But sometimes he sees someone flirt with me and gets this idea that he needs to reclaim me. And I like that.

But it used to? How strange. I can't think of myself as shocking. No, no, with the revenants only the mop handle. Just to be safe. I don't want to get bitten. Ahhh, that's more what I meant. Territorial with just the two of you.

Where I'm from, everyone's hair is brown, black, or blonde. Sometimes kind of red-orange, but not bright like Nami's.

Still. You're really close. I don't want to do any more funeral rites.

Yeah. That, I like.

Really? Nobody's is ever anything else? I guess you don't have Devil Fruit or Den-Den or anything else I'm used to. Maybe there's a connection... I'll be careful. I won't do that to you, Tim, I promise. And you're never scared? Hawk talked a little about I mean. More intense things.

No. Maybe for Halloween.

Good. Because I wouldn't get through it without crying.

He did? Like what?

Right. It's nice. I mean I wish you could see it. I wish I could show you what I love about it. If that ever happens, it doesn't have to be you. I won't ask anyone I love to do that. You know. He talked about when you're a little rougher. The same things you told me about, the belt, the tying up. I haven't forgotten about what he offered, the night we got super drunk. I mean, unless you want me to. If you say the word, I won't ever think about it again, okay?

I'm surprised this place hasn't found a way. I'd like to show you the nice things about home, too.

If it did, I would want to. It should be someone who loves you.

He did?
I don't know. Do you want to?

I already know he's gonna complain about Lent, so if he needs to blow off steam, I'd rather it be someone I trust.

Edited (I remembered relevant happenings and events) 2025-02-28 05:13 (UTC)

Now that the library's fixed, maybe we could see what's there. Books from my world would do, maybe. Movies from yours? Or whatever they're called, personal movies. Home videos. You wouldn't need to do it alone, then. And we'd know what to do, now, how to resolve it quickly. I'm curious, you know that. And I respect Hawk. So maybe? Maybe. He was more offering in a teaching role. I don't know how much steam that would blow off. Also which one is Lent?

Home videos weren't around yet in my time. Television screens in the home are still new, I couldn't afford one, myself.

Would they know what to do? Actually, you've never told me if you have any traditions like that back home.

He offered to teach you instead of do it to you?

It's the 40 day period before Easter where we give up unnecessary temptations and vices so we can focus on the things that matter. It's been a few years since I've done it properly.

Really? But film was, right? We don't even have that, when I'm from. Not really? Burial at sea is most traditional, I guess, for a sailor. Villagers still bury people in the ground, though. Mark the grave somehow, usually. But we don't really pray or do anything like that. He offered to "help out". I didn't ask much further because I fell asleep under my bed around then. I see. What counts as "unnecessary"?

There was film, but it's expensive. Big movie studios have it.

Oh. Well...we can't get to the sea, and we would have to put you in the ground for you to come back, so that's out of the question.

Do you want me to?

Anything that isn't furthering my relationship with God. Alcohol, sex, excessive consumption. I'll be fasting.

Oh. Pictures, then? Those are easier, right? I've seen some in books, at least. Honestly, I'd just want it done as quickly as possible, so I can come back. Businesslike. I have a lot of things to do. Well, I wouldn't want to do anything you wouldn't be okay with, so...maybe that'd be a good idea? You'd need to approve. That's the most important things. I see. It sounds sort of like meditation or training, like when someone goes into the mountains and fights bears and sits under waterfalls? [...no.]

Pictures are easier. Hawk had a camera.

I'd say a prayer still.

I guess it depends. He does it to be possessive. I don't want him acting like that towards anyone else. But if it isn't like that, it's okay.

...kind of like meditation of training. But no waterfalls or bears. Where did you get that?

We could ask for it, maybe? It might arrive altered, but it'd be interesting to see. If it came from you, I'd like that. That's all I'd need. No, I wouldn't want it like that either. Not from him. No offense, of course, but he's yours. It's a technique they talk about in the Marines. I went for the punching-battleships thing instead. I don't like bears.

You know the phones do mostly the same thing, right?

None taken. But if you were looking for lessons, I wouldn't mind. I could help, if you want. Someone to demonstrate on.

It's not about fighting. It's about becoming more spiritually aware.

Well, yes. But maybe the camera will come with photos of your home. Your world. That'd be neat, right? Maybe? Maybe. If you were both okay with it. If it wasn't weird. I know neither of you would judge me if I suddenly changed my mind, so. Fighting needs awareness too. You have to be conscious of yourself and what you can do and your limits and place in the universe. It's not exactly the same, but there's enough similar. Like warriors who fast or meditate before a battle.

I guess it would be. I could show you my sister. Or my church.

I'd be okay with it. Like I said, I trust you. And clearly I don't mind being your guinea pig. As long as it's just tying me up. No sex. At least until Easter.

I guess so. Try selling it to Hawk like that.

Exactly, yeah. I'd love to see your family, especially. You're going to have Hawk tie you up and show you off and you're not going to want to make it sexy? Should I bring a notepad and raise my hand if I have a question? Wasn't he in the military too? Maybe he'll respect the metaphor.

I'll ask the library.

It can be sexy. [ Everything Hawk does is sexy, unless Tim is mad at him, so jot that down. ] Just not actual sex.

Yeah, he was. He was a hero, with the medals and scars to prove it.

How sexy? Is there a sexiness measuring metric I should know about? He won a MEDAL? He's never mentioned that! He can tell me all about it while he ties you up :)

Use your common sense, Koby. I can't have sex. I would rather if nobody did it around me, until Lent is over. Tying me up can be stimulating but it can't go further than that.

It's a date :)

All right, deal. I'll behave, I promise.

You holed up somewhere safe?
Been a nightmare trying to check on everyone.

[ because for the first time in decades? he's exhausted, hungry in a new way, and having to deal with dulled senses. ]

We're in the library. Are you guys coming? I've moved all my supplies there, it's the most well-defended and best place to ensure everyone gets enough. Including you and Lestat. You're not I mean, you're human again, aren't you?

[The abilities turned off like water from a tap, Koby lost and floundering without his haki, unable to reach out and check in on people, waking up every fifteen minutes to make sure Quentin’s still sleeping next to him. It must be worse for the vampires, though, after decades (centuries) in their enhanced forms.]

Gonna head that way when we can.

[ he doesn't want to say anything about armand - about armand's illness, the way the vampire cool has been replaced with fevered warmth. ]

We're human. As much as we can be.
You with other people? You safe?

Please be careful. The hallways are swarming -- I can come meet you if need be? I took the Temp V injection and it's been helpful in avoiding the revenants. I see. You'll need to eat, then. I moved all the supplies I've been saving to the library, I'll make sure some's set aside for you both. I'm safe. Quentin's with me, Alicent and Homelander too. My crew's holed up in the restaurant and Tim's with Hawk in the chapel. Everyone's in one piece for the moment.

I'm struggling, I need a task to keep me busy. Do you have anything?

[It's been a week, Timothy.]

I'm fishing at the lake, if you want to come?

Is Quentin there?

No, no, it's much too early for him. The fish leave before he wakes up. Why?

Good.

Sorry. If he flirts with me right now I might explode.

Ahhhh. Should I push you in the lake? Cool you down?

That's not a bad idea. You're a genius, actually.

Tim, you'll get pneumonia. Let's start on the dock and if you get too heated I'll push you in.

No I won't.

But as long as it's just us, I'll be okay.

No offense.

None taken. I'm glad to be a calming influence. I'm gathering that Lent is harder here than at home?

Infinitely. Hawk's been supportive but he still...looks the way he does, all day, every day.

It's been a few years since I've done it properly, too. And never after a weekend of being up to my eyeballs in sex drugs.

Ahhh, I see. Maybe you need a blindfold or to take your glasses off for the month. Is he still alluring when blurry? Sex drugs, really? The usual ones or something new?

Yes. But if I hurt myself walking into a door, it'll kill the mood.

What are the usual ones? I don't know. The candy hearts. In hindsight, I should have known that if it said "fuck me" I would need somebody to do that, but I thought it was just the house having poor taste again. I wasn't thinking.

Please don't hurt yourself, no. I don't want you to get stuck in bed again, not when winter's finally over. Things down in Otherworld. Or whatever was going on during that hunt...thing. Ahhh, I didn't find those. I was fishing. Well. It was before Lent started, right? Did you have fun?

I'm not, don't worry.

Right. I try not to drink down there unless I'm with someone.

It was before Lent. But still. I was out of control, and messed things up with Harry.

That's smart. Me neither. I tend not to go unless I'm with Quentin or Nami or someone. I don't think you messed things up. I don't even need to know what happened and I'm sure of that.

Maybe we should go. Just to dance.

We agreed to take it slow, and then I got all wound up on sex candy and jumped him.

You and me? That could be fun. We could get dressed up, like it's a party, but not? You wouldn't be uh Unduly tempted or anything? Oh. Well. What'd HE do?

I can dance without drinking, probably.

He carried me over his shoulder to his room and made love to me.

I'll abstain with you. Easier with two. I'm waiting for the part where things are "messed up".

Thanks.

It wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been drugged. We were supposed to talk about it first.

I can help you dress up. If you want. Send a photo to Hawk and everything. Well, yes, I understand being upset about that. I don't think that means it's ruined, though?

For what, to tease him? I don't need to get too dressed up if I'm not looking to flirt with anyone.

Maybe ruined is a little dramatic. But it wasn't the plan. Even if it was good.

To show him you look NICE. [and to tease him maybe, whatever.] You can just get dressed up to see what it feels like. Put stuff in your hair, maybe? It's fun once you get used t it. But nobody got hurt. So maybe it's okay it wasn't the plan? And good, I'm glad it was good. Carry you over through to Easter.

I've put stuff in my hair before. But I don't like the way it feels, it's all crunchy.

Maybe I'm just worried because of the last time.

Edited 2025-03-18 03:02 (UTC)

Well, that's the sort of stuff we'd avoid. There's stuff that makes you glitter, too. Ah. [a pause] That's understandable. It's okay to be worried. And careful. And you don't have to do anything you don't want to.

Do I need glitter?

Oh, he didn't make me do anything. I did want to. It just sped everything up.

That all depends on what you're wearing. I like it, I think it's fun. I mean right now, too. You can decide to slow down again. If you'd rather.

It just seems a little more...feminine, than I'd prefer.

I am slowed down again. Because of Lent. It'll give me time to think.

Ahhh. I see. I suppose I usually end up glittery when Nami's gotten to me, most often. She likes dressing me up. Right. What does Harry think about it? I'm assuming it exists where he's from.

I'll let you play with hair products, but no color or glitter.

He knows what it is. He’s American, like me. From Illinois, where Lincoln was from before he was president.

Harry respects it. He's a perfect gentleman.

Edited 2025-03-20 04:54 (UTC)

Deal. I'll make you look very handsome, I promise. :) Oh! He's not from the same time, right? If he is, I have a lot of questions to ask. [but no, koby's sure he would've sniffed out anyone with even the slightest connection to abraham lincoln by now.]

That's good, right? I mean, as long as he stays it and everything.

No, he's from closer to this time. And yeah, it's good. We were...not really sure what we were doing for a while, but now we're good.

There's a new guy though, Harry Goodsir. He's from closer to the same time. But he's English, and before the war, so he might not know anything.

Good. I'm glad. He seems nice. I'm not sure if you're in a "hanging out with friends" place, but I wouldn't mind spending time with him. Oh, yes, I've talked to him! He's great. He takes notes on things too! :)

Not yet, I think. But you don't need my permission to talk to him.

He seems like a good guy. Another one for the church group.

I will. ["talk to" = "scrutinize deeply", right? koby respects tim's ability to make his own choices but there are some things besties are contractually obligated to do.]

He's a sailor too, you know. You seem to be a magnet for them.

Let me know if you learn anything interesting.

A coincidence, I'm sure. Or maybe you all secretly crave some stability.

Of course. I'll make you a report and everything, if you want. Maybe that's it. You're very good at that, you know.

Well, don't be too obvious.

I guess I don't mind being the anchor.

Your stockpile — does it still exist after the events of the previous month?

[...interesting.]

The food is almost completely depleted, but I have some medical supplies left. Enough that I don't need to start completely from scratch. You read the network? Or someone told you about me?

A little bird told me you were reliable.

[ Silco, please. ]

You know Jinx.

[an alliance? or a shovel talk?]

That was kind of them. I do my best. Yes, we work together. She's been a good friend to me and my crew. You know her too? From home?

[ It takes him a moment to type it out, unsure of the way their relationship has changed, but: ]

She's my daughter.

[...hm.]

I see. It's nice to meet you properly, then. Is there anything I can help you with, while you're settling in?

Likewise.

And thank you, but no. I'd merely wondered if it might be worthwhile to ensure we're ready in the event that we're once again forced to fend for ourselves.

Oh. You want to help? I'd appreciate any sort of assistance, yes. It ended up being necessary before, I'm not going to assume it won't happen again.

Battles are easier fought together than alone.

I assume the canned foods were taken from the pantry — is there a filtration system in place for the water supply?

I'm glad you think so. There's already been too much infighting here. Jinx is already an ally of my crew, but in case it doesn't go without saying: you're welcome too. Mostly, yes -- piecemeal, over the last year, so it wasn't too noticeable. The restaurant has its own supply now, which helps. No, though that's not a bad idea -- we made do with boiling and bottling snowmelt, but that won't be feasible if something happens now that it's spring.

Have you noticed any rhyme or reason to party lines? Your crew, I can understand, and those of the same family name, but the intricacies of the rest elude me.

I see.

[ Then, simply: ]

I'll look into it.

Unfortunately to some extent, yes. The games in October had a lot to do with building alliances -- or fracturing them, as it were. This place is pretty big on promoting Interpersonal relationships, too. I'm not sure if you've experienced that yet.

[Finding a polite way to ask if Silco's fucked yet...]

I have an account of the last ten or so months, if you'd like to look. [He has two versions, actually, one much more classified than the other.] It might be easier to parse than the Network. I would appreciate it.

Yes, I've been made aware.

[ is that what you wanted to hear, koby ................ ]

If you don't mind sharing, it'd certainly be helpful. I suppose I don't have to tell you that the Network is a bit of a free-for-all.

[ Generously speaking. ]

Of course. It's the least I can do.

[it's been duly noted and will not be Thought About out of respect for jinx's father~~sband~~]

Well, then. That has a way of forging alliances quicker than normal. I'd be happy to. There's a lot of information to get through, and much that's immediately useful gets lost. I've taken daily notes since I arrived. [because he's a nerd and a freak!]

It isn't. That's why I'm grateful, sir.

[ There are a few things that Silco notes. The first, that the populace here must be living up to their apparent youth if the heavy hand the house exerts toward intercourse is enough to establish that depth of loyalty; the second, that daily notes require a level of rigor in line with the effort needed to single-handedly build a stockpile of a magnitude that would at least mostly sustain the house through a period of relative abandonment; and third, that he has Koby where he wants him. ]

Thank you, Koby. One good turn deserves another, or so I’m told.

Are your notes digitally transmissible or shall I collect them from you in person?

[maybe his opinion will change when he's closer, when he can pick up on the subtle, uneasy, unknowable thrum of silco's mind face-to-face. but for now, the fact of his connection to jinx supersedes anything else; he's trustworthy enough that koby's already gathering together his less-classified notes.]

I've heard the same. In person is better; I don't fully trust the anonymity of anything sent digitally. Besides, they're handwritten.

[daily handwritten notes. does he ever sleep?]

I had wondered, but I'll save my other questions.

[ Mostly because they're to do with the level of surveillance they're under, per Koby's message, which seems a foolish topic to pursue over text. ]

Let me know where to meet you.

I'll be happy to answer whatever I can. [read: feel like.]

The library's best. The big one. I'm usually there. Whenever is convenient for you, of course.

The library, then. In an hour, if it suits.

Deal. I'll be at the table in the back corner. Look for the duck.

[because yes, there'll be a duck on the table, nestled soft and white into the folds of a cast-off jacket. that and the pink hair make koby an easily identifiable fixture of the library.]

Edited (shhh nobody saw that) 2025-03-21 01:43 (UTC)

[ Fifty minutes later, Silco stalks into the library, taking a minute of his allotted extra time to take a lap around the space — still not completely tidied after the events of the previous month — before zeroing in on the duck (not really difficult to notice, though he supposes that's half the point), and the mop of pink hair. ]

You must be Koby.

[ Spoken neutrally, the tenor of his voice balanced toward politeness.

His eyes, one sky-blue, the other molten orange, fall to the bird. An odd choice of pet — certainly more well-kept than any of the creatures he'd ever seen in the undercity — but perhaps fitting enough for one meant to be kept amongst a band of pirates. ]

And who's your feathered friend?

[koby’s watching the front doors of the library, aware of every unfamiliar presence that enters, glancing up quick over the tops of his glasses each time he can’t immediately place the aura that passes into his field of perception. he sees the man, glances over the sight and marks him as possibly. if he’s jinx’s father (?), it makes sense that he’d be older, after all.

when silco approaches, koby’s making a studied attempt to appear deeply interested in his notes, trying to look appropriately surprised when he looks up, smiles, pushes his glasses up into his overgrown hair to keep it back.]

I am, yes. Mr. Silco, right? [all manners, koby stands, resisting the urge to salute or bow or – something, settling instead for a quick sort of respectful incline of his head.] It’s nice to meet you. Please, have a seat.

[the duck watches the exchange out of one bright, dark eye, before closing it and settling back down into her makeshift nest. koby smiles, his polite veneer slipping a touch, replaced with genuine fondness as he strokes along the sleek, snowy feathers.] Lincoln. She’s not much help with taking notes, but she’s very pleasant company.

[ If Silco notices the amount of effort Koby's exerting, he doesn't make any outward note of it; the boy's nod gets one in return, as well as a wave of one hand to invite Koby to sit again as he takes a seat of his own. He's certainly different from Nami – both of them strike Silco as earnest (as clever, more importantly), but in distinctly separate tenors. Nami has her restaurant, a focal point for those she considers her crew, while Koby has a stockpile meant for all, a brochure for any new arrivals, regardless of who they are or where they've come from. And that's leaving aside the way Koby had stood upon his approach, a habit Silco knows comes strict discipline.

Smoothly, as he settles into a chair: ] The pleasure's all mine.

[ It's an easy tit for tat, matching Koby's energy as opposed to fully exerting his own while he's still getting the lay of the land. And as for the duck — he lays his hand out on the desk, palm up, not exactly extended forward but available should the creature take an interest. ]

Did she arrive here with you?

[ A useless question, maybe, but the notes are right there, and it's not like this line of inquiry is going to change Koby's mind one way or another. ]

[the sense is one of a tightly-closed door, a locked file cabinet, everything swept under the rug and neatly tidied -- impossible to critique, nothing to catch the eye, deliberately unobtrusive. and that's exactly what draws koby's attention so keenly, because when people aren't watching everything they say and do, when they aren't measuring out every movement, every word, they tend to be messy. emotion, thought, sensation, it all bleeds out into that unseen ambient noise koby's become accustomed to over the last few months.

from silco, though -- nothing. no giveaways. the polar opposite of jinx's vivid, vibrant presence, like an explosion. it prompts more questions than it answers, seeing the man in person, watching him sit. koby's never been able to pass up that locked door, that closed cabinet, not when he could crouch and listen in, not when he could puzzle out the lock and fill his wondering, searching mind with answers.

there's a faint spark in his eyes that he hides by ducking his head, watching instead lincoln's subdued reaction to the offered hand -- a fowlish nibble at silco's palm, an unbothered wek, then settling back into her nest. koby huffs out a laugh, gathering together the neatly-typed notes, making sure the paper clips are still cleanly separating each appendix.]

No, though we have a den-den from home. Lincoln was a prize for a pumpkin hunt, back in the autumn. She's been a good friend. [a peek, sideways, watching silco with that same curious spark.] I'm not sure how much Jinx has told you, about the strange things that happen here? The -- different events and cyclical nature of the calendar?

[ By contrast, there's a brightness to Koby that Silco knows doesn't necessarily mean ease when it comes to being able to read him and his intentions, but at least gives any observant party a general sense as to which way the wind is blowing. He already knows that he's being watched, that an introduction is just as much information-gathering as anything else — hardly a surprise, considering the cache of notes he's here to see. The only thing left is to ensure that anything that ends up in there about him is what he wants recorded.

Lincoln's attention relinquished, Silco's fingers curl back into his palm, turning over into a loosely-closed fist on the surface of the table. ]

I'm told there's always something, [ he says, voice lilting wryly up. He's already experienced the will of the house, having been thrown into the hunt, but that's neither here nor there in terms of what he's willing to share. ] A pumpkin hunt, I gather, is on the more benign side of the scale.

[ For better or worse, he has looked over the network, and an entire month of autopsy reports is hardly encouraging, especially in comparison to the somewhat more mindless messages that populate it otherwise. ]

Your notes — do you have a contingency in place in the event you're unable to contribute to your daily log, or is the fact that they're a personal recollection more the point?

[it's a strange juxtaposition, silco's odd stillness, his watchfulness, when put side-by-side with jinx's bombastic, explosive presence. yet they're allies, attached the way koby and the straw hats and shanks are. perhaps they balance each other out. koby wants to know, and he's well-aware that interrogating and pushing will alienate silco -- and therefore jinx, which is the last thing he wants. she's been an ally, a friend, and he'll swallow his probing questions for the sake of that. for now.

still, the stack of notes he's gathered together are carefully curated all the same. he'll be kind, he'll be welcoming, but he won't place his unfiltered trust in a stranger. not just yet.]

That's perhaps the most simple explanation of this place I've yet heard. [a little smile, a glance over the tops of his glasses, because despite his caution, his wariness, koby also very much wants everyone he ever meets to like him. he wants to make a good impression.

so the question gets an honest answer, calm and matter-of-fact:] I've missed a couple months updating them day-to-day, but I have a good memory. If you mean in the event something happens to me, then yes, I have a letter with instructions on how to decode my more classified records. [it's a grim reality that koby's been prepared for nearly since he arrived -- certainly since he first started keeping his notes. he's outwardly quite pragmatic about the whole thing.]

[ As Koby speaks, Silco's eyes fall to the stack of notes. They — along with the boy's answer — conveniently provide answers not just to what's been asked but beyond. More classified records; the suggestion that there are things worth hiding, whether from the house, nebulous entity that it is, or from anyone outside their little crew. The neatly collated notes, the carefully placed paperclips — it'd be too generous to say that Silco thinks of himself, but they're signs of a more analytical mind, of skills cultivated in place of purely physical strength. Granted, that's a surface-level take — there's always the chance that his notes will be utter gibberish, and all of Silco's speculation will be rendered moot.

Lightly, simply: ] Good.

[ Approval — another thread pulled through the loom. Easier to do when approval is so sought after. ]

Though let's hope it doesn't come to that.

[ He nods, then, at the pile by Koby's elbow, eyebrows rising slightly. ]

—And how classified are these?

[koby doesn’t mean to, his reaction thoroughly involuntary, but at the understated good, he sits a bit taller, shoulders squaring, ducks his head on a pleased smile. it’s embarrassing actually, how susceptible he is to even the slightest hint of praise.]

Thank you. [still pleased, handing over the stack – binder-clipped together, with each month neatly paperclipped to keep it separate. every section contains a timeline of the month’s public events (the parties, the games, the trials), color-coded based on whether the driving force was the house, the balfours or the guests. then there are more in-depth notes, written meeting-minutes-style, an account of what koby personally witnessed, cross-coded with what was then said or done on the network. footnotes abound, references to various appendices, commentary added later – one note mentions some comment of bunny’s with an addendum “disproven by comment on 9/06”. there’s also a brief, impersonal list of all the house guests, their homes and approximate years of origin – silco himself is there, noted under the heading “march new arrivals”: silco, undercity, non-earth timeline. the last (and largest) section of paper details major earth events, bullet-point style, with markers inserted for various guest’s and their time points, so koby’s more aware of who’s experienced what world happenings prior to arrival, and who might need more context to function well in saltburnt.

koby busies himself with organizing other papers, mostly more current events, filling in the gaps in his earth timeline, so he doesn’t stare intently, waiting for silco’s reaction. at the question, though, he glances up over the tops of his glasses.]

I don’t go around handing it out to just anyone. [taptapping the papers on the table, eyes suddenly very intent, very focused on silco, the subtle, creeping, unseen sensation that the observation doesn’t only go skin-deep.] Jinx vouches for you, so I’ve given you more than most. [the information is comprehensive, but no private conversations are noted, nothing that didn’t occur in a public area, be it the network or the breakfast table. the value is in the organization, the cross-referencing that’s already been done, the awareness of what is lie and what is truth, based on the keen observations of someone who keeps his mouth shut and his ears open.]

[ As Koby reaches out with invisible fingers, what greets him is almost less an aura than it is a concentrated force — a jewel, what ought to be soft made solid and hard. The kind of blue that can be described as beautiful and cold at the same time, shot through with the sense of a wound scabbed over (or that never healed, like the orange eye set in scar tissue, unusually raw in comparison to the rest of him). It's an incursion that Silco can't sense, for better or worse — he sifts through the notes in front of him, none the wiser.

Still, the light tap of Koby's fingers is enough to get Silco to look up, his gaze — sharp, always sharp, no matter how he modulates the rest of his expression — meeting the young man's in an instant. ]

This is impressive work, Koby.

[ Another little sliver of praise, doled out in the only way Silco ever gives it — matter-of-fact, meant to be more significant for the fact that he never gives it idly. But it's as much an isolated thing as it is a treat, a sweet thing meant to cushion and soften the question he asks next, slow and light at the same time: ]

Who are you afraid might find this?

[by now, koby’s felt a wide array of consciousnesses, aura’s, minds in the unseen connection that haki gives him. he knows the radiant warmth of shanks’s, like the sun rising over a still sea, the sparking brilliance of quentin’s, the eclectic vibrancy of the crew. silco’s is unlike all of those, still and honed like a polished gem, every facet focused with keen precision. and though he’s worlds removed from the seas of home, though he wears a marine uniform and swears by a code of law that directly opposes such things, koby’s world is one of pirates, and there’s something in his blood and bone that sees a jewel and wants to reach out, touch it, feel it.

the question is careful, but logical, not overly prying, not invasive. koby doesn’t feel more than thoughtful curiosity at it being posed, though his own answer is still carefully measured in response.]

Other guests, the Balfours, anyone who might use it to hurt my crew. [and there’s a – shift, subtle, slight, a sharpening of koby’s wide-eyed gaze behind the round rims of his glasses.] Which doesn’t include you. Right? [and there’s a sense in the air, like the pressure spiking when a storm approaches, something tight and tensing and prepared, a thunderclap about to roll.]

[ For all that Silco has no mental defenses, no abilities that attune him to the timbre of the room or the people within it, he still senses the cloud, the shadow that it casts over their conversation. But he doesn't look away, doesn't flinch.

(It's painful, that Koby cares so much. His earnestness pierces through his expression like sunlight through a gap in the clouds. He'd been like that once, too, hadn't he?)

There's an honest answer, here — that all people are capable of hurting each other, regardless of connection or intention. That's not, he expects, the answer that Koby really wants to hear, so he lets it go, a glint of light against the hard edges of his mind. ]

Jinx has grown quite fond of you — all of you, [ he begins, each word measured. ] That's my only concern.

[ For better or worse, that's honest, too; clear in a way that a simpering of course it doesn't isn't. And the implication is obvious enough — anyone who holds her favor holds his, or at least the impression of it, and anyone who'd dare to hurt her will answer to him. Unusually honest, for him, but it's an equivalent exchange, in his eyes, as well as a measure of gaining the boy's trust. ]

And besides, we guests all share the same plight. Best not to turn ourselves against each other.

[ For now. ]

[had there be a lie, here – a soothing, fawning sort of reply, overly magnanimous and dripping with solicitation – koby would’ve immediately distrusted it, even without his mental spyglass aimed directly at the glinting, muted hardness of silco’s thoughts. that sort of reply, which might’ve once calmed a boy who took everything at face value, would deeply unsettle the young man koby’s become.

so the carefully-worded truth is, oddly, more reassuring – silco has no quarrel with anyone who’s become important to jinx, and has no intention (at the moment) of endangering that connection. whether there’s one of his own beyond for jinx herself is negligible – the regard she holds for the straw hats will suffice to protect them.

it’s not a direct announcement of alliance, but it’ll do. the oppressive, unseen tension in the air dissipates, replaced with koby’s pleasant, satisfied smile as he reaches out and taps a wayward paper clip back into place on the stack silco holds.] My crew and I are very fond of her as well. Nami and Sanji especially. [still leaning forward, he looks up, over the tops of his glasses, eyes bright and blue and unflinching. turnabout is fair play – if silco betrays that trust the crew has in him by proxy, if they’re endangered by his actions, the fondness between them and jinx will be superceded by the need to even the scales again.]

I’m glad we’re in agreement, Mr. Silco.

As am I.

[ No hard feelings, then, if push comes to shove, with an eye for an eye as an accepted ultimatum. Surprisingly cold terms, for a boy so pink, but better he learn how to properly navigate the world (to survive) now rather than later. That politeness — mister, sweet on his lips — won't mean too much, in the end.

He can't help that it makes him smile. ]

Thank you.

[ His gaze falls, finally, the thread breaking along with the heavy mood. The papers rustle slightly as his long fingers find their edges, nudging them all into alignment before he picks the entire pile off of the table, getting to his feet in the same motion. ]

I'll have these back to you on the morrow.

[He does like the library.

It's quiet and smells of old paper and leather. Goodsir spends quite some time just wandering the stacks, looking at the available titles.

Eventually he spots Koby and walks over. He's dressed to his own standards: trousers, shirt, tie, waistcoat, frock coat. He's no longer fully bearded, sporting muttonchops instead. He looks absolutely out of place in modern settings, but he fits into the library pretty well.

His voice is soft, accented, and slightly nervous.]

Ah. Hello. I trust I'm not interrupting?

[there's something immensely reassuring about all the familiar layers -- even in the warming spring, koby's still wearing his usual overalls, long-sleeved shirts, like a cross between a preschool teacher and a kid's tv show host. but the way goodsir is dressed is reassuring, almost, as koby looks upwards and blinks a couple times, before smiling and pushing his glasses up on top of his head.]

Not at all! I've been expecting you. [ears pink:] I mean -- you wanted a tour, right?

I did, yes.

[Even if they weren't in a library, Goodsir's voice would still be quiet and gentle. He smiles shyly, like Koby might shoo him away.]

Provided you're still interested in giving it.

[Koby is young. And cute. And so clearly a nerd that Goodsir can relax a little.]

Y-Yes, of course! [koby stands a little too quickly, wincing at the too-loud screech of his chair as he does so. something about the proper way goodsir is dressed makes him want to stand taller, want to salute, which he barely refrains from.

ears pink, clearing his throat:] I-I mean that -- yes. I'd be very happy to. Of course.

Thank you kindly.

[Goodsir walks beside Koby. It's nice, he thinks to have people to talk to. Places to go to, things to see. Conversation that isn't overshadowed by the presence of death.]

I must say that I've been looking forward to this. Everyone in the manor has been very welcoming, of course, but it is especially nice to know someone with whom I share some interests. The sea, animals, research... not everyone appreciates these things.

[He has a sweetly rambling way of talking, like he's used to filling silences.]

Oh, and I must also say that I do like the pink hair. I've never seen such a thing before, but it does suit you.

You’re welcome. [koby finds he wants to slip into military stance, wants to square his shoulders and straighten his arms, wants to – impress, maybe. goodsir isn’t garp, isn’t even an officer, but there’s something about him also serving on a ship, him understanding implicitly the world of a ship, the way the ocean smelled and moved and sounded, the language of a home koby tries so, so hard not to miss.

goodsir says almost that exact thing, and the smile deepens, and koby grabs a clipboard off the table, flicking through the papers held there with practiced ease.] The feeling is completely mutual, Mr. Goodsir. There are a few of my crew here, as well as my [a beat, an instant of hesitation, then:] boyfriend, who’s a sailor as well. We all miss it, I think.

And it’s always nice to have something in common, when you’re getting to know someone. [the corniest line, but from koby it sounds nothing but earnest and sweet. he pulls a printed-out copy of his welcome brochure from the papers, offers it.] I’m also assuming that you prefer paper to the phones? I do too. It’s part of why I like the library so much, I think.

[at the compliment, koby’s ears turn a few shades darker than his hair.] Thank you. Um, you look very – nice as well. I can’t tell you’ve been ill at all.

I do believe that career seamen will always crave the ocean, even knowing the difficulties the life presents. There is a sort of... a sort of call to it. I don't think I could explain it to anyone who hasn't been on a ship, though. You're fortunate that your... partner? Can understand.

[Tim told him not to use 'malewife.,

Goodsir takes the brochure happily, looking it over even though he knows what's on it.] Thank you. You know... [And here he sounds a little shy:] You may call me Harry. If you'd like.

[It is his name, after all. Although he's used to simply being called by his last.]

The 'phone' is quite remarkable, yes, but paper is much easier to navigate. Goodness, this library is huge - you must have a head for maps if you can remember every bit of it.

[Goodsir shakes his head with an awkward little laugh.]

I've had a little time to recuperate. There are some lesions that remain but the vast majority have healed quite satisfactorily. Wounds can reopen in severe cases of scurvy, you know. It's quite the sight to see - awful, but fascinating.

[He realises he's about to ramble about the advanced scurvy and shuts up, looking chagrined.]

Ah. Sorry. But, uhm, yes. Those physical ailments that can be reversed have been. I thank you for your concern.

You often assist people new to the manor?

[koby nods so emphatically his glasses fall out of his hair, land crooked on his nose, getting a sudden huff of laughter as he reaches up to adjust them.] That's -- yes, that's it exactly. You understand. Um, you'd like him, I think -- Quentin, my boyfriend. I think you'd get along, I mean. He's a navigator.

[the warmth is evident, radiating in every bit of koby's face, in the curl of his fond smile, carrying over as he looks up at mr. goodsir -- harry's face and nods.] Harry. Of course. And I'm afraid I cheated a bit and made a map for the library too -- here. [another sheet of paper, this one a copy of a hand-drawn map, outlining the various sections of the large, mildly confusing library.] In case there's anything you'd like to revisit later. I know for a fact that there'll be things about -- your world here. [he's nearly slipped, nearly said your ship, but he'd decided to let harry find it himself, in his own time. koby knows what's there isn't pleasant; he's already found and read it.]

Scurvy. [of course; he'd known that was likely, nearly inevitable after what he'd read harry and his crew had endured. still, there's an almost reverence in the horror that surrounds scurvy for a sailor. even now, the thing koby's stores had held the most of had been powdered citrus drinks, so great was the fear.] I'm so glad you're recovering. Please don't exert yourself too much, okay? If you need to take a break, we can.

[turning, koby starts the walk back to the front of the library, the best place to start the tour.] I try my best to, yes. I was part of the very first group of guests to arrive, so I've seen everything that's happened here. I want to help newcomers not make similar mistakes, if I can.

A navigator! Terribly impressive. Yes, yes I'd rather like to meet him.

[He's trying very hard to get along with these men's partners, initially as a courtesy but also because he hopes to make friends of them too.

Goodsir takes the map with a boyish grin, delighted.] Oh, I thank you! Yes, I am most curious to learn what I've missed.

[It doesn't occur to him that anyone else might be remotely interested in the fate of the Franklin Expedition. He assumes that to most it's just a boring old mystery, if anything.

Goodsir looks at Koby with the barest hint of mischief in his eyes.]

Well, now it's you that sounds like a doctor. But you're right, of course. I'll not let my pride cause further injury.

[He follows, happy to be guided. And even though he's seen a little of it already, Goodsir still looks at the room as if it's the most fascinating place he's ever been in.]

Koby, you're a remarkably kind young man. The world would be a better place if more of us were like you.

He's wonderful. [it's said with immense fondness, with a touch of youthful shyness that shows in the way koby's ears turn pinker, his grin widens, clearly just barely holding back the desire to ramble about how wonderful his boyfriend is.

the reaction to the map keeps the smile in place, as does the light teasing, which gets a soft huffy sound, a scrunch of koby's freckled nose.] I'm just saying. I'm not afraid to be bossy, you know. I can be nice and bossy.

[it's not until the compliment that koby's eyes flicker away, flattery and modesty warring for a moment.] Thank you. That's -- a very kind thing to say. I like being helpful when I can, it's all I've ever...really wanted to do. [and while that'd be corny, cheesy from anyone else, koby means it so visibly that it's impossible to mistake.]

[It's sweet, Goodsir thinks, to see someone so enamoured. It occurs to him that he's seen more declarations of romantic love in his short time here than he has ever before in his life. Is it perhaps a trifle inappropriate? Certainly. But it's still heartwarming.]

Oh dear, bossy are you? Well, you'll have no backtalk from me. I'm rarely very cheeky.

[Goodsir doesn't consider the sentiment corny at all. No, he just looks at Koby with dark eyes and smiles in perfect understanding.]

Yes. Yes, I can see that. I would only ever caution you not to let your good heart prevent you from looking after yourself.

Only when it's for the benefit of others. [koby says it primly, both arms folded over his clipboard, looking very pleased with himself. a year ago, maybe, he would've been all a-scramble to take back anything even mildly disrespectful, but -- well. that's growth.

and harry doesn't seem genuinely annoyed -- there's a warmth in his face, in his dark eyes, that is impossible to mistake. koby generally tries to refrain from using his abilities too blatantly with those he's just met, but there's a slight unseen nudge, like a hand on a shoulder or arm, just to begin to learn the shape of this new arrival, the hue of his consciousness.]

You're in good company. My crew often says the same. [albeit less politely -- it's more often nami physically pushing him out of the library and towards bed, or someone else scooping and carrying him there.] Though I think sometimes people assume I'm -- not as capable of withstanding things. It's an understandable assumption. [koby's slight, small, wide-eyed and pink-haired and overall speaking of vulnerability.] But I'm really much stronger than I look.

[Goodsir is not familiar with any sort of psychic ability, so he's not sure what he's feeling - he interprets Koby's probing instead as a sense that Koby is trustworthy and easy to open up to. Goodsir's mind is very much the same as his demeanor: warm, gentle, curious. There is a deeper layer to him that is the cold of operating rooms, of research papers.

Goodsir smiles.]

That is a terribly familiar sentiment. I myself am, ah, not perceived as particularly capable in many ways. Seafaring men, as you know, tend toward the rugged.

So please know that I believe you to be every bit as strong as anyone else.

[He would hate to see this lovely young man treated rudely just because he's kind.]

[the juxtaposition is a familiar one, koby's own earnest, sweet, wanting-to-please nature perpetually balancing out his curiosity, his sharp, keen awareness. it's comforting, has him relaxing even more, speaking more freely than he might otherwise.

case in point: koby turns and looks up, over the tops of his glasses, serious and solemn and matter-of-fact.] I think you seem perfectly capable. And you're smart and kind, that's better than -- being rugged, I think.

[a little huff, pushing his glasses up.] Being rugged is overrated.

[Goodsir laughs softly.] Well. It certainly has its place. But I don't hold that it's the only way for a man to behave.

[Because he too values kindness and intelligence.]

Now, you must show me your very favourite part of this magnificent library. I believe seeing that will give me further insight into your character.

Me neither. [though it’s taken time to get there, time to understand strength in all it’s forms – not just force or brute strength, but the sort of strength that makes people follow you, stay loyal to you.

koby blinks, then starts, face flushing deeper] I– yes, of course, I’m so sorry, um. This way.

[red-cheeked, ears flaming, he quickly leads the way past several stacks, around corners, moving with the effortless ease of long familiarity, until he stops in front of a long section against one wall, marked “history”. the tallest shelf is well above koby’s head, but he tips his chin up, smiling fondly at the books, like they’re old friends.]

This one, definitely. The best chair for reading is right there, [pointing with his pen at an overstuffed armchair in a sunbeam, with a beautiful view of the lake] and there’s always something new to read into. Your world is fascinating, you know.

You needn't apologise. [Said gently, because Goodsir is also forever apologising unnecessarily.] You've not done a single thing wrong.

[He follows along, referring to the map periodically. At 'history' he smiles and lets his gaze wander slowly from title to title before looking to the chair Koby has pointed out.]

Oh, yes. Yes, that looks perfect.

[He looks to Koby again, still smiling.] I suspect I'd say the same about yours. I don't suppose there are any volumes on it available to read...?

[He steps closer to the books, letting his fingers trace a few spines. His smile fades into something more thoughtful.]

It's strange to think of yourself as history. But if this place is, as they say, 2007, then I have over one hundred and fifty years to catch up on. I daresay most of it will probably be for the good. I've spoken to Mr. Laughlin at some length about the social changes even from his time to now, and he seems much happier for them.

[His fingers linger on a volume - Sad, Mad and Bad: Women and the Mind Doctors from 1800 - before he shakes his head and lets his hand drop.]

Forgive me Koby, I'm being maudlin. Please, tell me what part of our history so fascinates you.

[He wants to know all of Koby's hyperfixations.]

I keep -- getting distracted. [a sheepish smile, a reflexive nudge of his glasses up his nose, lenses flashing with the dimming light.] I promised a tour, but I keep on talking and rambling and that's not -- well, it isn't what I said I'd do, and...

[koby trails off, feeling the shift in goodsir's mood, in his thoughts, away from the present and back towards something -- else, something in the past. it's not difficult to extrapolate what, exactly, he's thinking of. koby swallows hard, steps closer and, after a moment of scanning, taps a book at the beginning of a shelf.] Right around here. The 1840s. That's where you'll want to start.

[then he shakes his head, his turn to look wistful.] No, I'm afraid there's nothing about my world here. Just -- this one. Yours, I believe. That is -- I've read about Arctic expeditions. [he's read about the erebus and terror, specifically, but: time and place. he'll only admit to it if goodsir asks.

turning back to the shelf, koby smiles, then tugs the rolling ladder over -- because of course saltburnt has one of those. climbing a couple steps, he taps at a particular section with his pen.] Maritime history, of course. How this world developed sea travel, the Austronesian spread across the Pacific, the age of navigation, of exploration, the expeditions and trade routes from hundreds of years ago still taken today...

[he trails off, leaning against the ladder, expression somewhere between exhilarated and wistful.] It's the closest this place's history is to home.

Ah, but you're not taking into account that part of the reason for this tour is so that I can listen to you ramble. [He offers Koby a conspiratorial look.] I do the exact same thing, you see. So let us promise not to apologise for our enthusiasm distracting us, shall we?

[There are so many books. So many, many years. For the briefest moment Goodsir feels despair and a sort of swooning horror at the enormity of time. But then his natural curiosity and lust for knowledge rises up, spurred further by the beautiful look on Koby's face as he speaks of seafaring.]

I am sorry that you are so far from home. But selfishly, I am also pleased as it means I've the occasion to meet you.

And it is selfish, you know. I don't think I ever truly understood what it would feel like to never be able to return home until... well. Until it was too late.

But we must make do.

[koby blinks downwards, doe-eyed in his surprise.] Is it? Really? You don’t – mind it? [there’s hopefulness there, that goodsir means it, that he genuinely doesn’t find koby’s endless chatter annoying at best and maddening at worst. leaning against the ladder, smiling:] All right, I promise.

[and then the subject shifts, and that despair, that horror sweeps out like a wave across the sand, and koby’s expression knits together, tight, mouth grim. he’ll need to explain that too, his ability to read emotion, to sense intent in the shape of someone’s thoughts when they stand too close – or, really, when they aren’t close at all. he’s already committed the exact hue of goodsir’s presence to memory, sure he can trail it through the house. sure he’ll know if it vanishes.

the thought is a heavy one, emphasized by the softly resigned note in goodsir’s voice when he speaks of his own fate, his own destiny. koby’s lost hours and hours of sleep thinking about the life he has to return to, the path he’s started on that he can’t turn back from, even though he cares for those in this house so, so deeply. but at least he has a life to return to.

a pause, then koby’s suddenly pushing the ladder, forcefully, sending it zipping down the stacks with somewhat alarming speed until he stops at another section, plucks a book free, then zooms back with it balanced in his arms.] Try– this one first? [he offers it, hesitant smile, understanding, solemn eyes, reaching down with the heavy encyclopedia of marine biology held out.] I find if I’m reading something serious – like history, or um…world events – it helps to have something fun when you need to take a break?

I don't mind at all. [Indeed, in Koby he thinks he's truly found a kindred spirit. Someone who understands the beauty found everywhere in the world, as well as someone who can examine its endless details.

Koby's sudden movement startles Goodsir, who is still blinking in surprise when the young man zooms back. He accepts the book and reads the title with a radiant smile.]

That sounds like an excellent plan.

[He opens the book and flips through, looking for the mammals. He finds what he's looking for and shows Koby - delphinapterus leucas, the beluga whale - and grins like a child.]

They are really sort of ridiculous looking, aren't they? But, here...

[More flipping. carcinus maenas: the European green crab.]

These fellows were such a part of my childhood. I caught far too many of them, really. I think that they are why I really started to wonder about how such marvelous things were put together.

[it’s the sort of joy that koby knows is difficult to maintain at sea – the business of running a ship, keeping it afloat and pointing in the right direction and on course takes so much energy, so much effort, so much time that more trivial pursuits take a backseat to more important things. he’s been fortunate to find space, in this strange pocket world, to pursue his interests.

and koby finds he wants the same for goodsir. he wants him to be able to grin that widely, transforming the weary lines of his still-too-thin face into something bright and brilliant. smiling back, he descends the ladder, leaning over to look at the pictures, the whales and the crabs.]

I’m afraid I know more about how they taste – my crew and I work at a restaurant here, and our chef is the greatest in this world or any other. He’s especially good with seafood. [earnestly:] Tim works there as well. You’re more than welcome to come and visit and have a meal, if you’d like.

Oh, yes! Tim did mention. I will absolutely be by. Fresh food prepared by a chef? I'll be downright spoiled.

[He's careful not to joke about tinned rations, partly to avoid the awkwardness and partly not to spiral about it. It's a strange relationship to be have with food: to be so desperate for it and yet a little frightened.

His first day in the manor he'd eaten too much in spite of knowing better and been sick. But his stomach is slowly catching up to his appetite.]

Tim is a lovely man, isn't he? I've had little occasion to meet any Americans before. It's a charming sort of accent he's got.

As is yours, for that matter.

[koby smiles even wider, looking immensely pleased.] I'll let him know about your, ah -- situation, if you'd like? When I first met him, I couldn't stomach a lot of very rich things either, and he did a wonderful job making things that were still delicious, but not too elaborate.

[the mention of tim gets a thoughtful, bemused sort of sideways look.] He's wonderful, yes. He's been a really good friend since we both arrived. I'm glad you met, I think you'll get along just famously.

[then, blinking owlishly upwards:] Accent? I have an accent?

[Goodsir smiles.] Your tact is appreciated. Yes, if he wouldn't be offended by something with, ah, smaller portions? That would be lovely.

[Oblivious, his smile widens.] As am I. He's been an incredible resource of information, and a great comfort. And he's very... gallant? Yes. I admire that.

[A soft laugh.] Yes. But everyone does. Yours is more familiar sounding to me than some. The long vowels and all. But you've got the most lovely rising intonation!

Not at all. I was on a ship where I didn't eat very often, and he was very sympathetic, in his way. Sanji's a little, ah. [koby falters a bit, trying to find a tactful word, before settling on:] Abrasive, sometimes. But he doesn't mean it cruelly.

Do you? I'll have to let him know. [with the very smug, satisfied expression of a bestie about to tease mercilessly.] But I quite agree.

Oh. Thank you. [koby's blushing again, ears red, head ducking.] I think yours is very nice too. Your voice, I mean.

I think I know the type. [Sailors aren't known for being gentle conversationalists.

Still smiling, unaware.] He'd have made a lovely officer, in times past.

Oh, thank you. [A cheeky look.] That's good, since you'll be hearing so much of it.

hi

( that's it, that's the text.

surprise? )

[!!!!!!

there's the mental equivalent of someone reaching out and grasping hao's face, smushing it between their palms, but the text is chill:]

Hi. You're back.

( hao scrunches his nose at that, but ends up smiling a little to himself despite himself, because koby is cute and annoying with his dumb Proper Capitalization and Punctuation and all that shit. the dark, twisting mess of hao's aura is probably a little subdued, like someone slipped it a xanax. )

i am hyunsu told me he told u so yeah ta da

[it's softer, muted, and koby thinks about sanji in the lake and alicent stealing around the house. he knows he should be careful, but:]

We missed you. I missed you. Are you all right?

( "i missed you" is one of those things where it feels right to say that you missed the person, too, but — how could he?

death has given hao a serious motherfucking existential crisis. )

yea

( a lie. )

mostly

( less of a lie. )

dont rlly feel all the way like myself yet

[he doesn't need to say it -- in fact, koby would be more concerned if he did.]

You feel different. I mean [that unseen, invisible touch again, worried, prodding.] that's normal, we've heard. Is there anything Weird about you?

weirder than usual?? lol

( haha. ha. so funny. he wants to die. )

theres no cute way 2 say that im like sum freaky nasty vampire not 2 b dramatic but its taking all my wilpower 2 not kms bc i fuckin h8 it

Yes, that's why I mentioned it.

[absolutely zero thought for hao's ego, damn.]

A vampire. Okay. Do you need blood? We need to find your naming stone, we understand that part of things now. You won't be like this for long, don't worry.

hyunsus been letting me ummm drink from him ugh ew i feel bad sumtimes i feel like i cant stop nd im gunna drain him compleatly nd he says its fine but idk!!!! 😖 he told me hes gunna go find my stone but hes done 2 much fkn nice stuff 4 me idk how 2 deal

[koby resists the urge to write a whole lecture, aren't you proud.]

Well, he probably shouldn't be the ONLY one you're feeding from. I have bags of blood in my room, you should supplement it with those. But also he's quite literally your boyfriend. Taking care of you is sort of part of the deal.

i dont wanna drink from ne 1 else 😞 i dont even want ne 1 2 c me like this 😞😞😞😞😞 but i will take the blood bags evn if the thot if it is gonna make me hurl fr he alredy did the worst thing i coud posibly ask him 2 do 4 me i dont want him 2 suffer me more bc of me

Well, that's unfortunate, because you have people who care about you, and they're going to want to see you. I'll put it in a big cup with a straw, if it'll make you feel better. Yes. He did. And it hurt him. And he'd do it again.

y is caring abt ppl so hard i fkn hate it

( his pure anguish is surely palpable — or something like it, a swirling concoction of fear and love (?) and guilt and probably every stupid emotion in between churning in his belly, a pang of thirst at the mere suggestion of blood. which — is fucking annoying, considering he sank his teeth into the tender flesh of hyunsu's inner wrist just before he left his room, drinking until everything started to fade around the edges and get pleasantly blurry, starting to lose himself to the instinct of it all before abruptly pulling off, panting. he shouldn't fucking be thirsty again. )

ur the only other person who mayb cares abt me n wants 2 c me but u prob shoudnt u kno how much i like 2 bite the way it is

I know. [or -- he knows hate's one of the million things hao is feeling right now, a teeming mess that hisses and snarls and groans and hungers. it's a bad idea to get anywhere near that, really, but:] I do, and I do want to, yeah. I'm not scared of you. I can take you, I'm pretty sure. [...in a fight, koby?]

( ........ in a fight, right koby??? )

u mean ur not scared of my big scary sharp vampire teeth?

( which Honestly don't look very different from his big scary sharp regular boy teeth. )

im nervous 🙃

( bro died one time and learned what fear is and now is experiencing Feelings all the time. )

I have a proportional respect for your big scary sharp vampire teeth, Hao, don't worry.

[he's had the non-vampy kind in his neck multiple times by now, after all.]

You won't hurt me. And even if you do, it's fine, you can't help yourself. You aren't yourself right now.

( hhhhhhgggggghrvrhrhrggghhhh he hates this sO fucking much. maybe he should've just waited until he was back to normal to message koby ..........

but a part of him wonders how he reacted when hyunsu had told him what had happened, how he's thought about hao since then. maybe that's a little narcissistic. maybe he just has a feeling (or some kind of fucked yo hope?) that it was bad. )

ugh fine im in my room but its actually not fine if i hurt u bc ill never forgiv myself ok?? so i want u 2 grab my bat when u come in just in case itll b by the door im fkn sereous

Okay. I went to the wreck room with a bat after After everything. With you and Sanji dying. I needed to break some things. So I know how to use it now.

[ there's a photo that comes in on its own with no caption at first (please ignore the beard), but then - ]

One of the house staff took this photo for me.
Do they take pictures of us often? I'd much rather it be you ogling me at every turn.
Though if you were here I would pale in comparison.

[ is this meant for glinda? yes this was meant for glinda. ]

[oh.

oh, that certainly is -- a photo, isn't it. it takes a moment for koby to register, blinking (no glasses, there's a slight difference in the shape of the face, different colored eyes), realizing it's not tim. and then, of course, the one person it could be, remembering the library and the mirth in those bright eyes and the flutter of curiosity and attraction and giddiness. then:]

Fiyero, right? It's I don't think you meant to send this to me.

Well I suppose I didn't mean to but I'm not upset that I did.
And the sentiment still stands.

[ a beat, because he's looking at the little user name. ]

Koby, isn't it?
You were very kind at breakfast when I arrived.

That's I was wearing a SWEATERVEST when you met me, you can't assume flattering things in comparison to That photo. Well, yes. I try to be. To everyone.

[he's not flustered, you're flustered.]

And what if I happen to like sweater vests? What do you say then?

So kindness compounded with a very flattering sweater vest - tell me again why I wouldn't want to send you a photo of me?
Perhaps I was hoping you'd send one back.
It would be the polite thing to do, after all.

I say that everyone is entitled to their opinion. Well. I don't think you MEANT to. Am I wrong? You want a picture right now? Of me? Of me right now?

You were wearing one, so you must like them.

Are you wearing one now?
How will I ever know if you don't send me a picture right now?
I will wither from the anticipation alone.

[annoying. was he this annoying at breakfast?]

Yes, I like them very much. That doesn't mean I think they're objectively as attractive as you shirtless. Fine.

[a pause, then, a photo of koby as he is now, in the piano bar -- it's quiet, a good place to actually eat something while he's organizing notes or typing things up:]

[IMAGE ATTACHMENT] There.

Is that a way of asking to see me shirtless again? Or from another angle?

[ whoops, koby. there's something sent along akin to this. ]

You seem lonely there - where is that place?
This house has so many rooms, you must tell me all about this one.

It was not, at all.

[he's still gonna look, though. it'd be rude not to.]

It's the piano bar. I'm not lonely, Lincoln's here. Are you finding your footing here okay? Settling in all right?

That radio station of yours is pretty good.

[ music, updates, chatter. it had been a godsend last month and he still tunes in daily. ]

Good change of pace around here.

You like it? Really? I'll tell Wally, he picks all the music. Do you want to come on it sometime? As a guest?

You want to interview me?

Not sure anyone in this place would listen. Probably hurt your ratings.

Maybe? You could talk about anything, though. Anything you wanted. I don't have those, and if they don't like it, they don't need to listen.

Good.

[ there's a small moment of pride there - koby who is unashamed about what he's doing, and proud of his work. ]

But let me listen to a few more, alright?
Maybe I'll get some ideas on what I wanna talk about.

Oh, of course, yes. No pressure, absolutely. Whenever you want. If you want.

[he's just jitter-giddy pleased that louis is listening at all.]

The next one is on Arctic animals, so. Just a sneak peek. :)

( surely a cold text from danny is never good news, but here it is anyway, middle of the night in twin pulses to his phone, wherever and with whoever it may find koby: )

tell me what i'm thinking.
or don't it work that way?

[koby keeps weird hours, disjointed and sporadic, and while it's a coin toss whether he's awake in the library or his and quentin's suite, today it's the former. the message gets a long, thoughtful stare, before koby sighs and --

there. an unseen push, careful fingers sinking into the shifting, swirling, near-liquid shape of danny's mind, his thoughts, like submerging a hand in smoke or oil or tar. koby lingers there for a moment, his own presence blush-pink and flaring like the sun on a still sea, unseen fingers curling, uncurling. then:]

It doesn't work that way. I can tell where you are, what you're feeling, but not actual thoughts.

( danny's brain doesn't get much sunlight. that's an understatement, written in fat, bottom-heavy font so no misplaced passerby looks deeper, beyond daddy-barred doors. his oil-slick tarpit brain latches onto the golden glow of koby's aura like something mean and starved, black hole gravity lurching for the nearest star. well, of course he can't know what he's thinking, because if he did he'd know he's thinking about drowning them both, spitefully.

savannah, slow down. reset. spitefully, )

can you feel it when i think about fucking you, then?

[danger, danger, and koby's pulling his presence back, the flicker of his consciousness not so much recoiling as -- reacting, a flare of heat to sear back the lingering oily cling of danny johnson, like too-still water, like dark things teeming and swirling when even the stars go out. then a withdraw, slow, slow, back to the surface, back where koby can skim off the tippy-top thoughts like flotsam in a net.]

Only if I'm paying attention. I'm not, usually.

[but he thinks: his open mouth, his bare body in polaroids, before everything, before he knew better. he thinks: eddie's hands on him, on danny, touch-by-proxy, and the curious sharp part of him probes back, knife-edged, into danny's thoughts.]

You aren't.

[ Sent along with a picture of a diagram: ]

From my perusal of the library, per our previous discussion. Not sustainable long-term for a population this large unless everyone pitches in (and I believe best combined with boiling, afterward), but better than nothing.

[it's a pleasant, if mildly bewildering surprise, one that koby takes with an actual audible little oh!, sitting up a bit straighter where he sits on the dock. quickly:]

Thank you! This is brilliant, and should be easy enough to make. I wonder if distilling lake water is the best route, or if we should be gathering rainwater? I've read a bit about the pollution in both, but the risk of standing-water parasites in the lake seems higher. You didn't need to do that. Thank you, really. :)

Both have their disadvantages. Either way, beginning a store of purified water in addition to your stockpiles couldn't hurt.

And of course. I'm a man of my word.

Of course, yes, I'll get started right away, then. Just in case. Maybe I'll see what the end result is for both, see what's better for cooking with and what's more sanitary and go from there. I'll keep you posted. I really do appreciate it, Mr. Silco. If there's ever anything I can do to return the favor, please let me know. Anything, I mean it.

[a dangerous thing to promise, but.]

I see congratulations are in order.

At least it wasn't biggest slut.

Best kisser's pretty flattering, I'd say. Or most kissable - same thing, really.

[politely not mentioning the other one.]

You win anything good out of it?

DEFINITELY not best kisser. I don't have nearly enough experience to claim THAT. I feel like they actually mean Something else, really. A necklace. It's sort of pretty, but it doesn't fit very well. And some kind of lipstick? Tim won a few things too, I saw. Did he win anything like his ring?

I'm not following - most kissable lips? Makes it sound like everyone wants 'em.

Huh. There's always some kinda catch. You kissed anyone with it on yet?

Yeah, he got some journal that's driving him nuts. Pretty disorganized and falling apart, but I don't think he should toss it. And - a pillowcase? I guess we can always use another one in our rotation. It's not like it won't get used.

What else can you use your mouth for, Hawk? Not yet. I'm worried it'll poison them horribly or make them do something embarrassing or something. I'd rather not kill anyone. Ahhh, I get it. That's very rude, I think Tim's actually coping quite well, most of the time. Be careful, pillowcase likely means something to do with sleep or dreams.

I dunno, to eat food?

[king of innuendo missing very obvious moment.]

Maybe they'll be obsessed with you for 24 hours. Chase you down for kisses.

You know, so do I. And the rest of the time - well, he's got us. But huh, you're right. Guess I didn't think of that. They're gonna make me take it as a challenge that crying is supposed to be a bad thing during all that.

Blowjobs, Hawk.

[what kind of rakish scoundrel are you?]

That wouldn't be so bad with some people. I'll have to test it out on someone I wouldn't mind kissing. Most of the time if he's struggling, it's not his fault. It's this place or other people. It's not. I cry every time, too. Usually. I should've won that.

Most kissable lips...you mean the vertical kind then, right?

Or you could try someone you don't like in case it does end up being - risky. 50/50.

...You do? The good kind of crying?

I dunno if I should tell you this, but I had to buy a radio for his place back in DC the first time we did the deed properly. He's enthusiastic. Maybe you already knew that.

The vertical HAWK. NO. I meant They meant most dick-sucking lips. That's what they meant. Honestly. You're impossible. Most people here fall pretty sharply into one or the other. Except for a few, who I've hated but also want to kiss. I cry at everything. All the time. Good-for-nothing crybaby Koby, they called me on the ship. But yes, it's usually the good kind. I knew about the enthusiasm, but I think it takes someone special to make him get to needing-a-radio level. Good for you.

Edited (nobody saw that typo) 2025-04-23 01:39 (UTC)

Whoa, okay, okay, down boy. Sorry.

That's an even better title to take home, I'd say. You should be proud. Or prove it again with Quentin.

You're preaching to the choir. I think Tim's the only one around here who wouldn't kiss someone they hated.

Well, they were wrong. You've come a long way since then, besides. How's the - you know, the feeling stuff going? Seems like you adjusted pretty quick, all things considered.

[haki. he means the haki.]

He seems to think I'm not so quiet either. But I don't buy it.

Ridiculous. Does that work on people, where you're from? We have. A few times. I've had no complaints yet, from anyone. Except for maybe stamina, I guess. Right. Speaking of the "feeling stuff" -- I try my best not to eavesdrop on people's emotions, but I check in on certain people every day, to make sure they're okay. You've been sort of tumultuous lately? Am I misinterpreting that? I've had a lot of training. One on one attention with someone at Shanks's level goes a long way. It's still overwhelming sometimes, but I can be in crowds without much of an issue. Well, I can't attest to that one way or another. I've no firsthand experience. I'm sure Tim's right, though.

Haven't had many complaints either.

Stamina? More or less?

Oh.

[fuck. so much for trying to play off being fine.]

You know how it's been. The zombies - the back and forth, the new priest everyone was making eyes at...I'm alright.

Tim's worried about me. Maybe he's already told you, I don't know. I saw something before he started Lent, and now he wants to try and fix it. But it might not be safe, so I told him to forget about it.

Can't imagine what a kaleidoscope it is around here. But I'm glad you're getting used to it. And that you've got Shanks.

Yeah, yeah. You'd take his side if he said my balls were blue.

Edited 2025-04-25 02:58 (UTC)

More. It's a haki thing, but I also don't really need the same recovery time as most of the people I'm sleeping with by nature of Well. Anatomy. Right. Also you died, Hawk. And it's fairly consistent that after people die, they have things that linger. I'm the one who reads the entire network, remember? Alina's post, Emmrich's. Also do you genuinely believe just telling Tim to forget it is going to work? He's worried about you. I'M worried about you. Do you need help fixing whatever's going on? Me too. I'm moving on to more practically effective things. Things I could use in a fight, if something like the zombies or werewolf happens again. Well, I might ask for proof in THAT situation.

I wouldn't mind learning that part of it. I think Tim might kill me, though.

Look, I appreciate it - seriously. From you and Tim. But I'm not willing to risk anyone sticking their neck out for me over something that's...it's not that bad. I promise. And before you ask, if it gets worse...I'll think about it.

You're not keeping track of everyone's problems when they come back, are you? Though I guess not everyone is blabbing about it publicly.

What happened during the zombies - by the way? I heard a lot of folks lost their mojo. Until that green shit came around, anyway.

They're not. Just in case you thought this was my way of admitting something. But you can see my balls anyway. If you want.

Edited 2025-05-08 03:57 (UTC)

Do you? Why so? I'm not saying it to be nice. I'm saying it because this place kills people, and I'm worried about you. Even if it isn't bad now, it's going to keep getting worse. Please, when it does, ask someone who can help. Who knows how to help. Not particularly, no. I'm sort of blinded by this place -- when people die, I don't always feel it, and when they come back, I don't feel them until they're themselves again. So even if I tried to pry, I doubt I could discern what their problems are. They'd have to tell me. I lost it, yes. It was terrible. I hadn't realized how used to it I was until it was gone.

[there's a loooong pause.]

Hawk, are you under the impression this entire conversation is because I want to see your balls?

inbox for saltburnt

delivery - fwd-dated to 24th.

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🎁 — 24/12.

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