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I know your day has been as difficult as mine own, but I must ask more of you, Koby.
You understand this game. What are the roles?
You understand this game. What are the roles?
[The phone pings and Koby almost doesn't want to answer it. He wants to find some corner to hide in, weather the storm, keep his mouth shut, words reverberating in his head again and again and again -- you don't understand shit about the world, Koby, you won't last five minutes in it. It'll tear you apart.
But finally curiosity wins -- and it's Alicent, something tight in his chest loosening slightly. Embarrassingly he wants to beg her for reassurance, for confirmation that she doesn't hate him too. Childish.]
I found a book on it, yes. Granted, the game explained is just that, a game. Nowhere near these stakes. So there's no guarantee that my explanation matches what's happening.
But yes, the roles -- werewolf, doctor, seer, victim and a moderator. There are more already, though -- a spellcaster and a linked pair, that I know of.
But finally curiosity wins -- and it's Alicent, something tight in his chest loosening slightly. Embarrassingly he wants to beg her for reassurance, for confirmation that she doesn't hate him too. Childish.]
I found a book on it, yes. Granted, the game explained is just that, a game. Nowhere near these stakes. So there's no guarantee that my explanation matches what's happening.
But yes, the roles -- werewolf, doctor, seer, victim and a moderator. There are more already, though -- a spellcaster and a linked pair, that I know of.
Werewolves are the killers, then. Victims, self-evidenced.
Seers — visions of the past or the present?
What of one who could bring another back from the dead? A necromancer?
Seers — visions of the past or the present?
What of one who could bring another back from the dead? A necromancer?
Visions regarding who may or may not be guilty or innocent -- like Baela. Hers were conscious, though, it seems.
Not in the book I found, but it seems plausible. There are many of us and only seven wolves. We can't all be just victims.
But if someone has another role, they can't also be a wolf. That's the rule.
Not in the book I found, but it seems plausible. There are many of us and only seven wolves. We can't all be just victims.
But if someone has another role, they can't also be a wolf. That's the rule.
Then that narrows the pool of possible wolves considerably.
Do you know any of the blonde’s named in my nephew’s death to possess a role? Caroline, Alia, Betty?
Do you know any of the blonde’s named in my nephew’s death to possess a role? Caroline, Alia, Betty?
Edited 2024-10-07 18:59 (UTC)
We can ask it of him later.
You would be wise to keep your knowledge quiet from now onward, Koby. I fear the most perceptive among us will be targeted.
What of the doctor?
You would be wise to keep your knowledge quiet from now onward, Koby. I fear the most perceptive among us will be targeted.
What of the doctor?
It might help. People might have alibis they didn't realize.
[Unspoken: I don't care if it makes me a target, as long as it makes this stop.]
The game says that the doctor can pick one victim per round to save -- it makes sense that it's Paul. He's the only one who was awake and able to save Alina, while the rest of us were asleep and couldn't hear a thing.
[Unspoken: I don't care if it makes me a target, as long as it makes this stop.]
The game says that the doctor can pick one victim per round to save -- it makes sense that it's Paul. He's the only one who was awake and able to save Alina, while the rest of us were asleep and couldn't hear a thing.
Then we will find that out amongst ourselves and share the information between those we trust as needed. Roles like Paul’s might become targets, too, and you would not wish to endanger anyone.
[ gaslighting her son for a good cause. ]
[ gaslighting her son for a good cause. ]
Edited 2024-10-07 23:03 (UTC)
[That is, in fact, the best thing she could've possibly said -- Koby wants to disseminate knowledge, but he wants to protect people even more.
So:] My crew knows. And Quentin. I'll keep it quiet otherwise, though.
And if anything happens to me, I've made copies of the rules of the game. You'll still have them.
So:] My crew knows. And Quentin. I'll keep it quiet otherwise, though.
And if anything happens to me, I've made copies of the rules of the game. You'll still have them.
Thank you, Koby.
I do not wish to think of losing you, too. Keep safe until I see you this night.
And do not leave our small council without saying goodbye.
I do not wish to think of losing you, too. Keep safe until I see you this night.
And do not leave our small council without saying goodbye.
Why? [Koby says it on a bit of a snort, going over the tips of Hao’s hair one last time with the brush, making sure it’s fully saturated, entirely focused on his task. His teeth press into his lower lip, half because of the job and half because – well, because he’s remembering. Because as hazy and foggy as Otherworld had been, he can still picture every movement, every touch, every needy, desperate sound he’d made, pressed up against a wall he can still feel at his back, if he focuses hard.
The empty bowl of makeshift dye is tossed neatly into the trash, the brush following – wasteful, maybe, but Koby doesn’t really want a bright pink sink, thanks – before he grabs one of the plastic shower caps he’d snagged from the endless supply closet, carefully covering Hao’s slathered hair with it. And then – that question, startling enough that Koby lets the elastic of the cap snap hard against Hao’s forehead, immediately turning six shades darker than the dye.]
What. [Savagely, blushing and blushing and pulling off his gloves, heat crawling up his spine and into his cheeks as he throws them in the trash as well, because – because he can imagine that too, he knows what it feels like now, he can put together Hao’s smirking, sharp-toothed grin and the feeling of someone settled between his thighs and imagine him there, imagine him laughing as he makes Koby into a whining, sobbing mess again and–]
Do you even know how to do that? [Flatly, embarrassment making him blunt.]
The empty bowl of makeshift dye is tossed neatly into the trash, the brush following – wasteful, maybe, but Koby doesn’t really want a bright pink sink, thanks – before he grabs one of the plastic shower caps he’d snagged from the endless supply closet, carefully covering Hao’s slathered hair with it. And then – that question, startling enough that Koby lets the elastic of the cap snap hard against Hao’s forehead, immediately turning six shades darker than the dye.]
What. [Savagely, blushing and blushing and pulling off his gloves, heat crawling up his spine and into his cheeks as he throws them in the trash as well, because – because he can imagine that too, he knows what it feels like now, he can put together Hao’s smirking, sharp-toothed grin and the feeling of someone settled between his thighs and imagine him there, imagine him laughing as he makes Koby into a whining, sobbing mess again and–]
Do you even know how to do that? [Flatly, embarrassment making him blunt.]
[Their small council -- an effort, information shared, disseminated, to what end, ultimately? Koby's vote stands, more out of loyalty to Nami than anything else, and Quentin's --
Well. Quentin chooses a route that defends someone he cares for, and god knows Koby understands that. There's fear, though, electric-white in his veins, because he can't, he can't, he can't let anything happen to Quentin.
So, though he imagines she's just as exhausted as him, more so, losing two of her family, shattering bonds with many more:] Alicent, I'm sorry. I'm sorry to ask this of you, you need to rest, but
What can I do? What do you need what does Aemond need how can I stop this
Please, Alicent.
Well. Quentin chooses a route that defends someone he cares for, and god knows Koby understands that. There's fear, though, electric-white in his veins, because he can't, he can't, he can't let anything happen to Quentin.
So, though he imagines she's just as exhausted as him, more so, losing two of her family, shattering bonds with many more:] Alicent, I'm sorry. I'm sorry to ask this of you, you need to rest, but
What can I do? What do you need what does Aemond need how can I stop this
Please, Alicent.
[ she is exhausted to a point she has only been once before — the king dead, her son missing, war at her fingertips in the twenty-four hours that would decide the fate of her children and the realm. any chance of peace in the realm dies with rhaenyra. any hope of it the house dies with alia and louis’ accusations. the game has only just begun, and it is ruinous.
she has not slept in days. she half wishes to ask lestat to compel her to do so, if his playing will not send her off. earlier, she might have ignored this message, because why should she look out for others when there is no one to take her side?
but someone left her bandages for her shameful wounds. koby brought her food, unasked for days prior, when the stranger first visited the manor. ]
Slow yourself now.
I saw you leave before the votes ended.
Where are you, sweetling? I’ll come find you.
she has not slept in days. she half wishes to ask lestat to compel her to do so, if his playing will not send her off. earlier, she might have ignored this message, because why should she look out for others when there is no one to take her side?
but someone left her bandages for her shameful wounds. koby brought her food, unasked for days prior, when the stranger first visited the manor. ]
Slow yourself now.
I saw you leave before the votes ended.
Where are you, sweetling? I’ll come find you.
[Koby hasn't either, wracked with throbbing pain in his head and his chest and somewhere in his stomach, like he's swallowed a cannonball. He knows he's dozed, curled up against Quentin's chest, trying to lose himself in the pulsing beat of his heart, knows he's eaten when he's had something thrust into his hands and been told to. Consciously, though -- no.
In a way, it's familiar, makes him think about those two years on Alvida's ship, about the malaise of misery and fear and pain he'd lived in, being told when and how to do everything. He hasn't felt that way in months.
Alicent gives him something to focus on, at least -- a command he can cling to. Slow himself. Tell her where he is.]
The library. Isn't that stupid?
What's the library going to do now?
In a way, it's familiar, makes him think about those two years on Alvida's ship, about the malaise of misery and fear and pain he'd lived in, being told when and how to do everything. He hasn't felt that way in months.
Alicent gives him something to focus on, at least -- a command he can cling to. Slow himself. Tell her where he is.]
The library. Isn't that stupid?
What's the library going to do now?
There could nothing less stupid, when your reading and cleverness has given us one of the only true means of navigating this wretched game.
I shall be there soon. Do not tell my Aemond that I have always known how to slip his guard.
[ a hint of levity. it helps that baela and gideon are now here to occupy him.
as promised, she arrives in short order, having not yet bothered to change into her nightdress — idly wondering if she would prefer to be found dead in her black lace, a worthy harbinger — but she has loosened her hair once more, waves spread across her shoulders. her footsteps are light, but she calls out, ]
Koby?
[ an ugly thought, then, that he could be a wolf and take her life. surely not, for no reason but the ache of her heart. foolish girl. ]
I shall be there soon. Do not tell my Aemond that I have always known how to slip his guard.
[ a hint of levity. it helps that baela and gideon are now here to occupy him.
as promised, she arrives in short order, having not yet bothered to change into her nightdress — idly wondering if she would prefer to be found dead in her black lace, a worthy harbinger — but she has loosened her hair once more, waves spread across her shoulders. her footsteps are light, but she calls out, ]
Koby?
[ an ugly thought, then, that he could be a wolf and take her life. surely not, for no reason but the ache of her heart. foolish girl. ]
[That almost makes Koby laugh, through the tears, still wearing the (stupid) mask, sitting at his favorite table with books he can't read because he can't wear his glasses over his (stupid!!) mask. He's cried so much his throat hurts, his eyes are as red as the mask, and maybe there's a flicker of a thought: what if the wolf gets him? Would it be easier?
It's not a new thought, but Koby pushes it away as Alicent approaches. He's out of his masquerade clothes, at least, wearing a borrowed sweatshirt -- Quentin's, large enough that he can sort of burrow inside it. He's already small, and he knows it makes it worse, but he needs the reassurance of burying his face in the fabric and breathing.
Another sniff, then he swallows against the ache of old tears.] Hi. [It comes out shaky, childish, but he reaches slowly to grab something out of his bag -- water bottles, sealed, chill and wet with condensation from the fridge, still.] Here. If you're anything like me, you probably haven't hydrated enough. [He offers one, trying to pretend like his eyes aren't bright, like his lower lip isn't trembling, like there aren't tears streaking down his face, still.]
It's not a new thought, but Koby pushes it away as Alicent approaches. He's out of his masquerade clothes, at least, wearing a borrowed sweatshirt -- Quentin's, large enough that he can sort of burrow inside it. He's already small, and he knows it makes it worse, but he needs the reassurance of burying his face in the fabric and breathing.
Another sniff, then he swallows against the ache of old tears.] Hi. [It comes out shaky, childish, but he reaches slowly to grab something out of his bag -- water bottles, sealed, chill and wet with condensation from the fridge, still.] Here. If you're anything like me, you probably haven't hydrated enough. [He offers one, trying to pretend like his eyes aren't bright, like his lower lip isn't trembling, like there aren't tears streaking down his face, still.]
i must have deleted on accident cuz i got notifs on for everything oopsie
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holyposition
2024-10-09 04:38 am (UTC)(link)
I don't think that's a good idea. The game isn't built to get all the wolves in one round, and in the meantime, they'll go for the helper roles.
If not two real culprits, then a crazy person who thinks he's the devil, apparently. Fine.
[ let's timeskip to the end of the night, yippee. ]
Are you guys okay?
If not two real culprits, then a crazy person who thinks he's the devil, apparently. Fine.
[ let's timeskip to the end of the night, yippee. ]
Are you guys okay?
Edited 2024-10-09 04:39 (UTC)
[ alicent accepts the bottle, fingertips brushing his before she sets it aside, atop the the table. carefully, she wipes her hands on her skirts and pulls a chair nearly flush to his own. her gaze shines red through the pink of her mask, though her tears have now dried. ]
I shall drink the whole of it. [ a promise, albeit one she will uphold later. ]
First — you have been very brave today, dear Koby.
[ hushed as she sits and swiftly leans forward, one hand tipping up his chin so she might better regard him. his tears are a weakness she has never been able to stomach in her own sons. to look upon his glistening eyes and see her pain reflected — it has repulsed her before. perhaps it is koby’s kindness that keeps the familiar nausea at bay. perhaps it is the knowledge that even her sons should not have had to be strong, learned from others in this place.
gentle fingers tidy his hair from his face, particularly where tears have stuck it to his pale skin and red mask. ]
Braver than you should ever have to be. [ he should be with the maesters, learning the secrets of this world, forging new links in a chain that may never end for one so clever, so bright. ] I know it does not feel like it, and perhaps it is more painful to hear me say such a thing, when others have suffered for it. I mislike all of this, as I know you do.
I shall drink the whole of it. [ a promise, albeit one she will uphold later. ]
First — you have been very brave today, dear Koby.
[ hushed as she sits and swiftly leans forward, one hand tipping up his chin so she might better regard him. his tears are a weakness she has never been able to stomach in her own sons. to look upon his glistening eyes and see her pain reflected — it has repulsed her before. perhaps it is koby’s kindness that keeps the familiar nausea at bay. perhaps it is the knowledge that even her sons should not have had to be strong, learned from others in this place.
gentle fingers tidy his hair from his face, particularly where tears have stuck it to his pale skin and red mask. ]
Braver than you should ever have to be. [ he should be with the maesters, learning the secrets of this world, forging new links in a chain that may never end for one so clever, so bright. ] I know it does not feel like it, and perhaps it is more painful to hear me say such a thing, when others have suffered for it. I mislike all of this, as I know you do.
Edited 2024-10-09 04:42 (UTC)
that's...fair.
i don't think we have much time before this starts again. try to get some rest.
I can keep them from retaliating against Quentin. But if we get together again, it might be better if he doesn't come.
i don't think we have much time before this starts again. try to get some rest.
I can keep them from retaliating against Quentin. But if we get together again, it might be better if he doesn't come.
And eat something. [It's mumbled, automatic, even as Koby closes his eyes and sends more tears down over his cheeks. They're less rounded than when he'd left home, but he knows he still must seem very young to Alicent. She seems it to him, her hair loose, her fingers bandaged where they brush his tears away. More than that, she seems vulnerable, strung tight and rubbed raw and still comforting him before anything else.
So he insists:] You need to eat something. You can't take care of everyone when you're hungry.
[A shuddery breath, sitting back in his chair and starting to pick at his fingernails -- a habit they share.] No, it's not. Not painful, I mean. I know how you mean it. I don't feel brave, I feel -- stupid and useless and naive. Like Alvida said.
[A beat.] The pirate captain who -- owned me. For two years. That was her name. She used to tell me I was an idiotic sniveling coward who didn't understand how the world worked, that I'd be chewed up and spit out without her. [He doesn't finish the thought, but it's there: maybe she was right.]
So he insists:] You need to eat something. You can't take care of everyone when you're hungry.
[A shuddery breath, sitting back in his chair and starting to pick at his fingernails -- a habit they share.] No, it's not. Not painful, I mean. I know how you mean it. I don't feel brave, I feel -- stupid and useless and naive. Like Alvida said.
[A beat.] The pirate captain who -- owned me. For two years. That was her name. She used to tell me I was an idiotic sniveling coward who didn't understand how the world worked, that I'd be chewed up and spit out without her. [He doesn't finish the thought, but it's there: maybe she was right.]
Not everyone, just you. But I will. I promise.
[ a mild correction. she lets him pick at his hands for a brief moment, before she closes her ruined fingers over his own. indeed, she sent aemond away, even though his eye begged her for something more — to grieve him as he lives? to help him face a death she would rail against?
she blinks any lingering dampness from her eyes, willing herself to remain here. koby speaks of a fate even darker than her own, imprisoned not in a royal keep but aboard a slaver’s ship. ]
Alvida could not see you. Perhaps her vileness blinded her. [ she does not say: if you are those things, then so am i. not when she very well might be. a trembling girl, missing her father’s guiding, brutal grip. a wanton wretch, toiling in service of men, with no mind of her own, as alina saw her true. worthy for naught but her womb.
alicent unfolds his hands with her own, thumb pressing into his palm. ]
If you were my boy, I’d have sent you to our greatest halls of learning, the Citadel in Oldtown, where I was born. [ would she? if he were spare to a spare, like daeron. ] You have not had such advantages in your life — and yet you are cleverer still than most of the learned men I have known. I would call what that woman thought naïve by another name: Kind. A trait even rarer than intelligence. A jewel few have in their crown.
[ she does not say. my own sons do not possess it, and it is too late for them to learn. doomed by the court or their mother. ]
[ a mild correction. she lets him pick at his hands for a brief moment, before she closes her ruined fingers over his own. indeed, she sent aemond away, even though his eye begged her for something more — to grieve him as he lives? to help him face a death she would rail against?
she blinks any lingering dampness from her eyes, willing herself to remain here. koby speaks of a fate even darker than her own, imprisoned not in a royal keep but aboard a slaver’s ship. ]
Alvida could not see you. Perhaps her vileness blinded her. [ she does not say: if you are those things, then so am i. not when she very well might be. a trembling girl, missing her father’s guiding, brutal grip. a wanton wretch, toiling in service of men, with no mind of her own, as alina saw her true. worthy for naught but her womb.
alicent unfolds his hands with her own, thumb pressing into his palm. ]
If you were my boy, I’d have sent you to our greatest halls of learning, the Citadel in Oldtown, where I was born. [ would she? if he were spare to a spare, like daeron. ] You have not had such advantages in your life — and yet you are cleverer still than most of the learned men I have known. I would call what that woman thought naïve by another name: Kind. A trait even rarer than intelligence. A jewel few have in their crown.
[ she does not say. my own sons do not possess it, and it is too late for them to learn. doomed by the court or their mother. ]
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