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[That gets an arched eyebrow, an unspoken ”really?” written all over Koby’s face. It’s easy with Hao, easy to snark and roll his eyes and let down his guard, to be as sharp and petty as he (always, always) feels deep down inside. To not be so good all the time. Maybe Koby should feel worse about that. Maybe he should feel guiltier.
But he lets himself be tugged back, between Hao’s thighs, looking down at him with his dumb little shower cap and his sharp-toothed grin and his annoying, maddening, baffling confidence that radiates like looking too long at a sunrise. And Koby softens a bit, settling his hands on Hao’s shoulders, thumb absently stroking over where the collar of his shirt ends, over his neck.]
No biting there. [Firmly, reproachfully, finding the line of Hao’s collarbone and tracing with a fingertip.] Your teeth hurt. And you bite too hard. I had bruises for weeks. [Said like it’s a bad thing. Said like Koby hadn’t found the fading marks and pressed hard against them to send lightning sparks up and down his spine, in the middle of the night.] And if you’re bad at it, I’m going to tell you so.
But he lets himself be tugged back, between Hao’s thighs, looking down at him with his dumb little shower cap and his sharp-toothed grin and his annoying, maddening, baffling confidence that radiates like looking too long at a sunrise. And Koby softens a bit, settling his hands on Hao’s shoulders, thumb absently stroking over where the collar of his shirt ends, over his neck.]
No biting there. [Firmly, reproachfully, finding the line of Hao’s collarbone and tracing with a fingertip.] Your teeth hurt. And you bite too hard. I had bruises for weeks. [Said like it’s a bad thing. Said like Koby hadn’t found the fading marks and pressed hard against them to send lightning sparks up and down his spine, in the middle of the night.] And if you’re bad at it, I’m going to tell you so.
[ At some point in the afternoon, just as Matt's last breath leaves his body, a small golden light appears in his room. It's about the size of a marble, and instantly, it flutters through the air as if on an errand it knows well. Walls and locked doors are no impediment to it, as it isn't strictly solid, and it leaves no trace behind it. Eventually, it ends up in Koby's room.
And then … it waits.
It waits for Koby to return, whereupon it rises to greet him. The light winds and dances around him, gentle as a blown kiss but insistent all the same. Then it dips down to draw Koby's attention to a sheaf of papers, at the top of which is a folded notebook page with Koby's name on it. ]
You're one of the smartest people I know. But more than that, I just want you to know how lucky I feel to have had a friend like you, even for a little while.
You. Are doing. GREAT.
Matt
[ The rest of the papers are all the notes Matt's taken about his various investigations. The time he snooped around the kitchens with Betty, his musings on what might be able to kill the house (fire, flood, earthquake?), his notes on the seances he's held, which includes the line Paris wants to talk to Bunny Balfour. It's not necessarily all that helpful, but it's there.
Matt's real gift to Koby from beyond the (temporary) grave may be that he recommended him to Harry. ]
And then … it waits.
It waits for Koby to return, whereupon it rises to greet him. The light winds and dances around him, gentle as a blown kiss but insistent all the same. Then it dips down to draw Koby's attention to a sheaf of papers, at the top of which is a folded notebook page with Koby's name on it. ]
You're one of the smartest people I know. But more than that, I just want you to know how lucky I feel to have had a friend like you, even for a little while.
You. Are doing. GREAT.
Matt
[ The rest of the papers are all the notes Matt's taken about his various investigations. The time he snooped around the kitchens with Betty, his musings on what might be able to kill the house (fire, flood, earthquake?), his notes on the seances he's held, which includes the line Paris wants to talk to Bunny Balfour. It's not necessarily all that helpful, but it's there.
Matt's real gift to Koby from beyond the (temporary) grave may be that he recommended him to Harry. ]
[It's 5am, and normally Koby is awake and at the gym by now, but the persistent headache in his neck and shoulders and spine has made him want to do nothing but sleep. Still, he'd agreed to this, after all. So:]
I have a typewriter, but if you make fun of it, I'm leaving.
And coffee. How do you like it?
I have a typewriter, but if you make fun of it, I'm leaving.
And coffee. How do you like it?
[ thankfully he knows what coffee is now, enough to have a preference. ]
Thick and bitter. No sugar, a dash of cream and milk, a pinch of salt.
[ do not ask why. ]
I would not know what a typewriter is, but if it makes too much noise, I make no promises.
Thick and bitter. No sugar, a dash of cream and milk, a pinch of salt.
[ do not ask why. ]
I would not know what a typewriter is, but if it makes too much noise, I make no promises.
Salt, really. I'll bring it, you can add your own. I don't like sugar either.
It's a machine that allows you to translate text onto paper. It's a little noisy but I like the sound.
[Koby's settled at the library well ahead of time, some of his notes and files stacked around his hot pink Hello Kitty typewriter. Do not ask.
He's sipping coffee black from a thermos, a second one set on the table with the salt shaker beside it. As per usual, he looks exhausted, wearing a creased men's shirt that isn't his own, as it's easily five sizes too big.]
It's a machine that allows you to translate text onto paper. It's a little noisy but I like the sound.
[Koby's settled at the library well ahead of time, some of his notes and files stacked around his hot pink Hello Kitty typewriter. Do not ask.
He's sipping coffee black from a thermos, a second one set on the table with the salt shaker beside it. As per usual, he looks exhausted, wearing a creased men's shirt that isn't his own, as it's easily five sizes too big.]
[ he doesn't reply to koby and opts to travel to the library instead, carrying with him a thick journal and a writing pen — it clicks when he presses the top, reveal the writing edge, and aemond is so fascinated by it.
he pulls a chair quietly from across koby, when he finds their table, though his actions seem like they should be overloud. ]
It's colourful, your typewriter.
he pulls a chair quietly from across koby, when he finds their table, though his actions seem like they should be overloud. ]
It's colourful, your typewriter.
[ louis rises from his place and approaches the bars, accepting everything that koby passes through to him. it's a kindness he doesn't deserve. the books, the blanket, the headphones. all of it thoughtful and useful in a way that only koby would know. he looks at each book, but the new orleans photographs catch him off guard.
what he would give to be there. be anywhere but this place, in this cell, with innocent blood on his hands. ]
This is...
[ his eyes burn with blood tears but they don't fall. he shakes his head, huffing softly. ]
You realize I've got blood on my hands now. You realize I'm the monster everyone was afraid of?
[ a wolf with bloody teeth, lost and aimless in the english dark. ]
what he would give to be there. be anywhere but this place, in this cell, with innocent blood on his hands. ]
This is...
[ his eyes burn with blood tears but they don't fall. he shakes his head, huffing softly. ]
You realize I've got blood on my hands now. You realize I'm the monster everyone was afraid of?
[ a wolf with bloody teeth, lost and aimless in the english dark. ]
[The headache is still there, and when Aemond approaches, Koby's slowly massaging at his temples, trying to banish the pulsating pain that spreads down his spine, over his shoulders. It doesn't work, and he jumps a little when Aemond speaks, knocking a wobbly stack of notes askew and prompting him to hastily correct it.]
I didn't ask for it to be this color specifically. I think it was the library's idea of a joke. [Tapping the stack of papers on the desk to straighten them, Koby looks over the tops of his glasses at Aemond, thoughtfully.] That other thermos is yours, and I brought salt. I tried a little in mine, actually -- it was all right.
I didn't ask for it to be this color specifically. I think it was the library's idea of a joke. [Tapping the stack of papers on the desk to straighten them, Koby looks over the tops of his glasses at Aemond, thoughtfully.] That other thermos is yours, and I brought salt. I tried a little in mine, actually -- it was all right.
[Koby hands everything over, carefully, swallowing and casting a sideways look at the other prisoners, lowering his voice.] I'll bring more next time. If you needed it, I could probably get a flask or something in, wrapped up in the blankets. I don't...know when you last ate. [If it was Parisa, or -- a thought that sends Koby's stomach flip-flopping, his heart clenching, thinking of the bodies laid out that first morning, that first wild week of fear and confusion and suspicion. He pushes the thought away, steps closer to the bars, curls his hands around them.]
I realize that this place used you. Because you're strong. Because it could manipulate your strengths, just like the rest of the wolves. Because being a wolf would hurt you all the most. [Alia, kept from her loved ones, used as a weapon by her home. Lauralae, wild with panic at the description of her crimes. Even Danny, in his way, already shown to be dangerous, warned against, mistrusted. Already guilty.
Koby leans in closer, presses his forehead to the bars, eyes bright and exhausted and earnest all at once.] You're not a monster. This place won't make me believe you are. I'm not letting it take you from me too.
I realize that this place used you. Because you're strong. Because it could manipulate your strengths, just like the rest of the wolves. Because being a wolf would hurt you all the most. [Alia, kept from her loved ones, used as a weapon by her home. Lauralae, wild with panic at the description of her crimes. Even Danny, in his way, already shown to be dangerous, warned against, mistrusted. Already guilty.
Koby leans in closer, presses his forehead to the bars, eyes bright and exhausted and earnest all at once.] You're not a monster. This place won't make me believe you are. I'm not letting it take you from me too.
I think... sometimes I gotta be. Harder on myself.
Truth is, Koby... I know I talk a big game about everything, but... I know out of all of the pirates, I got the least to contribute. You know? Sanji can cook, and Zoro can fight, and Nami can get us where we need to go... Out of all of Luffy's crew, sometimes I wonder how I ended up here.
So I gotta find a way to be what it takes and not fall behind.
Truth is, Koby... I know I talk a big game about everything, but... I know out of all of the pirates, I got the least to contribute. You know? Sanji can cook, and Zoro can fight, and Nami can get us where we need to go... Out of all of Luffy's crew, sometimes I wonder how I ended up here.
So I gotta find a way to be what it takes and not fall behind.
[There's a thoughtful pause.]
I always thought that Luffy was special in that he could find people who were ALSO special. Like he had a way of drawing in people with dreams bigger than them, who had the talent and the drive to achieve those dreams. I always thought I was the exception to that, somehow.
But I do still believe that. About Sanji and Zoro and Nami AND you, Usopp. Maybe none of us are there yet, maybe we all have a lot of growing to do, but.
You're on your way, like all of them. Like I am.
As long as you're pushing yourself and wanting to get better because you want to, not because you think you aren't already as good as the rest of the crew. Because you are.
I always thought that Luffy was special in that he could find people who were ALSO special. Like he had a way of drawing in people with dreams bigger than them, who had the talent and the drive to achieve those dreams. I always thought I was the exception to that, somehow.
But I do still believe that. About Sanji and Zoro and Nami AND you, Usopp. Maybe none of us are there yet, maybe we all have a lot of growing to do, but.
You're on your way, like all of them. Like I am.
As long as you're pushing yourself and wanting to get better because you want to, not because you think you aren't already as good as the rest of the crew. Because you are.
But you asked for a writing tool such as this. And it was granted easily?
[ there are favourites with the library, then. if one follows the belief that the keep is sentient, that the rooms move around according to unknown desires — why wouldn't a room of gifts not have its preferences? dragons choose their riders, and the library chooses favourites.
such is the nature of his life here with house balfour, apparently. aemond nods in koby's direction as he sits and takes a sip of his coffee, so he knows how much salt he'd like to add. ]
Sweet drinks tend to upset me, I find. Salt, on the other hand — it's rather delightful, in moderation.
[ unable to resist, aemond also reaches out to straighten the edges of koby's pile of notes. some of the sheets are shorter than the others; he desires to re-sort them by length and texture, but he must respect that it is not his system to manage. ]
You get the first question. For the coffee.
[ there are favourites with the library, then. if one follows the belief that the keep is sentient, that the rooms move around according to unknown desires — why wouldn't a room of gifts not have its preferences? dragons choose their riders, and the library chooses favourites.
such is the nature of his life here with house balfour, apparently. aemond nods in koby's direction as he sits and takes a sip of his coffee, so he knows how much salt he'd like to add. ]
Sweet drinks tend to upset me, I find. Salt, on the other hand — it's rather delightful, in moderation.
[ unable to resist, aemond also reaches out to straighten the edges of koby's pile of notes. some of the sheets are shorter than the others; he desires to re-sort them by length and texture, but he must respect that it is not his system to manage. ]
You get the first question. For the coffee.
I did. And it was. [Koby’s marveled over that himself, the relative ease with which he’d gotten the typewriter, embarrassingly-decorated as it is. It still works, the clicking of the keys steady and unflinching – and he quite likes the sound, the soft pattering like rainfall.
He starts it up now, flicking the power button and feeding a piece of paper into the typewriter, then beginning to type. Perhaps there’s a touch of showing off – Koby had been clumsy and unpracticed when he first arrived, but months of typing up notes has him able to hit the keys without looking, glancing over the top at Aemond instead.] Too loud? I have a lot of handwritten notes to type up, so I hope you don’t mind if I multi-task.
[Then, after a momentary pause, watching Aemond straighten the notes:] The smaller pages are handwritten – could you help me separate them out, maybe? I didn’t bring anything confidential, I don’t mind if you read them.
[Either he’d spotted and discerned exactly what Aemond wanted to do, or he genuinely wants the help; either way, Koby pulls a handwritten page outlining the second round of werewolf voting out of a stack, starting to rapidly type it up.] I don’t like sweet things either. I’m used to ship rations, they tend to be pretty bland and flavorless.
Mmm, first question… [Another piece of paper, this time pulled out of his pocket, set on the opposite side of the typewriter, so Aemond can’t peek.] The dragons – are they attached to the throne or the Targaryen family? Which came first?
He starts it up now, flicking the power button and feeding a piece of paper into the typewriter, then beginning to type. Perhaps there’s a touch of showing off – Koby had been clumsy and unpracticed when he first arrived, but months of typing up notes has him able to hit the keys without looking, glancing over the top at Aemond instead.] Too loud? I have a lot of handwritten notes to type up, so I hope you don’t mind if I multi-task.
[Then, after a momentary pause, watching Aemond straighten the notes:] The smaller pages are handwritten – could you help me separate them out, maybe? I didn’t bring anything confidential, I don’t mind if you read them.
[Either he’d spotted and discerned exactly what Aemond wanted to do, or he genuinely wants the help; either way, Koby pulls a handwritten page outlining the second round of werewolf voting out of a stack, starting to rapidly type it up.] I don’t like sweet things either. I’m used to ship rations, they tend to be pretty bland and flavorless.
Mmm, first question… [Another piece of paper, this time pulled out of his pocket, set on the opposite side of the typewriter, so Aemond can’t peek.] The dragons – are they attached to the throne or the Targaryen family? Which came first?
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