kobes | inbox for saltburnt

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?

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.

[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.

[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.]

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

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.]

[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.

[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.

[ 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?

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.

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

( 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?

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.

[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?

[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.]

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.

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

[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.

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