[ somewhere outside of louis' worldview is quentin, sleepy, shoving a thick folded blanket at koby. he'd seen how cold alia was. it's a guess louis might be, too. ]
i don't need anything.
[ because louis can't ask for anything from anyone. not with the blood on his hands. he's done enough. ]
[Quentin gets kissed again, kissed thrice for his thoughtfulness, tucked back into the blankets with promises to come back soon, with Koby's fingers gentle in his hair, gratitude for the understanding, the support. Louis is thought of because Koby loves him, and that's a gift he's still not used to.
When he does appear in the dungeons ten or so minutes later, its with the blanket, with a stack of books -- a couple volumes of history, one of art, one specifically chosen for Louis -- and with the thick, clunky, over-the-ear headphones that Koby uses to listen to his whale sounds. He figures Louis might have thoughts haunting him, might want to drown them out.
After a brief cordial hello to Alia (who disengages almost immediately upon realizing Quentin isn't there), Koby approaches the bars with his arms full and his expression tight, pained. It's -- much, much worse when someone he knows is behind them.]
[ the dungeon is cold, dreary, despite the games and the liveliness of others around him. he's perched on his bed, a book in hand and not fully reading it, phone tossed to the side. he hears koby, scents him next, tilts his head to peer up at the bars when he arrives. ]
No, of course not.
[ louis sounds tired - because he is. he doesn't immediately approach, wary that somehow even with the bars between them he could hurt koby. he could kill him. but eventually, noting his arms full, he approaches. ]
[Koby looks exhausted, wrung-out and worn-out and weary to the bone, red-rimmed eyes and dark shadows beneath. But he smiles when he sees Louis, smiles with an edge of an ache in it to see how tired he sounds. The cell is the same as it was when he'd went with Quentin en route to -- somewhere, sometime in between all the fear and the horror. Sometimes Quentin comes down himself, sometimes Koby is with him. Has it been a month or a year or a lifetime, this game?
Shaking off the cobwebs of those thoughts, Koby shifts so he can start handing things through the bars. Helping, that's something he can do (can he, can you, aren't you just as helpless as everyone else? hisses that insidious, barbed voice). The blankets, the books.] It's cold down here and -- boring, if you don't care for all that.
[The video games get a dismissive handwave. Too noisy, too bright for the perpetual headache he -- and Louis, he imagines -- have this month.] So. Books. If you want any specifically, I can go get them, of course.
[ 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. ]
[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.
[ not that he has the appetite for any of it - not that he has consistently fed. he could probably ask luci here if he really wanted to. danny, even, if he knew where he was imprisoned. but here's koby - sweet faced, bright and tender hearted koby, always looking for brighter and better things. always trying to solve the problem long before it arrives. ]
But you gotta understand. I am a monster. Vampires aren't sunshine and rainbows - we're drank to death and given our life force back changed, transformed. The human heart dies and an immortal one grows in its place. I kill to survive. I feed on the life of others who get nothing in return.
[ a little laugh. ] But being a monster isn't a bad thing. Sometimes it's the truth. Some people think that pirate lady you dealt with is a saint, others a monster. I'd rather own what I am, claim it before they can take it from me.
[ he shrugs a shoulder, tired and worn thin, heart sick. ]
I ain't going anywhere. [ he nudges one of koby's hands from the bars, reaching out with a pinky extended. he'll give the last piece of his humanity to this boy for now - the last part of his mind and heart that feel like they're grounded in reality, not grief. ]
I see. Least they could do. [Koby's deep-seated, deeply passionate opinion of the Balfours (at that moment) is written all across his face, jaw set so hard it starts to ache immediately. He blames their hosts, blames the house, but there's not even the slightest corner of him that'll blame Louis -- even as he names himself a monster, lists all the reasons why Koby should think the same.
He's already shaking his head, slightly, stubbornly, even though if a black-and-white description of who and what Louis was had crossed his desk back home, Koby would've been the first to agree: that's a monster, that's a threat, that's a risk. But that black-and-white description wouldn't have noted that day on the rooftop, Louis's arm across his shoulders, fluffing up his hair, healing something in Koby he didn't even know was broken. It wouldn't have accounted for that sickening, devastating moment in Luffy's room, when Usopp had said that name -- it was Louis -- and all the oxygen in the room seemed to vanish. Louis is a vampire who's killed to survive. Louis is the kindest, best man Koby knows. Both are true, somehow.
Still, the mention of Alvida, even slantwise, gets a stricken, pained look, Koby's hands curling tighter at the bars for a moment -- even the vague mention makes his stomach knot up and his heart twist sick in his chest.] It's not the same. You're not like her. You're nothing like her. [There's a steely savagery to it, immovable.
The question gets a sniff, a blink, and Koby lifts the nudged hand, mimics Louis's position, but shakes his head.] No. Is it -- a New Orleans thing? [The first and only promise he'd ever made was to Luffy, to follow and chase his dream, to try and be better than he'd been. The only promises made to him have been here, in Saltburnt, promises to protect, to guard, to find. Promises Koby's quietly fearful are doomed to break.]
[ this time he reaches with his free hand to touch koby's cheek, thumbing at his cheek bone and making him keep his gaze. he shouldn't have mentioned the woman that haunts koby's mind, but it's true. monsters are family to someone, whether they like to admit it or not.
but he sighs a little, ruffling his hair gently even when he doesn't feel the same kind of liveliness. ] Nah, it's a thing from my world. You make a promise and you pinky swear on it. Means it's unbreakable, you're gonna uphold it. So? You trust me?
[ he nudges his hand further, pinky extended. ] We link pinkies and that's that. I'm not going anywhere, you got it? Gotta stick around and look after you before you get yourself in any trouble.
[There'll always be something small and tearful and frightened in Koby -- sometimes it's closer to the surface, brimming easily in his wide eyes, prompted by some injustice, some wave of emotion. Sometimes he keeps it further down in his chest, locked behind layers and layers of pretending, of being untouched by violence for long enough that he can almost believe it can't hurt him anymore.
But around Louis it's right there, raw and vulnerable and laid out, showing just how achingly young Koby still is, how new to the world and all it's hurts, all it's injustices. He hasn't been the child in braids with an empty stomach and a scratchy uniform for years now, but he can feel that raw, aching need flaring to life like an old wound. Koby sniffs, tips his cheek into Louis's hand and meets his gaze with teary eyes, with the cautious, wild hope of someone who's never been cared for quite this way -- never been loved by a parent.]
I trust you. [That, at least, Koby can say immediately. Even though he knows it's not a promise Louis could keep -- not in a way that'll last as long as vampires live, not in a way stronger than the forces pulling them back towards whatever fate holds, if they ever leave Saltburnt. Someday, maybe, probably, there won't be a world where Louis can look after Koby, can keep him safe.
But that doesn't mean he doesn't trust him, believe him, doesn't lift his hand and curl his pinky hesitantly around Louis's, smaller hands, knuckles scarred from rough decks, from rougher memories, from ghosts that Koby carries in his skin and his soul. There's a flicker of a smile, something like love, something like faith, something unshakable and honest and true.] Okay. You -- I believe you. I do.
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no subject
i don't need anything.
[ because louis can't ask for anything from anyone. not with the blood on his hands. he's done enough. ]
be safe getting down here.
no subject
When he does appear in the dungeons ten or so minutes later, its with the blanket, with a stack of books -- a couple volumes of history, one of art, one specifically chosen for Louis -- and with the thick, clunky, over-the-ear headphones that Koby uses to listen to his whale sounds. He figures Louis might have thoughts haunting him, might want to drown them out.
After a brief cordial hello to Alia (who disengages almost immediately upon realizing Quentin isn't there), Koby approaches the bars with his arms full and his expression tight, pained. It's -- much, much worse when someone he knows is behind them.]
Um. Hi. I -- hope I'm not intruding?
no subject
No, of course not.
[ louis sounds tired - because he is. he doesn't immediately approach, wary that somehow even with the bars between them he could hurt koby. he could kill him. but eventually, noting his arms full, he approaches. ]
What's all this?
no subject
Shaking off the cobwebs of those thoughts, Koby shifts so he can start handing things through the bars. Helping, that's something he can do (can he, can you, aren't you just as helpless as everyone else? hisses that insidious, barbed voice). The blankets, the books.] It's cold down here and -- boring, if you don't care for all that.
[The video games get a dismissive handwave. Too noisy, too bright for the perpetual headache he -- and Louis, he imagines -- have this month.] So. Books. If you want any specifically, I can go get them, of course.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
[ not that he has the appetite for any of it - not that he has consistently fed. he could probably ask luci here if he really wanted to. danny, even, if he knew where he was imprisoned. but here's koby - sweet faced, bright and tender hearted koby, always looking for brighter and better things. always trying to solve the problem long before it arrives. ]
But you gotta understand. I am a monster. Vampires aren't sunshine and rainbows - we're drank to death and given our life force back changed, transformed. The human heart dies and an immortal one grows in its place. I kill to survive. I feed on the life of others who get nothing in return.
[ a little laugh. ] But being a monster isn't a bad thing. Sometimes it's the truth. Some people think that pirate lady you dealt with is a saint, others a monster. I'd rather own what I am, claim it before they can take it from me.
[ he shrugs a shoulder, tired and worn thin, heart sick. ]
I ain't going anywhere. [ he nudges one of koby's hands from the bars, reaching out with a pinky extended. he'll give the last piece of his humanity to this boy for now - the last part of his mind and heart that feel like they're grounded in reality, not grief. ]
You ever done a pinky promise before?
no subject
He's already shaking his head, slightly, stubbornly, even though if a black-and-white description of who and what Louis was had crossed his desk back home, Koby would've been the first to agree: that's a monster, that's a threat, that's a risk. But that black-and-white description wouldn't have noted that day on the rooftop, Louis's arm across his shoulders, fluffing up his hair, healing something in Koby he didn't even know was broken. It wouldn't have accounted for that sickening, devastating moment in Luffy's room, when Usopp had said that name -- it was Louis -- and all the oxygen in the room seemed to vanish. Louis is a vampire who's killed to survive. Louis is the kindest, best man Koby knows. Both are true, somehow.
Still, the mention of Alvida, even slantwise, gets a stricken, pained look, Koby's hands curling tighter at the bars for a moment -- even the vague mention makes his stomach knot up and his heart twist sick in his chest.] It's not the same. You're not like her. You're nothing like her. [There's a steely savagery to it, immovable.
The question gets a sniff, a blink, and Koby lifts the nudged hand, mimics Louis's position, but shakes his head.] No. Is it -- a New Orleans thing? [The first and only promise he'd ever made was to Luffy, to follow and chase his dream, to try and be better than he'd been. The only promises made to him have been here, in Saltburnt, promises to protect, to guard, to find. Promises Koby's quietly fearful are doomed to break.]
no subject
[ this time he reaches with his free hand to touch koby's cheek, thumbing at his cheek bone and making him keep his gaze. he shouldn't have mentioned the woman that haunts koby's mind, but it's true. monsters are family to someone, whether they like to admit it or not.
but he sighs a little, ruffling his hair gently even when he doesn't feel the same kind of liveliness. ] Nah, it's a thing from my world. You make a promise and you pinky swear on it. Means it's unbreakable, you're gonna uphold it. So? You trust me?
[ he nudges his hand further, pinky extended. ] We link pinkies and that's that. I'm not going anywhere, you got it? Gotta stick around and look after you before you get yourself in any trouble.
no subject
But around Louis it's right there, raw and vulnerable and laid out, showing just how achingly young Koby still is, how new to the world and all it's hurts, all it's injustices. He hasn't been the child in braids with an empty stomach and a scratchy uniform for years now, but he can feel that raw, aching need flaring to life like an old wound. Koby sniffs, tips his cheek into Louis's hand and meets his gaze with teary eyes, with the cautious, wild hope of someone who's never been cared for quite this way -- never been loved by a parent.]
I trust you. [That, at least, Koby can say immediately. Even though he knows it's not a promise Louis could keep -- not in a way that'll last as long as vampires live, not in a way stronger than the forces pulling them back towards whatever fate holds, if they ever leave Saltburnt. Someday, maybe, probably, there won't be a world where Louis can look after Koby, can keep him safe.
But that doesn't mean he doesn't trust him, believe him, doesn't lift his hand and curl his pinky hesitantly around Louis's, smaller hands, knuckles scarred from rough decks, from rougher memories, from ghosts that Koby carries in his skin and his soul. There's a flicker of a smile, something like love, something like faith, something unshakable and honest and true.] Okay. You -- I believe you. I do.