Tim Laughlin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
holyposition) wrote2024-06-13 06:55 pm
holyposition) wrote2024-06-13 06:55 pm
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WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK
USERNAME:
t.laughlin
text ❖ audio ❖ video
WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK
USERNAME:
t.laughlin
text ❖ audio ❖ video
Daemon will handle it. Leave it be, he will cut you if you get in his way.
[ much as he'd love to see his uncle on a rampage, it would not do well for his already stressed mother to see more of her friends hurt or killed. he does note down the possible injuries tim's attacker might have. the weather has gotten mild enough to justify wearing thickened sleeves; this could require some work.
aemond welcomes it. ]
Just lie back, Tim. Truly. You won't be attacked in the next few hours, and you need to heal.
[ much as he'd love to see his uncle on a rampage, it would not do well for his already stressed mother to see more of her friends hurt or killed. he does note down the possible injuries tim's attacker might have. the weather has gotten mild enough to justify wearing thickened sleeves; this could require some work.
aemond welcomes it. ]
Just lie back, Tim. Truly. You won't be attacked in the next few hours, and you need to heal.
I'm not - I just want to know who, so we can focus on uncovering the rest. I could be following other clues instead of wasting my time looking for someone we already know.
[ But he complies, laying on his side, so he can keep watching Aemond. ]
Are you staying?
[ But he complies, laying on his side, so he can keep watching Aemond. ]
Are you staying?
He's with me.
"Alright" is a little more complicated. I'm safe, though.
"Alright" is a little more complicated. I'm safe, though.
Good.
I'm glad you're safe. That's all that matters in this, sweets.
I'm glad you're safe. That's all that matters in this, sweets.
Thank you.
Are you okay? This is hard on everyone, not just people who were attacked.
Are you okay? This is hard on everyone, not just people who were attacked.
I'll be fine.
[ he's spent the better part of the day with alia - alia, mourning her brother while locked behind bars. his morning spent with koby, comforting, supporting. he's tired already. ]
Stay close to Hawk. He cares about you, he'll keep you safe. I'm glad he was there when you needed him most.
[ he's spent the better part of the day with alia - alia, mourning her brother while locked behind bars. his morning spent with koby, comforting, supporting. he's tired already. ]
Stay close to Hawk. He cares about you, he'll keep you safe. I'm glad he was there when you needed him most.
I will. He hasn't let me out of his sight for more than a couple minutes all day.
I feel like I've made nothing but mistakes since this thing started. I hurt Alia, I hurt you, and I got the attention of someone dangerous, so Hawk was outed as a Doctor. The person who was outed last time is dead now. I'm scared, Quentin.
I feel like I've made nothing but mistakes since this thing started. I hurt Alia, I hurt you, and I got the attention of someone dangerous, so Hawk was outed as a Doctor. The person who was outed last time is dead now. I'm scared, Quentin.
They're setting us up to fail. This isn't your fault.
[ he frowns, and suddenly he wishes he was in closer proximity to hug tim against his chest. ]
I've lived this before, you know that. A puppet master and his dolls. It's no different and if they can have us ripping one another apart, they will. So we can only do what we think is right, and you did.
It's okay to be scared, sweets. I think we all are.
[ he frowns, and suddenly he wishes he was in closer proximity to hug tim against his chest. ]
I've lived this before, you know that. A puppet master and his dolls. It's no different and if they can have us ripping one another apart, they will. So we can only do what we think is right, and you did.
It's okay to be scared, sweets. I think we all are.
I know. I should have been more sensitive about it. I'm sorry. I don't want to lose you to this nightmare.
Hmm. I'll speak with my mother first.
Move over.
[ he orders tim to move, but he also leaves the belt and walks over to the belt and all but pushes tim to the centre of the mattress, slipping into place next to him with shoes on and all. he roots around the bedside and finds a softbound book, a bible attributed to some king named james. aemond opens to a random chapter, and begins reading out loud. ]
"And there appeared another wonder in heaven; and behold a great red dragon, having seven heads and ten horns, and seven crowns upon his heads..."
—Is this text from your home?
Move over.
[ he orders tim to move, but he also leaves the belt and walks over to the belt and all but pushes tim to the centre of the mattress, slipping into place next to him with shoes on and all. he roots around the bedside and finds a softbound book, a bible attributed to some king named james. aemond opens to a random chapter, and begins reading out loud. ]
"And there appeared another wonder in heaven; and behold a great red dragon, having seven heads and ten horns, and seven crowns upon his heads..."
—Is this text from your home?
[ Tim lets himself be handled, not that he could put up much of a fight if he wanted to right now, but he doesn't mind, and that's the important thing. He sits with Aemond, shoulder to shoulder, and winces with the chuckle that trickles out of him. Because of course he would find this very page first. ]
Yeah, it is.
And no shoes on the bed, I know you weren't raised in a barn.
Yeah, it is.
And no shoes on the bed, I know you weren't raised in a barn.
[ just as quickly replied— ]
The servants will clean it.
[ he's not taking his shoes off if there's a chance he'll need to be up on his feet and defending themselves against an attack. mind, he still has a missing eye; being highly trained to compensate for the loss does not make it any less of a disadvantage. ]
What happened to the dragons of your world?
The servants will clean it.
[ he's not taking his shoes off if there's a chance he'll need to be up on his feet and defending themselves against an attack. mind, he still has a missing eye; being highly trained to compensate for the loss does not make it any less of a disadvantage. ]
What happened to the dragons of your world?
They’ve got enough to deal with.
[ What with the corpses. ]
This is, um. A prophecy, sort of. The dragon is mostly symbolic, of a great evil coming to wreck havoc. My grandmother takes it completely literally, but I don’t-- [ Cough cough hack ugh!! ] You know, this isn’t really the most comforting part of the book. Try Psalms.
[ What with the corpses. ]
This is, um. A prophecy, sort of. The dragon is mostly symbolic, of a great evil coming to wreck havoc. My grandmother takes it completely literally, but I don’t-- [ Cough cough hack ugh!! ] You know, this isn’t really the most comforting part of the book. Try Psalms.
Do you question the tax collector for doing his duty? It's not blood. It'll wash clean and easily.
[ surely some dirt won't hurt. aemond hums and flips the pages to somewhere closer to the middle of the book, and lands on psalms 78; ]
"I will open my mouth with a parable; I will utter hidden things, things from of old, things we have heard and known, things our ancestors have told us. We will not hide them from their descendants; we will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the Lord, his power, and the wonders he has done."
[ hm. this sounds familiar— ]
'Tis a book of prophecy, this text? Your God entreats to have witches his own?
[ surely some dirt won't hurt. aemond hums and flips the pages to somewhere closer to the middle of the book, and lands on psalms 78; ]
"I will open my mouth with a parable; I will utter hidden things, things from of old, things we have heard and known, things our ancestors have told us. We will not hide them from their descendants; we will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the Lord, his power, and the wonders he has done."
[ hm. this sounds familiar— ]
'Tis a book of prophecy, this text? Your God entreats to have witches his own?
[ Picking his battles, picking his battles... ]
It’s not witches. It’s...passing our stories on, building community. You ask a lot of questions.
[ He says it fondly, letting his head slump against Aemond’s shoulder again. A small, affectionate touch. If he builds up enough of them, maybe the sensation of the belt will go away. ]
It’s not witches. It’s...passing our stories on, building community. You ask a lot of questions.
[ He says it fondly, letting his head slump against Aemond’s shoulder again. A small, affectionate touch. If he builds up enough of them, maybe the sensation of the belt will go away. ]
Ah, you won't lose me. I'm a very difficult man to lose you know. You keep your head on your shoulders and stay afloat. I can't go losing you, and Koby can't, either. You're one of our own little English Crew.
They're doing this to us - they want this to happen. We're only doing the best we can.
They're doing this to us - they want this to happen. We're only doing the best we can.
Thank you. I miss you guys. Staying with you, I mean.
I love you both. I told Koby that, but I'm telling you too. Whatever happens, we'll make it up to each other.
I love you both. I told Koby that, but I'm telling you too. Whatever happens, we'll make it up to each other.
You know our room is your room.
I love you, too, sweets. Nothing's more important than that with all of us - rest assured.
And get some rest, if you can. Heal up.
I love you, too, sweets. Nothing's more important than that with all of us - rest assured.
And get some rest, if you can. Heal up.
I do know. I'll come see you when there's downtime next.
I'll try.
😘👾
I'll try.
😘👾
Careful as he can be ( and oh, he can be careful; he can be diligent about where he puts his hands and feet, keep his limbs tucked in like the cryptid he is, all skinny angles and half-starved intensity finally filling in at the seams ), he checks over the top of Tim's head. Locating the bed behind him, and the debris that he has to clear off it in order to give the guy some space to relax. Okay, okay. He can do this. The ability to comfort is a learned trait, and Harry's a little under thirty years behind the curve in regards to doing it. Well, if at all.
Comfort wasn't for boys like him, unless it came with a harsh lesson.
" — it won't help, but I... " He doesn't know if it's even worth saying, but maybe being a little open and vulnerable with a normal human being will wash the fever of the Sidhe from his brain. It'll push back the Mantle urging him to sink teeth into someone so very sweet, the way his hindbrain wants him to sometimes. Dominance and survival are the name of the Winter Sidhe, and he rebels against it with inner fire and a deep, nigh-primordial sense of control. So, it won't help.
It won't help, but he takes Tim to bed. Slips things off the covers one-handed and draws them back, urging him to settle down into the confines of his blankets and lay back against a pillow. It won't help, but he nudges Tim over, tucks the blankets between them like a gentleman and folds his long, long body onto the mattress. It won't help, but, he says to Tim
quiet, and half-tucked into the pillow he lays down on, his hand encompassing the side of Tim's head, stroking a thumb over his temple
" — I died in a lake, too."
Comfort wasn't for boys like him, unless it came with a harsh lesson.
" — it won't help, but I... " He doesn't know if it's even worth saying, but maybe being a little open and vulnerable with a normal human being will wash the fever of the Sidhe from his brain. It'll push back the Mantle urging him to sink teeth into someone so very sweet, the way his hindbrain wants him to sometimes. Dominance and survival are the name of the Winter Sidhe, and he rebels against it with inner fire and a deep, nigh-primordial sense of control. So, it won't help.
It won't help, but he takes Tim to bed. Slips things off the covers one-handed and draws them back, urging him to settle down into the confines of his blankets and lay back against a pillow. It won't help, but he nudges Tim over, tucks the blankets between them like a gentleman and folds his long, long body onto the mattress. It won't help, but, he says to Tim
quiet, and half-tucked into the pillow he lays down on, his hand encompassing the side of Tim's head, stroking a thumb over his temple
" — I died in a lake, too."
Edited 2024-10-16 01:29 (UTC)
Tim settles back into bed with shaky breaths, happy to have Harry guide him into place. He's made enough bad decisions over the start of this twisted game, and he's sure the mistakes won't end, so for someone to choose for him, no matter how small, it's a comfort. Where to lay his head, how to best protect himself (did the charm go off, or did he lose it in the struggle?), how to arrange this so it isn't illicit and there's no pressure.
He lays on his side, turned towards Harry, one arm tucked under his pillow and the other reaching for him over the bunched up blanket, touch going both ways. The comfort of an affectionate touch is still relatively new to him - for so long, he was afraid to seek it, for the slippery slope of sin he might tumble down if he even allowed himself to want it, much less accept it. The fear of Hell was replaced by the fear of more worldly consequences, losing his job and his family and everything else. Here, in Saltburnt, where despite the terror and confusion that comes in waves, with just enough rest to let their guards down before the next batch of horrors, this one little thing that he needs is allowed.
Of course Tim leans into it, nuzzling into his hand like a dog desperate for love, eager to be handled softly, comforted by the fact that the same fingertips brushing his hair back now were burned just days ago, making something that might have protected him, stalled his attacker long enough for him to be saved. He's safe with Harry, he has faith in that, and in the aftermath of an assault that has him flinching at shadows and keeping his back to the walls, there's no greater comfort that he could be.
"You...died?"
Asked softly, doe eyes wide and questioning. Helpful, maybe, isn't the word, but...it's something, feeling like he understands, and his neediness and shameless flirtation hasn't scared him off. Tim places his hand over Harry's, keeping it there on his head, keeping himself secure.
"You can talk about it, if you want to."
He lays on his side, turned towards Harry, one arm tucked under his pillow and the other reaching for him over the bunched up blanket, touch going both ways. The comfort of an affectionate touch is still relatively new to him - for so long, he was afraid to seek it, for the slippery slope of sin he might tumble down if he even allowed himself to want it, much less accept it. The fear of Hell was replaced by the fear of more worldly consequences, losing his job and his family and everything else. Here, in Saltburnt, where despite the terror and confusion that comes in waves, with just enough rest to let their guards down before the next batch of horrors, this one little thing that he needs is allowed.
Of course Tim leans into it, nuzzling into his hand like a dog desperate for love, eager to be handled softly, comforted by the fact that the same fingertips brushing his hair back now were burned just days ago, making something that might have protected him, stalled his attacker long enough for him to be saved. He's safe with Harry, he has faith in that, and in the aftermath of an assault that has him flinching at shadows and keeping his back to the walls, there's no greater comfort that he could be.
"You...died?"
Asked softly, doe eyes wide and questioning. Helpful, maybe, isn't the word, but...it's something, feeling like he understands, and his neediness and shameless flirtation hasn't scared him off. Tim places his hand over Harry's, keeping it there on his head, keeping himself secure.
"You can talk about it, if you want to."
Only fools accept matters as they are stated, and do not look beyond the given meaning of things.
[ the words of his grandsire echoing through him, spilling from his mouth. he reads on, all the same; the stories are full of fire and brimstone, death and destruction, a vengeful god who has had enough of his subjects and means to remind them of their place.
aemond rather likes it, if he's asked to give an opinion. he even allows tim to brush his cheek on his own shoulder, like a cat does against an ankle.
(like he would, with vhagar's rough scales.) ]
Who is King James?
[ the words of his grandsire echoing through him, spilling from his mouth. he reads on, all the same; the stories are full of fire and brimstone, death and destruction, a vengeful god who has had enough of his subjects and means to remind them of their place.
aemond rather likes it, if he's asked to give an opinion. he even allows tim to brush his cheek on his own shoulder, like a cat does against an ankle.
(like he would, with vhagar's rough scales.) ]
Who is King James?
God knows, Harry's been where Tim is. Nearly forty years old, with every year of his life harder than the last; the stakes higher, the danger greater, the violence escalating until it nearly devoured everyone he loved and cared for. He's been on the receiving end of hands around his throat, knives sunk down to his bones, kisses laced with venom, promises that required him to carve off pieces of his innocence and feed it to the hungry mouths of more powerful entities. He's been in the lake. He's been paralyzed in his own bed, reliving moments that haunt him still.
Laying on his back, he turns his head to face Tim. The hand pressed to the side of his face brushing along the hairs just behind his ear, the ends of his fingers cold but the palm warm. He curls his fingers downward, tucking them into his palm as he — well, pets Tim — carding his fingers along the edge of his ear and avoiding the bruised mark on his throat as he follows the line of muscle bunched there up and down.
"Not tonight," he murmurs, but it's not not ever. "I just wanted you to know we have that in common."
The others who had drowned, even if they were saved like Tim, could probably empathize with him as well. But, Harry remembers the bitter bite of Lake Michigan closing over his head, the delicious warmth that had finally been in reach soon after, how tired he'd been. How it hadn't hurt, not really. It just felt like being weightless. It was the coming back that had hurt the most.
"You should take a nap before tonight, you're gonna' need your strength. And I'll stay, unless someone throws me out and takes my place."
Laying on his back, he turns his head to face Tim. The hand pressed to the side of his face brushing along the hairs just behind his ear, the ends of his fingers cold but the palm warm. He curls his fingers downward, tucking them into his palm as he — well, pets Tim — carding his fingers along the edge of his ear and avoiding the bruised mark on his throat as he follows the line of muscle bunched there up and down.
"Not tonight," he murmurs, but it's not not ever. "I just wanted you to know we have that in common."
The others who had drowned, even if they were saved like Tim, could probably empathize with him as well. But, Harry remembers the bitter bite of Lake Michigan closing over his head, the delicious warmth that had finally been in reach soon after, how tired he'd been. How it hadn't hurt, not really. It just felt like being weightless. It was the coming back that had hurt the most.
"You should take a nap before tonight, you're gonna' need your strength. And I'll stay, unless someone throws me out and takes my place."
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