[Even without his extra senses, Koby can feel Tim's grief, his pain, his fear. There's so much inside him, so much hurt and confusion and, over it all, the desperate need to do better, be better, to help people and build something in this unsafe, unpredictable place. Tim's a good person, and he's in a place full of people who are the opposite, or are somewhere in between, or are taken and twisted and treated like puppets to fulfill some great and terrible purpose.
Or maybe it's just for fun. Maybe all this pain, all this fear, all this violence is just because they (the house, the Balfours, whoever, whatever's in charge) were bored. Maybe the grief written across Tim's face is just to satisfy some cosmic passing fancy.
Koby doesn't know. He can't know. He's tried and tried and tried to figure it out and it eludes and it escapes him. All he knows is that Tim is a good person, and that he's Koby's friend, and he's suffering. So there's a weak attempt at a smile, a gentle hand slipped across the pew, finding Tim's, covering it lightly. Koby knows: the game isn't over, and there's no role or attack attempt that would solidify his innocence. There's still a wolf out there. But he's himself, in that moment, no puppeteering, no control from malevolent forces.]
Not you. Not me. It -- touches us, yeah, but. I'm still me. You're still you. It hasn't taken that away yet, right?
[ that’s a question he can’t answer right away, but he squeezes Koby’s hand while he thinks. It’s meant to be reassuring, he knows, but it’s just another minefield, a question from a philosophy class where Bob had been nervously biting his own lip across the room. Theseus' Paradox. How many pieces of a ship have to be replaced before it becomes another ship? How many parts of his soul have to be whittled and warped before it becomes a different one? ]
Hasn’t it? I’m not the same. I said I gave up Alia for the greater good, but when it’s time for me to really act I do it like a coward. I’ve been bartering with lives, lying to everyone because I’m afraid or Hawk tells me to – I lied about Embry, to you, to Alicent, to everyone. And I’ll keep doing it, just making compromises until there’s nothing whole still there.
[ Tim’s seen this before, from the next room over, watching the shadows through the bottom crack as they made their closed-door deals, organized their witch hunts with evidence that grew more and more absurd, promising to scratch each other’s backs as people died around them. Once, he believed that on the other side of that door, democracy was being saved. By the time he learned that it was nothing but rot, it was too late – for him, for Caroline, for Senator Smith, for everyone else who had their lives ruined or ended for the egos of a few powerful people.
It's disturbing enough to be on the inside of the room, driving these decisions. To be successful at it? That’s no victory. There's no pride in it. Whatever momentary satisfaction he got from putting Danny away has been ruined now. He'd just been setting him up to be killed. ]
I'm not a wolf, but my hands aren't clean. There are people dead, because of me.
[Tim says these things, all these aching, terrible things, but he curls his hand into Koby’s and that’s something. That’s a tether, an anchor, a line that’ll keep them both on earth (he hopes, he hopes). The turmoil on Tim’s face is above all familiar, that realization that nothing is simple, nothing is either wholly terrible or wholly pure, no matter how much they try. It’s all a snarled, tangled, painful web that keeps stretching out and out and out. Spider, Aemond had called Koby. Weak, useless, pathetic little coward, someone else had. Are those the only two options?]
I lied to you too. [Softer, reminding Tim, both hands covering the one he’s been given, scarred knuckles and callused palms.] Or – misled you, at least. I sat in your room and listened to you debate and I never mentioned that Usopp had seen anything. I told my crew about Alexei, about his world because I was afraid of him, and it hurt people who were innocent. I – named Louis, who’s been nothing but kind and wonderful to me, and I voted for him to be taken down to a prison where at least one person’s died.
[A long beat, a look downward at their joined hands, an audible swallow.] At home I was – in charge of cleaning up after executions. On the ship. I’d stand there and watch while Alvida beat someone’s head in. I’d listen to them beg and cry for their lives and I’d do nothing. Just – wait until they were just smears of blood on the deck. And then I’d mop it up and wait for the next one. [He inhales, leaning a little closer, pressing his shoulder to Tim’s, like he needs the support.] If you’re a coward, I’m a coward. If there’s blood on your hands, there’s so, so much more on mine.
[It’s out there, raw and aching and bleeding, and Koby’s head is swimming, throbbing from the strain of it, from the urge to bolt, to press the terrible terrible things he’d done back into the box in his head, pretend it’s not there. Pretend that story and all the other things he’d done or had done to him never happened. But he looks up, instead, teary-eyed and stricken and so, so tired.] Or – maybe we’re both just seeing how much we can live with. How much suffering we can cause, indirectly or not, and still keep getting up in the morning and trying to be good people.
[ He opens his mouth to make a frustrated snap – not at Koby, but at Hawk – because there’s no reason to worry about Louis down in the dungeon, is there? Not when the dungeon strangler is a friend of his, and he’s sitting pretty in Tim’s room guzzling down scotch after their latest fight about it.
But he says nothing, not to hide, but because he doesn’t want to interrupt Koby’s story, as gruesome as it is. It only makes him angrier. Is that why he’s been judged to suffer in this place? For not standing up to an entire crew of violent pirates with only a mop and bucket? It would be suicide, and that too is a sin. What was he supposed to do? ]
You’re not a coward. She would have just killed you, and then you never would have escaped, or made it here, or been any help to anyone. You survived.
[ As for the rest, he sighs. Says nothing. The goal should be to cause no suffering at all, but being in this manor and playing this game makes that impossible. Tim pulls his hand free from Koby’s to wrap around his shoulders instead, pulling him into his chest, while his other hand still anxiously rubs at his beads. ]
We’ll survive. And we’ll make things right once it’s over.
[It feels -- odd to have it out, like that. The knowledge of Koby's own participation (albeit by inaction) in two years of death and violence and carnage feels like a weight, like something he can't shrug off, no matter how he tries, like it'll follow him forever, clinging at his heels and hissing his name. He feels that shame now, thinks of his lofty attempts at being kind or strong or fair during this awful month, and how he'd done none of that on Alvida's ship. How he'd been too scared to breathe even a word of dissent.
Tim's arm lands warm and reassuring across his shoulders, and Koby turns in towards him, letting out a shuddery exhale as he does.] Then that's what we're doing now. Surviving. We can -- fix things when this is all over, you're right. [A stretch of peace, a break...it sounds pretty damn appealing right about now.]
[ The likelihood that Tim would give himself the same grace if it were him is tragically low, but he knows Koby, knows him to be someone who tries his best at every turn to do the most good for the most people. Not every weakness is a mortal sin. Some situations are just impossible, like this one. This place. His arms squeeze around Koby tighter, his head leaning to rest on top of his, and recalls how even a few months ago, his heart raced so anxiously at such a small intimacy between friends. And now it’s normal, and good, and worth holding on for. ]
Just a few more days. And then...yeah. We’ll figure it out from there.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2024-10-24 03:49 am (UTC)Or maybe it's just for fun. Maybe all this pain, all this fear, all this violence is just because they (the house, the Balfours, whoever, whatever's in charge) were bored. Maybe the grief written across Tim's face is just to satisfy some cosmic passing fancy.
Koby doesn't know. He can't know. He's tried and tried and tried to figure it out and it eludes and it escapes him. All he knows is that Tim is a good person, and that he's Koby's friend, and he's suffering. So there's a weak attempt at a smile, a gentle hand slipped across the pew, finding Tim's, covering it lightly. Koby knows: the game isn't over, and there's no role or attack attempt that would solidify his innocence. There's still a wolf out there. But he's himself, in that moment, no puppeteering, no control from malevolent forces.]
Not you. Not me. It -- touches us, yeah, but. I'm still me. You're still you. It hasn't taken that away yet, right?
no subject
Date: 2024-10-24 03:56 pm (UTC)Hasn’t it? I’m not the same. I said I gave up Alia for the greater good, but when it’s time for me to really act I do it like a coward. I’ve been bartering with lives, lying to everyone because I’m afraid or Hawk tells me to – I lied about Embry, to you, to Alicent, to everyone. And I’ll keep doing it, just making compromises until there’s nothing whole still there.
[ Tim’s seen this before, from the next room over, watching the shadows through the bottom crack as they made their closed-door deals, organized their witch hunts with evidence that grew more and more absurd, promising to scratch each other’s backs as people died around them. Once, he believed that on the other side of that door, democracy was being saved. By the time he learned that it was nothing but rot, it was too late – for him, for Caroline, for Senator Smith, for everyone else who had their lives ruined or ended for the egos of a few powerful people.
It's disturbing enough to be on the inside of the room, driving these decisions. To be successful at it? That’s no victory. There's no pride in it. Whatever momentary satisfaction he got from putting Danny away has been ruined now. He'd just been setting him up to be killed. ]
I'm not a wolf, but my hands aren't clean. There are people dead, because of me.
cw: gore ig
Date: 2024-10-25 01:16 am (UTC)I lied to you too. [Softer, reminding Tim, both hands covering the one he’s been given, scarred knuckles and callused palms.] Or – misled you, at least. I sat in your room and listened to you debate and I never mentioned that Usopp had seen anything. I told my crew about Alexei, about his world because I was afraid of him, and it hurt people who were innocent. I – named Louis, who’s been nothing but kind and wonderful to me, and I voted for him to be taken down to a prison where at least one person’s died.
[A long beat, a look downward at their joined hands, an audible swallow.] At home I was – in charge of cleaning up after executions. On the ship. I’d stand there and watch while Alvida beat someone’s head in. I’d listen to them beg and cry for their lives and I’d do nothing. Just – wait until they were just smears of blood on the deck. And then I’d mop it up and wait for the next one. [He inhales, leaning a little closer, pressing his shoulder to Tim’s, like he needs the support.] If you’re a coward, I’m a coward. If there’s blood on your hands, there’s so, so much more on mine.
[It’s out there, raw and aching and bleeding, and Koby’s head is swimming, throbbing from the strain of it, from the urge to bolt, to press the terrible terrible things he’d done back into the box in his head, pretend it’s not there. Pretend that story and all the other things he’d done or had done to him never happened. But he looks up, instead, teary-eyed and stricken and so, so tired.] Or – maybe we’re both just seeing how much we can live with. How much suffering we can cause, indirectly or not, and still keep getting up in the morning and trying to be good people.
I don’t know, Tim. I'm sorry.
no subject
Date: 2024-11-01 03:48 pm (UTC)But he says nothing, not to hide, but because he doesn’t want to interrupt Koby’s story, as gruesome as it is. It only makes him angrier. Is that why he’s been judged to suffer in this place? For not standing up to an entire crew of violent pirates with only a mop and bucket? It would be suicide, and that too is a sin. What was he supposed to do? ]
You’re not a coward. She would have just killed you, and then you never would have escaped, or made it here, or been any help to anyone. You survived.
[ As for the rest, he sighs. Says nothing. The goal should be to cause no suffering at all, but being in this manor and playing this game makes that impossible. Tim pulls his hand free from Koby’s to wrap around his shoulders instead, pulling him into his chest, while his other hand still anxiously rubs at his beads. ]
We’ll survive. And we’ll make things right once it’s over.
no subject
Date: 2024-11-02 01:35 am (UTC)Tim's arm lands warm and reassuring across his shoulders, and Koby turns in towards him, letting out a shuddery exhale as he does.] Then that's what we're doing now. Surviving. We can -- fix things when this is all over, you're right. [A stretch of peace, a break...it sounds pretty damn appealing right about now.]
🎀
Date: 2024-11-05 04:32 pm (UTC)Just a few more days. And then...yeah. We’ll figure it out from there.