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[longitudinal]

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quentin toma NOTES: sailor, navigator, loverboy, war-bringer. THREAT LEVEL LIKABILITY LEVEL SCANDAL LEVEL FASHION LEVEL WEALTH LEVEL

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un: t.laughlin

[holyposition]

Hi. This is Tim.

From the baths.

I meant to get in touch with you earlier, but everything got crazy last night after we separated. Did you make it out alright?

[longitudinal]

[ those ellipses last a long, long time. but he's trying, okay. ]

Tim from the baths. A good name. Strong name.

I left the party and had a very comfortable bed to fall into, so I would wager that outcome is more than alright.

Yourself?

un: KINGOFTHEPIRATES

[bigsmile]

so don't freak out if you see a big snail in the room. he's from back home. and he talks. we use them instead of these that we use to talk? anyway he's feeling a bit down from the trip through the library.

[longitudinal]

A snail that talks?

Do animals often talk where you're from?

text, sometime post-party and pre-event ig

[kobes]

[It's late. It's between two and three in the morning, judging by the clocks on the walls and on the phones. And Koby knows he shouldn't, but he's almost sent this exact message a hundred times over the last several days. So, finally:]

Are you awake?

[longitudinal]

[ he's a light sleeper and so unused to technological sounds that when the little phone on his bedside table goes off, he starts awake. he lays in bed blinking for a moment, coming back to his body, then reaches for the phone.

koby. odd. ]

of course, was just considering a late night snack. you?

un: t.laughlin

[holyposition]

Can you start buttoning your shirt at breakfast, please? It's very distracting.

[longitudinal]

and why would i do that? it’s uncomfortable.
these are the clothes they provide. i could tell them to give you a blindfold, if that’s easier for you.

un: t.laughlin

[holyposition]

Are you going to Koby's tonight?

[longitudinal]

i wander in and out on occasion. i wouldn't say it's planned.

are you?

un: koby | sometime after the event

[kobes]

Are you busy? I found something, by the lake.

[longitudinal]

i'm on my way. where are you? by the dock?

un: t.laughlin

[holyposition]

I had a dream about you last night. It was very...vivid.

[longitudinal]

Was it?

Tell me more. What does Timothy Laughlin dream about?

post-werewolf murders, checking in on the bae

[kobes]

Can I
Stay with you for a while?
I know I don't usually need to ask but

I don't want to be alone right now. I'll pack light. If that's okay.

[longitudinal]

You're staying with me.

There's no question. Pack whatever you want. I'll be over to help you soon.

after;

[kobes]

[Once the door is locked and the phones are turned off and Koby's cried and cried and made himself sick from crying and he's tucked up with his face in the crook of Quentin's neck and he can finally breathe easily again:] Hey. I gotta tell you something.

[A beat, playing with the ragged threads of Quentin’s sweatshirt collar.] I know you don't need it, but -- thank you. For staying with me all day. Even when I was a mess.

[longitudinal]

[ quentin can't help the way his blood churns - the way this has made him more angry than he's felt in a long time. but he puts it aside, shoves it all down and wraps himself around koby. it's all he can do but pet his hair, wrap up in him, nuzzle against his neck and breathe him in. ]

You never need to thank me for that. We were with one another. We're both messes. You're allowed to be that - we all are.

un: koby

[kobes]

The library's closed.

[longitudinal]

What do you mean? The doors shut? Or is it just gone?

🎁

[oisre]

[ she doubts very much quentin is well-versed in christmas, so she feels little apprehension in having a present delivered to his door by a helpful staff member, especially since it is not delivered on christmas. inexpertly wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, sealed with a green wax stamped with a bird in flight.

inside reveals a piece of embroidery; a ship on the sea, bubbles made of tiny pearls instead of thread, real shells and sand dollars at the bottom, small hunks of bleached coral, a tiny starfish, delicately and near invisibly attached to the embroidery with the thinnest silvery thread that catches the light when he shifts the piece to look at it. the scent of salt water like a ghost in the air, just the hint of it caught in the physical threads of magic.

a note at the bottom of the box reveals an incredibly delicate and old-fashioned cursive: ]

Darling Q,

I much prefer this to the infernal texting you have subjected me to.

I've only just discovered the concept of Christmas and while I do not think Christ will convert me, I enjoy the idea of gift giving. My hope is that you will be able to look at the waves and some of the ache for the sea will abate.

Ever fondly yours,
P

delivery; christmas eve 12/24

[preborns]

[Alia’s gift is wrapped somewhat clumsily in brown paper, likely taken from the kitchens, and taped excessively to ensure it’s secure. Inside, resting in sparkly, star-studded tissue paper:

A warm, anchor-patterned scarf.

A smooth-polished rock from the lake (yes, everyone gets a rock) with the gift-receiver’s initials carefully carved into it (with what? Don’t worry about it.)

A business card for Sol & Scroll, because if you aren’t patronizing it, you should be.

There’s also a note, scribbled on notebook paper stolen from Alina (sorry, babe):]

Quentin -

Son of the stars, anchor to lonesome souls: keep yourself warm, until the sun rises on us again. Keep yourself safe, though never doubt: my eye is always on you. I will keep you safe.

- Alia

@t.laughlin

[holyposition]

Will you tell me something nice? That has nothing to do with anyone getting gored or spiraling out of control or wearing mourning black on Christmas. Do we have any of that?

[longitudinal]

There are good people here. People with big, loving hearts and sharp minds. There's one I know, actually. Took him some time to warm up but I'd say he's charming, clever, maybe funny even if he won't admit it.

I've been reading a book from this world that's about an older time period than now. I drew Koby, actually. You as well but it is far less accurate considering I do not have the model before me in the flesh!

[ it's not at all nice and grand here, but quentin finds hope in its people instead. ]

text; un: koby

[kobes]

[The library is still closed, but Koby's turned his room into gift-wrap central, no peeking boyfriends allowed, so that's where he texts from.]

How do they celebrate holidays where you're from? Or do they? I realized I never asked.

Also papercut count: 5.

[longitudinal]

You realize you could just hide my gifts and let me help you?

We celebrate the winter solstic like you do this holiday. But there are no stories about a fat, jolly man.

On the sea we didn’t celebrate too much. We were never landside long enough to worry about it.

🎁

[holyposition]

[ A package delivered to Quentin's doorstep, neatly and lovingly wrapped. Inside the box is a large hooded scarf with pockets, to keep him warm, and nestled inside it for safekeeping, a fragrance that smells as advertised, and so of course, reminded him of Quentin.

A second package is a tin with a variety of Christmas cookies, and a homemade card with a felt snowman on it. ]

Quentin,

I know you don't celebrate Christmas, but it wouldn't feel right leaving you off my list. You've been a better friend to me than I could have hoped for, ever since the night we met. A lot of things here feel so impermanent, but you're one of the few things I know I can count on. So thank you for being you, for being so patient with me, and for teaching me all you have. You've done more for me than you know.

Merry Christmas.

With love,
Tim

🎁 delivery, 12/24

[kobes]

[Quentin’s gift, after much deliberation, is a touch different. There’s the nautical paper, the blue ribbon, the tissue and card and everything, and there’s a lushly knitted blue scarf folded in the box, the same color as the deepest pulses of Quentin’s magic. However, when the card is opened, it just says:]

For the cold days. Go to the back booth in the restaurant, where you made me laugh until I couldn’t breathe at the party. - K

[When Quentin follows directions, goes to said booth, there’s another box – this one with a (mildly tacky) glittering suit fit to his exact measurements, and another note:]

For the next party. Go to the balcony outside the game room, where I stopped being scared of who was watching us, because you made me forget everything but you. - K

[The balcony is snowy, icy, but there’s another box right by the wall Quentin had pressed Koby up against in the head of summer, this one containing a less-formal outfit - a sweater, patterned with ducks, and of course, a third note:]

So Abe doesn’t feel left out. Go to the place I told you I loved you, for the first time. -K

[The lake is frozen over, the rowboat overturned to keep from gathering snow, but beneath it, a fourth box, this one filled with charcoal and smooth paper, gathered into a leather-bound sketchbook.]

For your maps or your art or your list of places to go and things to see and movies to watch and books to read and anything you want. Go to the place where I first KNEW I loved you, where you made me come alive the first time you touched me. - K

[Koby’s room, of course – rarely used anymore, not since October, not since he’d come to stay with Quentin on that first terrible day and sort of…never left. They’ve split time since then, periodically spending the nights in the suite where the notes and papers and supplies live, but more often than not they’re in Quentin’s room. In fact, when he opens the door to the rarely-used bedroom, it’s completely cleaned up, papers and files gone, all Koby’s belongings having been packed up and put away, bit by bit over the last few weeks.

All that’s left, on the cleaned-off desk, is a slightly crooked, homemade bookmark, made from a map in Quentin’s handwriting and a dried pink flower – the first two things he’d ever given Koby, that first little scavenger hunt from all those months ago. And one last note:]

For as long as I can, for the rest of my life, I want my home to be where you are. And I want that to start officially, today.

My first mate, my siren, my sailor, my love. Come home to me.

-Koby

i changed my mind on the other one bc i want this ok dont perceive me

[longitudinal]

[ quentin wakes without koby at his side for once and that alone is strange, but not wholly unheard of. but he wakes, dresses, and finds the little gift wrapped in blue paper and follows every little clue, each a stepping stone of their relationship, each personal and real and passionate.

but it leads him, finally, to koby's room. emptied out, bed tidily made, no signs of books or papers or the sea of theories and thoughts. no maps on the walls, no ink stains. the house has thoroughly cleaned it, but he finds the little paper, the note. the flower.

come home to me it says and quentin can't shake the staggered, shaken feeling in his chest. it sears into the back of his mind, makes his heart thump harder and faster. he tucks the little paper into his pocket and carefully cradles the dried, pink flower. down the hall, not far from koby's room for once, to his own. the room he left a little while ago on the treasure hunt, all the gifts tucked under his arm.

when he enters his room he can tell immediately that it's different - papers, books, clothes, the very smell of koby strong on the air. ]

Captain?

[ soft, full of emotion. ] I've come home to you.

text: un: koby | post-departures

[kobes]

Luffy and Usopp are gone. They went home.

I'm checking in on the crew, but then I'll be home and
Will you be home?
It's okay if you're not but if you are I'll
Be there soon.

[He is absolutely not spiraling :)]

[longitudinal]

Gone?

I'm home. I didn't hear anything.

Come home.

[ he will be waiting - one with a mug of hot tea sitting on the bedside table for him, but then also waiting to gather him into his arms. luffy's absence feels strange and surreal and all it took was a peek inside to see the room had been cleared, cleaned.

empty, save for the little snail they both fed. ]

@t.laughlin, during event

[holyposition]

where are you

there's something wrong with me

I need help please

[longitudinal]

[ this is the last thing he wants to see after a harrowing month with revenants and danger. ]

What's going on Tim?

I've just left lunch - where can I find you?

text | un: goodsir

[mygoodsir]

Dear Mr. Toma,

You will no doubt be surprised at receiving a letter from me as we have had few opportunities to exchange pleasantries, but it is with honourable motives that I intrude upon you. I do also hope that you will forgive my frankness in this matter.

It has been expressed to me by several people now that those bound in love here may have dalliances with others; indeed it is quite common. I believe personally that such relationships must be entered into with the blessing of the most beloved partner.

It is in that spirit that I humbly beseech your blessing to pursue Koby's affections.

I possess a rather humble station in life, and have naught to offer him but every kindness of which I can conceive. To you, I may only say that I consider myself a man of honest character and that I am happy to answer any inquiries you may have. I do hope that you are to look favourably upon my request, but naturally I shall respect your wishes on the matter.

With deepest respect and admiration,
Yours,
Harry D.S. Goodsir

text | un: q

[longitudinal]

Hello there. You write letters like many back home wrote so it was a nice surprise to see this on these little phones we've been given.

It's nice to meet you - I don't think we've met, because I'd remember a pair of eyes vying for my Captain.

I kid, of course. There's nothing for you to ask me, however. I don't own Koby, I don't control him. I love him. That much you should know. And you should know that if you do anything to harm him then you will be met with a wrath larger than even the sea on a stormy turn.

But if Koby wants to be with you and you want to be with Koby, it's up for him to decide. If you feel so inclined, you could even join our bed on occasion - maybe that's what I should have requested in return. 😊

text: un: koby | immediately post-tim return

[kobes]

hey im at the library can yuo come get me pleas

[it's the best he can type out with his vision blurry and his whole body aching. he's gotten the fire out, at least -- it hadn't spread too far. koby's focusing on the positives.]

[longitudinal]

[ seeing koby's name light up on his phone brings a smile to his face, but seeing the text itself?

he's already up and moving. ]

I'm on my way. What's going on?

[ though why he asks is beyond him as he tucks his phone away and heads immediately toward the library. he's barefooted, not having bothered with shoes and he looks rumpled from leaving the bed after a day of dozing and reading. throwing the doors open to the library he looks around - smelling smoke. smelling something burnt. every muscle in his body tenses.

he doesn't bother to ask where koby is - there's a swell of bright, blinding blue in his aura as he uses his magic, following through bookshelves and around tables until he finds him. ]

Koby. [ and no matter where he is, quentin reaches out for him, careful and worried and furious. ]