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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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[longitudinal]

I doubt it looked half as good on her. Again, a royal cunt. Though that might be offensive to associate her with all other royal cunts in the world. She's a breed of her own.

[ he yawns a little as they finally settle in, one of his arms looped around koby, keeping him tucked in tight and close, the other settled on his arm above his elbow, so as not to impede the soft little movements over his chest. he's tired, but he doesn't plan to sleep until koby drifts off - wanting to be sure that the dreams don't chase him into his sleep again. ]

No need. I prefer you to find me indecent - and where's the fun if you don't take a little gamble here and there. [ he tips his head, pressing a kiss to his forehead. ]

You should rest.

[kobes]

[Again, a soft huff of a laugh, this one vague, sleepy. The shattering weight of the nightmares that had seemed so insurmountable, so overwhelming now feels very, very far away. Already drowsy, Koby mumbles into that notch where shoulder and neck meet:] She can't get me here.

[Then, drawing another vague looping shape, a circle or a heart or the like, over Quentin’s breastbone, then tapping it gently:] You rest. Decent or no. Dream something nice.

[longitudinal]

No, she can't. Not here, and certainly not with me here.

[ it's gentle, a sleepy murmur into the soft pink head of hair against his side. it's easy to grow comfortable here, to settle into koby and imagine his visiting nightly on better terms. for them to come together and drift lazily on their own paths on a calm sea. ]

I hope you have a sweet dream to chase all the others away.

[ he's not sure if he falls asleep or if koby does, or if they both do, but quentin goes still, his breathing evens out, and sleep pulls him back down into the comfortable dark. ]