#his voice was calm‚ almost hypnotic. It had the coarse rasp of an over rosined bow. ( IN CHARACTER. )

[thiefofcrows]

Plotted starter for @lostxtosunlight

       It had been two months since Yuki had officially taken the crow and cup tattoo and joined the Dregs. Raito hadn’t tried to bother them again — Kaz assumed he was too busy with doctor prescribed physical therapy. The thought shouldn't have given him so much satisfaction. Yuki, on the other hand, had spent his time training diligently and taking on jobs here and there as he grew more confident in his skills. They’d begun of course with hand-to-hand combat training and it was clear he already had some skill to begin with. As Yuki grew physically stronger, fighting him became more of a challenge.

       Once Kaz felt satisfied with that progress, he'd introduced knives into the equation — which, much to his delight, Yuki already had significant practice in that area as well. They'd been working on various strategies. Kaz gave Yuki insight into hiding at least two knives in his clothes at all times — which, given the keen way in which Yuki paid attention and, eventually, mastered it, it reminded him of when they were children. Kaz excidedly showing Yuki a new magic trick he'd been practicing, Yuki attempting it himself, Kaz simply delighted to have someone who did more than just feel an obligation to indulge him.

       The art of throwing knives effectively had been next and that took some time — it wasn't an easy skill to learn by any means, but just like with everything else so far, Yuki could eventually hit his target effectively with every throw. The more his skills developed, the more confident in himself he became ... and whatever tender things Kaz felt for Yuki before seemed to grow louder, more insistent. They became more of a heated smouldering thing that was difficult for Kaz to discern the meaning of — but with every stirring, he simply shut it down, burying it deeper.

       Unfortunately for Kaz, it didn't matter; those feelings somehow seemed to rise to the surface again and again. While he always ignored it when he saw it, Yuki's dark eyes often contained something a little heated and inquisitive — as if Kaz were a fascinating puzzle to solve. He wanted it to stop and he wanted Yuki to keep digging deeper simultaneously. It filled him with a sense of dread, terror and desire.

       Now, they were half way through training, having graduated to using Yuki's skill with knives along with hand-to-hand combat. He was slower today, seeming drained — and all Kaz had the mind to do was push him. At one point he swiped one of the training knives from Yuki's hand and dragged him close by the shirt with the other. He slid the training knife along his waist, giving an approximation of stabbing Yuki through the gut.

       ❝In a fight, the enemy will use any excuse, any opening to gain the upper hand. You don't have the luxury of taking it easy because you're not feeling your best. You have to ignore it, grit your teeth and push through. It's either that or you die.❞ Kaz let go of Yuki's shirt, his fist briefly pressing into the others chest just enough to nudge him back as he did so. ❝ Again. Try not to get fatally stabbed this time.❞

[thiefofcrows]

       For the better half of an hour, Kaz had managed to do the tasks that had required his attention — first and foremost, he’d had to smooth Per Haskell’s feathers. There was no doubt in Kaz’s mind that the old man had already heard about the altercation with Raito by the time Kaz had left Yuki to settle in and, of course, he had been right. He always knew all the right things to say, all the promises to make … and, of course, he knew how much Per Haskell lapped up every hint of respect Kaz could reasonably bestow.

       Once that was taken care of, he made his way up the stairs, the extra pain in his leg making itself known with every step. He settled himself at his desk after removing his coat, jacket and gloves, then, flipping open the Crow Club's ledger he focused on writing down the days' numbers he’d stored in his memory. His gaze swept over the page once he'd finished ... but now, his mind wandered to Yuki. He had nothing else to distract him from the way their eyes had met, the way Kaz had felt terrifyingly stripped bare — what did it mean and how had he done it?

       Those were the questions that plagued his mind the entire night, even after he'd lain down, determined to at least get a few hours of sleep. Kaz couldn't escape the flurry of his mind even then, but ... in sleep, it had sought to linger on what would've happened had Yuki reached for him. In the waking world, Kaz would’ve cut even the slightest hint of such thoughts short, barely allowing them to form — but here, his subconscious had control. He'd learned to anticipate that look, that urge to reach out. Would he have wiped the trickle of blood at the corner of Kaz's mouth away? Or perhaps his fingers would've tenderly trailed over the slow forming bruise at his jaw and cheek, leaving tendrils of inevitable pain in their wake?

       He'd felt both the stirrings of longing for it and the familiar twist of revulsion and shame, the latter manifesting into cold fingers digging into his flesh. The sensation of a filthy, bloated hand clamping over his mouth brought Kaz violently awake with a gasp. He'd been shaking, his clothes damp with a cold sweat and, once his breathing had evened out and the shaking eased, he’d decided to shower. He sought to wash the strange, invasive feelings down the drain along with the lingering undercurrent of anxiety.

       Evidence of the fight with Raito was plastered across his face in a few vivid bruises and a split, slightly swollen bottom lip.

       Kaz was seated at his desk again, his gloves back on, by the time he heard the knock at his door. He glanced up, one brow arching upward before averting his gaze again. ❝Come,❞ he said, pushing aside the paperwork he'd been reading through, neatly stacking it on his right. He rose to his feet and limped around the desk before leaning against the front of it. He'd brought his cane along with him, even though, with everything such a short distance away in his own room, he didn't normally need to use it in here. Kaz smoothed leather clad hands over the crows head, the rhythmic back and forth of the gesture bringing him a kind of comforting relief that he didn’t care to quantify.

       Yuki entered and, as their eyes met, it felt like there was some kind of weight, some kind of intensity that hadn’t been there before. Kaz ignored it and nodded towards the chair across from his desk. ❝Sit.❞ Once Yuki was seated, Kaz held his gaze steadily, determined to disregard the way it made him feel.  ❝Raito believes you've joined the Dregs,❞ he began, evidently not interested in beating around the bush. ❝If you do join us officially, he can’t act against you without retaliation … and now he understands exactly what that entails.❞ At that, a small, wicked grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, even though it was brief.

       ❝Joining us means you’d have to learn how to better defend yourself. Not to mention, learn how to lie, cheat and steal. Any job you complete, 20% of what you get goes to Per Haskell, — but the rest is yours. You’ll have a roof over your head and decent pay. You take the crow and cup tattoo, it marks you as one of us. It’s either that, or maintain a lie and try to find your way on your own. The choice is yours.❞

Kaz shut the door and Yuki was left alone for the first time that long, long day. He considered locking the door now, but each time he thought about it, a strange anxiety twisted his stomach. Almost like something terrible would happen if he did, like some kind of punishment waited for him. He shook his head. He didn't need to make that decision yet, not until tonight.

The room was small, with a single bed and a two-person table, a bathroom and shower. But Yuki was drawn to the compact kitchen, curiously looking through the few cabinets and the empty fridge. He ran his hand over the single countertop and examined the stove. The idea of being able to cook brought a little smile to his face. Whatever he wanted.

The sun set quickly and soon Yuki had to turn on the light, before he finally approached the door. His fingers hovered over the lock for a moment, and he still felt some reluctance to push it in. But he couldn't deny the relief that flooded through him once he did, tension immediately leaving his shoulders. He'd forgotten what safety felt like.

His body craved the softness of the bed and he finally gave in, laying down with a sigh. The lamp flicked off easily, casting Yuki into darkness. Some of that anxiety creeped up again, expecting to hear a creak of the hardwood outside his door, or a soft knock that didn't wait for permission to enter. But the minutes passed and the silence comforted him, finally lulling him into a deep sleep.

When Yuki finally woke, his room was bathed in golden sunlight, though he wasn't sure whether it was morning or evening. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. While his muscles still ached, his head was clear of the exhaustion that usually plagued him. He couldn't help but look at the door, and only relaxed when he saw the lock had remained untouched.

As Yuki showered, the hot water relieved some of the soreness in his body, and he let his mind wander back to The Crow Club, back to Raito. Back to Kaz. Yuki frowned as he remembered that sharp feeling that had spiked before Yuki had said a word, only to instantly turn to smoke. And...the strange desire to touch him. It almost felt like something else happened, like there had been a conversation hidden in the silence.

A hint of uncertainty met those thoughts as he ran out of reasons to stay in the shower. He had to face Kaz eventually, though Yuki still didn't know what to expect from that conversation. The room was nearly dark again when he stepped out of the bathroom, the sky black by the time he was dressed. Evening, then.

Kaz's room was easy to find, and Yuki got deja vu as he knocked. "Hey, Kaz? Are you in there?"

[starg1rlie]

two of my favorite scenes so far in crooked kingdom and six of crows (spoilers)

Wylan shuddered. Through the crack in the door, he saw Kaz squat down so he could look the little girl in the eye. "What's this big fellow's name?" Kaz said, laying a hand on the dog's wrinkled neck.

"This is Maestro Spots."

"Is that so?"

"He has a very fine howl. Da lets me name all the puppies."

"Is Maestro Spots your favorite?" asked Kaz.

She appeared to think, then shook her head. "I like Duke Addam Von Silverhaunch best, then Fuzzmuzzle, then Maestro Spots."

"That's good to know, Hanna."

Her mouth opened into a little O. "How do you know my name?"

"I know all children's names."

"You do?"

"Oh, yes. Albert who lives next door and Gertrude on Ammberstraat. I live under their beds and in the backs of the closets."

"I knew it," the girl breathed, fear and triumph in her voice. "Mama said there was nothing there, but I knew it." She cocked her head to one side." You don't look like a monster."

"I'll tell you a secret, Hanna. The really bad monsters never look like monsters."

Now the little girl's lip trembled." Did you come to eat me? Da says the monsters eat children who don't go to bed when they're told."

"They do. But I won't. Not tonight. If you do two things for me." His voice was calm, almost hypnotic. It had the coarse rasp of an over-rosined bow. "First, you must crawl into bed. And second, you must never tell anyone you've seen us, especially your da." He leaned forward and gave Hanna's braid a playful tug. "Because if you do, I'll slit your mother's throat and then your father's, and then I'll cut out the heaerts of all these sweet slobbering hounds. I shall save Duke Silverhaunch for last so that you will know it's all your fault." The little girl's face was as white as the lace on the neck of her nightgown, her eyes wide and bright as new moons. "Do you understand?" She nodded frantically, chin wobbling. "Now, now, no tears. Monsters see tears and it only whets their appetite. Off to bed with you, and take that useless Maestro Spots along too."

She skittered backward over the landing and up the stairs. When she was halfway up, she cast a terrified glance back at Kaz. He raised a gloved finger to his lips.

When she was gone, Wylan slipped out from behind the door and followed Kaz down the steps. "How could you say something like that to her? She's just a child."

"We were all just children once."

"But—"

"It was that or snap her neck and make it look like she fell down the stairs, Wylan. I think I showed remarkable restraint. Move."

(MY GIRL REALLY NAMED A DOG MAESTRO SPOTS. SHE GETTING REAL CREATIVE. also the reason why i like this scene is because of his interactions with hanna. and then he promptly runs into the dude of the house he just broke into and dusts it off like nothing ever happened LMAO)

"Then your choices are Novyi Zem and the Southern Colonies, but the Kerch presence int he colonies is far lower. Also, the weather is better, if you're partial to that kind of thing. You are a stolen painting, Kuwei. Too recognizable to sell on the open market, too valuable to leave lying around. You are worthless to me."

"I'm not translating that," Nina snapped.

"Then translate this: My sole concern is keeping you away from Jan Van Eck, and if you want me to start exploring more definite options, a bullet is a lot cheaper than putting you on a ship to the Southern Colonies."

Nina did translate, thought haltingly.

Kuwei responded in Shu. She hesitated. "He says you're cruel."

"I'm pragmatic. If I were cruel, I'd give him a eulogy instead of a conversation. So, Kuwei, you'll go to the Southern Colonies, and when the heat has died down, you can find your way to Ravka or Matthias' grandmother's house for all I care.

"Leave my grandmother out of this," Matthias said.

(i'm saving that quote from kaz, oml i love him too much....this blog is going to turn into my random fandom base of posts of wednesday, harry potter, shadow and bone and all my other obsessions.)

[stromuprisahat]

Over Kaz’s shoulder, Wylan saw a little girl standing on the landing, leaning on the neck of one of the massive gray dogs. She had to be about five, her toes barely visible beneath the hem of her flannel nightgown.  “Oh Ghezen,” Wylan whispered.  Kaz stepped out into the hall, pulling the door nearly shut behind him. Wylan hesitated in the darkened office, unsure of what he should do, terrified of what Kaz might do.  The girl looked up at Kaz with big eyes, then removed her thumb from her mouth. “Do you work for my da?”  “No.”  ... Wylan shuddered. Through the crack in the door, he saw Kaz squat down so he could look the little girl in the eye. “What’s this big fellow’s name?” Kaz said, laying a hand on the dog’s wrinkled neck.  “This is Maestro Spots.”  “Is that so?”  “He has a very fine howl. Da lets me name all the puppies.”  “Is Maestro Spots your favorite?” asked Kaz.  She appeared to think, then shook her head. “I like Duke Addam Von Silverhaunch best, then Fuzzmuzzle, then Maestro Spots.”  “That’s good to know, Hanna.”  Her mouth opened into a little O. “How do you know my name?”  “I know all children’s names.”  “You do?”  “Oh, yes. Albert who lives next door and Gertrude on Ammberstraat. I live under their beds and in the backs of the closets.”  “I knew it,” the girl breathed, fear and triumph in her voice. “Mama said there was nothing there, but I knew it.” She cocked her head to one side. “You don’t look like a monster.”  “I’ll tell you a secret, Hanna. The really bad monsters never look like monsters.”  Now the little girl’s lip trembled. “Did you come to eat me? Da says monsters eat children who don’t go to bed when they’re told.”  “They do. But I won’t. Not tonight. If you do two things for me.” His voice was calm, almost hypnotic. It had the coarse rasp of an over-rosined bow. “First, you must crawl into bed. And second, you must never tell anyone you’ve seen us, especially your da.” He leaned forward and gave Hanna’s braid a playful tug. “Because if you do, I’ll slit your mother’s throat and then your father’s, and then I’ll cut out the hearts of all these sweet slobbering hounds. I shall save Duke Silverhaunch for last so that you will know it’s all your fault.” The little girl’s face was as white as the lace on the neck of her nightgown, her eyes wide and bright as new moons. “Do you understand?” She nodded frantically, chin wobbling. “Now, now, no tears. Monsters see tears and it only whets their appetites. Off to bed with you, and take that useless Maestro Spots along too.”  She skittered backward over the landing and up the stairs. When she was halfway up, she cast a terrified glance back at Kaz. He raised one gloved finger to his lips.

Crooked Kingdom (Leigh Bardugo)

[dealbrekker]

Crooked Kingdom Underrated Sentence 2

"His voice was calm, almost hypnotic. It had the coarse rasp of an over-rosined bow."

Put that right up there with the hard lines and tailored edges.

[thiefofcrows]

     Despite the casual ease in which Kaz shared information, he watched Matt with scrutinizing dark eyes. Of course he knew, as Matt made room for the healer, that he likey lost even more visibility without his glasses. Of course he'd brought them, feeling the plastic case beneath his cape as he reached for it. After all, having Matt half blind would hurt rather than help them.

       He could tell that Matt was distracted and he felt unease twist, leaving tension in its wake — even moreso because even Kaz couldn't blame him for it. Even he had to actively resist the urge to close the distance between them, pull Matt into his arms, kiss his mouth. Nevermind that it had been two years since he'd done any of that and, despite being able to enjoy Matt's small touch to his skin, Kaz couldn't shake the fear that he would struggle still.

       Now is not the time, he insisted. Matt's life, his freedom depended on Kaz's ability to maintain his strength of mind, his focus. Even so, he let his gaze drift over every minute detail of Matt face, his body, taking note of the places where the healer laid his hands. He sought the weaker spots that would hurt more if struck, should they have to fight their way out.

       Kaz was already pulling out the glasses case with Matt's question and extending it out to him.  ❝Of course I brought them. Can't have you running blind.❞ Once Matt took the case, he continued.  ❝I had the lenses cleaned and reinforced by a fabrikator, along with the frames. They're near indestructible now.❞ A crooked grin tugged at his lips — of course, it couldn't save them from being lost, but ... in this line of work, having indestructible tools was an important advantage, in Kaz's opinion.

He lead them out of the cell once the Heartrender had slowly plumetted the guards' heartbeats. They then dragged them out of sight, destributing them in the dark to be found after they were long gone. Kaz had planned for the road ahead otherwise to be easy, as this part of the prison was deserted, but ... as he caught a glimpse of a couple guards crowding some girl from one of the brothels, he supposed it had been wishful thinking to hope anything would be easy.

As the guards turned to face them, the Heartrender clenched his fists, closing their throats to prevent them raising any alarm. The girl took the opportunity to flee around the corner after briefly holding her hands up, clearly eager to not garner anymore attention. Kaz cast a glance at Matt with an upward quirk of his brows as he tossed up his cane and caught it, gripping it with both hands. ❝I guess we get a fight anyway,❞ he said with a shrug.

 His head was spinning. He wasn't entirely sure why, or with what. Maybe it was the onslaught of information, or his mind still struggling to believe this was real. Or maybe it was a much simpler explanation—his body was in a sorry state, after all. Whatever the reason, it made it difficult to focus, no matter how closely Matt tried to pay attention. Instead, his eyes were glued to Kaz's face, taking it in, studying it as closely as he could. 

 Which wasn't close at all, if he was honest. Not only was it too dark to really see much, but now that he'd taken a step back to allow some space for the heartrender, things had become... a bit blurry. It hadn't bothered him much over the past two years—although it had made fighting a bit more difficult at times—since there was very little worth looking at, anyway. But now? Now he longed for his glasses. He wanted to see Kaz, every little bit of him. Every minute detail; the ones he had studied so many times before, and every change he had missed over the past two years.

 Matt's building frustration was only interrupted by the itching sensation the healing brought along with it. It wasn't overwhelming, but it was enough to pull him out of his own thoughts. Now wasn't the time to get distracted by something he had plenty of time to catch up on later, once he was free of this saintsforsaken place. If he wanted to get the hell out of here without alarming anyone until it was far too late, Kaz's plan had to proceed without a hitch. 

 Once the heartrender was done, Matt carefully tested his work and, although it was by no means perfect, was very relieved that he could move without too much pain. Whatever still lingered he could easily ignore. 

 "Just one, really. You wouldn't happen to have my glasses on you, would you?" 

 A shot in the dark. There was a good chance that his glasses had been the last thing on Kaz's mind. And he was sure he could manage without them, but he would certainly be of more use if he had them. "Nevermind, I'll manage," he muttered, while putting on the bizarre costume Kaz had brought along. They were definitely one thing of Kerch's culture Matt had never grown used to, and probably never would. 

 "I'm ready to go when you are." 

[thiefofcrows]

plotted starter for @therooftopsofketterdam

      As Kaz made his way up the stairs to the attic room, a sense of elation seemed to follow on his heels despite the fact that he'd outed a traitor tonight. It sometimes baffled him how anyone thought it even remotely wise to infiltrate his crew in the first place — he'd illustrated countless times that he was always several steps ahead. Not to mention, it was well known that if anyone crossed him, they'd either end up dead or very badly wounded. Some were even forced out of Ketterdam. He supposed that was one of the unfortunate drawbacks to success; more people wanted to tear you down.

      He suspected they thought, because Inej had returned and they'd clearly taken some steps to expand their relationship, that Kaz would be distracted. It was a fair assumption to make. However, few knew how deeply and intimately such a thing had always terrified Kaz and how hard he fought it when he wasn't tucked away in the attic room that he and Inej had gradually turned into a shared space, somewhere safe ... or, as safe as anyone could be in the Barrel, anyway. And that was where he found her when he opened the door.

      Inej perched on the windowsill that she'd long since claimed as her own, her dark hair uncoiled, revealing a long, thick braid. She glanced at him as he closed the door behind him and her wide brown eyes warmed at the sight of him. It sent a nervous flutter throughout his chest, even now that they'd crossed certain thresholds. After the nights events, his instincts were on high alert and, as always, they demanded that he protect himself from the softer, warmer emotions that churned inside of him.

      However, Kaz knew that wasn't an option here, not if he wanted her to stay. And of course he did. So, as he hung his coat and hat, peeled off his leather gloves and tucked them into his coat pocket, he took a breath and began to deconstruct the emotional armor, too. The tension in his limbs gradually eased, the hard lines of his face softened and his dark eyes warmed slightly in turn. He could see that Inej was about to unravel her braid to let her hair down — and, before he could talk himself out of it, Kaz made his way over to the windowsill, his cane giving its familiar thunk against the wooden floor.

      He'd had a wall hook specifically fitted to the crows head of his cane and, of course, he'd placed it close to the windowsill, where he'd always end up leaning it anyway. That was where he placed it — but Kaz did not sit, not yet. He gazed down at Inej, his expression emitting something warm and soft, despite the seemingly neutral shape of it. ❝I can help you,❞ he rasped, the phrase clearly intended as a means of asking permission. She usually lead, initiated something, but ... Kaz knew that Inej needed to know, to be reminded that he wanted this.

[strangenoquestion]

Now the little girl’s lip trembled. ‘Did you come to eat me? Da said monsters eat children who don’t go to bed when they’re told.’ ‘They do. But I won’t. Not tonight. If you do two things for me.’ His voice was calm, almost hypnotic. It had the coarse rasp of an over-rosined bow. ‘First, you must crawl into bed. And second, you must never tell anyone you’ve seen us, especially your Da.’ He leaned forward and gave Hanna’s braid a playful tug. ‘Because if you do, I’ll slit your mother’s throat and then your father’s, and then I’ll cut out the hearts of all these sweet-slobbering hounds. I shall save Duke Silverhauch for last so that you will know it’s all your fault.’ The little girl’s face was as white as the lace on the neck of her nightgown, her eyes wide and bright as new moons. ‘Do you understand?’ She nodded frantically, chin wobbling. ‘Now, now, no tears. Monsters see tears and it only whets their appetites. Off to be with you, and take that useless Maestro Spots along too.’ She skittered backward over the landing and up the stairs. When she was halfway up, she cast a terrified glance back at Kaz. He raise one gloved finger to his lips. When she was gone, Wylan slipped out from behind the door and followed Kaz down the steps. ‘How could you say something like that to her? She’s just a child.’ ‘We were all children once.’ ‘But—’ ‘It was that or snap her neck and make it look like she fell down the stairs, Wylan. I think I showed remarkable restraint.’

Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

[thiefofcrows]

plotted starter for @veitsia

   The sea breeze pushed and tugged at Kaz's dark, tailored coat as he stood overlooking the docks, dark eyes sweeping over the ships that resided in the bay. He was seeking one in particular, anxiously awaiting its arrival — Inej Ghafa would be on it, temporarily returning from her voyage of which he'd heard plenty about. They hadn't seen each other for months and the furthest either of them had gotten with touching one another had been a heartfelt clasp of their bare hands, fingers entwined; puzzle pieces fitting together with ease as his thumb had sought out her pulse, beating steadily against her inner wrist. Alive, alive, alive.

   It was what they'd done when he'd revealed the surprises he'd arranged for her and then again in the early morning before her departure. Of course on that day, he'd wanted to do more than hold her hand — thoughts of his lips brushing against hers, or even just wrapping his arms around her, feeling hers wrapped around him in turn, the gentle squeeze of reassurance ... but that squeeze had been reserved for their clasped hands. Kaz had let her go, wishing he'd done more, said more, but ... this time, perhaps he could do both.

   When he caught the first sight of The Wraith, Kaz felt his heart practically leap into his throat, giddy, nervous energy crackling through him like wildfire. He took a steadying breath ... then he made his way to the berth he'd had built especially for her, the sound of his cane thunking against the wood bellow his boots a comforting anchor. She'd told him roughly what day and time she would arrive in her last letter, but he hadn't written her back yet — she wouldn't be expecting him to be standing here to greet her. Perhaps she would be hoping, though, and the mere idea of it sent Kaz's heart soaring. It was a strange sensation, one he instinctively felt the urge to scold himself for. Hopeful and lovesick, like a teenager.

   Any concept of self consciousness completely evaporated as their eyes finally met, however — Kaz saw the relief and joy in her smile, bright and vibrant ... and it was for him. It was a smile he thought he would die to earn again. His eyes warmed to the color of dark honeyed tea, a crooked smile blooming across his features without his meaning to and he briefly averted his gaze, the gesture almost shy — if he weren't Kaz Brekker, of course. His hands felt painfully bare as he rested them atop his crows head cane, but ... he hoped Inej would see and understand the gesture.

❝Captain Ghafa,❞ he greeted her as she approached, his rock salt rasp warm with pride for her, using the title she'd begun to earn. Kaz wanted her to feel validated, but he also hoped she could hear how proud he was of her, despite how much his heart ached for her when she was away. Desires flashed through his mind rapidly — again, the thought of embracing her, a fleeting thought about what kissing her would feel like, telling her that he'd missed her ... but, he cleared his throat softy and instead, he said, ❝I considered organizing a welcoming party, but ... ❞ Kaz shrugged with an exaggerated sigh. ❝You'll just have to settle for me instead. ❞

[thiefofcrows]

       In response to Tommy’s teasing remark, Kaz met his eyes and quirked dark brows. His familiar crooked grin tugged faintly at his lips, but these days it certainly seemed to contain a more dangerous and wicked undercurrent. It was like it had become permanently stained with it in the span of time they’d spent apart. Kaz couldn’t deny the sharp pang in his chest at the sight of Tommy’s smile, even if it had only been a brief flash of it. He swallowed the feeling, however, and elected to listen as Tommy spoke, offering a conceding nod when he mentioned the war on their hands.

       The Peaky Blinders. Of course, Kaz had heard plenty about them — aside from the fact that they’d certainly made a name for themselves, he kept tabs on everything. He’d heard all about their legitimate business dealings, which had caught the attention of Billy Kimber, the once dominant crime boss in Birmingham. He’d heard the Peaky Blinders was lead by one of the younger brothers instead of the oldest. Speaking to Tommy, he felt it made sense to assume that leader was him. He’d heard how they’d taken Kimber out of the equation recently. However, even without all of that knowledge, he could guess that Tommy was likely leaning towards allying with the Jews.

       Kaz lifted his glass and drained the remaining contents of it before setting it down on the table top, giving it a slight push towards the bartender. This time, however, it was because he was done drinking. At the bar, at least. He grabbed his hat and stood, leaning against his cane as his eyes swept over Tommy before lifting to meet his gaze. Those damn eyes of his still managed to make Kaz’s heart race, even after all this time. Just like before, nearly everyone seemed to straighten slightly, their senses sharpening as Dirtyhands rose to his feet.

       Even if everything he’d said about his struggles were true, it was abundantly clear that Kaz had made a long lasting impression — and it suggested he was respected and feared nonetheless. ❝My office is back that way,❞ he gestured with a nod of his head, seeming to side step Tommy’s question for now. ❝Up the iron steps. Much more appropriate place to chat.❞

       Without another word, he moved past Tommy, his cane thunk-ing against the wooden floorboards as he went. He clearly expected his … old friend to follow him eventually. He made his way up the prior mentioned iron steps and through his office door. As he waited, Kaz shrugged out of his coat and jacket, hanging them up on the coat rack. He hung his hat as well, leaving him in a charcoal collared shirt and an equally dark embroidered waistcoat. However, the leather gloves remained, as they always did.

 It was obvious to Tommy that Kaz was holding back, or rather, trying to keep things on the down low. Most likely because his men were around and this conversation simply wasn't for them to witness. He was just about to suggest they take it somewhere else, when the admission that followed gave him pause. 

 The first, admittedly incredibly overwhelming urge was to shout 'then join me!', but Tommy had grown too smart, too calculated in the years that followed their intimate relationship during the war. Kaz might be an... old friend, but now he was an enemy of sorts. Sure, the Dregs were no threat, nor could they even be considered rivals, but that didn't change the fact that they were on two opposing sides. They were both smart, both ambitious, and Tommy had already made the mistake of inviting the enemy in one too many times. 

 Still, that didn't mean he couldn't use their shared past to his advantage at all if there was an advantage to be had from it. 

 Shrugging his shoulders, Tommy pocketed his cigarettes again while taking another drag of the one between his fingers. "I'm here on vacation, and I much prefer little hole in the wall places over those extravagant clubs full of pompous assholes. Is that a crime?" He glanced over at the other with a little grin, but then sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I'm here as a spectator, nothing more. I know there's a war going on down here, and I'm trying to decide which side to take. Both armies are too big for me to take on by meself, so I need to find an alley until I can get the Peaky Blinders established."

 "So that's me reason. What's yours?" 

[thiefofcrows]

plotted starter for @feilien

      While the familiar sensation of a cold sweat still lingered, Kaz felt some relief after emptying the contents of his stomach like his body had demanded. Relief, at least, from the relentless nausea. Otherwise, relief was in short supply in every other aspect. He couldn't stop the tremors that rolled through him and the flashes, although mercifully slowing down, still bombarded his senses. After splashing cold water on his face, he again stiffly sank to the bathroom floor, resting his back against the cold wall.       

      Kaz drew his knees up and rested his elbows there, then leaned his head forward so that it rested in-between them. He dragged his hands through his hair and focused on trying to steady his shallow, shaking breathes. To his deep shame and embarrassment, he felt a tightening ache in his throat, the threat of tears building with every passing second. It sent a burst of anger and frustration through him and he had to swallow down the urge to scream, to break something, to throw punches until his knuckles bled. Violence and anger were easier than this ache, easier than tears.       

      This job had been an important one, he'd known that, and still the cold waters of Fifth Harbor had come to drown Kaz anyway, the rotting, bloated hands of corpses dragging him under by his throat. They'd set out to blind and silence those who reported Matt's movements back to his Grandfather, which would have given them a considerable advantage. Not to mention, it would have given Matt a great deal of relief — but Kaz had been badly thrown off guard when one of the men had gone for his throat with bare hands, bodily shoving him against a wall. He'd frozen there, struggling to breath, a cold sweat breaking out over his forehead. The memory of being nearly suffocated beneath corpses in varying states of decay fracturing him from reality.

      If Matt hadn't intervened, Kaz might've let the man strangle him until he was too weak to stop him, the thought making him cringe with humiliation. He'd known things could only go terribly wrong from there when he'd flinched away from Matt's touch, from his body being far too close. Matt had known, too, although his knowledge of why was severely limited. Kaz hadn't known how to do anything but push through and it had cost them dearly. He would need to formulate a new plan, which would be a more complicated one now that they lacked the element of surprise. Kaz couldn't think coherently about any that now, not while his mind and body were still flooding him with panic.

      While the shaking was finally beginning to wane, shame and dread took its place. It washed over him in waves when he heard footsteps approaching — it couldn't be anyone other than Matt. The wounded thing inside him lurched, seeking to bite like a caged animal eyeing a well-meaning outstretched hand. His throat hurt and it wasn't only because of the bruises that would no doubt bloom over pale skin. All Kaz could think was that he couldn’t let Matt hear the threat of tears in his voice, couldn’t bear his pity, but … he knew that was nothing but old instinct, old terror, shrouding him like armor.

      Matt did not deserve to be met as if he intended harm and Kaz desperately tried to remember that.

[thiefofcrows]

Plotted starter for @mvndrvke | ⇢ INEJ.

   Kaz hadn’t known what to expect when Inej came back — they’d established the desire for something more between them, but at the time, he hadn’t been ready to take that step. She’d known it and so had he. Now, however … while Kaz was far from fully healed, nor did he think he ever would be, he felt better. Bringing Pekka Rollins to his knees, having him locked away in hellgate hadn’t fixed everything, but it had helped. He thought he could manage at least giving the fragile thing between them a try, if Inej wanted to. Given their last conversation, there was a part of him that expected her to say no — which, of course, he would’ve respected. Standing before her, his gloves far from his reach, his coat and hat hung up by the door, Inej had given him permission to try.

   He swallowed thickly, his heart racing and, like before, Kaz offered her the faintest nod. Gradually, he moved in close to her, tracking every slight breath, every fluctuation in her expression with an intensity he’d never allowed himself to indulge before now. He reached out — but hesitated, watching her. How did he word what he wanted to ask?  Kaz settled for a slightly clumsy ❝Can I …? ❞ Only when he heard Inej’s voice, wavering and thready like his own, nervous, but wanting … yes, did he slowly take the last step closer, reaching to curl his arms around her waist, his bare hands resting against her clothed back. Kaz exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath, his eyes fluttering closed — and he heard Inej do the same the moment they made contact. It made him feel … a little better. He wasn't the only one struggling.

   Kaz felt her hands slowly rest against his chest — it was almost too much, but he slid his right hand away from her back, faintly trailing it along her arm … and he took one of her hands in his. Revulsion and terror gripped him, but when his fingers found her pulse at the inside of her wrist, it helped. After a long moment of hesitation, allowing them both to get used to the sensation of contact, Kaz tiled his head forward and down slightly until his forehead gently rested against hers. He gave her hand a soft squeeze, as if for emphasis. ❝Heartbeat helps,❞ he managed, his voice rough, but quiet and almost gentle between them. He opened his eyes and gazed at her, imploring. ❝Tell me to let go and I will.❞

[thiefofcrows]

arches brow

@cruelprincae

Somehow, Kaz didn't even have to look his way to sense the way Cardan was looking at him. He managed to endure it for a few long minutes, waiting ... but eventually, he give in. ❝You really shouldn't stare,❞ Kaz rasped, finally casting a glance at him. ❝I think I've heard that it's impolite, apparently.❞

[thiefofcrows]

       ❝Then beg,❞ said Kaz, tilting his head with a shrug. ❝No one's stopping you.❞

"I beg your fucking pardon?"

[thiefofcrows]

plotted starter for @therooftopsofketterdam

   THE FIRST TIME THEY'D TRIED, after Inej had left on The Wraith and returned months later, was when Kaz had joined her on the roof of the Slat. Just like he'd used to, before the heist, before Van Eck, before she'd set her dreams on hunting slavers. He'd settled in next to her, their legs dangling off of the edge, their breath escaping in puffs of white as the chill of fall had begun to set in at night. It was a gradual feeling of Inej's slight weight against him and, for a brief moment, he was weighed down, buried beneath piles of corpses — but inej was not a corpse, she was alive next to him, her ears, nose and cheeks all flushed a deeper red from the cold, her body heat warm against his shoulder.

   Kaz tilted his head, hesitated ... but then he shifted slightly so that the arm she leaned against loosely curled around her just slightly, the length of his arm casually resting against her back. He sought out her hand with his free one, making use of the slits in his gloved fingers to find the pulse that beat against her wrist. It steadied him, discouraged the frigid waters from rising around them and he let out a slow, wavering sigh, his breath misting in the air. Tentatively, he leaned his temple slightly against the top of her head — he shivered as their combined heat chased out the cold and ... Kaz couldn't remember ever having experienced this, not really. It was warm and soft, desire and longing churning relentlessly in his chest, swiping the breath from his lungs.

   He felt an abrupt and foreign urge to wrap his arms around her, embrace her, rake his fingers through her hair, but ... Kaz didn't know if he could manage any of those things, nor if she could, either. What they were doing now was close enough, he thought, and a deep affection felt like it was practically bleeding out of him, fast and uncontrolled, overwhelming. His love for her was all encompassing, terrifying, but Kaz was greedy for her own that she offered in return, much to his bafflement.

❝Hello Inej,❞ his rasped voice drifted between them warmly. ❝I thought I'd find you up here.❞

[thiefofcrows]

@veitsia | CONT. from here.

  When I die … the mere idea of those words made something deep inside of Kaz Brekker twist painfully. At the same time, the vicious and wounded thing he’d become after his last true brush with death thrashed with rage. Both sensations swept over him so abruptly, it was difficult to reign in an outward response. Kaz still clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the pen he was writing with — even his writing stopped, albeit briefly as he caught himself, took the faintest breath through his nose. The force of such frayed, raw rage scared him still, deep within his bones and, the only reason it scared him was because it was for her.

   He didn’t want to think about what life would be like without listening for her, without instinctively seeking with nothing but vague senses for her approach, where she would simply melt back into the world, emerging from the shadows like magic. He didn't want to imagine never seeing her seated at his window again, feeding the crows that would always remember her kindness.

   Kaz had said the words as a joke, light and teasing, despite the fact that maybe he might actually mean it, but … of course she had turned it into something too real. He would surely paint the streets red with the blood of those who’d laid their hands on her without a moments hesitation. How had it come to this?

   A quiet scoff followed and, he too felt the twinge of irritation at himself as he tilted his head in her direction, seeking to steal a glimpse of her. He often found himself gazing into those rich dark eyes and itching to understand the things she didn’t say aloud, longing to solve the puzzles in which she presented him with — the only case where he would solve one only to receive at least three more, each more baffling than the last.

   ❝Escaping obstacles of my own design is what I’m good at, Inej.❞ He’d cheated death more times than he could perceptibly count, but that was how you won a game that was rigged against you from the start, wasn’t it?

   ❝But if you don’t at least haunt me, I’ll be sorely disappointed,❞ Kaz continued, a long, exaggerated sigh carrying the words from his mouth.