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The waves have become a comforting lull when once they might have unsettled her. Indeed this rocking ship too often reminded her, a fledgling captain some years ago, that once she was thieved away from home and kept in the belly of a hull not unlike the Wraith’s now. So she understands, you see, when the women and children stowed belowdeck grow sick and uncomfortable at being kept in the bowels of the boat. “Only for now,” promises the Captain because they’ve no wish to witness the punishment bestowed upon their captors. Or, if they do, Inej has no desire to allow them the opportunity. No blood on them like blood on her.
Above sea level, the sun warms her blisteringly so. In the early days, she insisted on hunting at night because old habits die hard and she was forged in the shadows. But these days she is renowned enough that it matters not when she tails the slavers so long as she catches them. And catches them she does.
Specht is in a good mood, humored and smug at a job well done. Her crew too is pleased and merry at the prospect of retribution. Inej’s First Mate is one of less than a handful of men aboard, an intentional decision in the hiring process. Each member of her crew has a personal stake in Inej’s mission or else believe in such nonsense as the deification of a lost Suli girl. Either suits her just fine so long as they’re loyal. Specht readies his pistol but he waits dutifully for Inej’s command.
A bird roosts among her captives. Fury plants an ugly seed in her belly. Worse— a sick sort of pleasure festers alongside it. More than anything Inej is at once annoyed.
The crew settles into quiet murmurs full of anticipation as Inej stalks slowly down her line of prisoners. When she reaches the one who weeps shamelessly, she pauses long enough to meet his eye. He ducks his head. Coward. “A gull’s feast at dusk,” she proclaims, receiving a roar of agreement from the crew. They fall all at once silent when she steps before a kneeling Dirtyhands.
Kaz Brekker has the nerve to smile at her. Inej bites her tongue so she won’t stick a knife in his eye. Her fingers twitch at her sides and Kaz grins wider like he knows. He probably does. “Captain?” Specht inquires, interrupting her plot to kill the King of the Barrel. The crew looks on in baited earnest. “The brig for this one,” Inej says. When Kaz’s smirk deepens, she adds with a sharp leer of her own, “I’ll hold onto his cane for him.”
— @ensorscell as Captain Inej Ghafa 🖤
Kaz Brekker is bound and kept to his knees on the main deck of the Wraith alongside five other men, one of which does not stop weeping. Loudly. The Quartermaster jabs the snot - nosed pigeon with the toe of a sea - stiffened boot accompanied by a laugh that booms louder than any cannon could boast and the crew surrounding their captives as audience cackles along with him. It’d been a rowdy haul off the currently sinking ship on the starboard side and if this display is anything to go by, the headache pinching behind Kaz’s right eye will not subside any time soon either.
Yet just as soon as he grits his teeth against the resignation, and the pain in his right leg, a hush befalls the crowd. Kaz feels her before he hears her; the water suddenly rocks the ship steadily in spite of the disruption of the capsizing vessel alongside its hull and every wicked grin on the pirates’ faces goes just as tide - wrenched. Kaz knows she resurfaces from below deck where the stowaways she’d pilfered from the slaver ship are now safely tucked away, but he doesn’t lift his head yet.
❝ Please, ❞ wails the fool two bodies down. In their peripheral, Kaz sees him scoot forward on his knees with his hands lifted in supplication. Doubtless the children hidden beneath these wooden planks had done the very same when Inej had taken them from the belly of the first ship; it’s too bad this spineless bird hadn’t the foresight to heed the warnings of her divinity in the first place.
Specht draws a pistol from his hip and cocks it in warning. The loud click startles the crying man into near - silence, though he continues to whimper. The Quartermaster shows as much mercy as is allowed. That is to say, none. ❝ What’ll it be, Captain? ❞
Now, finally, Kaz lifts their head. Inej wears dark boots to the knee, fitted trousers the color of harbour water, and an algae - green blouse that flows loosely around her arms. Strapped to her hips, thighs, every other slot of her ribcage, and in place of a plume of feathers in her tricorn hat are familiar knives winking in the blinding sunlight. When he seeks the warm planes of her face, he finds her already looking at him. The cold fury limning her dark lashes sends a jolt of fire straight to the seat of his spine. Kaz can’t even help himself; he grins at her.
#hebzucht#🔪「 THREAD. 」 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 & 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.#( He is so DARLIIIINNGGG GUESS WHO JUST GOT BACK FROM JAAAIIILLLLL right now. )#( Only to go immediately into the doghouse. )#( Careful Kaz. You’re not in Kansas anymore. This is Sankta Inej territory. )#( Bet he likes it though. Me too buddy. )
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Inej’s trauma healing is NOT linear and is NOT fixed by true love yada yada yada. She can’t share a bed with Kaz for nearly a year and even then she needs a pillow barrier between them and she can’t sleep through a whole night. She needs to sleep on the outside edge so she can roll off the bed and get space faster and easier. She’s a very light sleeper and any change in even her partner’s breathing can wake her up, send her into panic. Of course it’s slow going. And that’s not even considering Kaz’s side of the equation.
#🔪「 MUSINGS. 」 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘰.#( Caught in a nightmare it’s not Kaz next to her at all and she’ll wake up on the floor with a knife leveled at Kaz’s face! )#( Her heart says safe but her mind… Whole other story! )#( Also! Breaking news: Kaz is a cuddler :) He gravitates toward Inej if he manages some sleep beside her. )#( And that definitely does NOT help on the long treacherous road to her recovery. )#( His reaching fingers are not HIS fingers according to her brain even sometimes when she sees them coming! )#( But it must be established that they ARE healing and they’re doing it together <3 so fuck the side of fandom that refuses them healing! )
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🐦⬛ 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇, 𝚙𝚝. 𝟸 — quotes taken from the album of the same name by twenty one pilots. some edits have been made to allow for rp purposes. feel free to adjust for pronouns/names/etc. [ part 1 here! ]
❝ Sometimes I feel cold. Even paralyzed. ❞
❝ Nice to know my kind will be on my side. ❞
❝ I don't believe the hype. ❞
❝ You know you're a terrible sight. ❞
❝ You'll be alright. ❞
❝ Don't believe the hype. ❞
❝ They might be talking behind your head. ❞
❝ You don't get thick skin without getting burnt. ❞
❝ I think we can do it. ❞
❝ I don't know which way I'm going. ❞
❝ They want to make you forget. ❞
❝ Save your razorblades now. ❞
❝ I'm higher when I'm heavy. ❞
❝ We'll find a way to pay for it. ❞
❝ We'll win, but not everyone will get out. ❞
❝ I'll keep on trying. ❞
❝ I'll keep on going back. ❞
❝ I'm still not sure if fear's a rival or close relative to truth. ❞
❝ I created this world to feel some control. ❞
❝ I want to stop time. ❞
❝ I'll sit here 'til I find the problem. ❞
❝ I'm done with tip-toeing. ❞
❝ You're a legend. ❞
❝ I'm sorry I did not visit. ❞
❝ I'm tired of tending to this fire. ❞
❝ I'm tired. ❞
❝ They know that it's almost over. ❞
❝ In time, I will leave the city. ❞
❝ For now, I will stay alive. ❞
❝ Last year I needed change of pace. ❞
❝ Couldn't take the pace of change. ❞
❝ They know what I mean. ❞
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AMITA SUMAN as INEJ GHAFA Shadow and Bone, ‘No Shelter But Me’.
#🔪「 LIKENESS. 」𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭�� 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘪 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦.#( I miss her every day. Sometimes I can still hear her voice... )
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Would Kaz peel an orange for Inej?
kaz would tear out every single apple tree in the rietveld orchard and fill the soil with orange seeds. she would have an orange every morning if she wanted and he'd pick off all that nasty stringy shit from each slice too. if inej wants an orange, she's getting a whole fucking tree @taitropa
#hebzucht#🔪「 KANEJ. 」 𝘸𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨.#🔪「 HEBZUCHT. 」 𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘰 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥𝘴.#( I knew it’d be excessive but this is so much. Love it. )#( He better keep the apples though. We love the apples. )#( Devoted? I think you mean whipped. )
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Kaz and Inej
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What unease Kaz had hoped to inspire in Sanjana would have extinguished at his display but the girl had already been unafraid. She watches those trickster hands with rapt focus, like she hopes to replicate the moves just as soon as she can get her hands on her own deck of cards. Sanjana will have to wait some months before the caravan stops anywhere near a market which will have goods such as that. They make a habit of keeping clear of the shores unless necessity dictates the trouble. Too many merchants harbor ill will toward those whom they call interlopers. A softer name than some of the others they would lob at their traveling group.
“You are a jadugara,” whispers Sanjana in awe. She’s edged a few shuffles closer and Inej has stood once more to stand with her. Kaz doesn’t flinch at the nearing proximity yet or Inej's second departure but the Wraith’s captain eyes him with knowing suspicion. Sanjana notices nothing except Kaz’s shifting fingers. “Didi, tell him he must teach me.”
Inej breathes a laugh, the sort that only an audacious child can pull from you. “I will do no such thing.”
“Mister Brekker,” Sanjana says, undeterred. He is reshuffling his deck, but keeping the cards’ faces to himself. Inej rolls her eyes. The action draws their attention, though she knows that never truly deserts her, and she watches as Kaz’s lashes fan out over the hollows beneath his own eyes when he squints at her. Then he pins Sanjana with that hyperfocused regard. Lesser men have cowered beneath such a look. Sanjana simply smiles. “You must teach me how you did such a thing.”
Sanjana’s English is clipped and dragged through its syllables, a clearly slow going education. Kaz makes no move to show any emotion at the language switch, neither surprise or distaste showing in their face. Inej stands at Sanjana’s back like she is ready to defend her from a single snide remark. He doesn’t show his cards regarding that either.
“Sanjana,” scolds Inej, pinching the girl’s tricep between her thumb and the knuckle of her index finger. The girl makes a sharp noise of protest but Inej does not release her. In Nepali, she continues to admonish, “You are foolish and rude. Return to your mother before you get yourself in trouble. I will not save you if you cross yourself with the likes of Kaz.” It is an empty threat but Sanjana need not know that.
Kaz does not loosen the strain of their ill - ease at the girl’s arrival. Her stampede through the grass was little more than comedic, hardly a spy would she make, but Kaz has the misfortune of being on uneven ground less than familiar to him here. True that he knows well enough the company he keeps and truer still that he basks in their disquietude at his presence, but he has so little control. He holds little water in a space not meant for his shape; they know how to force a mold, but this one actively revolts against them though truthfully he wants little to do with it.
Sanjana regards him with eyes too large for her face. Twelve she may be, but she has room yet to grow. She’s young enough still not to understand what she regards with naive curiosity is something she ought to fear. Kaz does their best not to encourage her. Barrel rats fresh to the canals learn quickly who to avoid and with whom to ally, and so often Kaz is both depending on the day and depending on the rat. Sanjana has already proved her uselessness to him.
The girls’ words blur together, a stream of warmth passed between them that he can hardly keep up with. Snatches of words register, but they speak too quickly. Kaz takes stock of Inej’s posture, the way she embraces the girl with familiarity, and the familial way they exchange what are clearly teasing jabs. None of it speaks of a threat, which is notable given Inej’s own discomfort every time they visit; this little eases him though. He is reluctant to release his defense of her.
They clock one word with certainty. ❝ Jadugara, ❞ Kaz repeats clumsily. Magician.
Sanjana’s eyes brighten and she says something else to him in rapid Nepali, a question that he cannot wrap his hands around and make sense of quick enough. He and Inej lock eyes; with mirth swimming in hers, she supplies, ❝ She wants you to prove it. ❞
Kaz straightens, the leather of their gloves squeaking when they tighten their grip around the head of their cane. Sanjana has disentangled herself from Inej, who takes her seat at his side once more, but the girl keeps her distance on her side of the fire. Still, those moon eyes have nowhere certain to focus as they flit excitedly from his hands to his face and back.
By now he’d have been well on his way with the girl probably tossed into a canal. Instead, here, Kaz merely narrows his eyes before retrieving from a pocket hidden within his coat a deck of cards. They shuffle lazily, the sound of the paper loud even over the crackling wood, and then fan out the deck so that the filigree backing is face up. With a single flick of his wrist, all of the cards suddenly sit with their suits on display. Sanjana’s sharp inhale in shock motivates Kaz further. When he reshuffles this time, he draws a single card to the top of the stack, bends the whole deck inversely between his thumb and forefinger, and then snaps the deck flat once more revealing an entirely new suit. The ace of knives glimmers in the firelight where before the queen of crows was displayed. Kaz quirks a brow in challenge to Sanjana, but the makings of a smirk plays around the edge of their mouth.
#hebzucht#🔪「 THREAD. 」 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 & 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.#🔪「 HEBZUCHT. 」 012.#( kaz: let me make sure this brat knows i'm the scariest thing she will ever meet in her entire life. )#( also kaz: showing her silly little card tricks. )#( rio he is so ridiculous. )
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🐦⬛ 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐒 —quotes taken from the first novel in rebecca ross' letters of enchantment duology. some edits have been made to allow for rp purposes. feel free to adjust for pronouns/names/etc.
❝ It takes courage to let down your armor, to welcome people to see you as you are. ❞
❝ I can’t risk having people behold me as I truly am. ❞
❝ You will miss so much by being so guarded. ❞
❝ I don't think you realize how strong you are. ❞
❝ Sometimes strength isn't swords and steel and fire, as we are so often made to believe. Sometimes it's found in quiet, gentle places. ❞
❝ I hope you will find your place, wherever you are. ❞
❝ I think we all wear armor. I think those who don’t are fools, risking the pain of being wounded by the sharp edges of the world, over and over again. ❞
❝ I am coming to love him, in two different ways. Face to face, and word to word. ❞
❝ I am destined to always be at war within myself. ❞
❝ Your grief will never fully fade; it will always be with you--a shadow you carry in your soul--but it will become fainter as your life becomes brighter. ❞
❝ You are not alone. ❞
❝ I never told you that I love you. And I regret that, most of all. ❞
❝ That’s it. You’re doing great, ____. ❞
❝ I think there is a magical link between you and me. A bond that not even distance can break. ❞
❝ It’s not a crime to feel joy, even when things seem hopeless. ❞
❝ ____, look at me. You deserve all the happiness in the world. And I intend to see that you have it. ❞
❝ I don’t want to wake up when I’m seventy-four only to realize I haven’t lived. ❞
❝ I’m not going anywhere, unless you tell me to leave, and even then, we might need to negotiate. ❞
❝ I realize that people are just people, and they carry their own set of fears, dreams, desires, pains, and mistakes. ❞
❝ I can’t expect someone else to make me feel complete; I must find it on my own. ❞
❝ I pray that my days will be long at your side. ❞
❝ Let me fill and satisfy every longing in your soul. May your hand be in mine, by sun and by night. ❞
❝ Let our breaths twine and our blood become one, until our bones return to dust. Even then, may I find your soul still sworn to mine. ❞
❝ I’m not afraid to be alone, but I’m tired of being the one left behind. ❞
❝ I broke my engagement, quit my job, and traveled six hundred kilometers into war-torn land to be with you. ❞
❝ And yet I keep moving forward. On some days, I’m afraid, but most days, I simply want to achieve those things I dream of. ❞
❝ Let us make our names exactly what we want them to be. ❞
❝ How do you make your life your own and not feel guilt over it? ❞
❝ I am so afraid. And yet how I long to be vulnerable and brave when it comes to my own heart. ❞
❝ I grew something living in a season of death. ❞
❝ I don’t think you can even begin to understand what your words mean to me. ❞
❝ I want your hand to be in mine, no matter what comes. ❞
❝ You’re distracting me, ____. ❞
❝ Endings were often found in beginnings. ❞
❝ By law, we’re both legal adults who can drink and be formally charged for murder. ❞
❝ Be safe. Be well. I’ll write soon. ❞
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The cold festers deeper than the bones. For broken bones not properly healed it is an agonizing affliction with an infection radius as large as this country property. Inej had determined Kaz’s poor mood as soon as she’d woken up and found his side of the bed long gone vacant. It’s impossible to get in the way of his morning ritual, but she usually has good luck delaying his walk to thieve a few extra hours of his warmth. But if he’s out of bed this early, he’s seen fit to make himself more miserable. She’s glad he doesn’t make the attempt up the stairs. For the sake of his leg and the bruise of his mood escalating if Nirmala were witness to it.
Her daughter bats her big cow eyes up at her mother and even upside down Inej is sure she’s never seen a better intimidation tactic. She simply wants a story, but Inej knows better than to underestimate her. After all if she’s asking her mother for a story rather than her father regardless of his mood, that’s cause for suspicion. And Nirmala Rietveld hates when Inej braids her hair. What are you up to, Shevrati?
“It means wanting,” Inej supplies. “Wanting something very much.” Nirmala’s hair is unruly even with the oil and Inej has to coax it into a single plait with painstaking patience. Every few strands requires that she pluck a twig or leaf from those Ghafa waves after the previous day’s adventures. Her mother shakes her head fondly each time.
“Now this girl on the shore was afraid but not so afraid that she dared not go. The fear did not outweigh the wanting. So she gathered her courage and swallowed that fear and off she went.” At the nape of Nirmala’s neck, Inej gathers the start of the braid in one hand and pokes her daughter’s shoulder until the girl looks back. “What do you think she wanted?”
❝ It began as all things did: a girl on the shore, terrified and desirous. ❞ for nirmala!
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ— A STUDY IN DROWNING ( accepting! )
It’s too cold to linger too long outside today. There is a southern wind which kicks up off the coast and brings with it a chill that seeps into the bones. It’s a bad day for Baba, who keeps to the first floor of the house after he has trekked awkwardly through the fields and orchard despite the frost - blanketed ground. Nirmala can hear the long drag of his gait and the uneven thump of his cane even from upstairs; it’s slower than it usually is and that means, @taitropa says, that she mustn’t pester him too much.
This is a horrible thing to Nirmala, who prefers Baba’s stories over anything else. Mama tells stories just fine; she tells stories about ships and saints and sometimes she tells them in song, and Nirmala loves Mama’s voice. But it’s Baba who tells stories about girls with knives and boys with guns and the danger of city streets rife with mischief, which are, of course, far more exciting tales. Especially because Mama hates that he tells them to Nirmala.
❝ Mama, ❞ interjects Nirmala, who sits on the cold wooden floor with her legs crossed beneath her. Mama sits behind her and rubs oil into her scalp with calloused fingers made rough from saltwater. They are still gentle; if Nirmala closes her eyes, she might fall asleep and she still has bribing to do today. Downstairs, Baba scolds the dog for getting underfoot, the sanded down quality of his voice muffled by the yowling wind outside. Nirmala tilts her head back until her neck hurts and Mama’s warm eyes come into view. ❝ What’s desirous? ❞
#yaburnae#🔪「 THREAD. 」 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 & 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.#🔪「 YABURNAE / NIRMALA. 」 001.#( meanwhile inej upstairs: kaz rietveld don’t you bring that shit ass attitude up here……mostly because i’m interrogating your daughter. )#( troublemaker. what did they expect. )#( this is unbelievably tender. nirmala is THAT GIRL! <3 )
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Oh FUCK you @hebzucht
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Kaz had taught her to crack a safe, pick a pocket, wield a knife. He’d gifted her with her first blade, the one she called Sankt Petyr - not as pretty as wild geraniums, but more practical, she supposed.
@kanejdaily‘s Kanej Week - Day 6: Favorite objects - Inej’s knives
#🔪「 LIKENESS. 」𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘪 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦.#🔪「 KANEJ. 」𝘸𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨.#( knife wife! )#( i love this quote from the books. )#( 'not as pretty as wild geraniums but more practical' )#( now she has geraniums. knives. AND trafficking ring tips. what a romantic her crow is. )#( ALSO HAHA HIS GULP IN THAT ONE GIF. )
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The caravan is curious but not so curious that they are not wary. A dozen campfires ring the large grassy field they have deemed their resting home for the time they spend recuperating between travel. Families gather around the flames like they always do to unwind. The Ghafas have joined another group for the evening and Inej can only guess how relieved that makes Kaz. He sits stiffly beside her in front of their own little fire and stares pensively into it, less a scheming face than it is simply contemplative.
Before she can inquire, a flurry of movement and the sound of little feet stamping down the overgrown grass around them alerts Inej to a guest. Next to her, she feels the moment Kaz is aware of a visitor as well and sees from the corner of her eye when they reach for the cane they’ve leant beside him on the felled log they both sit upon. Inej throws her arm out, warning him off, and stands just as the interloper throws themselves from the tall reeds across from the flames.
“Sancai hunuhuncha, didi?*” The girl is tall enough that she reaches Inej’s collar when she flings herself into her arms. Her long hair is pulled back from her face in a braid as is custom for most girls in the caravan but for the baby hairs sticking with sweat against her crown. She smiles broadly and freely, her soft chin bony where it digs into Inej’s sternum in their embrace.
Inej says with a healthy dose of fond scolding in her voice, “Namaste, Sanjana.”
“Did I frighten you?” Sanjana asks mischievously in Nepali. Her dark eyes flicker, though the fire is at the girl’s back, and Inej can’t help but smile warmly in return.
“How could you when you parade through the camp as an elephant three times your size?”
“I frightened your sweetheart,” Sanjana accuses triumphantly, but gives a cautious glance to Kaz who has yet to rise. Or release his cane as though he might use it against a girl hardly older than twelve. Sanjana has every reason to be wary of Kaz but Inej shakes her head.
“If he were truly frightened, you would not be here to gloat over false victories. Where is your mama? Does she know you have come to pester me?”
“Not you,” says Sanjana. She has not looked away from Kaz, who Inej is sure has also not looked away from her if only out of suspicion, and Inej can see now that it isn’t caution in her gaze at all but curiosity. “Is he really a jadugara?”
@hebzucht hi
#hebzucht#🔪「 THREAD. 」 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 & 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.#🔪「 HEBZUCHT. 」 012.#( *are you well auntie? )#( you said and i quote 'write me the fucking starter mackie or i'm burning down your house' )#( and i happen to like my new place so here i am. )#( kaz and sanjana BEGINS <33333 )
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Good morning. Inej always travels with a little plant to remind herself to always stay rooted somewhere because even though her family travels for performances a bird must always roost somewhere. It’s usually an aconite flower from her homeland!
#( very old country traveling tradition. )#( I imagine that even the traveling Ghafas and the caravan still uphold the Hindu and Nepali traditions that would keep them rooted. )#( that strand of wolfsbane is indigenous to Nepal. and I like to picture Mama Ghafa digging up a new bloom for Inej whenever she visits. )#( in main verse she keeps her plant on her ship!! )#( modern verses it just depends where she is of course. )#( she tends to that flower religiously. it’s a comfort to her especially when she misses her family. )
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That warning in the near distance doesn’t frighten Inej. There are enough shadows back here that she even goes so far as to pull the scarf from her face, revealing the lower two-thirds of her features to her company both alive and dead. The ones on the ground at least won’t give her up. Inej is an easy step around any pooling blood with all the lightness of a grain of sand, not a single step audible though there are enough damp pockets of questionable liquid to splash through. The Wraith has a care for leaving evidence behind even if GCPD won’t be able to trace her prints.
“No,” Inej agrees with her own flicker of amusement. “No, I don’t. I’m not.” Saves her the trouble of a fight later on. Nix dismisses Inej’s concern without an answer although a closer inspection with the safe distance of a couple bodies between them soothes her further. Not that there was any doubt that Nix could handle herself. The remains on the ground are proof enough of that.
Inej skirts her prey’s prone form with a more critical gaze now. From a shallow analysis, she doesn’t recognize him. Whatever information he carries, it isn’t anything Inej has had to collect. But she squats to check his pockets with the dexterity of a neurosurgeon, hardly there at all but for the thieving of a wallet. It’s a stupid mistake to have anything on hand. Or an intentional one, if the cards within are anything to go by. The New Jersey driver’s license is for a John Doe but the identifying image shoots ice along her nerves. Inej alights on the dead man’s face once more and then stands to put distance between them as if he could reanimate and snatch at her again.
She doesn’t bother getting a look at the eyeless assailant nearest Nix. Something tells her that she’d fare better placing his face than the one she'd felled and she isn’t keen on quizzing herself. Nausea’s already rolling through her gut and keeping her face ashen. “They’re security for the Menagerie.” A gentleman’s club uptown that she is all too familiar with. Inej fixes her scarf back around her mouth and nose and casts her eyes skyward to gauge the climb up the nearest wall. “I’m sure if we’d asked them, they’d have been sent looking for a Lynx. I don’t know if more will come. My contract with Heleen was bought out but…” Fear creeps into her cadence and steals whatever’s left of her words. She’s still debating an escape route.
Habit bends her at the knees over Assailant Number One, the toes of her boots kiss the expanding sanguinary pool emanating from his fractured skull. While Inej appears every bit the surgical killer, Nix has most recently noted that the hilt of her bowie knife, carved from ivory to resemble the perched form of a barn owl, fits a little too perfectly into most eye-sockets. The blade holds little blood, but the knife's ivory hilt is a grisly sight. Any viscous remnants beneath her long, acrylic nails are picked at using Number One's shirt. Number Two, a few paces away and having been abandoned by Inej, will likely draw her attention soon after.
Gotham seldom leaves one lonely. Sirens wail in the not-so-far distance, those screams ricocheting around the endless labyrinth of concrete and brick they loiter at the centre of. Nix knows the flashing lights and sirens are not meant for them. The city's drowned by far too many despicable acts for she and her company right now to be of any concern. Any witness has scattered, or hidden themselves well enough that even Skizm's Killer Queen doesn't care to hunt them down.
She sifts a roll of notes from Number One's pocket with the nonchalance of one of her children picking flowers to gift their father in the backyard. Nix observes the wad of cash she doesn't necessarily need, ere tucking it snug in her bra. As she moves to stand, the worn tail of her trench slithers through blood and puddled rainwater. It's likely to douse the scene in no time if the clouds crowning Inej from above are anything to go by. She appears as the shadows do, like a wisp soon to evanesce with the same grace Nix'll never have. She remains the antithesis, as much a stain on the scene of the grisly remains forking as rivers do on the concrete.
" I'm not really a... " Her brows lift, blowing her eyes impossibly large while she sheathes her knife alongside Kindness strapped to her thigh. " Run-to-the-safehouse-kinda-girly, y'know...? " A subtle tilt of her mouth alludes to humour at the mere notion, that flash of her canines snares the minimal light. " You don't kill like a safehouse-kinda-girly. " Inej's handywork lingers in their shared periphery. Nix admires it without turning her head, and runs fingers through her hair to snatch at any inevitable tangles. " These fuckers... " Judgement burgeons her downturned pout for only a moment, then she flashes her company an ill-suited smile. " They for you or your boyfriend? They're not for me. "
#banschivs#🔪「 THREAD. 」 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 & 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.#🔪「 BANSCHIVS. 」 002.#( somebody has to be having a good time. )#( because suddenly it ain't inej...LOL )
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Trading barbs with @hebzucht is always a fool’s errand because as much as you could try to wound him, his blade is always sharper. Inej can feel its cutting edge against her skin and he might as well have her pinned to the wall with all her insides exposed to him. They know exactly where to hurt her, vulnerable as she’s always been to them.
“You twist my words on purpose for your own agenda but does it truly make you feel better, Kaz?” She sounds as exasperated as she feels and she looks it too. Inej curls her fingers around the newspaper, effectively and swiftly crumbling it and obscuring the taunting headline. It doesn’t help her though because she can’t stop thinking about the corpse in the street and what his eyes looked like only the night before when they’d caught hers across the room.
The faces from her past blur together until she is faced with them all over again. All of the monster’s features are recrystallized in her memory. She doesn’t need to reach far to remember what it feels like to be grabbed or pinned or silenced or hurt because it���s right there on the surface. It feels like floating outside of her body. Shutting out of herself so she doesn’t have to feel it.
“But that’s not what you were doing. What you did last night was not for me. It was for you.” Inej shoves the wad of sensationalized gore in print across his desk and leans further into his view. Kaz is pulling on armor quicker than they can really hide behind it. The anger in his eyes is too bright to dull before he can tuck it away from her. “What will you do, Kaz? Go door to door in this city asking who fucked your Wraith so you can skin them for all to see? That isn’t what I want. I haven’t asked you for vengeance.” Inej rights herself and takes a step away from him. Then another and another until she has the desk between them. “Sometimes I will see ghosts from my past. But I do not need your protection from them. I cannot live my life depending on you for that.”
If she wanted to persuade him to roll over for her, she only fuels his own brand of self protection. There is not a hint of amusement in the slow slide of forced indifference like a shutter over the black of his eyes. Kaz sits back in their seat with the look of someone balancing a dare on their tongue, sharp as a blade that would wound if accepted. They offer it with a voice gone low, quiet, too soft to be anything but dangerous. ❝ Is that what you want, Inej? To leave? I would certainly never stop you. ❞
Maybe she doesn’t realize just how heavy her threat hangs around his neck, but he suspects that’s precisely why she wielded it. The problem is, he would never fight with her about that. He gave up everything to his name so that she never had to stay tied here again; it’s insulting that she thinks to rub that in his face now, but worse than that it fucking hurts. He’d rather be gutted and shoved into one of the canals, left to rot in the piss and the waste and the drowned dead vermin, than break her spirit with restraint.
That merch gone cold in the middle of that market had no time to heed a message or be warned of a threat. Kaz was brutal and clear about his motive, but never had any intention for lessons learned. One look across a crowded room was enough to send Inej into a near catatonic state and that had been enough reason for Kaz. Inej can cut out the damage at the root with her work hunting down ships, but Kaz will dig their fingers into the flesh of the poisoned fruit harming her and destroy it. He did destroy it, at least this time. There’s no accounting for the wounds already inflicted all those years ago from men no longer here.
❝ You wanted me to dismantle the businesses here, ❞ Kaz reminds her. His voice is still menacingly quiet even as it grinds. They haven’t broken eye contact yet either, though there’s no telling who between the two of them is more furious with the other now. Kaz curls their fingers into the arms of their chair to quell their rising temper. ❝ If the brothels have no clients, they have no money. If they have no money, they have no business. Is your recall slipping, Captain? I could have sworn you might have picked up those basics during your time in this city, but perhaps pirating weans you of those details. Good, then, that you no longer retrieve information for me. ❞
#hebzucht#🔪「 THREAD. 」 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 & 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.#🔪「 HEBZUCHT. 」 009.#( yikes on a bike AGAIN. )
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Balance comes natural as breathing and it takes nothing at all to settle. It’s not so easy to quiet her racing heart. @hebzucht touches her so carefully and she knows it’s for his benefit as much as it is for hers but she thinks the world is so funny that Dirtyhands would be so gentle. Inej sits perpendicular to his thigh but angles her chin toward him even when he roots forward. That first brush of their nose has the opposite effect on her pulse as calming.
Inej nods once but voices, “Yes,” to predate his own anxiety. His hand is heavy against her spine and then her hip and she closes her eyes too against the memory of harsher grips. Nastier fingers. Kaz Brekker is a greedy bastard but Inej reminds herself that he will not take what isn’t given when it comes to her. Even so she can feel the recoil start low in her belly and spring through her lungs until her breath catches. Biting the inside of her lower lip does not silence her shudder.
To combat their retreat and her own panic, Inej takes a chance on touching him back. Her arm closest to him hooks against his, that palm settling on his closest shoulder as a warning. Then slowly she slides her hand across the breadth of his back to his opposite side and then retreats once more to its starting position. He is stiff beneath her, a rigid and composed figure under her exploration, but it’s his shallow breath against her neck that reminds her that this is hard for him too.
“You said I could paint,” she says quietly because she needs to talk to distract them both. But she also just wants to pull this from him too. And maybe some part of her hopes that he will share this with her just a little further if they make plans. “What about green walls in here? To go with the stolen chair,” she teases now that it’s almost as if he wanted this small piece of a friend present in their home. It's sweet with context.
Softly she slips her hand again across his back, only this time she detours at his spine and follows the path north to his collar. From there she pulls enough away to observe their face as her fingers skirt up their nape. That brush of skin is fleeting but poignant and Inej only lingers long enough to gauge his reaction. She doesn’t wait to reach her true destination, nails a light drag through the short hair at the back of their head. It’s long enough she could get a little grip on it but she only runs her fingers through lightly.
It’s grounding and she realizes that what was panic fluttering in her belly now retreats to make room for warmth. Kaz hasn’t flinched away from her yet either. They share breath sitting so close to one another but Inej leans in to brush their noses together. She lifts her other hand to hook her finger on one of the buttons of their vest, pushing it and her nail through the buttonhole to keep another hold of him. “Thank you for the flat. I love it.”
The newspaper lining the windows only muffles the downpour outside by so much; when the winds pick up, the glass rattles. Had they been in the Slat in those early days all those years ago, by now there would be a leak somewhere. These days, the sort of repairs needed there are divined by rambunctious teenagers looting their own home and brawling playfully in the halls. This flat’s windows are reinforced and Kaz won’t need to foot the bill to fix some glass. They can count on Inej to be far more graceful breaking and entering, even if it is her own space.
Her laughter cuts through any remaining chill in the air. Kaz feels the quick peel of her smile mirror in his own features just as soon as she throws his words back at him. Delighted as ever by her, he folds at the waist and encroaches on the air she exhales in her amusement. From this new angle, his chin tips up and they are at odds with one another in a way they so often are with her above him only so much closer. He can touch her like this and so he does.
Kaz can measure their story by landmarks of questions and long stretches of companionship shaped by need. Every moment shared has always felt so inexplicably large despite existing so heavily unspoken, and Inej holds a ring of keys to pieces of him that he swore once he locked away and drowned when he was not yet a myth but still only a boy. She looks at him now in the yellow - light from the hall and he swears that magic crackles in the wet corners of the room as if she has willed the shadows to bend for her once more. So too does she fish out his locks from the sea.
Before he can retreat from her, his Saint regifts him her touch and further closes the distance between them. Kaz balks at her easy mercy. ❝ Yes. ❞ Because what else is there but his simple acquiescence? What else is there when he wants nothing else? Swallowing saltwater, they reach both hands for the bend of her legs, bare fingers catching in the creases of her damp trousers and shuddering at the texture. His hands out - span the joint there and easily fold into the curve behind her knee, but he makes no further attempt to chart further than the claim he’s made of just this piece of her.
He is level with her belly and leans back out of her space to further encourage her. It should be easy to dig his fingers a little harder into the meat of her, seek out the thrum of her pulse in her femoral artery, and soothe himself; but Kaz’s touch is only firm enough to steady what is usually already sure. If he focuses hard enough, he can spy her heartbeat in her throat from this angle anyway.
Inej clears her intention and Kaz relents, but together they ease into motion. When she sinks, he pulls; one day it will be as familiar a dance to them as any other that they share. Throwing knives and fighting side by side is easier than this, but he wants it just as badly as he fears it. Inej is thistledown on his knee when she perches there. Water laps at his ankles as he slides his hand down her spine to her furthest hip and tips his nose against her cheek. She smells like the rain outside; Kaz shudders their exhale and shuts their eyes. ❝ Alright? ❞
#hebzucht#🔪「 THREAD. 」 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 & 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.#🔪「 HEBZUCHT. 」 008.#( sorry. no chill to be had here. )#( she's wanted him for a billion years and look at him sitting so pretty for her. )#( cough up the five year plan brekker! )
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