She was not a lynx or a spider or even the Wraith.

I made a poll yesterday asking which color (teal, blue, indigo, purple) best represents Inej, and it was great to hear everyone’s opinions! I also promised to share my thoughts, so here’s my answer.

I think all four are her color, it just depends on which part of the story it is.

Purple is pre-SOC, specifically her time in The Menagerie. It’s a color that was forced upon her, giving her negative associations with it in terms of her own identity.

Indigo is SOC. It’s been a year since she left The Menagerie. Her color evolves away from purple into blue, but the violet hue still remains with her. She hasn’t escaped that part of her past, especially since her indenture hasn’t been paid off yet.

Dark Blue is Crooked Kingdom. As she realizes her dreams lead her away from Ketterdam, purple gradually leaves her design. Blue, a color associated with piety and the sea, represents her regained sense of identity.

Dark teal is post-CK. It still has blue to signify her faith but now with warmer tones for her newfound happiness. Also, teal is very much a seafaring color. 

In short, Inej’s color is ever-evolving! As for the other characters…

While black is the usual pick for Kaz, I’d like to suggest purple as his hue! It’s a color that best represents Kerch and kruge, so it’s a good accent to break up the mercher black he wears. Also, by making Kaz’s color purple, it ties into a theme of a character representing a color their partner once had negative associations with (ex. Inej with purple, Jesper with jurda field orange, Matthias with Corporalki red). They replace these old symbols of pain with positivity and growth.

Jesper is of course lime green. While kruge is purple, readers can connect green with luck, wealth, and the cultures that inspired his Kaelish heritage. Bright green can also represent having a lot of energy, which Jesper certainly is known for.

Nina is crimson. It’s the color of the heartrender class, her strong will, and her love for others.

Matthias is ice blue. It reminds him of home and his traditional life. Like Inej, blue can represent his religious background.

kanej appreciation week | day five | book to screen

@climb-inej​ gets a starter!  inej + harij

Harij has been watching Inej throw knives for a little while. Mostly out of curiosity, but also to search for some type of recognition there. He hasn’t worked up the courage to approach her yet– he’s not sure it’s her, but who else could it be?– but there’s only so long he can avoid her on a boat this size. 

Knife throwing had been his thing. It had been what he’d done when they were children traveling with their parents, and he likes to think he’s damn good at it. Watching Inej has him searching for his own techniques in the way she moved, but she hadn’t learned from him. Still.

🗡 Raid the ship. Free the indentures.

Kill the slavers, kill the slavers, kill the slavers.

The adrenaline of battle never fades, not even on foreign decks and stranger tides, and Inej loses herself in the sole purpose of justice to such an extent that the bloodshed is but a faint inconvenience, the terror-stricken screams mere noise.

Every time, there are more children to save. Every time, Inej is fueled by that same rage.

Her thoughts spiral and her knives fly, but the motivation remains steady, unfaltering.

Kill the slavers.

Today is no difference; she still stands in the eye of a hurricane.

As the others carry frightened boys and girls to safety from the compartment below, she lingers by the sails.

Justice will never prevail, she thinks. Not until this entire ship is set ablaze and all the men who shackled these children down are drowning in a sea of their own blood.

She is surrounded by dead slavers, their bodies jolting with every last breath they dare to take in. She, too, is stained with blood, her sleeves partially ripped, her hair disheveled, with some of it having been pulled free of her braid in the midst of the attack.

It is only after she aims for another dying monster of a man that she catches the glimpse of an unknown dagger flying towards her. With one sharp movement, her own knife strikes it away and changes its initial course, sending it plunging deep into her first target's chest.

There are more of them, she thinks, mind still foggy with determination. A hidden attacker trying to stab me in the back.

And so she lunges. She turns fast, wields a knife that she's prepared to throw right into the stranger's skull, and then-

A pair of dark eyes, wide and familiar. A boy that now stands taller than she is.

Her focus falters. Her knees buckle under the force of memories that she had long thought to be dead.

Can I sleep with you tonight, didi ? I'm scared of men hiding in the trees.

Her aim wavers, and the knife pierces through the boy's shirt instead, leaving a thin cut across his upper arm.

Her own crew is shouting at her, calling her name from their ship that's getting ready to sail away again, but Inej is spiraling.

She is bloody and desperate and lost in a motif of words that echo the same phrase-

Can it be him? Can it be him? Can it be him?

Over and over, until she finds it in herself to run towards him, grab his arm and pull him aboard The Hummingbird, words be damned.

There is no time for recognition in a game of death, and a slaver ship does not deserve to shelter a meeting such as this, whether this boy is truly who she thought him to be or not.

Inej sits kneeling on the deck, chest heaving, eyes already filled with tears of denial. She has survived another attack, but this might just be the thing to kill her.

In all these months that she had fought across the seas, she saw her brother's face in every twelve year old boy that she happened to save from ropes and guns and heavy shackles, and it always turned out to be just another frightened child, a boy worth saving, just not her own.

In this moment, Inej would not raise her gaze from the floor, would not look at this man's face, for there was one thing that she was absolutely certain of;

I will not be able to survive it if it's not you. Not for a hundredth time. Not after everything.

@climb-inej | Starter from KAZ — The art of combat.

   It had been a month since Kaz had first laid eyes on the girl who had managed to approach him silently, despite the bells on her ankles. Who’d been forced to wear outrageously bright and vibrant silks and yet, she’d managed to evade catching his eye until she’d wanted him to see her. A month since he’d convinced Per Haskell to pay off her indenture, since he’d invited her to join the Dregs rather than be trapped in that monstrous place any longer. Inej had taken to the art of stealth as easily as breathing and, while he’d been teaching her how to defend herself, she’d taken to combat easily too.

   Kaz had always been rough around the edges, even long before he’d broken his leg — not having anyone around to teach him meant that he’d had to figure it out on his own at nine and ten years old. He’d simply had to do whatever was necessary to survive, he hadn’t had any interest or luxury to learn something like style, nor whatever the hell a fair fight was supposed to be. Kaz Brekker fought to win, to take, to make a point, to survive. He fought dirty when the situation required it and, in the barrel, it was required very, very frequently. He’d even fashioned his cane into a lethal weapon, a trick of its own making that lured people into the trap of underestimating him, thinking the cane and its accompanying limp were weak points.

   Inej was almost his complete opposite in every way and she seemed to flourish the longer they trained together. Kaz couldn’t deny the swell of pride he felt as she improved, as her style developed on its own … and perhaps he’d had a few fleeting thoughts about how especially breathtaking she was with that crease between her brows, that fiery determination and air of deadly intent, but — those were dangerous thoughts to indulge for them both. Kaz couldn’t even touch her with his bare hands and, while he only had a small inkling as to what Inej had endured at the Menagerie, he had no doubt that touch was complicated for her too. If she knew what was good for her, she wouldn't want to touch him anyway.

   His thoughts came to an abrupt halt as he sensed Inej’s presence. Kaz’s back was to her and he tilted his head to the side, fleetingly casting a glance over his shoulder. Idly, he grazed his thumb over the hidden blades in his sleeve, one of which he did not intend to keep. ❝We’re going to be working with weapons today,❞ he said, his low rasp filling the space between them and, finally, Kaz turned to face her.

   Dark brows arched with emphasis and he inclined his head once. ❝… If you feel ready, that is.❞ I think you are, he thought, but ultimately, Kaz had elected to give Inej as much choice, as much agency as he was able. She’d had it taken from her long enough.

🗡 Inej Ghafa had never wished to be queen of thieves, let alone one that knew to speak and write the language of the men who had tormented and defiled her in a disease-ridden country. She had never craved the power of shadow or dreamt of wielding it against enemies that lurked in dark corners, perhaps more stealthily than she ever could.

All she dared to hope for was to be some semblance of a girl again.

So it was entirely too astounding to find out that a part of her past self had somehow survived it all and almost thrived in all these challenges that the bastard of the Barrel so decidedly placed in her path.

Today, you will only use one hand and no element of surprise in your attack.

Today, you will learn to recognize all members of the merchant council and you will know them by name.

Today, you will try to pick this lock before the time strikes twelve bells.

Well-practiced patterns of attack. Perfected fighting stances. So many documents and twice as much strange information on rich men seeking to become all the more richer.

Instructions upon plans upon vaguely worded ambition; and though Inej frequently succeeded, she also often failed, and Kaz was so very tiresome.

But still, muttered the girl within her.

Still, the faintest sense of giddy excitement in the encouragement, the direct aknowledgement, of an achieved task; like when she had first looked down upon a smiling crowd from the other end of the tightrope.

However irritating it could be, at times, to admit, Inej wished to prove her worth to Kaz, as if to repay the kindness that he had somehow found the capacity of when he had spared it for her. Fortunately, she knew that, when it came to Kaz's approval, it was spite that fueled her and not desperate gratitude.

It was the same stubborn determination that made her want to keep trying to catch him off guard in that silence and solitude that he seemed to always find himself in.

But even now, even with the advantage of him being entirely turned away from the window, she still did not manage to sneak up on him.

Instead, his words made her shoulders stiffen, her mouth run dry.

Weapons, repeated the girl of her conscience in a faint whisper.

Dead after all.

Inej's eyes met his for just a moment before she turned her face away again, hands clasped behind her back; Fingers scratching at the scar on her wrist, the space that the peacock feather had inhabited before it had gotten carved out of her flesh.

"I am not comfortable with pistols," she said. "Or guns of any kind."

Though patrons of the Menagerie were not allowed to carry loaded weapons in the chambers -as if that rule alone somehow guaranteed them saving grace- empty pistols were often used as an enhancement to their arousal. It was the most revolting of all terrors, to remember them pressing the muzzle to her temple, making her hold that Saints' forsaken thing in her own trembling grip, all because it added to that feeling of power in adrenaline that they sought to force upon her.

It had been a month, and still Inej could feel the cold steel on her cheek, hear the click of the hammer just above her shoulder. She still remembered, and though Jesper had immediately proven himself to be a genuinely welcoming and good-intentioned presence in the Slat, it had taken Inej weeks before she could even set her eyes upon him -and the revolvers at his hips- without feeling the need to vomit.

"So," she cleared her throat, "if this is about practising my aim. . . no guns just yet."

@averrse (for just being sweet and incredibly fun to talk to. Their spin on Kaz is aabaolutely amazing and their such a blast to wing posts with and plot as well!)

@climb-inej (such a talented writer, they put tons of care into their headcanons and capture Inej brilliantly)

@korolnichevoya (for a very interesting spin on our favorite chaotic good king of Ravka. He writes the darker themes wonderfully and nothing ever feels forced. It's a lot of fun to read)

@obrechenniye (they put so much care into their muses and their writing, they deserve all the love!)

@fcntasyadvcnturc (Just a wonderful human being, incredibly kind and funny, running so many muses simultaneously and managing to make all of them feel different is an ACCOMPLISHMENT)

@rietveild (incredible ideas in all of their plots, they put so much detail into their writing it's incredible)

@knifeathers (Inej just comes to life in this blog!! They interact with so many people and every interaction is so unique!)

@themerchliing (endlessly patient mun with a wonderful spin on Wylan. Threads can be funny and incredibly heavy and it's a treat to keep up with it all)

@fabrkate (A brilliantly thought out OC with a very unique backstory! Please go and love on them!!!)

With all the post stealing and crazyness of the last few weeks we definitely need more kindness and positive things in this little rock :) so trying to do a part of that.

SOME MORE POSITIVITEA!! Nonnie, this is so, so kind. Thank you also for the shoutout you did for me, you didn't have to do that, but it put a smile on this ill mun's face, so thank you so much for that ♥ I hope you're having the best day ever, you deserve it! Now on to the tags! I hope you precious beans are ready for this!

@averrse @climb-inej @korolnichevoya @obrechenniye @rietveild @knifeathers @themerchliing @fabrkate

🗡 The wind seemed to be beating against the glass panes of the window, as if in tandem with the racing of her heart; though it was not her ache for him that fueled this pyre of emotion.

It was anger.

Quiet, seething and crawling just below the surface of her skin, a stinging much similar to the itch that she had felt as the cut on her forearm scarred after a peacock feather had been carved out of her flesh.

Kaz was doing both of them a great injustice, and, had her heart willed it, she would have let him know in great, horrible cries. But she had long since been drained of the power to sob.

Still, she wished to shout at him.

To let him know that he was, in fact, the fool, stubborn and selfish enough to only speak in theories.

The pyre within her chest burned bright, scorching hot as the tips of an Inferni's fingers.

It is not someone else telling you this, she thought.

It is not something in you that I feel something for. It is everything, all of you, all at once, and it makes me feel an infinite storm of emotion that is tangled and incomprehensible and without an end.

But once again, he was attempting to slither away from confrontation on matters of the heart, and she could not even blame him for it.

Better I stay the fool, she decided. But ignorance never suited you, so I better also free you from it.

And in that moment, having taken just a couple of silent steps closer to him, all Inej could say was-

"Ask me now then."

She hoped to steady her breathing, but looking into his eyes made it all the more difficult. "To feel something, for you alone."

A pause, her chin tilted up in mighty defiance, her hands clasped behind her back to still maintain some respectful distance.

"Let us not end this with an unfounded hypothesis that you once again formed on your own. Let me deny you myself, give you some clarity. Ask me."

🗡 Go on, Inej thought. Finish the story; Ask me to love you. Ask me to hate you.

Either of those requests spoken in the seasalt rasp of his voice, and it would have been over. But Kaz Brekker did not plead for closure from another. No, he forced new questions into his own mind and tried to claw the answers out of the very essence of the world.

Of course she had expected some other vague remark of dismissal, an ache that somehow always exceeded the constraints of her senses; an ache that caught her off guard in the way that it returned in this moment, for it harsher and more nonsensical than she had known it to be.

You should hate me like you hate Heleen.

For a few seconds, all words failed. Inej felt her mouth run dry, her chest constrict her lungs into some narrow prison of dusty air.

She looked away, tried to gather her thoughts and phrase them with some semblance of logic.

He said that he knew prisoners. That he knew people who stayed bound even with their wrists unshackled. And yet-

"Leaving a prison behind is not just about being free, Kaz," she answered. "It is about getting to know the world all over again and deciding if you even want that freedom in the first place."

A flicker of hesitation, just before she allowed his gaze to meet hers once more.

"Heleen used to tell us that this decision had already been made for us. That even outside the Menagerie walls, we would remain enchained, exactly because we had come to know the entirety of the world through the cruelty of the men that run it."

Recollections of the Menagerie were not easy to word; Her voice trembled. Had she still been the light-souled girl that was used to sleeping in caravans and waking up to a different scenery each day, she might have cried.

"I lived with a passive acceptance. I was always reminded that my family thought me dead, that even if I ever made it out, I would still be too broken and bruised to make a life for myself, that the only thing I could ever be was a pretty songbird in some rich man's golden cage because a whore remains a whore. And so I made up my mind; if such was the freedom of the outside world, it was not one that i wanted for myself."

Such was the pain of a fourteen year old prisoner in the clutch of faceless patrons. Inej prayed for that girl every night, mourning her death.

"I found whatever semblance of comfortability in the Menagerie I could," she said, a knot in her throat as Heleen's voice echoed in her mind. "At least I had a piece of bread to satisfy my hunger. At least there was a healer to tend to each of my injuries. I learned to be grateful for it all, because I believed it to be the best I could ever have. And then you came along, and showed me a way to carve something better out of the worst."

The smallest of steps forward, her body just within reach but still mostly draped in shadows.

"You, Kaz Brekker, are the personification of a prisoner's contemplation for freedom. Every day you find more proof as to why the world is horrid and every day it tortures me to try and shape some vestige of kindness out of it but for the first time in my life, I want to try ; To find a future. To prove you wrong. I look into your eyes not because I don't know how to be free but because I have decided to claim my freedom in spite of you. My resentment for Heleen goes beyond hatred, much like my love for you goes beyond resentment. And I will show you. I will show it all to you."