idle hands

their thoughts differ on the idea of riding the back of a whale as an alternative to the inside of one. she knows she would rather have the wind in her hair, the sea spray on her lips and the ability to see sails or land on the horizon. stuck inside in the dark is no way to live, it poses a much higher risk than exposure she thinks. but she’s fallen in love with the open ocean and he…hasn’t. he seems to prefer life on solid ground. inej can respect that. but she’s always been more comfortable anywhere but. the air and the water seem to belong to her as the earth does to him. 

he is stone, immutable and stubborn. she is water, flexible and soft. but strong. water, given enough time, can wear stone down until it crumbles. the same cannot be said for a stone. it can displace water, push it aside, but it doesn’t alter the water itself. in the end, it’s better to be adaptable. it’s a good thing she’s good at that. he is very good at adapting in certain situations, she’ll admit, their plans always seem to go awry and they all adapt well, but it’s not really the same. 

she forces herself not to react when he speaks, about them both being stuck inside a whale together. it mirrors the situation at hand. and he immediately delves into discussing provisions. she sighs. he said something remotely human and immediately had to jump to cover it up. she’s not chasing him around for scraps of affection, though. she’s not taking that bait. she nods, pushes herself to her feet in one graceful movement. “ we need something to put water in, in case the water stops, or becomes contaminated in some way. ”

Oh, he absolutely prefers solid ground. That’s definitely not a secret. He doesn’t exactly advertise his distaste for floating untethered across something as tenuous and unforgiving as water, but as far as he’s concerned, it’s a perfectly sane standpoint, and one that he’s perfectly happy to have. She’s not like that, though, never has been, from the high-wire to the ocean, to the nights spent dancing across Ketterdam’s rooftops in leaps and bounds. They live in different worlds, connected by buildings and ports.

Kaz watches as Inej gets up. Nods. It’s sound thinking. “There’s a bucket.” He makes to get up too, feels-- untethered on the floor by himself. Another sharp twinge in his knee has him rethinking that decision, however, and he ultimately concludes that perhaps he’d be better suited to the role of supervision in this instance. “By the door.”

( @paradisecost // random shit: always accepting )

Miranda is thrilled, to say the least, at Dr. Enys' demeanour as a physician ( though she's willing to concede that it's in no small part due to his physical similarities to Thomas. she really must have them meet at some point ). He's unorthodox. She likes that.

"No leeches?" she asks, out of at least semi-partial curiosity, and also out of airing her thoughts on the matter. "And honey? How unorthodox. Though it makes sense, I suppose. Ancient Greeks made frequent use of honey to treat all manners of ailments for centuries. Very well, Dr. Enys, I shall take your Grecian prescription as all the more excuse to take honey in my tea."

Words of Malice

Stealing

Connor is briefly distracted by Mike’s missing fingers, but it’s only for a second, because then the cat meows plaintively, as if in complaint to the mere concept of Connor waiting in the reception area.

“I’m staying,” Connor says, more in response to her than it is to Mike, and goes to wash his hands as quickly and thoroughly as he can manage. It occurs to him that he should thank the vet, or something. Manners, right. He glances at the man’s name-tag again.

“Uh, thanks. Mike. For this.” A bit awkward, his voice the monotone it usually is, but at least he tried. And they have more important things to worry about than how his voice sounds.

Connor goes to stand closer to the cat, chews anxiously on his bottom lip as he gently lets his fingers brush over her soft little head. He needs her to be okay. And he knows Mike will do his best but-

Wait. Mike the vet. Mike the vet? No.

“Do you have a dog?” he blurts abruptly, the sheer shock of the possible coincidence overtaking the worry for a moment. The cat makes a snuffling sound, as if annoyed by the mention of dog in this clearly cat-important space.

Mike nods in response to the cat-bringer’s assertion that he is, in fact, staying. Good. That makes things easier.

“-- Don’t worry about it,” is his murmured response to the thanks, followed up with, “Just doing my job.” That isn’t to say that he doesn’t care, of course, as he syringes the water against the kitten’s wound, cleaning it as gently as he can with quiet hushes and clucks of comfort.

Do you have a dog?

she has her reservations, of course, about the progress to be made, about the progress they can make. for them. they will both spend the rest of their lives trying to come to terms with their trauma, to overcome the barriers it creates. but this is one hurdle where they cannot lean too heavily on the other. the terrain is the ketterdam marsh and stopping to give the other a boost is only going to ensconce the other further in the mire. they cannot damage each other like that. but, were they to climb similar obstacles together, if one of them could find purchase where the other could not, a hand up would be a passable compromise. but it relies heavily on one of them being on solid ground. 

she hums as he mentions the restaurant and nods her agreement, even if he didn’t ask for it. she sees him look, as if testing that it was what she wanted. “ it’s not waffles, but it’ll do, ” she says. “ it’s something that would make nina jealous. ” inej gives more than a passing thought to her friend (their friend), fighting for grisha in fjerda. “ are there any letters for me? at the slat? ” has there been any contact? is nina okay? she doesn’t know if nina would send letter to her at the slat, or if she’d send them to wylan’s house instead. having no official home but a ship makes receiving mail something of a challenge. but she can trust kaz and wylan-and-jesper (single entity) to look after any post for her, she’s sure. 

Kaz is okay with it, he finds; the idea that there might be a stopping point of progress before what either of them would ideally prefer. It should frustrate him. But it doesn’t. It’s realistic, he thinks, to have that reservation, to be ready for the possibility that things might not progress the way that they’d want to. It’s not defeatist, and it’s sure as shit not giving up before they begin, but planning contingencies is what they do, and if they can’t do things the way they’d like, they’ll improvise, they’ll adapt, and they’ll overcome.