Kasper Kain

“Faulty? Aw every time I’m starin’ death in the face I mentally flip this baby and always come out winnin’. Luckiest coin I ever pulled from anybody’s ear.”

He flips it once, turns his fingers, and it’s gone. He liked his visits too. Push came to shove though, and there was a line pushed that he couldn’t accept being pushed. Victor, in his own balances of inaction and focus, did nothing about it, so… he did. One of these days it’s going to come up how Nina died, but for now, he was content to let Khan not dwell on it. 

“Time ain’t just that. It’s its own body n’ system beyond what people with pencils n’ pens get to wink at. Nah. Ain’t gonna be tsunamis and the like just cause your old man tried to peek into possibility. Funny thing about time is it’ll sort itself out as another facet of nature. Kind of like openin’ a door to a smoke-filled room. It’ll just disperse.”

He muses on it though. It could be used for any number of those disasters, sure.

“Guess that’s a faulty picture for a Kain. Really messes with that divine right of theirs, don’t it. Good news bein’ that you’re human. Somethin’ the rest of your family ended up not bein’.”

He knows Victor shut off from the world after Nina died. And…

“He ain’t paid attention to you when you were there, n’ ain’t paid attention unless you were gone. Wasn’t like you didn’t try. Ain’t up to you to carry the emotional baggage of your dad. You already did your part. Old man’s dead now. F’ you were sixteen I’d offer a drink and to toast to the good memories, however few.”

He sighs. From him, it’s just a bunch of words. Informed ones, but words.

“But Andrey would piss on that idea for now. Speakin’ of, what the hell is “a thing”?”

“Well, when I’m sixteen, I do have a bottle. Andrey made it, and I ended up with it at the Market, actually.”

Grief’s right. All of his family’s dead and  he shouldn’t have had to carry the burden of his father’s mourning. He’s still angry about it. He’s angry about it, and will be angry about it for a while.

He’s just not going to dwell.

But then he asks about what “a thing” meant and Khan shrugs.

“Well... Notkin didn’t say a lot, other than that you had a thing with Andrey, but the way he was talking, it sounded like...”

He lowers his voice a little bit out of respect and knowing that people like to listen into things at inconvenient times.

“-well, he made it seem like you both have a relationship. I mean the kind of relationship where you kiss... and things.”

“He said it was a badly-kept secret too.”

“Lotto winner, lotto winner, lotto winner. Right in all directions. Stole whatever she could get her hands on. She ain’t someone who can stand on her own two feet. Always needs somethin’ to eat.”

Khan looks small and too concerned for his age. But he says he’ll help so Grief sidelines the topic for revisiting later. Perhaps when their jobs were complete and there was plenty to celebrate with spring springing. When he’s asked about why he was his apprentice? It’s funny. He was the only one. 

“Well,” he says, flexing a hand out in front of him as if it answered a question with, ‘look at me’.

“No. I ain’t a Kain. But somethin’s certainly been wrong with me from the beginnin’. Seems like no one in town understood Old Man Kain’s clocks like I understood em’. Not his family, neither. Nina never got em’, just admired em’ from that place of null understandin’ and not askin’ enough questions. Simon and Georgiy never got em’. But hmm, I guess I was just born to play with gears n’ the innards of clocks. Old Man was too.”

He let the hand drop.

“Told me it was some kind of rare condition, understandin’ that sort of thing. Like bein’ able to taste colors n’ hear smells. Somethin’ people ain’t usually meant to do. N’ your family hated it but they didn’t argue with Victor over it. Might’ve wanted to pull me in n’ marry me into the name, but I lost my temper one of those days, n’ well, I felt it quite appropriate to exit stage left.”

He fiddles with his sleeve and slips a coin from it with a snap.

“I was better at “magic”, anyways,” he says, with a wink and offers the coin. Two heads.

“Is this the coin you pulled from my ear?” he jokes, “No wonder it’s faulty.”

He examines the two heads. One looking forward, another looking back.

“I guess being able to stack the odds in your favor is its own kind of magic, too.”

Khan offers the coin back to Grief.

“... I liked your visits,” he admits, “I didn’t think of you as a nuisance. It wasn’t the same in the office without you around.”

He instinctively glances in the direction the Cathedral would have been.

“Victor did say things about... how time was vibrations. Sounds and sensations that could accelerate or slow decay- to theoretically have control over time. The Cathedral was supposed to make time. ”

“For the Town, at least,” he waves a hand, “Not the whole world. But... I’m sure there’s ripples the world can still feel from it. The vibrations are grounded by gravity. There’ll be earthquakes and tsunamis across the world, I’m sure.”

He shrugs, “I understood the theories, I just... can’t do it. Not in any way they were trying to make me learn, anyway. They just gave up on me, and I decided I didn’t care."

It’s a lie. He did care about it, he just expressed it as unrelenting anger.

“Victor just. Kept to himself more after you left. After Nina died, I hardly saw him at all.”

“Ordained. Feh. Sure, in some places. In others it’s the clockmaker’s business. Either me or Burakh, n’ I got more claim on this carcass. Vultures in this place got more vows than the clergy anyways. Vow over a rogue’s blade’s writing twice the legacy of a book, in blood n’ permanence.”

He laughs again even though he really shouldn’t be laughing when Khan does impressions of the women. The wheezy cackling agitates the stuffing near his spine and he twitches and rubs the mild shivers from his hands.

“Divine right to rule by the authority of an ass. Actually every ass I met had more sense than to talk like a goddamn loon. Tell you the truth, I was pleased as peaches hearin’ Nina Kaina was trampin’ around again like her clock ain’t run out. Means I get to really scare the fire off the wunderkind. Like the most lethal game of hide n’ seek n’ I get to play the seeker. My stars aligned just right so she had a two week head start before I open my eyes n’ call out, ‘Ready or not, here I come.’”

He might be a bit delirious.

“But about your eye, little Hoss. Yeah, can do, will do, pleasure to do. Even let you pour the shell yourself. Need a few more people at the kiln n’ you need more coordination with that eye of yours. Heard you torched a Caravan Turnskin with some struggles. Usin’ an Army Rifle. You know I just picked up a scope for one of them. A Mauser, right?” 

He leaned on his open palm to balance the weight his back couldn’t hold.

“Workin’ on your sides you can’t see on? Another specialty of mine. Heh, heh…”

Grief’s some kind of delirious, certainly.

But what does that mean for Khan when Grief also makes sense to him?

“Hm. Alright. So you’ll be stopping the clock once and for all then? Good.”

He leans his head in his hand, thinking about the stuff he was privy to, and what was hidden from him. Khan tried to remember things that were said, teachings that were abruptly abandoned.

“Andrey told me that... well, what she did to them. I know they weren’t the only ones. She wanted the whole town to think and act a certain way. She got into people’s heads. I think she wanted the Tower to do something like that too.”

Khan knew that the spirit of his mother was, for a long time contained there. It was why he considered it a gift from her.

But the way the townsfolk spoke about it, the way that no one could speak ill about it directly... his aunt’s tired expressions and conclusions that it was to blame for the situation...

Notkin telling him that it withheld dreams from him. The whole circumstance leading up to their fight...

Part of him wondered if that was intentional. To keep them separated...

“She definitely was trying to use the Tower to mess with the town. I don’t know quite what. But I do think she stole dreams from the Signs. And Notkin too.”

He shrugs. The tower was gone, but both he and Capella still lived in the shadows of their mothers’ ghosts.

“Anyway, I’d definitely help you, even if I’m not your apprentice...”

He raises his other knee to his chest, considering the statement, then looks up to Grief from his spot on the floor.

“Well…”

He unfolds all his fingers to catch the warmth and glow of the stove.

“Saves me the trouble of huntin’ her down. I got a whole skeleton to pick with Nina Kaina, n’ it sounds like you wouldn’t mind none about that either. Good. We’re on the same page, n’ I’m relieved you’re finally out on your own head. Good to see a sprig with a little bit of sense still in him.”

He mentally puts another underline on Nina Kaina’s name. She wouldn’t be scrubbed off his list until she’d been cut to ribbons and sapped for all she was worth. The musings have him pulling a serious smile.

“Hey, if she hurt you n’ Notkin, that’s my apprentice. She’s already been tapdancin’ on my damn nerves for enough time that I’ve got them heels of hers memorized. Assumin’ you’d like to be part of the emnity plot? Righteous rogue that I aim, I ain’t one to take all the credit for a hit like this.”

Khan uncovers his eye and Filin whistles low.

“You want me to make you an eye? Got just enough titanium to have it roll with that muscle. Ain’t botherin’ me none. My old Gonnof had a hole in his head just like that.”

“Emnity plot?” he questions, smoothing out the skin by his empty eye.

Did he want to take up arms against the woman that raised him? No, but... would she keep trying to hurt people and return to life until she was stopped?

Yes.

Khan nods slowly, “I’m interested, at least, in how you aim to take on a ghost. I’ve heard that only people who are ordained in some way can make ghosts move on... but I don’t know if anything with authority could even make her listen.”

He leans back, and waves a hand, mimicking the airs of Maria, “We’re royal. We’ve a divine right to rule. Things like that.”

Khan tilts his head at the mention of Grief taking the time to make him an eye.

He makes it three steps before he absolutely can’t take the rest of it, and just leans on the old man’s cane for support. It doesn’t exactly do a great job at distributing the weight that he needs to other places. It might be the fever punching holes in him though. 

He doesn’t expect to be stopped or called to either. Particularly as “Filin”. 

“Eh?”

He looks up the rest of the landing, and damn if it isn’t Kasper Kain in the flesh. Andrey’s little pupa of a being has his hand on his hip like he’s demanding something and it’s too funny, too quick. 

“Well, damn. Long time no see. Ain’t it Khan, himself- wait, huh? Notkin told you-” he snorts out a laugh, “Ah-hell ow, son of a bitch. Fuck. Don’t make me laugh, kiddo.”

He grumbles to himself a few more choice words, and slowly limps back down the last three stairs, flitting like a moth to the kitchen with Andrey’s stove. His house actually functions the way it should. The orange glow from it it’s downright homey. 

Grief drags a lonely stool over and slowly settles on it, setting the cane against the wall to huddle closer.

“– Barbers got me pretty good. Took a real backstabbin’. Don’t really recommend it. What about you. Looks like you seen a ghost.”

Grief turns around promptly, and Khan drops his arms to follow him down to the woodstove. He’s slow, but awake... and alive, too.

“A real backstabbing?” he questions.

That explains the slowness, and creeping about like he was dragging twice his weight around, which, he practically was.

Looks like you seen a ghost.

He falls quiet, “Yeah, I guess you could say I did see a ghost today. Not at all the way it was intended.”

He sits crosslegged on the floor, opposite of Grief. The fire from the woodstove casting orange light and dramatic shadows through the rustic space.

“So... if you’re so torn up, why are you here? Shouldn’t you be resting as much as you can?”

It’s not meant to sound like a lecture, in all honesty. It’s a genuine curiosity for the person who actually acknowledged him, even if he was primarily there to serve as Victor’s apprentice. The night with Capella in the Workshop was the first he’d seen the clocksmith turned thief in round of six years.

Gray’s tired words to him after he was looking for an ear to confide in about the strange situation he found himself in. What he wanted was to try and parse the day, step-by-step and rationalize the stuff that happened. What he got was a very annoyed sister telling him to shoo and embrace a bear.

Not knowing entirely what that meant, the closest thing he could picture was to find a teddy bear- so that was the current mission... just because Khan couldn’t sit still yet.

Thumps come up the stairs, and he cranes his head, then his body, to try and see the source of it.

Cresting over, he could see the straight spikes with distinguishable red hair, huddled in a segmented puffy jacket, crawling up like an inchworm.

“Filin? Grief?” Khan says, trying to confirm the rest of the caterpillar’s identity.

When he confirms that it is indeed, Grief, he rests his hands on his hips, “What are you doing here? Oh, wait- nevermind. Notkin said you and Andrey had a ‘thing’ together. Is that why? Or...?”

Khan tilts his head, blinking at the unusual posture, “... did something happen?”

“ It’s okay. I understand. ”

He waves off the apology without bouncing it back to Khan. He gets it. It’s hard to wrap his mind around someone caring. That had been Andrey for the first two years of freedom in the Captiol. That was Andrey now some days.

“ I’m not insulted by any of it. I know it’s hard to wrap your head around. It’s a lot of change awful fast. ”

He sneers when he says it, and his eyes slide to the window facing the empty sky of the Stone Yard. A lot of change indeed.

The question about Dankovsky and him makes him bark a laugh, and the strained subject was slid away for now, to make room for something better.

“ You and Dankovsky are so alike, you could be his double if not for your height. You’re both single-mindedly driven – not in a bad way, mind you! – and incredibly competent at anything you put your hands on. You’ve also got the same taste in literature as he does, though I imagine he’s told you that himself. ”

He takes up the bottle next to him, to tempt a little swig of it compared to before. Once he does, he twists the cork back into it for later.

“ As for you and I – we’re both angry people with a lot of weight on us. The way you react to being angry is much the same as both of us, which is something Daniil and I bonded over a long time ago. When I compare you two, I mean it as a compliment. ”

Khan snorts at the explanation.

“You’d think that housing angry people together would end in tragedy... but it seems like the angry are the only ones who understand the angry.”

The answer satisfies him, and he watches Andrey re-cork the twyrine.

He solidly knows where they stand, and that makes him feel at ease, even after the harrowing early hours of the day.

Khan stands, stretching out, before shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Mmn. Hey, thanks for talking to me.”

He glances again around the room, settling his eye on the unfinished black and red painting. He still had no idea what it was meant to be... that would come later, and he was looking forward to what it may become.

Funny how much meaning a small moment had.

“I’d like to continue this arrangement, formally,“ he declares, “I find it very agreeable, and I think I can accept you as my ward and father- figure,” he quickly tacks on the end of it.

“ A little for my own sake too. I don’t think I’d be quite as sane as I am now if not for having people around. I spent a lot of time alone between now and then, you know. ”

He waves his hand before he snorts about the comment regarding Saburov, turning his hand to look at the bruises on his knuckles that stubbornly refused to heal.

“ Khan, I don’t know if you’ll believe this, but Saburov doesn’t give a shit about picking fights with children about how to rule the town. You’re not even an adult yet. I think he just wanted to make sure you weren’t one of the many, many kids on the streets…and there’s the fact that your Dogheads have been safe all winter because you told them they could trust Peter and me. ”

He makes a gesture to the door that led to the stairs, where dozens of children were huddled in the lower rooms of the Loft.

“ I don’t need anything out of this. Besides the Olgimsky kids that remain, I’m the richest person in town. I know this, you know this. I don’t need anything. If I did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You, on the other hand, need a safe place to lay your head that’s warm and keeps you fed. So, here you go. ”

He gestures in a wider arc at the space around them.

“ Maybe it’s a little selfish. You do remind me of Dankovsky and myself. Ultimately, though, that doesn’t matter. ”

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter.

Khan has to agree with that, and he finds his head nodding along with what Andrey says. It’s blunt, but... it’s truthful.

Andrey admitted to needing someone to look after for his own sanity. It was never about the money, nor prestige, nor that kind of gain. Just... company.

Even being told that he reminded Andrey of himself and Dankovsky... it didn’t feel like it would be serving Andrey’s vanity to care for him. And Khan did like Dankovsky anyway.

Khan... even though he hated admitting it, needed the looking after- now, more than ever, especially after everything started to fall apart around him.

All the people he had as examples were fictional or dead.

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

He’d apologized a lot lately. There’s still something alien about it that doesn’t sit well.

“I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m. Not used to this,” he admits, “I actually feel... okay coming here. I feel okay talking to you.”

He didn’t feel okay coming home to the Crucible every day when he was younger. Being ignored by the elder patriarchs and subjected to Maria’s bullying. This was... safer.

Less grand, was a phrase that came to mind. But it didn’t matter because it was safer.

“What does it mean when you say that I remind you of yourself and of Dankovsky? If you’re okay with me asking.”

“ Yes, the one Peter built for her. It was a gift to her, or something. I don’t remember exactly. ”

He shakes his head idly, his eyes cast to the side as he considers it. It makes sense that they didn’t tell Khan where it is – it was a thing for the Mistress of the Utopians to know, and no one else. Not even Simon.

It’s in her wing of the Crucible, though, which gave him and Peter a place to start looking…if they could get the courage to go in there, anyways.

Khan look thoughtful again, and he’s expecting the question before he even asks it. Why would he take Khan in if he hated Nina so much?

“ I agreed because Saburov asked me – and…and because you needed someone around. You wouldn’t listen to any other adult in town, because none of ‘em would respect your space. You’re a lot like Dankovsky and me and I’m the only person who can handle that. ”

He laughs to himself, sinking into a seat across the room to look at Khan and let his hands hang between his knees.

“ Do you have a problem with the arrangement? I can talk to Saburov or somethin’. But…before you get any ideas in your head, your family didn’t cross my mind at all when I offered to let you in to the house here. I’m the last person allowed to hold someone’s family over their head. ”

It takes a long moment to process that. The fact that family wasn’t even a consideration in Andrey’s decision to look after him did not parse in his mind.

For Khan, everything had been about the family, or the families, and how they interacted with one another. There wasn’t a single thing that happened in town without the family’s consideration, or consideration to the family.

So for none of that to matter?

It seemed... unreal.

“So, you expect me to believe you took me in... for my sake alone?”

He doesn’t disguise the dubiousness in his voice.

“And why would Saburov care what happened to me, anyway? Aren’t I competition? Wouldn’t it just be strategic to just let fate take care of me? What does anyone get out of this? What do you get out of it?”

He folds his arms, “No secret that you’ve amassed a fortune even before the plague. I’ve little inheritance to speak of, because it’s no secret that Maria spent it all on Dankovsky and Clara.”

He thinks about the words he says, and then quickly rescinds, “I’m... I’m alright with the arrangement. You’re right in that no other adult is going to respect my space. Or help me plan things. No one else would have even given my idea with how to track the Caravan a moment of thought.”

“ Yeah. Yeah, that…that parses. ”

The fight seems to come out of him when Khan explains that Nina got into his head, his fingers lingering on the bottle once more. He tries not to drink too much in front of the kids, but God, he wants to.

“ She would do the same to me. She’d make me mad on purpose and make me forget why I was angry. Her favorite game was to do something to upset my brother or me and make one of us forget what they said. She loved doing that kind of thing. ”

He rubs the bridge of his nose and abandons the bottle for later. Later, when he inevitably can’t sleep.

Khan asks about just getting rid of the Crucible and he barks a laugh, a noise that escapes him without him being able to catch it first.

“ Fuck. Sorry, it’s not funny, I – I mean, maybe…that was a plan between Grief, Daniil and I, and I’d have to make a pretty good excuse up to make Saburov let me off with just a warning if I went blowing up another building in town.

…Actually, you were real close to her…did she ever show you her Focus? The one separate from Simon’s? ”

He’s looking for it. If he could find it, maybe the secret to making her spirit sleep finally would be there. Maybe a secret of the Mistresses would be there.

“ If not, then it’s fine. Peter doesn’t remember where he built it, so I just thought maybe… ”

Khan’s disheartened when Andrey mentions Saburov. He knows what the answer will be. No. Even if they made their case for it.

“... it’s fine. You don’t have to ask, I’ll just... forbid anyone else going in there- not that it matters. Not like anyone’s clamoring to get in, either.”

Would blowing up the Crucible actually help either? Probably not. But wanting to be rid of something permanently was just... instinct.

Then Andrey expresses curiosity... whether or not Khan knew where the special Focus for Nina was.

“Nina’s Focus? You mean the one before you built the Tower?”

Khan thinks back to that time... of being shooed away from Nina and Maria while Nina’s pet architects and artists made her dreams reality, and exceeded even her imagination. Being sent to sit with Victor... and not even having Filin around anymore to keep him company. Mistress things this, or Mistress things that, Khan only ever wanted to be included in the family’s dealings.

But the Kains had no faith in him.

The fact of the matter was... no, he didn’t know where it was, only that it existed somewhere in her wing.

Khan shakes his head, “No. I wasn’t allowed to know. That Focus was only meant for the Mistress. The Mistress and her heiress. I just know that it’s... in the Crucible, her wing.”

Peter had built it for her. Andrey laid the foundation for the grand Tower. Nina seemed to lose interest in her son, and spent all her free time with the architects she so cherished. He hated the Stamatins for that, then. Resented them for taking Nina’s time.

It seems... silly now, to have been so angry about it, when the twins suffered so much under his mother’s watchful eye, and capricious moods.

The question begins to gnaw at him. If Nina was the source of most of the twin’s suffering...

“ She was a spiteful bitch. ”

He punctuates it with a grind of his teeth before he exhales slowly to keep his temper down. It’s been building all day. Slinging a glass against the wall helped, but it still felt bad.

“ She was – I’ll be honest, she was brilliant. We met her in the Capitol, when my brother and I were hiding from the authorities in charge. She found us and offered us a contract. They were gathering geniuses to build projects and they had heard of our issues. We were days away from losing our home and any moment away from being dragged in front of a firing squad.

I accepted without consulting with my brother. Told him I had us a new project and we were on a train to the Town the next evening. ”

He set the bottle as he spoke, pacing back and forth and back again.

“ I was excited about it. A new project in a new place, with someone keeping the Powers That Be off our backs? It sounded perfect. And it was, for a while. But Nina – ”

It doesn’t pass his attention that Khan isn’t calling her Mother. Something’s happened.

“ She’s from the Capitol. Royal blood, she would say. She hated being told no. She never took no for an answer.

She had the same powers Maria did. Flame, but the ability to make someone dance on a string too. If she asked you something a certain way, there was no way to say no. She’d get into your head. ”

He pointed to the side of his own head as an example, before he sighs.

“ I’m…sure you know how that feels. What happened at the Crucible? ”

If she asked you something a certain way, there was no way to say no. She’d get into your head.

The words echo in his head a few times. Spiteful, demanding... the only exception that Khan had was that he was her child.

It had been said before amongst the townsfolk that the Kains would kill each other if not for their blood relation.

That seemed to be true- though not even blood could save him now.

Andrey asked him what was wrong.

“She- she did get in my head,” he admits.

He sighs, “We were talking about stuff in the Focus, Notkin and I- then decided to try and clear out some ghosts because we came to the conclusion that the Crucible was probably haunted.”

It sounds stupid to say it aloud, but he continues as long as he has Andrey’s ear.

“So we got a bunch of candles together to go to Maria’s room because, objectively,” he stresses, “it is the scariest room in the lot. But when we lit the candles... they all blew out. I think, we accidentally summoned her, because I started... remembering things- like I was there again.”

“I remembered when the patrolmen came to ask about the Skinners, about fights with Maria, about Notkin meeting Nina for the first time... and then...”

Your friend is being quite noisy.

“... then she tried to get me to turn on him. I almost did- I hurt myself getting out of it, and then we ran.”

The unfinished painting sits on the far wall, a splash of red and black that seemed far too specific to the situation at hand for both of them. Where once it might have just reminded him of Dankovsky, now it had him thinking about her and…

Ugh. Bad thoughts all around.

He does catch the movement of Khan wiping his face, cupping his hands to toss the glass into the trash nearby before he’s dropping a towel down to soak up any twyrine to keep it out of the wood.

The lead up to the situation already sets him on edge. Going through Maria’s room. Something bad happened. He has a sinking feeling he knows exactly what it was.

And then Khan says the truth of the matter, that this was about Nina, and Andrey responds by picking up the bottle and taking a hefty swig of it.

“ Come in, take a seat. This is a long story. ”

He’s too anxious to sit, pacing towards the round window that he tended to linger by, the bottle hanging from his grip as he does.

“ I know a lot about Nina. Depends on how much dirty laundry you really want to get into, Khan. It’s not pretty by any means, and I won’t say more than you really want me to. ”

The subject has tension in his shoulders, pacing like a caged animal…but he won’t hurt Khan. He wouldn’t dream of it.

Taking a seat, he scooches the chair slightly forward.

Andrey wasn’t disguising his tension. The issue of Khan’s mother was a subject that a lot of the town had mixed opinions on... and they called her evil. A vampire. Something malicious... but they also never knew her personally.

“That’s what I was hoping,” he admits, quietly.

“You’re the only one in this town that... actually knew Nina personally.”

He’s hoping that speaking her given name would lessen the attachment he had to the concept of her motherhood. Removing that association, distancing himself... holding her at arms length, or further if he could.

“You’re the only one left alive that is. Alive, and that I... I kind of trust. More than kind of.”

He relents with the obfuscations. It’s not helping his case.

“Capella’s been going through things- Victoria is bonded to her spirit as per the Mistress ritual things... Maria went through the same things, and ended up... like she did. In the Broken Heart.”

He knew, deep down that his sister had become something else... that the Mistress thing or his mother had something to do with it, but... he clung on to her memory defiantly.

The Dogheads and the Souls had come in to get out of the cold, because Andrey’s Loft was heated from bottom to top. It was a cozy sort of place for all of them to fit into, after all.

Notkin was still inside, sitting downstairs with Gray, when Khan wanders by upstairs to find Andrey’s room. It was the topmost room of the Loft, the wide open space that might have been a living room area at one point but had since been converted to a combined office and bedroom space.

Andrey nearly jumps out of his skin at the knock at the door, and there’s the shuffling sound of someone cleaning up inside.

“ Come in. Mind the glass on the floor. ”

Said glass on the floor was the remains of a drinking glass that he had emptied and slung against the wall in a fit of frustration. The bottle of twyrine he’d opened sat on the table nearby, even as he plucked at the pieces of glass on the floor.

It’s a wonder the noise hadn’t woken Khan, but then again, Notkin said the boy had been exhausted when they got back. It made sense that it wouldn’t wake him.

The Can I talk to you? sets something uneasy in his gut, though that feeling had been lingering for days now. Combined with the wounds on his neck and the exhaustion he felt, it makes him feel…bad. Bad was as simple as it got.

Ugh.

“ Your friends said you weren’t feeling well when you got back. You feeling okay now? ”

At the confirmation to enter, Khan slowly crosses into the space that was Andrey’s personal quarters and closes the door behind him. The painting they’d worked on together still remained unfinished.

Not surprising. Things just got... busy.

Glass does litter the floor, gathered close to the wall, the sharp smell of twyrine  lingers in the air.

Andrey is sporting new injuries on his neck, looking as if something had tied a collar on and tightened it too tightly before chafing it in a panic (he’d seen one those kinds of injuries before- on a little kid trying too hard to emulate Notkin). The injuries suddenly make him aware that he never cleaned the blood off his face.

He tries to disguise that, by rubbing the dried blood off of his lip, wincing as the motion tugged on sensitive baby hairs.

“Mhm. A little better,” he responds.

He doesn’t feel at all better, but lies to continue the conversation with expediency, and avoid any unnecessary focus to the supernatural event that occurred before.

Still, he’s cautious when he approaches Andrey.

“... I was at the Crucible today. Maria’s room. And... something happened to me and Notkin. Something bad.”

His words are vague and terse, only giving enough detail to set up the situation.

Gasping breaths, and hiss rattles...

“Traitor child of mine.“

Khan bolts up, kicking blankets off of him and scrambling to frantically turn on a light. Finding the switch hiding on the wall, he flips it upward. An electrical hum accompanies the light that shines through.

The room he was lent in Andrey’s Loft is sparse, and hardly lived in. The only evidence of Khan’s existence in this space were just... the rough drawn town maps for hunting the Caravan, and the blankets that were now abandoned on the floor.

Groaning at the sudden start, he falls back onto the pillows a moment to allow his heart to lower itself back to it’s proper place in his chest. When it settles, he blinks and turns his head to the window.

It’s very dark out- he must have been out for quite a few hours. He wondered if Notkin was still around. But that wasn’t what took priority to him at the moment.

Swinging his legs over the bed, he rises and grabs his eyepatch from the side table, disguising the gaping hole in his head as a courtesy to those he was around. He washes his hands and draws fingers through his hair, forcing it to be even and neat.

He steps out of his room and sweeps his head to scan the hallway. Listening around, he hears Gray, most assuredly- some other Dogheads, some Souls that managed to get in... Notkin must be here too-

Focus. You wanted to talk to Stamatin.

He marches down the hall to Andrey’s room, and raps his fingers against the door.

“Mr. Stamatin- Andrey,” he corrects himself, “Are you here? Can I talk to you?“

Khan shoves his hands in his pockets and waits for a response. 

“ They work together a lot, so I think it just kinda…happened? As far as I’ve learned. Which isn’t enough but also waaaay too much. ”

He laughs about that, walking with his hands in his pockets for a moment before he steps back in line beside Khan. The things running through Khan’s head are a lot for someone their age, but…

Well, Notkin was wrestling with possibly taking over Grief’s position after helping flush a wound next to Grief’s spine. And the very real possibility that taking that position means there will always be that line between him and Khan and –

Not right now, feelings.

He sighs a bit, counting their footsteps in the snow as they go, before he hooks his arm with Khan’s at the elbow.

“ I think the Governor realized that a bunch of kids with no real parents is a bad way for the Town to survive. Remember what Isidor used to tell us? ”

They’d inherit the Town eventually. Almost all of the kids in Isidor’s little group were orphans – in fact, after the Second Outbreak, all of them were orphans. Even little Taya.

“ I mean…you don’t have to play the bad kid anymore. Look around, the adults that wanted to think of you as the evil kid are all dead. So, um. Maybe talking to Stamatin is a good idea. I can hang out with Gray in her room while you two talk. ”

They cross into the Earth Quarter, passing the Burakh house and turning down the road towards the Loft. Peeking up into the circular window, it looks like only Gray is home right now. Andrey wasn’t back yet.

“ I mean. That’s all in my opinion. I don’t know – if you think it’s a good idea, but… ”

He wants to say not to worry about the future right now, since they have to survive the now, but he’s doing nothing but worrying about the future because of watching Grief. If Grief keeps leaping into trouble, he’ll be taking over for him much sooner than later.

Khan nods. Notkin was right, and made sense of the muddled mess that was Khan’s mind at the moment, helping him parse through things he wasn’t able to do on his own.

It’s why he doesn’t protest or pull away when Notkin links arms with him, mirroring their earlier encounter with the shade of the Scarlet Mistress.

Khan was a downed bird with a broken wing. It’d be easier for the cat-like Notkin to take advantage of that vulnerability and destroy him. But Notkin wasn’t like that. Instead he steadied him and kept moving forward, even though it was in his nature as a Kain to keep looking and reaching back.

It was... tiring. Exhausting to keep doing that.

Maybe it was better to just let everything go for the time being. He didn’t need to know the extent of his family’s atrocities, nor their failings. He just... had to be not like that.

Notkin seemed to be dealing with his own things too- even being part of Grief’s gang was proving to have some kind of effect on him. One for the better. Notkin was braver than most, and had the gall to try and take on the Barbers himself- even though that never happened.

“Thanks for pulling me out of there, Notkin,” he says, quietly, “You can hang out with Gray. I think I need a nap. But I’ll heed your advice, Chief. I’ll talk to Stamatin.”

“ Oh, come on, admit you like my company. ”

He ribs Khan in return, elbowing him lightly in the side before he’s laughing. There’s purring that echoes the noise, the tip of Jester’s tail flicking to tap Khan’s cheek.

Notkin pauses a bit, turning to walk backwards so he can talk while facing Khan, and laughs a little nervous titter of a noise.

“ He met Mundag? Damn. Gray must really, really like him then…especially if he met Mundag and didn’t get chased or bitten or nothing. ”

He nods about letting everyone know about the alliance. There were tons of Souls in the Earth Quarter, so he could get one of them to spread the word. It would be easy.

He goes to mention that it’s too early for Andrey to be at the bar, before Khan makes mention of Grief and Andrey and – Notkin goes a bit tight-lipped as he considers if he can spill those particular rumors.

Well. Not rumors. They’re facts that no one wants to actually confirm. Except him, it seems.

“ Uh. He keeps hanging around Grief because they’re, like, a thing. They have been for a long time. It’s a really badly kept secret. ”

“Ugh, fine. I like your company, whatever,” he says it as if it’s a chore.

But he figures he’s been quietly grateful for Notkin long enough that it was about time that he was at least... somewhat vocally grateful.

Then the conversation turns and they start talking about the various adults.

It’s a little surprising that Andrey and Grief are a “thing” but... paying attention to that kind of “thing” wasn’t anything he made his business outside the weighing of who was allied with whom.

That’s what relationships were, alliances-

He drives that thought away, considering the current situation between him and Notkin. It’s something he’s not wanting to confront.

“Ah, really? Hm. That’s... not as surprising? But also... huh. Okay, it’s a little surprising, because Andrey’s kind of a curmudgeon and Grief’s fun.”

That’s his opinion on the matter, anyway.

“Hmm. In any case, when Andrey does get back I want to ask questions about... well, what I found in the Focus and... I guess, where we stand?”

It’s hard to articulate it, he gives himself that excuse as to why he’s guarded. Saying the wrong thing, slipping up... Everything seems to be on difficult terrain, and with the realizations of what he has and doesn’t have... what he does have, he holds close.

Saying the wrong thing, getting into fights over it- that’s kind of what drove his problems to begin with. Feeling he had to uphold the reputation and expectation his family imposed on him, even if he was poised to overthrow the other families first... before turning on his own.

Maybe that’s why every Kain kept him at arm’s length. Because Simon told everyone else what he was fated to do.

He has no proof of it, however. Not yet.

But why was he still searching for it? He didn’t know either.

“I don’t know anything about anything anymore, Notkin,“ he laments, “I don’t know why anybody still bothers to hang around now that the Tower’s gone, now that my family is dead, I don’t know why the Governor even cared enough to bother ask someone to look after me, I don’t know why Andrey agreed, or what anyone has to gain from agreeing to that- I don’t even have any inheritance other than the Crucible- and it’s haunted!”

It flies out of his mouth faster than he can stop it, and at this point, why bother stopping?