˚ ˛ • PHOENIX. »

          His     eyes    were      GOLD,      like     sunlight     through     honey.

𝚕𝚘𝚠 / 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚕𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚢,  𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢,  𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜  “ 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚝 “  𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍.   𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎,  𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 !!  ( 𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚊, 𝟸𝟷+, 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚜 𝚒𝚍𝚌  ) semi-indef hiatus bc of life.

The answer was  always  ‘ no ‘  &  he knew it. No pitch or show of skill was ever grand enough, or free of holes enough for Nikolai,  &  he knew it. 

He could be useful. Avenging his  father.  Grisha.  Himself,  the boy that was stolen  &  his freedom from then out revoked again,  &  again. He’d played the parts he’d been forced to, but now? 

Kuwei wanted to hold the pen. To write the terms without negotiating every damn line.

     All it will take this time is one good argument. Conviction. Composure. Think like Kaz.

Instead, stood in front of the king’s desk with devotion to his cause in small embroidered fists, what  finally  comes out is an impatient, frustrated  &  broken  “ When will I be enough? “

          (  It takes everything to stop the glossy threat of tears in his eyes from breaking free of their dam. But oh, how the threat remains still.  )

Black Veil is damp,  &  dark,  &  probably haunted, Kuwei thinks. No matter how closely he hugs his knees to his chest, that terribly damp cold seeps into his core.    (  At least imprisoned in Fjerda. . . he could keep warm by the fires burning under every set of vials.  )

The ground is too soft.  Everyone’s voice is  too loud, no matter how hushed their urgent planning is.  The walls of the tomb are quick close in,  &  from the dark corners too many hands reach for him no matter how far into the corner he pushes.  Grasping,  clawing at the not at all warm enough clothes separating him from appearing like something  that truly belonged inside.  There’s no escaping it, no escaping the fall into the terrible  fate  he’d met.

          Only it’s a dream.  The fall he’s drug into ends in bolting upright. 

They’re all  “ safe, “  half asleep  &  spread out in the suite. That fact is tentative, the fact it was leaves the panicked hammering in his chest to overstay its welcome. But once the familiarity sets in, the prickle of being watched creeps down his neck. Low  &  behold. . . the culprit was the lead crow.

“ What. . ? “  Kuwei mumbles. Brows knit at Kaz a moment before the young grisha steels himself, settling his golden gaze elsewhere as he tries for an easy deep breath.  ( It stutters, silently in his chest. It hurts. )  “ What is it? “