#barrelcrow

Caught between two men and a third comes walking in with a gun pointed at her, Inej is trapped in the middle. A spider caught on her own web. She balances on the clothing line that hangs between two buildings.

The men stumble with their fear to walk on the wire, uneasy that it would support their weight if they could balance on it to begin with. She has knives in both hands slotted between two fingers. Inej's attention is divided between the parties on each side of her. Her greatest strength is her ability to comfortable stand on the wire, walk on it as though it were the cobblestones beneath her - the cobblestones she hears Kaz's cane hitting on beneath her.

A knife is thrown sharply at one of the armed men and it's retaliated against with the sound of a smoking gun adding to the soundtrack of the 'scuffle'. Her mind doesn't register the impact of the bullet the same way that her body does. Inej's body knocked off the wire by the impact and the Wraith only catches onto where her body is in time to cling onto the wire by a hand.

She looks down at the scene below. Kaz just as cornered as she is. She won't cry for help, not even to alert him of her nearing presence.

Inej throws a precise knife down at the head of one of the men with fists nearing Kaz. It hits square at the back of his head to send him tumbling to the ground. In the near distance, she hears the sound of a knife cutting at the wire she's hanging from. A moment is sparred to pray only briefly to her Saints for a safe landing. She lets go of the wire and trusts to land on the nearest awning of a shop. If it breaks it breaks, but at least it will break her fall.

The Wraith hits the wood with a harsh sound, uncharacteristic of her ghost-like movements across even the creakiest of floorboards. It creaks a second before it gives away, body falling right through a rotted board.

The first bullet whistled through the air, and Wylan automatically ducked, expression fraught with confusion. It wasn’t uncommon to hear gunfire — especially when Jesper was involved — but it sounded too close to their location to be considered a random incident. Wylan turned to Kaz, searching his face for any sign of concern. Of course, Kaz always kept his cards close to his chest, even when an unexpected situation arose.

“The Black Tips?” Wylan suggested. He’d heard they’d been encroaching on Fifth Harbor for the better half of a year now. Perhaps they’d spotted the two of them without backup and figured now was their best chance to attack — Wylan knew he didn’t look like much of a threat, but it was something that he could use to his advantage.

It’s the smell, wafting out before he’s even made land, that makes it real.

He’s really back in Ketterdam.

Jordie disembarks with the scrap torn from an old wanted poster clutched in his hand. Maybe he’s really lost his mind this time, but it can’t be a coincidence, can it? It’s not the best drawing, and it’s well out of date by now, but he knows his brother’s face. And it’s the same name, too. The first one, at least. He’d even asked around, asked anybody he knew who had spent time in Ketterdam, and they’d had stories to tell him about this Kaz Brekker. The stories didn’t seem like they could be true, not about Kaz, but he had to go. He had to be sure. He’d called in some favors and saved up some money to get on a ship headed north to seek out the most dangerous man in the Barrel.

He pulls his coat tighter around himself, even though it’s not really cold. He doesn’t want to be seen, although why would he be? He’s just some dock worker–at least he has been for the past few months–probably wandering toward the Barrel to spend his meager wage on drinking or gambling or worse. The first time around, he’d walked through the streets like he owned the place. He’d been sure of himself then, as only a thirteen year old could be, and Kaz next to him, hurrying to keep up.

It’s not going to be him, Jordie tells himself. Kaz died.

But no matter how much he tries to convince himself, when he finds the place he was looking for–The Crow Club–his heart is thumping hard in his chest. 

He has to pay the last money he had to get in, but he does it, not thinking about where he’ll sleep tonight, how he’ll eat, how he’ll get out of this city if he doesn’t find what he’s looking for. He’s never been very good at thinking ahead.

He knows, immediately, he doesn’t belong in this place. His clothes are colorless, his hair is unkempt, curling out under his dreary hat and down past his ears, his shoulders hunched and defensive. Part of him wants to turn around and walk back out–how stupid is he? Chasing after a ghost. Coming all the way back to this place that has been the setting of all his nightmares since he was a kid. Looking for a monster and thinking it could be–

And then, he sees him. Standing there like he was created by this place, like breathing his air could be dangerous, like he was never a little boy. Yet Jordie saw those same eyes that used to stare in wonder at street performers.

no harm in turning the color of an aging billy goat !  milo was ready to play catch-me-if-you-can, bleating playfully with the man’s hat atop his head again .  bouncing out of reach, dodging attempts to grab it, the little goat slipped underneath a vendors cart, tail wagging,

“BAAAAAH!”

Kay had woken from the nightmare drenched in sweat and tangled in bedsheets. Her heart hammering in her chest; the veins in her arms electrified with a blue glow, the webs of her fingers close to sparking. When she’d finally managed to sit up and pry herself free from the entanglement, she’d brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them tight, rocking back and forth. “I’m not there, I’m not there, I’m not there,” she whispered to herself over and over again, attempting push away the remnants of the nightmare. Only it wasn’t working. She had been there. Locked in a facility, trapped with no escape, experimented on in the most inhumane conditions, and forced to do unspeakable things. They had drugged her, and it had altered her into something far worse, something uncontrollable. A monster. She felt like a horrible monster. Would daddy even want me anymore if he knew what I am… The thought made her throat ache, eyes prick with tears, and finally she couldn’t stand to be alone anymore. Hopping off the bed, she padded across the wood floor to the bedroom door, opening it and wincing at the little squeak it made. Slipping through the crack of the open door, she made her way to Kaz’s office beside her room, hoping to see the glow of candle light on through the crack at the bottom of the door. No light was on, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t awake. Right? Carefully she turned the handle of his office door, and pushed it gently open, stepping inside and hearing the soft sound of him sleeping. For a moment she debated about giving up and going back to her room, but the thought of being there alone… Kaz Brekker might not know what she’d been through, or what she was, but he’d seen enough and had never looked down on her as anything different. And right now that was the kind of comfort she needed.

Cautiously making her way into the room, she stopped at the side of his cot, her fingers nervously toying with the hem of her shirt. “Mis – Mister Brekker?” she whispered gently, and waited a minute to see if he’d respond or arose. “I had a - ”

❝ is that a knife in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me? ❞

ㅤㅤfor a moment, the only noise is the brandy jesper's decided to pour out for the two of them. there's the noise of it trickling out into the glass, then the clink that comes from setting the bottle down.

ㅤㅤkaz isn't looking at him. he's staring at some point on the floor, gloved hands wrapped over the top of his cane. carefully, jesper slides over the glass, then sits on the nearest chair with a quiet whompf as the cushion blows out underneath them.

ㅤㅤwhat do they say? oh, kaz, you should pick up gardening; that'll keep you busy. i've heard it does wonders for the head. the truth is this: kaz has been living like this, and now the thing that's kept his head above waters has passed by him.

ㅤㅤ" there's a lot more things to do, " jesper starts, carefully, unsure what territory she's delving into. " a lot more people like him out there. " unbidden, his mind flits to the kerch man that tore into the earth at home, set up a well where it didn't need to be, poisoned leoni and his mother and those girls who had died. people who killed someone without realizing what they'd done, because they were greedy and cruel and uncaring, and -

ㅤㅤjesper realizes he's tapping the side of his glass incessantly. he drinks.

YOU CAN'T GET PAST THE WRAITH if you want to sneak into kaz brekker's office. it's a good thing, then, that the wraith left the city months ago. pulled her wings from the dust and grime, flew the cage. they tried to replace her; they failed. hellhound found her route, but it wasn't easy; they felt the grooves worn in the wooden slats where ghafa stepped hundreds, thousands of times, tapped into the instinct to climb where it only made sense for an acrobat to reach. her scent lingers on the wood still, just a bit. but persephone is taller, heavier; her limbs are longer. she must be careful.