#kaz 01

Harry lurched through the jungle, wishing the stick-crutch she'd found was a few inches taller. It had been days since she'd broken her leg, or she thought it was broken. It sure fucking felt like it was broken, and the only solution was to wrap it in an earthen cast and not bump it at all. The jungle was full of things that wanted to bump into her. Roots, vines, stumps, branches. Harry was in a foul mood, worse than usual. She was exhausted, pulling up a path from the underbrush so she didn't have to worry about stepping funny and twisting her good ankle and really letting the jungle eat her.

Luckily for her, the southern beach was full of people. They were walking, sitting, running, digging, dancing. Whatever they were fucking doing, Harry could feel it, and she was close. Few hundred yards from the treeline, she reckoned. Then there was some distance between the treeline and the source of the vibrations. But... there were always those people who could hear her approach, the uncanny wind-folk who were the first to point sharp sticks at her and John.

"Hey..." Harry called, her voice hoarse and scratchy from misuse, quiet. She barely spoke, unless it was to herself. Harry cleared her throat and repeated again. "Hey! Some help?" she felt pathetic, weak and useless crying out for help.

'Not weak,' John's voice reassured her. Forty years and she could still remember how her little brother would chide her. 'Can't always go it alone.'

"You don't know..." Harry sighed, smacking her parched lips together. He couldn't hear her anyway. And she was proving him right anyway. "Come on...!" Harry called again, focusing on the people who could hear her, maybe. Harry staggered over to a large tree, leaning back against it and taking some of the weight of her pack off of her remaining leg. "Heeyyyyyy! Just need..."

Amber kept her smile on after Emre had left, though once he was gone and out of earshot she exhaled, hard. Jesus.

But at least that was done, for now. She focused on her morning deliveries, keeping the door open for airflow and so the smell of blood didn’t overly nauseate her.

Movement outside caught her eye, and she glanced up to see someone meeting Kaz at the edge of the farm. A Castaway. I... Is... Isabella, yes, that was it. Meeting Kaz Raval at the fence. Kaz had joined the farm-fam as the smokehouse operator, as had many other people wanting to extend a helping hand to the Hardys post-attack, so his presence wasn’t new. But Amber hadn’t seen the Castaway woman before. Or if she had, she’d forgotten about it. Hm.

Amber kept one eye on them as she worked, preparing the meat that would go to the smokehouse, waiting until Kaz had returned to the smokehouse to start his shift. Only then did she gather everything needed, wash her hands, and head over to the smokehouse.

“Fresh delivery!” Amber chirped, shouldering open the door with a basket of meat cuts in her arms. She nudged the door shut with her foot as she gave Kaz a smile. “Good morning Kaz! It’s good to see you. Everyone you like make it out OK?”

Amber set the basket down. Ah. Her fingernails were still a little red. Unfortunate. She looked up. “I saw you talking to someone out by the farm’s edge. Everything good?”

When she spots something fall from a stranger’s pocket and to the ground, Wolf stares for a moment. It’s gone either way for her before, and it leaves her hesitant about going forth to try and return it. The old pick-pocket trick had been utilized many times by a few other kids when she was younger, darting in and out of pockets in search of change. 

Nevertheless, good will did eventually triumph over doubts, leading Wolf to scoop up the fallen device. “You.” Her calling out is soft, firm but not aiming to draw more than his attention.

matthias let the door slam behind him, careless which glass figure might shatter or priceless painting might fall from its hanging in his wake. kaz had called for him, so matthias had come. he’d shed the dressings of his borrowed life in fjerda and returned to his own face on kerch shores, only to be met with silence. for days matthias crawled around ketterdam, dodging stadwatch and slavers and anyone who might even look like they spoke fjerdan. he’d traced the sounds of dirtyhands through the grime of the city, only to come up empty. until now. 

so the crow did not take to summons. it arrived when it was ready, and so should you be. well, matthias was tired of waiting. he’d had a lifetime of it, was ready to be done with that particular chain on his shackles. he approached the desk soundlessly, hands going to the back of the chair that sat across from the boss’s. he imagined per haskell had sat their, once, when he’d lived in the illusion of authority. there was no mistaking who was at the helm now. 

Getting roped into a team with two strangers and a familiar face was not how Tokoha had imaged spending her day. It’s not like there was anyone else her and Gao knew around at the moment.

“So,” She began while observing her three companions, “Can we make this work? This isn’t my idea of an ideal team but we should try.”

One appeared to look like a cosplayer, Gao looked just as confused as she did, and the other stranger was wearing interesting headphones while fiddling with some kind of device in his hands. Both were strange, but they didn’t seem to be bad company to be around.

Sharing a glance with Gao she turned her attention back to their teammates.

“I suppose we’ll have to decide on a name before we get started, any ideas?”