#thiefofcrows

"Why are you obsessed with me?"

{♚ x @thiefofcrows  x} 

 He had won in the end. Or, perhaps, survived was a better way of putting it. It certainly didn't feel like a win and it had been one of the closest calls Matt had had since he'd started fighting in the arena. His state—heavily bruised, injured, and certainly out of commission for a while—was a testament to that. 

 Worse yet... If he couldn't compete, he'd lose his private cell eventually. And without his private cell, keeping up his correspondence with Kaz would become infinitely more difficult. The true nightmare; much more painful than any injury could ever be. The letters from Kaz were the only thing that kept Matt going. There was no way he would've survived two years of this without them.

 Letting out a heavy sigh, Matt carefully laid down on his bed, unsure of how much longer he'd be able to enjoy this comparatively comfortable place. If only he hadn't let that damn lizard get the drop on him... As fast and as skilled as he was, the lizard had been just as fast—if not faster—and far stronger. Him winning had been pure luck. 

 Then he heard some noise at the door, and his heart sank. It definitely wasn't time to eat yet, and he had still won, so he deserved to stay here even if only for a little bit longer. So what did they want? "Who's there?"

Kaz hadn’t even been gone for a week before Raito showed his face again, almost as though he’d been lying in wait for an opportunity to strike. He’d waited until Yuki was alone on a dark street, and pushed him up against the unforgiving brick wall, his forearm pressed against Yuki’s throat. Vivid flashbacks assaulted Yuki’s mind – on the floor of an apartment he knew so well as knuckles cracked mercilessly across his face, the smell of cheap cologne that made him gag, a slimy aura that filled him with dread.

This time, when Raito hit him, Yuki didn’t freeze. He got angry.

It was a short fight; Yuki’s empathy sliced through Raito, leaving him stunned enough for Yuki to escape from his grasp. A hard kick to the leg dropped Yuki’s abuser to his knees before him.

He looked at the man who had caused him so much pain with absolute disgust. Then, Yuki’s fist collided with Raito’s face, over and over again. Once Raito was on his back against the cold pavement, Yuki was on top of him, each hit getting harder and harder as images flashed through his mind. The dread that chilled his bones when he heard that soft creak of hardwood and the faint sound of a handle turning. Pain radiating through his body as he stared at the ceiling, trying to pretend he was someone else. The fear of realizing what Raito wanted to do to him again while he was bloody and bruised, his only crime having been a demand for a confession.

Raito wasn’t moving anymore. That slimy aura was gone, and his eyes were lifeless. Yuki panted, his knuckles bruised and bloody as he finally came to a stop, and reveled in the satisfaction of knowing his monster was dead.

Well. One of them, anyway.

Yuki left that night. One after another, the men involved in the car crash began to drop. Yuki didn’t beat them to death – no, he was more efficient now, using his empathy to distract and disarm, his small stature to fight, and his knives to finish the job.

He knew what it was like to feel someone die. He’d first experienced it on a bridge with rushing water, and the fear before each member of his family had the life ripped from them had haunted Yuki for a long time. Yuki chose to be kind, chose to be good – but it was about time these men faced the same helplessness, and died in agony.

As he made his way through his list, Yuki did what he could to sabotage Isen; to expose and destroy illegal businesses he profited from, ruin alliances. It was then that he first noticed his ability had changed, that he didn’t just feel emotions, he couldn’t just distract by exposing someone’s soul. Yuki found himself causing panic he could control the intensity of, anger that blinded until the person affected couldn’t think clearly – and therefore, couldn’t help but make mistakes. It was useful, and the more he used it, the better he got.

Yuki had three men left when he heard the news.

Part of him wanted to leave right then, to go back to LA and see what damage had been done with his own eyes. But Yuki knew he couldn’t. If he went back now, he may not find the strength to continue on. And…another part of him wanted to return once he was strong enough. Once he did what he said he would. So many times he’d found himself helpless before Kaz. No more.

It would be another couple months before the last of Isen’s men involved soaked the ground with blood. For a moment, Yuki looked down at his body – but he couldn’t let himself relax now. The job wasn’t done, not until Isen drew his last breath. And Yuki wasn’t stupid enough to think he could go against the skilled, merciless gang leader alone.

The image of Kaz’s face greeted him as he walked away. He wanted to go home.

His return to LA was a blur. Yuki found himself standing on the steps of the Slat without fully remembering how he got there, and his hands hesitated on the door handles. With a breath in, Yuki finally pulled the doors open and stepped inside.

No sooner had he entered did Kaz’s head raise. As he met those dark eyes, this familiar aura washed over him – but something was different. Maybe Yuki would have spent some time looking deeper, if the air hadn’t been stolen from his lungs.

Suddenly he and Kaz were the only people in the room, the chatter of the Dregs fading into the background. Yuki was still. His eyes were filled with a longing he felt to his very core. He’d known he’d missed Kaz, of course. But nothing could’ve prepared Yuki for this. The way Kaz looked at him now had Yuki’s heart pounding, but relief hit him regardless, so hard he thought he might drop to his knees. These emotions that contradicted each other, this aura Yuki drew warmth from at its core, like hovering his cold hands over the embers of a fire when he’d been out in the frigid winter wind for so long…

Yuki smiled.

Just a slight curve of his lips upward. He’d hardly noticed it had appeared, as relief started to outweigh everything else. Yuki’s body thawed. He made his way over to Kaz, stopping in front of him. There was something different about his face, too, the way he carried himself. Yuki could only think of the last words he’d said to Kaz, as he’d gripped onto the black lapel of his suit. 

Come back alive.

But Yuki felt uncertain. Just like everything with Kaz, nothing was one hundred percent. There was always good and bad, and his happiness was no exception. He felt these confusing feelings brewing inside the other, and Yuki couldn’t help but wonder how much had changed in their time apart.

“I’m glad to see you still keep your promises,” he said, just loud enough for Kaz to hear.

Suddenly he couldn’t ignore the Dregs anymore. Reluctantly, Yuki looked away from Kaz to the room, and though they averted their gaze, the tidal wave of similar emotions told Yuki everything he needed to know. His smile faded and he met Kaz's gaze again.

{ ♛ x @thiefofcrows x}‌

 Expanding into London wasn’t going to be easy, Tommy knew that. Especially given the fact they didn’t all seem to be on the same page about it. Fortunately, he didn’t need them all to be on the same page—he just needed them all to do what he wanted them to do. Not an easy feat by any means, but he’d achieved far more difficult things. He’d manage somehow.

 For now, the Peaky Blinders just needed to get their foot in the door. Easier said than done. The bigger gangs in London had far greater numbers, with friends in high places and far more knowledge about the territory. Storming in as a lone gang was practically a suicide mission. There was, however, a war going on between the two biggest gangs: the Italians and the Jews. If the Peaky Blinders could manage to build an alliance with one of them, they might just stand a chance. Before making that sort of a decision, however, Tommy wanted to gather some intel himself. Without his men, without Polly, and without his brothers.

 He didn’t approach the Italians or Jews directly, of course. He didn’t want to risk any sort of unwanted attention—not yet, anyway. Instead, he found his way to pubs run or frequented by the smaller gangs. The ones caught in the crossfire of the war, frustrated and angry. Tommy barely had to make an effort at all to gather what he had come for; as soon as the alcohol flowed, so did the information that could perhaps prove useful. If only things could always be this easy.

 Tommy was just about to leave when someone else entered the pub, and the heavily drunk men suddenly perked back up to attention. Whoever it was, clearly had to be someone of importance. In an attempt to remain unnoticed, he sunk deeper into the shadows, nursing the whiskey in his hand like someone desperately in need of a drink and not caring where it came from.

Tell me your honest opinion of my portrayal

Where were you? I didn't know where you were... I didn't know if you... I don't need a weak link in my crew.

The words still lingered in her mind. The worried almost, crack of his rasp and the coldness that followed. It had settled in the mid of her stomach and coiled itself tight. A tension Inej was able to ignore until now. Until the Neshyenyer had placed it's final cut, slicing the shadows and driving them out.

Sankta Alina was safe. The Darkling was dead. Zoya and Nina stood by her side. That was all that mattered. They had won and despite the waryness in her bones and the safety of the blade against her back the coil in her stomach tightened as she walked alongside her comrades back to the palace grounds. Back to where they had left Wylan, Jesper... and Kaz.

Inej wasn't one to linger on words that were used to inflict pain. She'd had enough pain to last more then several life times. Her heart was set on making good on the promise she'd whispered to the Saints before departing on this journey.

Every abducted child, woman or man, all the people and indentures kept against their will would have a Wraith. She would retrace her steps, go and find her brother, then, together they would hunt down the slavers that took them from their family and their home.

When their small group finally reached the top of the hill and began their descent the acrobat caught sight of a familiar silouhette. Long, crisply tailored coat, straight stance, hand on his cane. Sharp lines and tailored edges. The coil inside her drew tighter as she watched him turn and stopped in his movement when their eyes met. It was gone before she could form thoughts about it. Inej turned away from him, stopping next to Sankta Ali... Alina to pass the Neshyenyer blade on to it's rightful owner. She felt almost naked without the swords weight against her back, but it had never belonged to her. It was fit for a Saint, not a Wraith.

After all words were spoken and all the promises exchanged, there was only one place left to go.

@thiefofcrows : they'll never see you coming.

"They never do."

Harij twirls one of his throwing knives as he listens to Kaz explain the plan to him. He's not worried about the risk, or getting caught. He's been making his own way in the world for a long time. He's not scared. Fear feels like something that's been left behind long ago; he has nothing to lose, so why be afraid? He's a ghost.

He looks at the blueprints and continues to twirl his knife.

Yuki lingered in the shadows of an empty alcove, about halfway down the alley. The thick, overpowering scent of coal and urine brought bile to his throat. He was positioned in a way that he wouldn't find himself vulnerable against his target, but close enough that he could strike when the time came.

After all, this wasn't just any target.

Kaz Brekker had quickly gained a formidable reputation; from the destruction of certain merchers, the single-handed downfall of Pekka Rollins and his Dime Lions, all the way to the impossible task of breaking into the Ice Court -- and living to tell the tale. Yuki wasn't underestimating him by any means.

As he waited, the image of Isen bleeding out as he was brought inside the Blades headquarters was one Yuki would never forget. That, and Isen's very promise that brought him here. The offer to pass it all down...

If he was successful.

None of that mattered now. All that mattered was getting the job done, coming out victorious. Because Kaz wouldn't spare him if he made a mistake. And, should he live to come back to his father, it wouldn't be without consequence.

A tall man in an all-black suit, shrouded in an overcoat to match, limped his way into the alley. He heard the tapping of a black cane with a silver crow's head under his hand.

Yuki counted, then pushed off the wall he'd been leaning against. There were knives hidden in easy reach all throughout his person, though he hadn't grabbed any yet. Now standing directly in front of Kaz, Yuki noticed his heartbeat was steady. Of course. Not much would scare Kaz anymore.

Normally Yuki preferred to play with his food, but he suspected he'd lose any game he played against Kaz. Besides, he felt the weight of this mission bearing down on him. He was faced with the possibility that the one man who ever cared about him was going to slip from his grasp. He was upset.

He was angry.

"Hey," he said, smirk just visible the moonlight. "Let's get started, huh?"

Not giving Dirtyhands the opportunity to reply, Yuki grabbed ahold of his heart with a quick hand movement and sent it beating fast, to the point of being painful. His body would no doubt enter shock soon -- if Yuki decided to let him off that easy. No, Yuki would be ruthless. He wanted to watch the life leave Kaz Brekker's eyes as the legend finally died.