𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇.

❝   although,    you’ve definitely made the right choice.  ❞   she takes a step forward,   her shoulders shrugging nonchalantly.   the intruder could run if they wished to,   zoya would only act AS IF she were keeping her distance   (   an appealing guise   ).   ❝    i can’t bare to leave my precious jewels at home,    so i’ve brought them along.   now only if you were quicker about this.     just imagine,   you could have been rich.   ❞

❝   do you think i should wear the diamonds or the sapphires ?   ❞   she says to the woman that slowly comes to view,     next to her own reflection.    the smile that creeps onto her shadowed face is nothing but mischievous,   even daringly comfortable.   it doesn’t betray the uncertainty that washes up against the shores of her chest    &   for that,   SHE PRAISES HERSELF.   ❝   we’re never going to convince the duke that you're a court lady if you’re going to wear that.    if you’d like,   you can borrow one of my dresses.   ❞

      in everything ,  there is a mouth :  the tender parts of the body ,  furling and unfurling ,  own mouths ;  the dark stains of the sky ,  shifting shapes and shades in their ceaselessness ,  own mouths ;  the black of ungloved fingers ,  seething in shadows ,  owns a mouth  –  nikolai owns mouths of his own,  but he does not choose the teeth. 

      and zoya nazyalensky ?  she is all mouth ,  all bite ,  all things untender and mirthless.  sitting beside her now ,  blanketed in silence that impersonates privacy ,  he understands that there is no way to escape the mauling.  thus ,he beckons her wrath prematurely.    

      “  at least i didn’t kill anyone.  ”  this time. x.

THE LULL OF THE COACH’S OCCANSIONAL CREAKING coupled with tamar    &    tolya’s soft chatter outside acts as zoya’s distraction for many minutes as she attempts to halt her fantasies about severing the king of ravka in half.    it would be fun,    she thinks to herself,    it would be a messy affair,    but fun.    the aggravation written in bold across her expression only alludes to HALF the anger she feels.    she imagines it as a black    &    red wave,   coating each labored breath she takes.    a small mirror she had brought to help their runaway royal dress shows her everything she needs to know:    HER HAIR IS AN ABSOLUTE MESS   &   HER KEFTA IS RUINED.    this    &    the fact that her precautions weren’t enough fuels the  blue  that flashes across her eyes   (  the inferni had always said that the hottest flame is colored a bright sapphire  ).

❝   THEN ARE YOU TO BE MY SHINING KNIGHT ?    ❞    the sarcastic tilt to her lips gives way to a scowl that blends readily into her expression.    there seems to be NO end to zoya’s annoyance at their situation:    she,    STUCK WITH A STRANGER that makes her feel as if his skin was merely a disguise to something incomprehensible,    lost in the middle of a clearing that encircles them with dense thicket    &    trees that hid their crowns in the fog.    she takes a moment to study the worn path that he had suggested,    IT WAS BARELY VISIBLE    &    clearly abandoned.    her eyes move along the curve of the curiously large expanse they stood in,   turning her neck   &   eventually her entire form.    with her back to him,   she wringes her fingers together in an uncharacteristic show of apprehension,   unrelentingly CURSING HERSELF   &    HER COMPANION.    something about the raw nature around them unerves her;   she wonders if the apparent lack of day   &   night serves as only a HINT to what the forest might house. 

something i never connected was juris saying this & how many times zoya is likened to nature & animals. think about it. when she first discovered her powers (the very thing that saved her from being a wife at the age of nine), she “...screamed, the sound tearing from her, an animal cry.” not only that, but when she ran past her old as hell groom, she hissed at him. her first amplifier was a white tiger, her second is a dragon. i know all amphiliers are animals, but the sheer amount of animal motifs in zoya’s narrative.. even her anger was hinted at being the white tiger himself. there’s countless other examples of her looking/acting like a predator, honestly.

ZOYA IS A DISTINCT NOTE SCATTERED FROM THE REST : she does not smell like something rotting from the inside out, like a soul trapped & caged in a decaying prison. she is not something dying amid time’s slow dance — not her.  death lingers & waits in her background, its breath hitched & choked in fear of her presence. she is the hint of a growing storm, of lightning just before it strikes the earth to leave its mark, of the air & its bated breath : she is something holy. her flesh is not like his — decorated in sweat & blood like a new uniform. befitting of an otkazat'sya! he could not fathom a goddess in her liking — pity he’s had such little patience & proclivity for religion. “ i didn’t join to make friends. ”

THE TASTE OF HEATED METAL NIPS AT THE BACK OF HIS THROAT — another gentle reminder in wake of the sting that came before it. “ and i’d be no better than adrik if i forgot that fact. ” now which of the storm-personified’s words is he lingering on most : enemies or being no better? his face shifts at the thought, scrunched & crumpled like one of alina’s maps & left to waste in a full bin. but his mind offers little comfort, skull plucked & pulled apart into something empty — save for the strums of pain flitting along his nerves just like the blood coursing through his veins. another press, another wince, another tally mark scratched on the wall of his mortality. “ did you pray for them, then? ” despite himself, despite his heart, he feels his mask crack with the smile that dares to surface — charmed & charming, all coming together like a play he’s rehearsed & recited a dozen times now. “ that would explain why there’s so many, wouldn’t it? ” 

MAL ORETSEV---   an enigma zoya’s interest had clung onto the night he left her tent with a boyish grin.     her own vain exterior met his cynical one with sense of familiarity    &   maybe that was the reason she took to tending to his wounds so quickly.    or maybe it was because the sight of her aunt’s ruined village haunted her every waking,   dreaming moment    &    SHE ACHED FOR A DISTRACTION.    not wanting to dwell on her own motives,   &    zoya steers her focus back onto her work,    her cherried lips curling to a pout.   ❝    as if the saints would answer.   ❞    despite her jesting,   a sliver of malice garnishes her words.    ❝    besides,    a woman praying for a man she fancies to be ruggedly handsome    &    scarred is so INCREDIBLY cheap.   ❞   

(  for anyone who’s concerned with spoilers regarding the six of crows    &    king of scars duologies,    don’t keep reading !  )

i think you mean king of scars?    although,    i could be wrong because i haven’t touched six of crows.    but yes,    zoya is not only a squaller now  (  wind summoner  ),    she’s also a tidemaker (  water summoner  )    &   an inferni  (  fire summoner  ) !    obviously,    this is a big thing because blurring the lines between the summoners is unheard of    &    previously considered impossible.    but our queen doesn’t just stop there,    she goes on further to manipulate solid materials    &    if you’ve read my guide (  or if you’ve read the books  ),    then you know that that people who can do that are called durasts.    not only did zoya blur the lines WITHIN her order  (   etheralki   ),    but she also blurred the lines BETWEEN other orders.  &   the entire time she’s asking herself the same thing alina did in the trilogy:    “are we not all things?”

with the idea that everything can be reduced to a science  (    &   grisha know that.    they are taught that during their training in ravka  ),     zoya could technically manipulate anything.    she’s went far enough that her learning how to be a heartrender  (  what nina is !  )  or a healer or an alkemi is not improbable. 

❝    CHALLENGING ADRIK WAS RISKY,    oretsev,    or did you forget that you’re only an otkazat’sya.    ❞    she’s sure that her implications would be detected    &    understood,    but just to make her point GLARINGLY apparent,    she pushes the cloth onto the edge of another cut,   knowing full well that the sting would serve as a reminder.    ❝    don’t mistake me,    though,    i’m sure these will leave scars---    &    i love scars on a man.    ❞