A laugh practically bursts through her at that comment, “You’re ridiculous,” she manages through her amusement. As if he could control his body that much. He might wish it… but she has seen Kaz sick before. He’s insufferable when he is. Always pretending he’s fine even when anyone can look at him and see he’s flu-ish. Stubborn and insufferable.
As they slow, she shifts a little, not sure if he’s stopping because he’s trying to get her attention or if they’ve simply reached their spot. Her eyes are trained on the sky, hoping to see another one of those flashes.
At least, until Kaz turns all that attention on her. It’s unsettling to a point, but not in a bad way. It makes her muscles coil, and she can feel her heart stutter in chest. It’s intoxicating, being looked at so intently— and that’s only because it’s him.
Choice.
It makes her features twist in a wince. Choice: the thing that had been stolen from her so young; Choice: the thing she demanded to keep now that she has it again.
She has arguments ready at the tip of her tongue to fight him over the things Sankta Alina had done for Ravka, for Grisha. The way she had fought and bled and cried and sacrificed for her people and her country.
But it isn’t until the last bit that it really hits her, square in the chest:
Girls lost will remember you…
She reaches up to curl her fingers in the collar of his shirt, careful to keep her fingers from brushing his neck. “You’re a really intense person, sometimes, Kaz Brekker,” she murmurs softly, blinking back the tears at the edge of her eyes.
no subject
As they slow, she shifts a little, not sure if he’s stopping because he’s trying to get her attention or if they’ve simply reached their spot. Her eyes are trained on the sky, hoping to see another one of those flashes.
At least, until Kaz turns all that attention on her. It’s unsettling to a point, but not in a bad way. It makes her muscles coil, and she can feel her heart stutter in chest. It’s intoxicating, being looked at so intently— and that’s only because it’s him.
Choice.
It makes her features twist in a wince.
Choice: the thing that had been stolen from her so young;
Choice: the thing she demanded to keep now that she has it again.
She has arguments ready at the tip of her tongue to fight him over the things Sankta Alina had done for Ravka, for Grisha. The way she had fought and bled and cried and sacrificed for her people and her country.
But it isn’t until the last bit that it really hits her, square in the chest:
Girls lost will remember you…
She reaches up to curl her fingers in the collar of his shirt, careful to keep her fingers from brushing his neck. “You’re a really intense person, sometimes, Kaz Brekker,” she murmurs softly, blinking back the tears at the edge of her eyes.