abraxaslogs | {I am a whisper in the darkness

Entry tags:

{I am a whisper in the darkness

Who: Inej + Various
When: Month of May
Where: Cadens + the Horizon
What: Various threads through the month
Warnings: stealing; murder; descriptions of touch aversion, anxiety, depression, PTSD; heavy trust issues, paranoia; mentions of past instances of prostitution, slavery, and sexual assault. Everything will be clearly marked if-when it comes up.

hide it in the darkness but everyone knows

the truth is found in the gallows

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“Don’t know… could be anything,” the lores are harder to dig into here, partly because Cadens doesn’t focus a lot on that sort of thing— that’s really more Solvunn’s bag— and partly because it’s just a lot harder for Inej to know where to start with deities she’s not been raised hearing about. “I’ll pray it means a blessing and not another curse,” she murmurs softly.

“Maybe,” she agrees with a slight nod. She watches as the city moves by, that wide open nothingness of dark sky spread far into the distance. “Something else for their war.”

She nods again, “Yes, Michael and I were talking about it the other day. Solvunn of course leans toward the gods for answers. Don’t know exactly what their thoughts are in Thorne. ”

"You pray and we'll act on ensuring that any curse they try and throw at us doesn't stick," he allows, not wanting to ruin this time with statements about where he thinks prayer can get them... and where it can't.

"It's all for their war, isn't it? Us included?" There's a bitterness there, something he won't let go of no matter the life they're all starting for themselves.

"Though I would say then it's not military testing. If there was any hint of that, I think the others would be too angry not to act on it."

Could someone from Cadens hide that from those with magic? He's not sure.

He lets the horse pick its way, leading them into the darkness. He keeps an eye ahead, but his attention is on Inej as he sways with the carriage's movements.

"What would you think if there were suddenly twinkling lights back in Ketterdam?"

"Of course," she glances over at him, a small smile tucked into the corner of her mouth. She knows his feelings-thoughts-opinions, all, on exactly how useful prayer is. But he still respects her beliefs, even though he does not share them– and it matters so much more than she thinks he even realizes.

She doesn't miss the bitter tone in his voice and she nods her agreement, "I suppose it does seem less likely, given that it seems to be appearing in all of the factions." Two out of three is close enough to assume it's happening in Thorne, too, even if she doesn't have confirmation of that in hand.

She hums softly, considering it for a moment. "A sign of Sankta Alina's return, maybe..." She knows now from seeing the Sun Saint in this world, that things may not be as they seem– and Sankta Alina may not be dead, even in the timeline she'd been lifted from. "What would you think?" Because having all possibilities lined up is kind of what they do.

Had it been for anyone else, Kaz likely never would have made the effort. For Inej though it was something else entirely, even if it's not always easy when he wasn't sure that it wasn't things such as the saints she saw responsible for things he truly thought came from hardwork and effort.

But he'd learned over the years it didn't hurt him to let her have that and so he tried not to allow his feelings to weight too heavily on things.

"It would be a risk to test their weapon in the other lands when that could cause all levels of escalation. Which we haven't seen, so I suspect they have reasons to believe it's not the military here."

Which answered no questions and really just made more.

He glances at her with that answer, considering her a moment. "You both mentioned she was here before. Did meeting a Saint not changing anything of how you see them?"

There's no heat to the words, no taunt. Truly wondering. He doubts meeting her would change his feelings on the saints. She's a powerful Grisha in his mind, and that made her interesting and deadly but not a saint. Not to him.

"I think that either some plant has evolved that it is releasing spores which is why I will avoid contact directly. Or that perhaps someone has discovered a new gift and they've utterly lost control of it."

Kaz is good at balancing a lot of loose pieces, and it's not surprising that is applied even to his own people. As long as he respects this part of her, she could care less what his beliefs truly look like.

She nods a little in agreement with that, her eyes darting skyward when something seems to flash from that direction.

"I only spoke to her a few times," she can't stop the way her face shifts into something soft and reverent, "I know she's just a person, someone who... won the genetic lottery and was born blessed..." she shrugs a little, "but it doesn't mean that anything she did means any less. She'll always be a Sankta to me."

If anything, the whole experience only made her beliefs even stronger than they already were. That she truly was no different than anyone else? Just super lucky, or unlucky, depending on your view of things... It just means every Saint's story she's ever heard is at least a little bit real, a little bit true. Ideas, maybe embellished or played up for drama and retell-ability, but... something genuine. "If just another girl could do everything she did, what's stopping me?" It's the sort of thing that kept her held together in The Menagerie. It wasn't the end, there was so much more of her story left to be told.

She considers that and nods, it certainly sounds like the sort of thing that would happen in this world. "Of course... if it is a plant, you may not need direct contact with it to be affected." she tilts her head a little, "Could be airborne..." they'd seen that sort of thing before, hadn't they?

She tilts her head slightly, "Not prone to allergies in the warmer months, are you?" Pollen does a number on some people, and who knows what it could be like in a world so full of magic?

At first he doesn't respond to her talk about the Sun Summoner and Saints and all that is there in her words, and more that wasn't said. Instead he merely gives her a droll look, rolling his eyes.

"Do you think I would let allergies bother me? Please."

Maybe he does have that much control over his body. Maybe he's just the guy that would do anything to hide allergies because it's a weakness to be effected by something like pollen of all things.

He does draw up the reins though, bringing the horse to a stop. Hooking the reins to hold the horse to staying right there, he turns on the bench seat to face Inej. Not just staring off into the distance as he talks but looking at her.

They're here, no one else around, and she deserves to hear what he thinks of her talk off Alina and all that had happened in their world.

"Do you know the difference between you and Alina Starkov? Choice. She became a saint not because of her actions or her intelligence or anything but the random spin of genetics. You, on the other hand, have made choices all along the way to continue doing what you do. At any point you could have given up. You could have taken the easy way out."

His tones are soft, but his words fierce, full of a fire that spoke volumes of how he feels for her and what he thinks of the woman beside him.

"You could have murder Heleen at any time. You could have killed any number of men and been jailed and languished there. You could have embraced your place, or walked away from me, or never taken sail to go after slavers. And yet you did. Each and every time. You stood strong and you fought back and you made your way on your talents that you worked hard for. What the Sun Summoner did for Ravka will be talked about in story books and classrooms for centuries and then become yet another story in a small gilded book. What you did will be the story of legends spoken by those hoping for better life for eternity. Girls lost will remember you and know they can overcome it all and become who they want to be, not what life might try and make them."

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.

While Kaz isn't capable of controlling his body like that, he will do everything in his power to pretend like there is nothing bothering him. Sunlight. Allergies. The damage to his leg that he can't entirely hide. Showing injury and illness is a weakness after all.

It's something he doesn't allow himself, and is only learning to allow in others.

Yet there is nothing in Inej he sees as weakness. Nothing in all she has been through, or the things she's done. Not in what she had to do or how she managed to become what she is now.

Choice had been taken from her and she had done everything in her power to ensure that never happened again. Her skills as an acrobat and a wraith were what made her valuable in the barrel, but it was that strength that had drawn him to her from the first moment. The flame he could not look away from even when it blinded him. Nor did he ever want to look away.

Even as he stared at her then, eyes dark and intense, pupils wide and his expression sharp and fierce. Even as he drew one of his gloves off, his bare hand cupping her cheek. A fine shiver runs through him, the sensation still so new and the action still one that tried to overcome him as he leans in closer to her.

The kiss is very soft, barely a brush of his lips on hers but there's so much emotions behind those two simple gestures that they do threaten to overwhelm him in that moment.

No matter how well she ever thinks she knows him, one thing that Kaz Brekker is incapable of is failing to surprise her. Again and again, he has done or said things that she never would have expected from him. This moment is no different than countless others before it, the uncertainty strikes through her veins like lightning, the unpredictable nature of him lighting her from the inside, out.

She wonders at what point his hands, naked and porcelain under the gloves, stop being such a Saintsforsaken novelty. It’s been months and still, every time he takes off his gloves, a breath is caught in her throat.

She wishes it wasn’t such an unthinking instinct to lean into that hand at her cheek. She never wants to overwhelm him, push him too hard, too fast, but… she doesn’t coddle him, either, she knows he would hate it if she did. It’s a hard balance to strike, but she guesses she manages it pretty well.

The way he leans in is slow, though she’s not sure she could classify it as hesitant. Cautious, maybe, but there’s no doubt he wants this.

She sighs contentedly into that sweet, chaste kiss, fingers curling around the material of his shirt a little tighter as though to keep him in place. She doesn’t need fancy, she doesn’t need tricks or flare… just as long as it’s him she gets to keep.

Kaz has lived nearly a decade with the only physical contact he's known that came with pain. Fists against his face, strike after strike. The one time it had come without pain, he had fainted in a wagon.

Until that moment when he'd taken Inej's hand in his.

Even then he had fainted at a kiss.

Now, nearly a year later, and it feels like another world to him. Even if that need for the contact of another only involves two people. A wild and troublesome gunslinger. And the beautiful, dangerous, ethereal wraith before him.

But now his kisses as warm, holding so many emotions he can't always find words for. Yet he's learning to show them. Through every deliberate touch. Every kiss. Every time he shows them that he chooses them over anything else. Over his past. Over his fears.

His fingers lightly stroke against her cheek, head canting slightly to deepen the kiss. Not fast or wild, but heated and showing how much he thinks of her, how much he needs her. Showing the things he can't always find words for.

There is always a certain sort of intensity when she’s with Kaz, and his kiss is no exception— there is a warmth that pours into her from him in a heady, dizzying wave that washes over her completely.

When he deepens the kiss, her fingers twist the material of his shirt tighter, free hand resting on his shoulder, leaning into that kiss all the more.

It’s a sudden, sharp sweep of emotion— he’s touching her, he’s kissing her—
he wants this
he wants her and Saints!— a desire that fills her up so fast that it takes everything just to keep herself in place. Next to him.

The thought— which comes with picture-perfect clarity in her mind— of shifting herself into his lap makes her heartbeat thud loud in her own ears, so loud she wouldn’t be particularly surprised if he could hear it, too.

Tentatively, she parts her lips, a gentle invitation for him to just explore, if he wants.

The sensation is still there. That light headed, pulse raising, cheeks enflamed sensation that he knows could lead to him sinking to the ground in a pile of dark clothes and pale skin.

Yet he won't let it happen. Not now. Not ever again with her.

Instead he holds tight to that sensation, reveling in it as he revels in her.

The feels of soft skin against his fingertips, the taste of her on his lips. His tongue brushing against hers, sensations that are still so new to him and yet he doesn't think will ever grow old. Savoring that moment, even as his mind races, wanting more, needing everything, and yet wanting nothing more than to savor what he has right now. The woman he loves.

The kiss barely breaks, his teeth lightly grazing her lip as he fights for a soft breath. He'd give up breathing entirely, if he could, just to keep kissing her.

The invitation is met, eager and hungry to explore and, Saints, she's dizzy. A soft sound escapes her throat as her tongue tangles with his, one hand sliding up along the back of his neck so she can lose her fingers in his hair.

He breaks the kiss, but he lingers so close, all she can do is breathe him in. "I..." A grin spread widely across her lips as she tries to think through the haze in her mind. She can't even finish the barely-started statement for the cloud of want still taking up all her focus.

Her lips roll together in a gentle press as she takes an almost cautious glance around– useless, she knows, they're in the middle of nowhere, at the edge of the city... no one else is here. "Can I... just- try something?" She can't help it, the image is lodged in her mind and she won't be able to let go of it now.

She looks up at him through her lashes, her fingers curl into the material of his shirt, just a little. "You trust me, don't you?" her voice sounds so small when she asks, like she's terrified the answer might somehow still manage to be 'no'.

It's intoxicating. Its the only word that Kaz can think of. Not just the ability to share these moments with someone, but to have them with her. With someone that is not just beautiful but smart and deadly and so skilled it is perhaps the most sensual thing about her. At least to him.

Most might be drawn to beauty - and he can't deny that either of those he cares about aren't elegantly beautiful - but they're so competent and proficient its enough to make his heart race.

He arches a brow when she asks if she can try something, head canting slightly to one side. Yet as she goes on, he finds himself curious as much as he's nervous. If only because of taking new steps. But there's only one answer to that question though.

"With my life. I trust you with my life." He pauses and then adds. "More than that I trust you with my money and my empire, which is slightly more important than my life."

New, unknown steps are scary as they are thrilling, that's something she knows intimately herself. That he's willing to let her be the one controlling things? Well, that's a gift in itself.

"And I, you, with mine," she assures him, her voice soft and she kisses him, something soft and chaste and short-lived.

She can hear her own heart thudding in her ears still, an electric thrill in her veins. She slides one hand up to curl fingers around his shoulder to steady herself before she shifts in a single, fluid motion from beside him to very suddenly in his lap, a knee on either of side of him.

The flush that rushes to her cheeks would be hidden if not for the lights casting strange shadows and the brightness of the moon. She wants to kiss him, something deeper and more ravenous than the last one, but she's patient, letting him adjust, and watching all those tiny shifts in the feature of his face for any signs that it's too much.

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{I am a whisper in the darkness

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