abraxaslogs | {The silhouette against the wall

He snaps back almost instantly. Good. She's gearing for an argument, and who better to have one with than The Bastard of the Barrel? She would never presume he would back down from her, though– lethal as her hand may be, he has no reason to fear her in that way. He could overtake her in a fight if she had no blade on her. Not that he would have to; she'd never go for him like that in the first place.

"I'm not punishing you," she bites back, not bothering to contain the roll of her eyes. "I just–" It's a tangled, frustrated sound that cuts her words short, not sure how to conceptualize it all into words. She's just tired. And it keeps not mattering, because no matter what, the world just keeps handing her more and more to hold.

His gaze is sharp and cold as steel, but his voice, his voice is so soft it disarms her almost instantly. Her eyes close as she listens to his words, and almost more than she knows how to handle, she just wants to crumble into him, make him hold her– not with whispers of lies of how everything will be okay, just this, harsh truths and genuine wishes, however far out of reach they feel.

She doesn't, of course. She barely wavers where she stands. But as close as he is? It would be nearly impossible to miss the sag in her shoulders, the way she tucks her head just slightly, curls in on herself in a nearly imperceptible way.

She expects nothing (life is so much easier when you stop having expectations). She just needs him to stay where he is. Near. So she can feel the presence of him, even as her eyes are closed and she can't actually see him.

"But you'll be there...?" she asks on wavering tones. "Even if... our paths don't perfectly align?" She doesn't think that will ever be true, not really. Whatever path the girl that had been pulled onto that ship all those years ago would have followed was yanked out from under her the moment she'd been stolen. But she wants to hear him say it anyway. That she doesn't have to be The Wraith for him to... need her? Want her?

She doesn't dare let herself so much as think the other word.

It shouldn't feel good to get these emotions out, the sides of him that he has had little place for since he was pulled from the water - where the very first of his anger in this place had begun. And yet this isn't his target, but had they ever been when these moments had happened?

But maybe this is what they both needed. After all they had been through back in their own lands, and all that this place represented and had taken. He is quite aware there are six months or more of her - and Jesper's - life where he wasn't part of it. Couldn't be. Was cut off from them and he blames this place for that. Even if they had been off living their own lives, he wasn't cut from theirs until here.

It isn't the way she shifts though that hurts him, that makes his heart hurt as it seemingly loses its rhythm. It's those words.

For a moment he regrets taking off his gloves. It would be easier for him to do this without the contact, with being able to wholly put her first rather than his own troubles. And yet, maybe this is what he needs to do so he can push past that.

One hand curves to her shoulder, offering the support he can physically. Even offering an opening for her to come closer. He's not sure how to even handle it, but he wants the offer there.

But then his bare hand cups her chin, ensuring her gaze is on him. Offering both touch and his pale gaze as he stares into her eyes. "No matter what our paths are in the world? You and I will always share a path, Inej. You knew that when you went off to hunt slave traders, didn't you?" He assumes she did. Even if he had worried before, if she's asking it here then she must have thought that back home. "Why then would anything be different here?"

Little does Kaz know that he was never not a part of her life, even here, even before he turned up in the pools of Cadens. She didn't leave him behind in Ketterdam, she carried him with her, from the moment she turned up in Solvunn, to the second she followed Jesper back here to the Free Cities. There was never really a moment he wasn't somewhere in her thoughts.

Oh.

A soft gasp escapes her. The weight of his hand on her shoulder is barely there, but it is impossible to ignore the pressure of it. For a moment, she doesn't even dare to open her eyes for fear it might ruin the moment completely.

Not until she feels the press of his fingers against her face does she open her eyes. Too shocked by it to do anything else. She shakes her head almost imperceptibly, "I..." but she has no answer, and her voice disappears almost entirely and instead she just shakes her head, more vigorously than before. Through a breath as she draws it in sharply, she manages, "I thought- maybe- if I can't, or don't want to, be The Wraith, what use do you have of me?" she can't help it, can't stop herself, as she presses herself against him, her face buried in the material of his shirt.

She isn't used to this. Him. Like this. It's overwhelming in a way she can't quite process. Makes her so much more desperate to say everything she's held her tongue for, suddenly. "I just don't want to lose you," she mumbles against his chest.

Jesper could not say when she had become so much a part of his life, just that she was. Just as he was part of hers. Of course there had been anxiousness in giving her that ship, but if he couldn't let her free, trusting she would return, then was he any better than anyone else in her life had been?

Maybe there hadn't been as much choice here but they had been apart and yet came back together in the end. And yet, as she admits that fear, he knows he can't blame her. When has she ever seen him need anyone? Seen him keep someone around who had lost their usefulness to him. He is cutthroat and ruthless and everyone knows that. Even he knows that. He has to be.

And yet in that moment he realizes that, in part, this is what is meant about being able to leave Dirtyhands behind. Maybe not all of him, but there are parts he won't need. Doesn't want even.

"Inej."

He says her name softly but deliberately. Even as he slides his arms around her. It's almost easier, the material of his shirt a barrier once more, her face pressed close but there's that slip of fabric that makes it easier for him. He's getting better but he might not never be fully healed.

So he holds her like that, his hand stroking along the length of her spine.

"Your worth is in a million things that have nothing to do with the Wraith." And a million more that do but that doesn't matter now. "You be who you want to be, and trust that I will always be there with you. You're not losing me. Not unless you walk away."

He chuckles, little more than his chest moving with little sound.

"Have you ever known of me to let go of anything that is my own without a fight?" And she is most certainly his. At least in his mind.

She shouldn't be doing this.

It's all she can think the whole time she's standing there with her face pressed against him.

She shouldn't be doing this.

Touching him when he didn't ask for it.

She shouldn't be doing this.

Clinging to him like a pathetic limpet.

She shouldn't be doing this.

Begging stupid things from him.

She shouldn't be doing this.

Showing this kind of weakness.

No matter how hard that thought drums in her mind, she doesn’t move from where she’s stood. Doesn’t let go of him or step away from him the way the rational side of her knows she should do. She just stays there, and wonders if he knows that even this is a world of comfort.

The traitor behind her ribs threatens to burst inside of her chest when he says her name like that. She doesn’t want to look at him, not yet, with the fears she’s admitted and the shame for laying it all at his feet in such a way still clinging to every inch of her. But that tone in his voice demands her attention, albeit softly, gentle in a way no one else would ever believe the man in front of her capable of.

She doesn’t look up, but she does turn her face so her cheek is pressed against the solid wall of his chest. She can hear the soft thrum of his heartbeat like this. Low and steady and sure. Not a waver one, in all these words she’s somehow tugged out of him. How she wished her own sounded like that, but she's sure it’s more akin to a hummingbird’s wings.

"Your worth is in a million things…"

She closes her eyes again against those words, unsure of how to respond to them at all. She knows other people see other things in her. But what does Kaz see? She does not find the bravery to ask.

The sound of the rumble in his chest at a laugh half caught and lost somewhere on the way is worth his weight in gold. She hopes one day to earn one, a real laugh, unbidden and genuine. But this will do for the time being. This and that softness in his voice.

And just like that, the spell is half-broken. A smirk slides over her lips and she gathers her wits. "Mmm, of course," she hums softly, pressing a hand flat against his chest and tilting her head back to look up at him. "Kaz Brekker always protects his investments," her eyebrows lift at her echoing his own, terribly timed and horribly phrased, words back at him. The context is different this time, it's not the sharp barb he'd used it as, back then.

If Kaz were to take time to think about it, he would be proud of himself. Proud to not flinch away from contact. Proud to know he is perhaps capable of offering Inej things she needs.

But in that moment he isn't thinking about that. He's thinking about those feelings he had when he gave Inej all she wanted and accepted it might mean never seeing her again. He's thinking about her thinking all she offers him is being the Wraith and while that has been his greatest asset for the longest time, it is not the be all, end all of what she offers. Not even close.

Tenderly he strokes his hand over her back, even when she tilts back slightly to look up at him. Then his own words are being thrown back at him and, for a moment, he tenses. Gaze flickering over her face, taking in everything about her in a moment to try and determine how badly she might have taken those words.

"Kaz Brekker always knows who is worth putting everything on the line for," he says, and then, if she had been listening to his heart, she might well have heard the way it surges, even as his pale gaze holds her own.

A deep, comforting warmth spreads along her spine with the slow stroke of his hand, and she’s certain her cheeks are stained with it, too. This moment between them more intimate than so many others before it. The first of its kind here, in this new world, where everything feels just a little off-kilter, like someone moved all the furniture in the room two inches to the left when you were out. She doesn’t quite dare to hope it’s only the first of more to come— but it’s still tangled up in the mess all the same, gilded and golden and bright, the smallest sprinkle of hope anyway, despite all logic that tells her not to.

The way he looks at her like he’s trying to memorize every inch of her is unnerving in an oddly delightful sort of way, though the realization does nothing for the way her cheeks flushed earlier. And his words steal the breath from her lungs, make her heart stutter like the flutter of hummingbird wings again, suddenly uncertain of what else to say.

But saying nothing would make him doubt it was the right thing, make him panic, however little he may show it on the outside, that he’d stepped over some invisible boundary. A small smile presses across her lips as she scrambled for something, anything to say to head that off before it can start and finally, she settles on a soft-whispered truth, “I am eternally grateful you saw something in me you could not walk away from that night,” her fingers curl slightly into the material of his shirt, memories of The Menagerie always far too close to the surface for comfort.

Never in his life has Kaz shared a moment like this with another. He isn't sure what to make of it, that part of him that is scared of physical touch screaming to draw back and yet his heart is saying anything but. He has a moment to be close to her, to offer comfort and truth all in one and he's willing to take that chance. Even if he feels somehow pale and flushed at the same time.

And already his mind is wondering how stupid he is in saying that. Maybe she wanted that distance, that ability to walk away from the Wraith and, in the end, him. But then she says what she does and he draws a breath that feels too cold for his lungs. Like the bitter air of the North but all because he is as flushed as he is, his heart racing in ways it rarely does. Kaz is a master of himself first and foremost and yet this is untried waters and he isn't sure of his ability to swim in them.

Quiet a moment, considering his words in that moment. He's opened up to her physically in that touch they're sharing, and he knows, if they're to go forward, it isn't the only way he'll have to open up to her.

"That night... It was the most frightened I have ever been since I took the name Kaz Brekker," he admits, his words soft and falling into an odd cadence as he forces them out. They're not easy for him but they're important for him to say. "I never take chances without knowing the odds and being sure the outcome. I've never had that with you, never been certain what my chances were, but you have always been worth the risk. Even when you do things that make me utterly and completely furious with you. Even if you ever chose to walk away from it all. You have always been worth the risk."

They may not be romantic words, but for Kaz Brekker they are heartfelt and honest and admitting more than he would to anyone else and therefore the most romantic of all.

She waits with bated breath for whatever might come next from his mouth. She can’t stop the doubt that forms across her features at that first admission, a curious tweak at edge of her eyes as she studies him and listens to the rest.

Truths so blatant may never have felt as ardent as these. One only need not know Kaz Brekker to not recognize the inherent romance woven into that admission.

That he never knew
Her limits.
His chances.

That he knew it could fail.
She might reject him, or the job, or both.
That walking away is, always was, and would always be: her choice.

And somehow, all sense of logic disappeared. He decided to step off the edge and trust that he wouldn’t fall. Or he would. And either way, he’d have an answer.

Every annoyance, every fear and worry, every aggravation and argument— worth it. She… was worth the treasure of keeping and the heartache of losing her.

How does she even respond to that?

It’s her own step off the edge, a blur of a thought, a decision, and an action in one fluid motion—

She leans up on her toes as her fingers frame his cheeks and she pulls— pulls him down, pulls herself up— and she kisses him. It’s a bottomless well of unspoken words poured into these few, crucial seconds before she slowly starts to ease back onto flat feet, fingertips trailing feather-light down his cheeks until her hands drop back to her sides.

It’s I love you
And it’s Thank you
It’s I choose this.
I choose here.
I choose you.

And it’s silence.
It’s comfort.
It’s you.
It’s you.
It’s always been you.

There are no words to come after a kiss like that, so she lets that tiny, short-lived and risk-stacked action do all the speaking for her.

Edited 2022-10-03 22:33 (UTC)

For so many years, Kaz has made the world believe he takes chances. None of them are more than calculated risks after planning and information gathering. Perhaps he could say the same about this moment with Inej. They've grown closer over the years, becoming more intimate in ways that he allowed.

And she had let him have things his way. She had never taken more than he offered and somehow that had been enough.

But it wasn't even enough for him any longer. He had taken small steps, showing her that she is important to him, that he has feelings for her that he's never hidden but not truly known how to express. Yet then he had offered touches of his bare hands with her. Soft touches and admissions he's never made.

Like in this moment.

Those words are more than he's ever offered another, never wanted to offer to many and only in the last few years and those he's kept close to him. Maybe he should have expected that kiss, but he didn't. Even as she leans up on her toes, moves in closer to him.

The brush of her lips is soft and tender. It's everything he's ever thought about, not let himself daydream about, and something he'd never thought might ever happen. Yet the reality was nothing like the fantasy in his head in the dark hours. It was magical and delicious... and positively shocking in ways he can't control.

His heart races, the world goes grey and stars sparkle along the edge of his vision and then everything goes black as he crumples to the floor at her feet.

It was stupid.
She knew it was stupid even as she did it, and she did it anyway.

"All Saints," she mutters, trying to catch him as he goes down– it's an awkward sort of thing, he's so much taller, and she doesn't so much as stop him from going down as soften the fall a bit once he got there. But that's probably about all she's going to do. She's a bit stuck now with him half-collapsed in her lap.

She knows he'll be mortified when he wakes up, but it's okay- she expected it going in. They'll get there, and she isn't put off by the work it will take to do so. For a moment, she doesn't move at all, just takes in the sight of him, unconscious, untethered to any of the things he carries with him at all times. He doesn't look innocent like she thought he might, just...relaxed in a way he never is when he's awake. She wants to find a way to put that look on him when he is.

Jesper, little help? Kaz's room.

Jesper will find the pair of them in a bit of a heap in the floor. He'll have to help her haul him into the bed.

"Help," she says, not at all in distress, slowly tipping her head back to watch as Jesper slips into the room.

Jesper's down in the basement stacking shelves for Mags when he sees the message and raises an eyebrow. But of course, it's his people so he doesn't hesitate, taking the stairs two at a time to get there quickly. His eyes widen when he sees them both down and rushes, concerned at once.

"Saints! What happened?" She doesn't seem panicked but he is certainly going to panic. Kaz is passed out? On top of her? Jesper reaches down to grab their fearless leader by the arm and hefts him up. It's probably a good thing he is passed out as he wouldn't probably like so much contact as Jesper doesn't really think about it. Since he has no idea what even happened, he just wants to get him off Inej.

Jesper is not so strong that it's easy to drag Kaz's whole body off her, so he can't pick him up bridal style, but he can drag them over to the bed and put Kaz onto it. And again, luckily Kaz is passed out, because Jesper's instinct is to touch his face, patting it. "Kaz? The fuck?"

"It's- okay..." she says slowly, blinking and only barely containing a laugh as Jesper gets to work so quickly and Kaz is out of her lap in a matter of seconds.

She pushes herself to her feet and follows him over to the bed. "He'll be fine-" she says, stepping up next to the pair of them. "I..." she hesitates, unsure of how specific she should- could- be. "really shouldn't have kissed him."

Logic, window, etc.

The last thing Kaz wanted to do in that moment was pass out. It isn't as if he hadn't thought of overcoming his trauma enough to be able to kiss someone. At least her, because he's come to know in the last year or so that there's at least one person he'd actually want to have physical contact with. Maybe if he had prepared. Maybe if he had thought about it more.

Maybe if he hadn't made an utterly and complete fool of himself.

In that moment he comes to there's a split second thought, a panic of not knowing where he is or what had happened.

And then wishing he could forget.

"I'm fine. Stop hovering," he mutters, flopping back onto the bed and covering his eyes with his arm.

Jesper looks at her, shocked, absolutely shocked. And then, after a moment, it's Jesper, so he grins. "Damn, Inej, you can knock a man out with a kiss?" He's the worst, the absolute worst, please don't in any way encourage him. "It's probably worth--- shit."

He jumps when Kaz comes to and moves, having not even noticed that their boss was awake again. He does not want to be caught talking about how Inej's kiss was worth it! Also almost flirting with her! When Kaz is awake!

"S'okay, Kaz, we've all been there." Jesper has kissed someone and promptly passed out. Usually after something more than kissing and/or liquor, but the point is, he's trying to be supportive. He reaches down, intending to try and make it light by patting Kaz on the head, literally thinking nothing more of it. Someone stop him.

She scoffs, something half-amused, half-indignant, "Oh, please, Jesper, it's hardly–"

Their side-conversation in interrupted by quiet mumblings from Kaz. "Oh?" she tilts her head to look over at the other boy, rejoining them in the land of the waking. "Did the knock to your head happen to change your definition of 'fine' to include being unconscious?" To an outside party, it could sound overly harsh of a greeting, but... well. It's just the way of things between them, isn't it? He'd hate to be coddled, so this is what she did.

She notices. She notices but she doesn't stop him. She doesn't stop him because she wants to see how it plays out. So instead of warning Jesper, or grabbing his hand in her own, she just keeps her eyes on Kaz and wait for his reaction.

"And yet now I'm conscious. All fine."

He mutters the words with barely moving his lips. His arm on the other hand moves quickly, his fingers curling around Jesper's wrist.

"Not right this minute," he says, a softer rebuke than he might normally have given even as he shifts to sit up a bit more against the headboard. "I'm not in a position for that right this moment."

Which is carefully dodging the truth of what happened. His fingers though stay curled around the material on Jesper's wrist, almost forcing himself to keep contact as long as there is something between his skin and another.

"Inej, I..." Words, important words here. "I apologize. I hope you understand that was not ... I mean, it isn't as if it was because... because of you."

It's perhaps the most hesitant they've seen him and he keeps reminding himself that's okay. They should hear and see him like this. As human. Shedding some of who he is, even if he's not sure all of it will be gone.

Jesper knows he wouldn't manage to actually touch Kaz's hair, it was a wish but not a likelihood, but he wasn't fully aware of how little he and Kaz actually touch until his wrist is captured. And they aren't touching, not technically, his shirt is in the way, but Kaz is keeping it so Jesper decides to just let him have his wrist. Whatever.

He more or less accidentally stumbled into what was a private situation and one he doesn't fully understand. There's a difference between knowing Kaz likes to put boundaries up between people, and knowing that he physically reacts that poorly to contact. He looks to Inej and then to Kaz, once or twice, frowning.

"Listen, all jokes aside about kisses being good enough to knock someone out, what actually happened? What was it because of?"

She hums, a soft, noncommital sound. A quietly doubtful 'Sure', without ever needing to let a word pass her lips.

Her eyes widen just a fraction at the grip Kaz takes on the sharpshooter's wrist- oh. Interesting. He keeps the grip even when he sits up, and Jesper thinks nothing of it. How could he? Did anyone else really know the truth? She thinks the question on Jesper's lips answers that for her. Not that she found out in anything like a conventional way, nor does she understand the entirety of the issue.

"I apologise."

Only two words, and yet... they are ones she never really anticipated hearing from him, for... anything, really. Especially not...this. It isn't as if any of this was intentional, on purpose somehow. Kaz can do and control plenty of things, but dropping himself unconscious on a whim? That's pushing it, even for Dirtyhands himself, without a Heartrender around the corner.

It's the hesitancy that gets under her skin the most, though. The push-through of something he clearly doesn't want to, or know how to, verbalize the way he could suavely maneuver through a deal. This- no- they, she realizes, matter more than any deal ever could. And that realization is as good as a punch to the gut.

"It's fine," she says softly, fingers twitching in her lap, begging to reach, but knowing better than to bluff a sure loss. "I know it isn't- it's not that."

However, Jepser's question is more pointed than she's sure how to handle, she looks between them for a moment, lingering her gaze on Kaz to let him explain it in whatever way he wanted. Hoping he could read the message in her eyes that she would back whatever he said, however he wanted to frame it. Not that she felt he would, or that they needed to, lie to Jesper, but... truth stands, she doesn't know all the details anyway. She wants to know the answer, too.

It may not be in Kaz's nature to apologize, but he feels that passing out after being kissed by the woman he has more feelings for than any other woman who has ever crossed his path kind of qualifies for those words.

But he hasn't time to dwell there. Still holding Jesper's wrist, he has to make a decision. Does he lose it all or finally open up with the truth.

"Have a seat. Both of you. I won't have this talk with you looming over me like I'm on my death bed," he says, giving Jesper's wrist a squeeze before releasing it so that he can move to sit up. "Not that it's not far off into why I am uncomfortable with such contact. It started with the Queen's Lady plague. It started just after we came to Ketterdam," he admits, tensing just in using that plural description. "We were living on the streets, and as you can imagine, we both became struck down with it. We..."

He pauses then, not glancing between them but staring at the floor.

"We being myself and my older brother, Jordie."

Jesper can tell whatever is going on is very important to Kaz and he's always been careful about keeping much of his thoughts and past a mystery. Jesper's an open book in comparison, and he's always been hungry for details. He noticed Kaz doesn't touch people and always wears his gloves, he's got an eye for those things, but thought maybe it was a physical manifestation of him wanting everyone to be at arm's length. Passing out is different though.

Jesper raises an eyebrow at the squeeze on his wrist so he sits down at the end of the bed, glancing over at Inej and then back to Kaz. He knows about the Queen's Lady plague, everyone who lives in Ketterdam does. It's something Colm brought up when Jesper moved, to watch out and come home if there was a whisper of that sickness again. And then. Jesper freezes. Jordie.

Who’s Jordie?
Someone I trusted. Someone I didn’t want to lose.

His brother. Who he lost, obviously, considering. Jesper's eyes fix on Kaz and his heart beats faster. He reminds him of Jordie? Wow. Kaz had the plague but survived. That was very rare.

"You were what, ten at the time?" It was seven years ago. Insane.

She sinks onto the edge of the bed at Kaz's insistence and listens as he explains. With one hand tucked behind her, she reaches for Jesper's free hand, fingers tangling with his.

We

It's impossible not to take note of it as he says it. Had Kaz ever referred to anyone else when he came to Ketterdam? She doesn't recall him ever mentioning it.

As he continues, a frown creeps across her features until the confusion melts into realization, into understanding, into sympathy. "Oh, Kaz..." she breathes out in a whisper.

"It's okay," she says softly, carefully telegraphing her movements before resting her hand gently on his knee. "take your time..."

He should be more animated, he knows that. Giving them his attention as he spoke but Kaz knows if he looks directly at either of them, he's going to stop. Just stop and not finish explaining. He can't look at them, not as he goes on, because he can't have their faces fresh in his gaze as he talks about what comes next.

So instead he stares at the floor before them, acutely aware of being there between them, of Inej's touch and Jesper's gaze, their words, that question.

"Just shy of ten, yes," he admits. "You needn't have this part of the story to understand but maybe..." If he's going to do this, then they get all of it. At least as much as he can manage to get out. "Maybe you deserve it. And let me finish. I don't know if I'll start ever again if I don't."

He could already feel it in the back of his throat, clawing it's way up from his gut and spreading through his blood like that damned plague. Already he felt pale, clammy, and he was determined to finish what he'd started, but he wasn't sure he could.

"We had come to make our fortune, as does everyone we fleece, and we fell victim just as everyone does. It's why we were on the streets and why we couldn't get out of the city when the plague came. I suppose you both can imagine by who."

They had known there was bad blood there, now they would know just how bad.

"One night... I don't remember much of the before. I remember feel hot and then cold, of my teeth rattling in the night, and the water and the damp. Then there was just darkness. I passed out. When I woke..."

His hands tighten into fists, loosening and then tightening. An exercise in control to keep himself from bolting. His heart racing so hard in his chest that it hurt. Each breath quick, short, and he knows that running would be easier. Getting up and going, shutting down, ending it all.

But then he risks ending so much. With those who matter the most to him. So his fists tighten once more and he goes on.

"We had been rolled onto the ferry to the reaper's barge," he manages though his tones are soft and that rasp is rougher than normal. A rasp that is what remains of his disease and surviving it. "I was alive and sick and surrounded by bodies. Bodies that ..."

Then he shakes his head. He can't finish. Not with the bodies in all manners and stages of death, the rot and pus and blood and all that he had been surrounded with.

"And Jordie was dead," he finally manages, eyes closing, remembering his brother's unseeing eyes and lifeless face. He'd never forget it. "I was weak still, dying and yet not dead, and I knew I had to get back to Ketterdam. If I didn't get off that boat, I wouldn't live. I would... So I did all I could to get away. I... I used Jordie and I floated my way with the tides back to Ketterdam."

He doesn't think about it, hand slightly shaking as he fought for a breath. Lifting his hand and covering the R tattooed on his arm. "Kaz Brekker was born that night I returned back to the Barrel," he admits, almost feeling the R of his family name throbbing under his touch. "The rest, I suppose, is history."

Jesper always knew that the hatred Kaz had for Pekka was very, very deep. He wanted to ruin the man's entire life in a very personal way, and Jesper never questioned why, mostly because he doesn't question Kaz. And he assumed the man deserved it. But he can see it all now. Kaz was a pigeon once, with his brother, and Pekka ran a game on them. Damn.

Jesper reaches out as Kaz talks to put a hand on his shoulder. With Inej touching his knee, they're both trying to show comfort where they can, and not touching skin in the process. This is a horrible story and honestly disgusting, Jesper has a good imagination so he could imagine how awful this was if he wanted to, and he really doesn't want to. To experience that as a child is so fucked up.

"He was your brother. He would've wanted you to survive, whatever it took." Meaning having to use his body was legitimately horrifying, but surely his brother would have wanted that, given the chance. To keep Kaz alive. Survivor's guilt is one hell of a thing, he knows that.

Inej notices- the way he can't keep still as he explains, fingers flexing in uncertainty; how he steadily keeps his gaze on the floor, like if he looks away from some specific spot on the rug beside the bed, he'll lose all his nerve. She doesn't care. It holds no difference whether he looks at her as he explains.

With all the pieces laid out, the picture is perfectly clear now. The war with Rollins, the methodical way he'd brought that man down was more than simply settling a score, it was personal. It was family. Home.

She has questions. Why had they come to Ketterdam in the first place? What of their parents? But she doesn't press for more than he is ready to give, this is more than he's ever shared, it would be cruel to ask of him more than that.

As though the plague wasn't terrible enough all its own, the story keeps going. Gets worse. Inej finds herself blinking tears down her cheek, a hand coming up to swipe them away before settling back on Kaz's leg.

Brekker was never his name. She had never had a reason to doubt it before, it seemed to fit him so perfectly, it was hard to imagine him as anything else. She's curious, of course, but she won't force him to give her something he's not ready for her to hold, so she doesn't ask.

Jesper has the consolations in hand, but Inej chooses practicality. Kaz may need those more at ease with the emotions around him, but he runs on logic, that's what will center him again. "Breathe," she says, her voice soft, but firm. "Slowly." She does a few slow, deep breaths, gives him a measure to focus on.

Edited 2022-10-14 01:03 (UTC)

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cw anxiety symptoms, talk of death, talk of dead bodies and disease/plague

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