[ they’re both prone to hiding truth in metaphors, so kaz listens to everything he says with seriousness, hanging on each word and heartbeat. it does and doesn’t surprise him that ravka is nikolai’s life, further shading in the person beside him. ketterdam is his, after all, but she loves him no more or less than any other ambitious skiv.
whether it’s this city or the next one, kaz knows you can always bleed a little more for her favour. his arm winds tighter around nikolai, settling low at his hip to avoid his injury. every third step, pain stabs up his leg. he ignores it. this close, nikolai might notice a thin rope of scar tissue where the underside of his jaw meets his neck. you walked farther in ketterdam, a shambling collection of sinew and bones. that had been without nikolai’s drenched, fading warmth at his side, however, heavy like a pox ridden corpse. ]
The water can’t have you. [ there’s the rock salt rasp, aching in his razed throat. his grip flexes, possessive at nikolai’s waist, hard enough to bruise. ] You already made a deal with me.
[ a contract with a kind of devil, to be sure.
the light brightens ahead. won’t be long now. as his heart frays inside him, exhausted from all the drowning and touching, he isn’t prepared for the warm brush of nikolai’s mouth at his ear. should have been, revulsion and longing churning together. a shiver skids down his spine. of course nikolai is incorrigible even while stumbling away from death’s door. no, you’re hurting yourself goes unsaid. all he can do is force one foot in front of the other. tell me what it means. should he feign ignorance and wait for nikolai to faint?
saints, he only just agreed to this deal and already he resists its terms. nikolai promised him days, weeks, years of attention (impossible, dizzying — he refuses to think the softer word, romantic). would it be so bad to let him have this now? something to show he meant it; that kaz brekker will pull himself together for someone who matters. ]
You only get so many chances to play a card, Nikolai. [ an offer, a warning. does he want the truth now, when he might not remember it? perhaps that’s the best time to share it. in this liminal space, kaz might try groping for truths that elude him under the light of the sun — the full force of nikolai’s gaze. why had he gotten the tattoo in the first place? a sentimental, dangerous clue burned into his skin. to what? kaz rietveld has no family, no friends, no one who would know the name besides those who heard him spit it at rollins. nikolai has fought for him again and again. he wouldn’t use it to hurt you.
kaz doubts he’ll be able to deny nikolai a third time, if he asks. he never seems to be able to deny him for long.
fortunately, the inn and a nearby tavern rise from the gravel. at this late hour, only the drunkards linger outside the former, so that’s where kaz props nikolai, going through the considerable effort of untangling their limbs to sit the former ravkan king down in a damp, filthy alley. life’s small wonders. ]
Keep your eyes open, Lantsov. [ with a gloved pat to his cheek, kaz departs to approach a man retching but a few feet away (nikolai still visible out of the corner of his eye). although his skin crawls, kaz gives a reassuring clap to his shoulder and bites back his own bile, let me help, sir, there you are, relax, i’ll fetch water. in seconds, he slips his coat and hat free, both reeking of brandy. pigeons everywhere. he opens the purse held within an interior pocket — relieving it of coin that his mark will no doubt blame himself for spending at the taps — before he tucks it back into the man’s sagging trousers. already beside nikolai again in precious moments, draping the coat across his shoulders before he searches the other pockets and strikes gold. gloves. it is decidedly more difficult to slide said gloves onto a wet, incoherent man, but he manages it, aided by the oversized mitts of his mark. wouldn’t do to alert anyone of nikolai’s affliction, especially a zowa healer (zowa, grisha, witch, all superstitious things) or tip them off to his identity somehow.
the cap is for him, since the haircut he insists upon maintaining has begun appearing in wanted posters after the kuwei affair. (they never get his bones right, but the hair, well, they seem to manage). kaz hoists nikolai’s arm back over his shoulders and makes a grand show of faltering through the entryway at the inn. can’t say if nikolai passes out before or after they cross the threshold, but compliments on the performance, regardless, lantsov. nevermind the fear that spreads like blood in water, as soon as kaz realises he’s gone. ]
Help! [ a word he knows in all languages but he tries zemeni first, then switches to halting kaelish. ] We were attacked at the docks. They took everything, even our boots. Please, he needs a healer!
[ thanks to his wailing about a mugging, the inn gives him a discount on the room and a bargain on two sets of spare clothes from the innkeepers’ husband. the zowa makes no such accommodations for his theatrics, and he respects her for it.
her room first, where she tends to nikolai’s wounds in full under the harsh lamplight and regards kaz dubiously all the while. corporalnik often do. is there a tell in the controlled beat of his heart? no, not tonight. tonight, his heart thuds a miserable, percussive beat. he hovers close until she snaps and sends him to sit at a distance, cap pulled low over his eyes. when she finishes, he inspects her work, bare fingers soft at nikolai’s wrist to check his pulse before he allows himself to be healed. you lie, she tells him, upon seeing the punctures. yes, he lies, about the source of his injuries and everything else. she tips her head, mouth thin and eyes sharp, but you care very much about this one. a glimmer of the genuine in a fraud. it makes him feel ill, even before she lays hands on him.
as is his way, he lets her ease the pain in his leg and heal the damage in his shoulder but not the scar. nikolai won’t like to look at it, he thinks stupidly. then, he’d like it even less if he thought you hid it from him. more marks of the demon, it is. hours melt away under the zowa’s care.
eventually, kaz carries nikolai back to their room, spare clothes waiting for them on the bed. only now does he notice the passable accommodations, too occupied with finding them somewhere, anywhere safe to land. dumb luck. despite the healer’s efforts, his leg aches for his cane. don’t you stop now, brekker. kaz gentles nikolai into a chair in the corner of the room, removing his ill-fitting gloves and peeling back his still-damp shirt. the gloves, he takes for himself, anything to provide a reprieve from the wanted and unwanted touches of the day.
after he tugs a dowdy brown shirt over nikolai’s head and drops his hands to the button of his trousers, he notices movement. a twitch of lashes. hope fizzes against his teeth like carbonation. when he speaks, the rough edges have been sanded down, the weary lines of his face smoothed by relief. ]
Before you get any ideas, [ about where his hands are. ] I’m putting you to bed. [ steady now. his brow creases. ] Your demon won’t fly tonight.
[ a fool’s assurance. they don’t know that, though nikolai seemed to have subdued it again on the beach. no matter. kaz lifted a revolver off another visitor at the front desk for use in plans d through g, and he has plenty of stolen coin left for a return trip to the nosy zowa (if he actually shoots nikolai this time). he can stay awake until they’re back on the ship tomorrow. ]
no subject
whether it’s this city or the next one, kaz knows you can always bleed a little more for her favour. his arm winds tighter around nikolai, settling low at his hip to avoid his injury. every third step, pain stabs up his leg. he ignores it. this close, nikolai might notice a thin rope of scar tissue where the underside of his jaw meets his neck. you walked farther in ketterdam, a shambling collection of sinew and bones. that had been without nikolai’s drenched, fading warmth at his side, however, heavy like a pox ridden corpse. ]
The water can’t have you. [ there’s the rock salt rasp, aching in his razed throat. his grip flexes, possessive at nikolai’s waist, hard enough to bruise. ] You already made a deal with me.
[ a contract with a kind of devil, to be sure.
the light brightens ahead. won’t be long now. as his heart frays inside him, exhausted from all the drowning and touching, he isn’t prepared for the warm brush of nikolai’s mouth at his ear. should have been, revulsion and longing churning together. a shiver skids down his spine. of course nikolai is incorrigible even while stumbling away from death’s door. no, you’re hurting yourself goes unsaid. all he can do is force one foot in front of the other. tell me what it means. should he feign ignorance and wait for nikolai to faint?
saints, he only just agreed to this deal and already he resists its terms. nikolai promised him days, weeks, years of attention (impossible, dizzying — he refuses to think the softer word, romantic). would it be so bad to let him have this now? something to show he meant it; that kaz brekker will pull himself together for someone who matters. ]
You only get so many chances to play a card, Nikolai. [ an offer, a warning. does he want the truth now, when he might not remember it? perhaps that’s the best time to share it. in this liminal space, kaz might try groping for truths that elude him under the light of the sun — the full force of nikolai’s gaze. why had he gotten the tattoo in the first place? a sentimental, dangerous clue burned into his skin. to what? kaz rietveld has no family, no friends, no one who would know the name besides those who heard him spit it at rollins. nikolai has fought for him again and again. he wouldn’t use it to hurt you.
kaz doubts he’ll be able to deny nikolai a third time, if he asks. he never seems to be able to deny him for long.
fortunately, the inn and a nearby tavern rise from the gravel. at this late hour, only the drunkards linger outside the former, so that’s where kaz props nikolai, going through the considerable effort of untangling their limbs to sit the former ravkan king down in a damp, filthy alley. life’s small wonders. ]
Keep your eyes open, Lantsov. [ with a gloved pat to his cheek, kaz departs to approach a man retching but a few feet away (nikolai still visible out of the corner of his eye). although his skin crawls, kaz gives a reassuring clap to his shoulder and bites back his own bile, let me help, sir, there you are, relax, i’ll fetch water. in seconds, he slips his coat and hat free, both reeking of brandy. pigeons everywhere. he opens the purse held within an interior pocket — relieving it of coin that his mark will no doubt blame himself for spending at the taps — before he tucks it back into the man’s sagging trousers. already beside nikolai again in precious moments, draping the coat across his shoulders before he searches the other pockets and strikes gold. gloves. it is decidedly more difficult to slide said gloves onto a wet, incoherent man, but he manages it, aided by the oversized mitts of his mark. wouldn’t do to alert anyone of nikolai’s affliction, especially a zowa healer (zowa, grisha, witch, all superstitious things) or tip them off to his identity somehow.
the cap is for him, since the haircut he insists upon maintaining has begun appearing in wanted posters after the kuwei affair. (they never get his bones right, but the hair, well, they seem to manage). kaz hoists nikolai’s arm back over his shoulders and makes a grand show of faltering through the entryway at the inn. can’t say if nikolai passes out before or after they cross the threshold, but compliments on the performance, regardless, lantsov. nevermind the fear that spreads like blood in water, as soon as kaz realises he’s gone. ]
Help! [ a word he knows in all languages but he tries zemeni first, then switches to halting kaelish. ] We were attacked at the docks. They took everything, even our boots. Please, he needs a healer!
[ thanks to his wailing about a mugging, the inn gives him a discount on the room and a bargain on two sets of spare clothes from the innkeepers’ husband. the zowa makes no such accommodations for his theatrics, and he respects her for it.
her room first, where she tends to nikolai’s wounds in full under the harsh lamplight and regards kaz dubiously all the while. corporalnik often do. is there a tell in the controlled beat of his heart? no, not tonight. tonight, his heart thuds a miserable, percussive beat. he hovers close until she snaps and sends him to sit at a distance, cap pulled low over his eyes. when she finishes, he inspects her work, bare fingers soft at nikolai’s wrist to check his pulse before he allows himself to be healed. you lie, she tells him, upon seeing the punctures. yes, he lies, about the source of his injuries and everything else. she tips her head, mouth thin and eyes sharp, but you care very much about this one. a glimmer of the genuine in a fraud. it makes him feel ill, even before she lays hands on him.
as is his way, he lets her ease the pain in his leg and heal the damage in his shoulder but not the scar. nikolai won’t like to look at it, he thinks stupidly. then, he’d like it even less if he thought you hid it from him. more marks of the demon, it is. hours melt away under the zowa’s care.
eventually, kaz carries nikolai back to their room, spare clothes waiting for them on the bed. only now does he notice the passable accommodations, too occupied with finding them somewhere, anywhere safe to land. dumb luck. despite the healer’s efforts, his leg aches for his cane. don’t you stop now, brekker. kaz gentles nikolai into a chair in the corner of the room, removing his ill-fitting gloves and peeling back his still-damp shirt. the gloves, he takes for himself, anything to provide a reprieve from the wanted and unwanted touches of the day.
after he tugs a dowdy brown shirt over nikolai’s head and drops his hands to the button of his trousers, he notices movement. a twitch of lashes. hope fizzes against his teeth like carbonation. when he speaks, the rough edges have been sanded down, the weary lines of his face smoothed by relief. ]
Before you get any ideas, [ about where his hands are. ] I’m putting you to bed. [ steady now. his brow creases. ] Your demon won’t fly tonight.
[ a fool’s assurance. they don’t know that, though nikolai seemed to have subdued it again on the beach. no matter. kaz lifted a revolver off another visitor at the front desk for use in plans d through g, and he has plenty of stolen coin left for a return trip to the nosy zowa (if he actually shoots nikolai this time). he can stay awake until they’re back on the ship tomorrow. ]