[ he is expecting an argument, but arguing with one kaz brekker is an ill-fated task to begin with. two stubborn liars who always believe they're right. he can think of nothing more irksome. more pacing while he shuffles through things to say, immediately discarded, none of them compelling enough. perhaps the only thing brekker will find compelling is a weapon in his face, but nikolai will not allow this to come to that. at least he doesn't want it to come to that. if it needs to, he can hardly protest.
i'm not familiar or comfortable with the concept of being the source of one of your permanent ailments is what he wants to say, but it's too unwieldy, too vulnerable. not productive. did he imagine that flash of hurt? nikolai studies his face, tries to understand the thoughts moving behind his eyes. he might as well try to scale a fjerdan mountain range with one hand tied behind his back.
the refusal to hand over the gun is also expected, but far more frustrating. he doesn't want brekker watching over him like an uncaged animal. he wants to feel as if he is in control again, regain some semblance of the man he knows himself to be. this is like zoya with his shackles all over again, even though she never did him the disservice of a pitying glance. i'm the one who stole it. he can't help the incredulous huff of breath that escapes his teeth, half laugh. brekker is only a few years younger than him — though perhaps his senior in terms of certain experiences — but sometimes he can still catch glimpses of the boyhood he was never properly allowed to have.
and another outright refusal in this entirely wretched undertaking. nikolai wonders if testing the hardness of the walls with his own skull would be a more worthwhile endeavor than this, ready to force his way to the door and take his chances on the bluffs overlooking the water, but then kaz spits out an unexpected truth and nikolai does something he never, ever does. he flinches, eyes swinging up sharply, silently, to meet kaz's cold gaze.
say something. laugh it off. end this. and yet for perhaps the first time, no words come. the validity of the statement settles in his bones, that he is not needed and has not been needed in quite some time. he has spent his entire life vastly overstating his importance, and now he's adrift in what is supposed to be a sense of freedom, a reward for his long days and nights without rest or comfort. a reward he doesn't know what to do with. kaz knows how to twist a knife harder than he could ever hope to.
the demon gives a rumbling stir in his chest. preying on your weakness, just like always. a spark of ire, a rush of despair. his jaw tightens. ]
Prove it to me. Prove that I can trust you. [ he closes the distance between them with impossible speed, fisting his hand in kaz's shirt and shoving him gracelessly against the wall. his shoulder. but his eyes are already bleeding to black, dark veins spreading across his face. with a snarl, he bares his sharpening teeth but goes no further, looking at kaz hungrily, holding himself eerily still.
what are you doing, nikolai thinks frantically. what are you asking him? he doesn't know the answer. doesn't even know the question. kaz's heartbeat thunders through him as he closes his eyes, barely breathing. he can't purge himself of this. without it, he really will become nothing. maybe he's known that all along, and kaz is just the thing forcing him to accept it. payback for all the demands he's made of him, balancing the scales in one precise blow.
kaz brekker does not need you. you only convinced yourself that he does. with that comes a despondent sort of relief. he wants this too much, wants to nurture this fragile blossom not yet unfurled, thinking himself the only one to do it. you did the same thing with ravka. and in the end his country didn't need him, either.
his eyes are clear hazel once more when he opens them, his fractured skin becoming whole, his teeth smooth when he smiles. his grip loosens. ]
You'll have the monster. [ he ignores the way his hand wants to linger, wants to smooth over kaz's tired lines and aching muscles, withdrawing it instead. ] Whatever you want, Brekker. This is your job.
no subject
i'm not familiar or comfortable with the concept of being the source of one of your permanent ailments is what he wants to say, but it's too unwieldy, too vulnerable. not productive. did he imagine that flash of hurt? nikolai studies his face, tries to understand the thoughts moving behind his eyes. he might as well try to scale a fjerdan mountain range with one hand tied behind his back.
the refusal to hand over the gun is also expected, but far more frustrating. he doesn't want brekker watching over him like an uncaged animal. he wants to feel as if he is in control again, regain some semblance of the man he knows himself to be. this is like zoya with his shackles all over again, even though she never did him the disservice of a pitying glance. i'm the one who stole it. he can't help the incredulous huff of breath that escapes his teeth, half laugh. brekker is only a few years younger than him — though perhaps his senior in terms of certain experiences — but sometimes he can still catch glimpses of the boyhood he was never properly allowed to have.
and another outright refusal in this entirely wretched undertaking. nikolai wonders if testing the hardness of the walls with his own skull would be a more worthwhile endeavor than this, ready to force his way to the door and take his chances on the bluffs overlooking the water, but then kaz spits out an unexpected truth and nikolai does something he never, ever does. he flinches, eyes swinging up sharply, silently, to meet kaz's cold gaze.
say something. laugh it off. end this. and yet for perhaps the first time, no words come. the validity of the statement settles in his bones, that he is not needed and has not been needed in quite some time. he has spent his entire life vastly overstating his importance, and now he's adrift in what is supposed to be a sense of freedom, a reward for his long days and nights without rest or comfort. a reward he doesn't know what to do with. kaz knows how to twist a knife harder than he could ever hope to.
the demon gives a rumbling stir in his chest. preying on your weakness, just like always. a spark of ire, a rush of despair. his jaw tightens. ]
Prove it to me. Prove that I can trust you. [ he closes the distance between them with impossible speed, fisting his hand in kaz's shirt and shoving him gracelessly against the wall. his shoulder. but his eyes are already bleeding to black, dark veins spreading across his face. with a snarl, he bares his sharpening teeth but goes no further, looking at kaz hungrily, holding himself eerily still.
what are you doing, nikolai thinks frantically. what are you asking him? he doesn't know the answer. doesn't even know the question. kaz's heartbeat thunders through him as he closes his eyes, barely breathing. he can't purge himself of this. without it, he really will become nothing. maybe he's known that all along, and kaz is just the thing forcing him to accept it. payback for all the demands he's made of him, balancing the scales in one precise blow.
kaz brekker does not need you. you only convinced yourself that he does. with that comes a despondent sort of relief. he wants this too much, wants to nurture this fragile blossom not yet unfurled, thinking himself the only one to do it. you did the same thing with ravka. and in the end his country didn't need him, either.
his eyes are clear hazel once more when he opens them, his fractured skin becoming whole, his teeth smooth when he smiles. his grip loosens. ]
You'll have the monster. [ he ignores the way his hand wants to linger, wants to smooth over kaz's tired lines and aching muscles, withdrawing it instead. ] Whatever you want, Brekker. This is your job.