IC/Overflow Post Part III

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Starters, thread continuations, texts, and PSL tags welcome here!

Comments

@eyarazrushost

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The sounds of the season carry upwards from down the steps and out the window. Songs and laughter, along with shouts and scuffles. Just as the Barrel is never truly quiet, neither is it ever without its violence. Still, there's a shift even in these dark and narrow streets this time of year. An excitement and anticipation for the coming spring, of new chances and a life worth waging. A gambler's hope and a businessman's exploitation. The very makings and marks of Ketterdam.

The sweets shop has run various holiday sales and promotions, and the club has been decked out in finery and running specials with the menu, games, and performances. The new club is set to open as well in that buzzing time between winter's eve and the coming new year. Between that, overseeing his tenant buildings, some overseas ventures, and Dregs business, Kaz is as usual a blend of exhausted and fired up, taking every new success and opportunity as a never-ending climb towards an ultimate goal he's yet to find. Ever since Rollins he hasn't discovered quite the same purpose, but that hasn't stopped him from barreling forwards, anyway. To stand still, to stagnate, is never an option.

All of the workers at the Crow Club contributed to the night's successful event. From concept development to recruiting to vetting to decorating, it took a full crew. Kaz knows he didn't do it by himself, and that Genya certainly played a part in it. She's fit in well on the crew. In Ketterdam. With him.

Some of the proceeds from the night would go towards rebuilding the city, a good press move. Others would provide bonuses for the crew. The rest is dedicated to his off hours business ventures, such as buying out the indentured service contracts in the city, stocking supplies, and planning for more involved heists. His practical mind is already slicing up the funds for how they'll be allocated.

The rest of the Dregs are now downstairs, continuing the party long after it's ended. Kaz has had enough socializing, though. His skin feels thin from all of it, and he's retreated up the steps to his attic office at the Slat. His leg is aching from standing too long, his feet are tired, and his limp is a little more pronounced than usual. A testament to the weather and how hectic life has been. He grabs the whiskey and Genya's drink of choice, two glasses, and sets them on the desk before flopping down into his chair. His right leg is lifted onto the stool that's by his desk and he leans forward to pull off his boots. "One would think at least some of them would have laryngitis by now," he grumps about the festive music he can hear ringing up from below.

Kaz hasn't celebrated holidays since he was nine years old. He doesn't stop his crew from doing it though, even if he grumbles about it. The most he does is provide some gifts from those chosen few he finds deserving of them, though they're often practical in nature and without his name attached.

@eyarazrushost

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I like when you wear something that makes you look happy.

I'm shit at knowing what colors go together, but that I can tell.

@hawk_shot

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I don't fault anyone for fighting dirty.

I suppose I would just have to counter distract you in turn.

@hawk_shot

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I didn't want a personal matter to put you at risk.

@acaseofyou

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No. You're certainly more than that, Birdie.

@acaseofyou

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[There's a long pause as he considers how far they've come. How much work they've done together, to aid in his ability to touch. What else they might be ready to try.]

Maybe we should try the sitting. Just in case.

@acaseofyou

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Might not be the worst idea. At least in areas where I don't have to blend in. Everyone used to being there seems like they could walk around barefoot and be unbothered.

@acaseofyou

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What if she wants to take to the stage instead of thieve when she gets older?

@acaseofyou

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I think you should call him that eagerly and often.

@acaseofyou

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I think Wylan should work on expanding his horizons.

@acaseofyou

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Like they use in fruit picking?

@plagued

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It's less of a surprise when you do reconnaissance. I haven't mistaken a phone for a knife in a very long time. [Not foolproof though, of course. He's been betrayed and trickled. It still happens sometimes. Just exceedingly less these days, and he's better able to handle it when it does.

He gives a small nod of his head at her assessment of the coffee, indulging in another sip himself. The darkness dances well on his tongue, the acid not bothering his belly. It helps to keep the tool that is his body running, even if he can make do off the raging fire inside of him.]

Anyone who says it can't substitute for a complete meal just isn't creative enough, in my opinion.

Did you come from your realm?

hawk_shot

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... I could withstand some poison.

I wouldn't surprise you by poisoning you, no. And there is something going on with Lantsov. It's not a mafia tie, though. I imagine we'll learn more when we get to Ravka.

@shadowthief

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I would.

I might make a comment about it.

But I would.

@eyarazrushost

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Only we're perhaps less healthy for other people.

@acaseofyou

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[When Birdie pulls up Kaz steps outside. His dark gaze scans the area, sharply looking out for anything suspicious as he makes his way towards her. With his shoulder injured he's just carrying his cane, using it not possible right now. It makes his limp more pronounced, but his step is still purposeful in its stride. His mind is already on the next ten things, not any current discomfort.

Sliding into the passenger seat, he gives Birdie a nod. It's a greeting, it's his form of gratitude. He looks her over, not seeing any injuries. It mollifies him a little as he settles back in the seat.]

I owe you for this.

@pilfeline

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How is it supposed to feel, then?

@acaseofyou

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The cat seems fond of shedding on the colorful ones, fair warning.

With time and planning I bet I could manage it just fine.

@acaseofyou

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Lantsov's area seems to make the most sense, since I do have a few contacts there already. Even some contacts that owe me.

@aspolyhymnia

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Debatable whether he'll have better odds than I do on not losing any hats.

@hawk_shot

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There's a momentary pause before Kaz continues writing without looking up. He's never seen the point in apologies. Or rather, he doesn't see what good two words can do, what need they fill. He doesn't want an apology, he wants a solution, but he doesn't imagine this is really about him, anyway. "If what you said last night is how you feel, then it's how you feel. I'm not certain what apologizing over it will accomplish." The cat shifts in his lap, sensing his tension as he finally looks up at her with a frank gaze. He's hurt but he doesn't want sugar coating. It all feels like salt. "What is it you want, Kate? I thought we were progressing. I thought we were on the same page. If we're not, then tell me that. Because I don't get drunk and end up wanting to hurt you."

Past Ties and Broken Chains (@hawk_eye)

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Stories sank below the surface at Ketterdam’s harbor. Voiceless bodies cast overboard, burying the truth in bones at the bottom after fish picked the flesh apart. The dock was always wet from rain and work, footsteps blending into the dirty streets as merchant and menace alike entered the vast port city. Languages written on ships and spoken off tongues traded and bargained from the moment they docked, with large storage facilities set up to hold accounted for goods - and those that slid past customs. Just past the docks were the street markets and fish mongers, the shrimpers and the craftsmen shilling their wares. The air was always thick with the scent of salt and sweat, glossed over with perfumes and oils.

The water rolled heavier than normal right now against the wooden and metal fixtures holding the dock aloft. Heavier than the night bearing just light rain should cause. The water called to Kesh as it did to other Suli people, but even she could not make out what it was trying to say. It troubled her as she made her rounds, silent as a shadow past Dregs territory. Past 5th Harbor.

Kesh’s hair had been cut short, one of the ways she was shedding the Menagerie. She was wearing a high-collared shirt that covered her chest and neck, hiding a scar she’d gotten during her time there, but the blouse had short sleeves to combat the heat of summer coming.

The Dregs tattoo was visible on her arm, but wrapped around the goblet was a ribbon with a single word written in her native tongue. Uncaged. She’d made it her own. She was here by her choice. Her knees had trembled when she’d said what she wanted to do to the tattoo to Kaz, and she remembered staring in disbelief at his dark head of hair. He didn’t even bother to lift his head from his work behind his desk as he just told her the name of the tattoo artist to see for it. It was hard to tell if he didn’t care because his pride wasn’t attached to owning people, or because he thought so little of those around him they weren’t worth his ire. She was still figuring out this strange new boss of hers, but she was grateful to be here all the same.

They weren’t expecting trouble at the harbor, but Kaz was nothing if not a man with a million contingency plans. It was also sending a message after one of the ships under Kaz’s protection hadn’t returned whole last time. She remembered watching what remained of the crew disembark, seeing the state of the ship upon entry with widened eyes. Leaning in towards Kaz, she had asked then in a low voice, “Will they suffer?” The Tidemakers.

His eyes didn’t leave the ship, his voice like a rusty blade scraping against rock. There was nothing soft about him, especially not right then. Standing near Kaz Brekker was somehow like standing right beside a raging fire and being chilled down to her very bones because of it. It terrified her sometimes, but right then, she relished when he replied with, “Greatly.”

Kesh remembered the night that the raging storm at sea had stopped. She’d waited on the stoop of the Slat for him to return, thinking it was what Inej would have wanted. She had anticipated him appearing bathed in blood, some of it his own. She’d anticipated a roughing up reckoning, where a bruised and battered but victorious Brekker was still standing.

Kaz had returned that night without a single visible blood stain or scratch on him. His blue eyes were eerily calm as they latched onto hers, unfathomable pools where, should she tread in too deep, sharks would be swimming at the bottom lying in wait. There were inner demons lurking at that depth that had fed well this evening. It was in his eyes that she could see the blood spilled in the water. “I took care of it,” he’d said, his voice a crooning caress that made her spine shiver.

That night, Kesh felt for the first time she truly met Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the Barrel. That night she learned his worst punches never needed actual fists.

“It’s not enough,” she said now quietly to herself, because no pain sufficed when their people were at risk. She knew what his answer would have been.

’It never is.’

The water rolled. Kesh felt the boards beneath her feet rattling. A warning. Something was coming. It wasn’t here, though. Turning, she began to sprint for the nearest building, using the rooftops to get her back towards the Barrel.

~*~

A truce.

That was what had been decided between Kaz and the Tidemakers, when really, it was a temporary stalemate. The Council of Tides was the shadowy protection that allowed Ketterdam its isolationary practices. Nobody from other parts of New York could touch what went on in that area, from the official businesses the Merchants Council ran to the debaucherous revelry of the Barrel. Why a group of ancient, powerful Grisha tied themselves to a largely human oligarchy was a mystery Kaz hadn’t even solved, but it was a pact that dated back hundreds of years.

He was the man standing between both Councils and them getting access to the maker of jurda parem, as well as the remaining stash of it that already existed. Him, and his Crows working alongside him.

They’d already ransacked what information they could from all the libraries - both open and not - in New York. Perhaps Ravka might have better luck in revealing those secrets. At the very least, he was learning how to fly a plane out of it. And possibly helping Lantsov, once they landed and got the full scope of what was going on from Zoya.

Along on the trip were Kate, Jesper, Wylan, and Nina. For the moment though he was sitting up front with Nikolai, looking over the controls.

“Don’t touch that,” Nikolai warned when Kaz reached out to rest a finger on a button.

“I’m not pressing it.” Kaz simply tapped it while thinking. “This control should be higher to the left.”

“Well, it isn’t.”

“It would make more sense if it was.”

“Are you questioning my designs before I teach you how to do an emergency landing?”

“Given the state of the button’s location, I’m not sure I shouldn’t be teaching myself from now on.”

Nikolai sighed. “Kate, your boyfriend is insulting my buttons. I know he’s likely jealous because his buttons can’t compare, because he hasn’t got any bu-”

“Shut up.” Kaz’s voice broke through as his eyes narrowed straight ahead. Gathering clouds. The plane began to shake a little. “You did reinforce it like I told you to before you came, didn’t you?”

Nikolai just gave him an insulted look that said yes, of course he did. “It’s just a storm. … it is just a storm, isn’t it? Fuck, Brekker, only you could turn mother nature into a literal enemy.” He reached up to make an adjustment to the controllers. “Everyone strap in. This might get interesting.”

@hawk_shot

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The bathing I get as a form of revenge. That's just him being petty, we love to see it.

Unless he thinks the fountain accident was my attempt at bathing him.

@hawk_shot

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I keep my promises, even if not everyone outside the Dregs appreciates how that pans out for them.

Are you worried I've gotten her something explosive?

@acaseofyou

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Never let it be said that a shame scam is done half-assed.

I think the cat likes when you wear bells in your hair like she does around her neck.