#treppenwitzz.

[wraethe]

she is no longer the trusting girl she had been before the menagerie. now, inej’s trust is given carefully. a limited resource, like everything else in the barrel. but when kaz gestures her over inej obeys almost without thinking, standing next to him with an inch or so of space between their shoulders, and looks down at the map. ( it frightens her: how comfortable all of it feels, plotting murders, plotting heists, and doing it all with the bastard of the barrel. it frightens her, that when he calls she’ll always seem to come. -- does he know this? is this just another weakness, soft spot, that can be opened up and poked into and exploited? but no, she trusts kaz, and she does so for a reason, so inej forces her paranoid thoughts to calm. )

“well?” her voice comes out calm, steely, and for this she is proud of herself. this is the voice of a killer: this is the wraith. “are you going to tell me the plan?”

@treppenwitzz​ said: [ wave ] for your muse to gesture to mine to come closer  ... from kaz !

[wraethe]

"WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU’RE EITHER?” she’s seen the devil: in inked faces on suli cards, or fat and ruddy in ravkan fairytales. she’s seen the devil in tante heleen’s pretty face, skin stretched thin over an unforgiving skeleton, and she’s seen it in the men who grabbed her and laughed at the sounds of her cries. kaz brekker is not a devil. the bastard of the barrel is simply a man, although surely to admit such a thing would only wound his pride.

the darkness he might have been at one point, when he was still the unknown entity that she’d approached so carefully in the menagerie, who’d agreed to pay off  her indenture after only one meeting. but she knows him too well, now -- his tells, his orders communicated only through glances. sometimes even when he is lying. no, she’s mapped him too well in her own head for there to be much unknown territory left. (the thought is as terrifying as it is exhilarating.)

“why do you ask?” inej opens her hand -- she’s perched on the window frame, and a hesitant crow comes forward to peck at the seeds she’s thrown onto it. its beady little eyes find her face, and it ducks its head to eat. she can’t help the affectionate smile she throws out for the scavenger bird. “tired of being ‘dirtyhands’ already?”

@treppenwitzz​ said: ❛ am i the devil, or the darkness? ❜   ...   ur a dramaqueen mister brekker