Piper Allison / Alessandra De Luca (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
callmeles) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
royal_musings2023-09-23 02:37 pm
callmeles) wrote in royal_musings2023-09-23 02:37 pmEntry tags:
callmeles) wrote in royal_musings2023-09-23 02:37 pm
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It's nothing, Kaz. For once, it felt a little peaceful.
[ Which never happens considering it's Ketterdam. And although from her perch it felt peaceful, she knew it was an illusion. ]
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Perpetual motion against innate stillness.]
I know better than to think you'd consider peace nothing. Enjoy the lack of price that comes with it though if you can.
[It's not even meant meanly, for all the bluntness. He knows what the quiet means to her. If she's found a pocket of it, well. He won't shatter the pretense. He leans against his deck, thumb circling the top of his cane as he studies her.]
It's never quiet to me, though.
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If the price is that I stand out in the rain for a few minutes to find it, then it's worth the dripping.
[ Maybe not if she winds up sick because of it but that was not something she would focus on right now. She studies him back in return and hums. ]
No, I can't imagine it's ever quiet for you, Kaz. Your mind is constantly going and scheming.
[ She imagines it's one of the reasons he hardly ever sleeps. There are the rare few nights she allows herself to imagine what it might be like to be able to provide a little peace for him, but she knows better than to dwell on what may never be. ]
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[There's a hardness to Kaz's default gaze, years older than his actual age, glaciers that somehow contain blazing fires beneath them. It's only on rare occasion that they crack and weariness is allowed to seep through. His mind is constantly moving, but it's as much trying to escape the past as it is planning for the future. Inej's frank observation doesn't sound like a compliment, as usual brushing past his bravado.
An anchor that tries to ground him in the present. He doesn't miss the irony that it's a shadow that holds this weight with him.
Miles to go. Always.
[His voice is quieter, though no less rough thanks to the raspy nature of it.]
Get dry. I have to get going, anyway. I'll let you know when I'm coming back.
I know I wouldn't be much better HTML'ing early in the morning!
Maybe it's that she enjoys these moments with Kaz - just the two of them like this. Though, not usually with her dripping on his floor and soaked to the bone. ]
Always.
[ She agrees giving him a nod before heading toward his door. She'll change and then probably come back with a towel so she can dry his floor. It was only fair since she dripped all over it. ]
Be careful, Kaz.
[ Inej doesn't need to say it, she knows that. But she would say it regardless because she wasn't there to watch his back. Even if he wasn't doing anything serious, this was Ketterdam and there was always someone there looking to backstab someone else. Even if they were more than likely doing the backstabbing than being the victim of it. ]
Swapping out HTML if that's okay!
He leaves her in his room, trusting her to find her way to hers. There’s literally nothing there that holds a secret she doesn’t share, so he’s not afraid of snooping. The only story to the life before he met her is on his body, that bold and black R tattoo, and she’s never asked him about it. Everything else in that room is Brekker’s business, and if Inej wishes to look at his business ledger books she’s welcome. He knows that numbers interest her about as much as saints interest him, though.
His cane clacks against the muddy streets, an umbrella holding the drizzling at bay. The rain isn’t going sideways for once so he stays mostly dry. He can smell the salt and smoke in the air, and the sky is a brilliant mix of orange peeking through gray skies. His business takes a few hours, but he keeps his hat and umbrella, so he counts it a success as much as he does the deals being made and the costs extracted.
A box of pastries is under his arm when he returns. A few of the Dregs have made their way downstairs, though many sleep til noon or later given the late hours. He sees Nina and Wylan up and about at least, and when his gaze flicks past them Nina says, “She’s upstairs.”
“Who?” Kaz asks as he sets the box on the table.
Nina just gives him a knowing look over the cup of tea she’s sipping at the table. Reaching over she opens the box and lights up at the pastries. She helps herself to an apple turnover and nibbles it.
Kaz grabs a fruit danish for himself and Inej’s favorite for her, both wrapped in a napkin, and without a word heads for the stairs.
“Good choice!” Nina calls to his back, and laughs when Kaz gets very creative in managing to flip her off while carrying pastries and his cane.
His heavy footsteps up the stairs announce his presence before he even arrives at her doorstep. The rhythm and cadence tells her that, for Kaz, he’s in a good mood. Politely, he knocks on her door and waits to let her tell him he can enter.
<3 always!
She leaves his room a minute later. She changes into dry clothing, grabs a towel, and goes back into his room to dry the puddles she'd left behind.
Inej tries to sleep and only manages to for a couple of hours before she's up. She's in the middle of polishing her knives when she hears his heavy footsteps come up the stairs and stop at her door. "Come in," she says with a little smile when she hears his knock.
"You brought breakfast," she says, stating the obvious when she spots the wrapped pastries in his hand when he opens the door. "Is one of those a Cheese Danish?"
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He limps into Inej's small room, the yellow walls the promise of a sunshine that Ketterdam rarely sees. He sets the pastry on her desk as he confirms, "It's a cheese Danish. Best to eat it here unless you want crumbs on your bed." He notes she's doing her usual ritual of cleaning her knives. They're an extension of her, much like his suit is for him. A piece of her armor that helps keep her safe, that sends a message not to get too close unless she allows it. Leaning against the wall, he takes a bite of his fruit Danish. "If I didn't bring you one, there wouldn't be any left by the time you got downstairs."
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She sets Sankt Vladimir down on the bed reverently before standing and walking the short distance over to the desk to pick up the Danish. It was only after the first bite that she realized it had been a little bit since her last meal. "You meeting go well then, I take it?"
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Kaz doesn't nibble his food, he takes a hardy bite and chews with the purpose of a man who doesn't trust his next bite is guaranteed to happen. Chewing on the bite of flaky pastry, he pulls out a piece of fruit from the center and pops it into his mouth, not at all bothered that such actions are poor manners. "Did you get some rest? I see you dried off well enough."
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"Slept for a couple of hours. It's a wonder what dry clothes and a towel can do for you," she says with a little smile. "I made sure not to leave wet puddles behind me when I left your room this morning." Not that they wouldn't have dried by now but still.
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Even as she comes nearer to him to lean against her desk, he feels safe enough to not shift away or glare until she does. He trusts Inej to keep that physical distance between them rather than push him past his boundaries. His gaze instead scans her knives, meticulously cleaned and cared for in a process he suspects she knows by heart now. One she invented, to wipe away whatever blood coats them and her by proxy. Traditions she's created, to replace ones that got lost, rather than doing what Kaz has done and tossing out the concept of tradition altogether.
"Does it help?" His gaze shifts to meet hers, a neutral look on his face. "Your cleaning ritual."
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Her eyes shift to the knives laying on the bed and studies them silently. The ritual helped her focus, helped her feel closer to her Saints in some way or fashion and in a way had allowed her to 'wipe' away the blood that stains her hands.
"It does, it's meditative and gives me the time to focus." And it's for her. Not for anyone else. It's the one thing she had and took time for her.
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Nothing, except perhaps her very presence in his life. His shadow that he's gotten so used to relying upon, without even realizing it. It terrifies him when he acknowledges it, yet he still finds himself wanting to draw near to the anchoring stillness she provides him.
Of course, he makes a sour face at the mention of meditation, nose wrinkling. "Are you sure meditation isn't really just an excuse to take a nap without anyone noticing?" The thought of remaining still to center himself is utterly baffling, even though he knows it's a serious practice for many. "The rest though, I get. Not doing it, but I get why you do it."