timewasting | bound.

[ it had been a week, in the slat. a week since leaving the menagerie, since following kaz brekker further into the barrel and being given a brief tour of her new home. she hadn't said a word to anyone, including kaz brekker, since arriving in the dreg's stronghold.

it still felt like a dream, being here. and she still wasn't entirely certain of kaz's motivations, in buying out her contract. he had to know, that they were bound. how could he not? their exchange had been plain as day. for most people, finding their one was a joyous occasion. something to celebrate, to fall in love, to go be married, or whatever it is happy people do.

but for inej, kaz brekker was a means to an end. to freedom. it didn't particularly matter to her, if he was the one that she was bound to for life. most men were the same. and if kaz brekker attempted to take anything from her that she wasn't willing to give freely, she would ensure he would never walk again by removing his last good leg.

still, it wasn't long until people began to figure out she was new, and here on personal invitation from dirtyhands himself. for the first few days, most people left her alone. but this morning, some one had tried to take a pass at her. a wandering hand and a sweet compliment. she had frozen, her heart hammering in her chest, paralyzed at the touch. someone she didn't know had grabbed the offender by the arm -- a tall, lanky boy that inej vaguely remembered was named jesper -- to tell to back off. but before he could say a word, inej had ducked underneath their arms and slipped into the shadows.

it had made her feel weak. so inej descended into the basement of the slat, where a few scattered pieces of exercise equipment were lying around. though she preferred the roof, it wouldn't solve her problem, which was that she froze. and felt pathetic, and trapped in a corner. neither of those things would do, if she was going to survive in this place.

so inej solved the problem by driving her fist directly into a punching bag, envisioning the face of the insolent scum that had touched her upstairs.

the bag didn't move. and now her hand hurt.

nonetheless, inej punched it again. and again, and again. and soon, inej's arms burned with exertion, muscles being used that she hadn't used in a good while, but she drives her fist into the bag a final time, exhaling in a shuddered gasp as the bag swayed forward, landing back in her hands with a soft 'thump' as she steadies it. ]

Get a grip, Inej.

[ she mutters to herself in her native tongue, resting her forehead against the bag to catch her breath. the damn thing was bigger than she was. and she was no closer to feeling better about her pathetic display from earlier. ]

[ Two weeks have passed since that first day he'd spent training Inej in the Slat's basement. Their schedule since then has been somewhat erratic, solely because of Dregs business, but they've met nearly every day. Twice, he met her in the early morning, around eight bells, having been too full of mental energy that he hadn't slept.

Since then, though, she seems to have slowly integrated. The Dregs finally broke, curiosity outweighing some of their fear, and a few of them had introduced themselves over meals. Whenever she wasn't shadowing his steps, Jesper seemed to take over and keep her company, doing what he was best at: making friends. He chatted and joked, attempting to make her laugh to try and break the tension that had been permeating since she'd arrived.

It's been working, mostly. The tension breaking. And he thinks he might've seen a smile or two from her.

Either way, it's apparent that something has to go sideways, because that was the nature of things that seemed to be going too well. Jesper had come hurrying into the club, expression pinched, to tell him Inej and Per Haskell had an argument loud enough for the entire Slat to hear. And that no, he hasn't talked to Inej, because apparently she fled to the roof.

Kaz pulls rank and gets someone to cover his shift, heading to the Slat to do as much damage control as possible. Per Haskell won't want to see him right now, not if he's heated, so he skips that visit and goes directly up the three flights of stairs and carefully out onto the roof. ]

You've got guts, I'll give you that.

[ she falls into a routine, with the dregs. she goes on jobs, she lingers on the rooftops. and she's made a name for herself, already, though inej isn't entirely sure she likes it. the wraith, the ghost in the dark that can slit your throat and dump your body off the roof.

( it happened once. once. kaz and jesper were in the middle of negotiations, and inej had caught a sniper on the roof taking aim at them both. no one had been any the wiser until the body hit the ground. to kaz's credit, he hadn't batted an eyelash and continued the conversation as if nothing had happened. but jesper had reacted far more appropriately, his saints, what the fuck? echoing down the alleyways. the black tips decided to back off, after that. )

the killing is something she is still getting used to. she isn't entirely sure she ever will. the first time, she had scrubbed her hands so hard they nearly bled, and had remained on the roof for hours alone, trying to erase the sound of knife on bone from her ears. it had been a quick strike in self-defense, and it was either her or the razor gull that had a knife to her throat. but it didn't make it any easier. kaz had left her alone, for the most part, though he had come onto the roof to bring her dinner.

after that night, they were fairly inseparable, with one exception - kaz is still not a morning person. so inej spends most of her mornings alone in the mess hall. she's sitting in her favorite corner, sipping her coffee as she reads the paper. still trying to master the art of kerch, inej devours almost anything she can read. today, it's the police blotter.

she recognizes a few of the names on the list. poor sods. she hasn't been arrested yet. and if inej has her way, she never will.

she hears the thump of the cane before anything else, but inej doesn't look up from her reading as someone sits across from her, though her tone is dry: ]

Whatever it is, I am not doing it.

[ as her eyes scan down the blotter, picking out which names belonged to rival gangs and which ones were the dregs. rival gangs means they got pinched doing something . . . curious as to what. the gulls were up to something, the night before. interesting.

as for kaz, he is never up and about before eleven. so if he's down here, then he must want something. and if it's worth getting up early for, it must be something annoying. ]

[ the first thing she recognizes, when she drifts into consciousness, is that she feels cold. stiff, and unnatural, in a bed that definitely is not her own. it's dark, with a flickering candle on the table, and as her eyes blink into focus, she realizes a few things.

one, she is alive. somehow. inej vaguely remembers the docks, and remembers kaz bringing her to . . . who knows. she doesn't really remember that part. she does remember the chaos, and him carrying her, and somehow still managing to disappoint her even while she was bleeding to death.

and managing to choke on the words on her wrist.

that realization causes a soft sigh to escape - more of a groan, really, as she tilts her head into the pillow, rolling slightly onto her side to face the wall - which winds up being a slight mistake, the still-healing wound stinging fiercely as she does so. oomen. how could she have been so slow and stupid.

maybe if she just fell back asleep, she wouldn't wake up. which would solve her problem, of having to deal with kaz brekker, who obviously didn't give half a damn if she died or not so long as he still made his coin.

saints, why was she so cold.

she's so wrapped up in the thought that she doesn't notice, immediately, that she isn't the only person in the room. and she lets her eyes close again, exhaling slowly to focus on her breathing, rather than the pain emanating from her middle, her fingers curling into the thin fabric of the sheet underneath her. ]

[ A week passes from their encounter with Van Eck on Vellgeluk. He sets his mind to the task of getting Inej back. Not only for her own sake but because he won't abide by a second more of her being in Jan Van Eck's hands. It makes his stomach turn, not knowing what she's going through. Not having her here, with the group, at his side.

If he's honest, which he only is in the dead of night when left with his thoughts, he feels like he's missing a limb. Her absence has left a gaping hole, one that everyone has been feeling keenly.

So he schemes, thinking on how best to outmaneuver a merch who has nearly every resource at his disposal. It's his major leverage but, as Matthias asks how they'll do this, he knows it's also his biggest weakness. Van Eck has picked a fight with people who understand what it is to have nothing. And in some ways, aren't afraid to have it taken from them again. None of them have legacies or estates or, in some cases, even families.

Van Eck, though, had handed his soft spot to Kaz on a platter. An heir and a very pregnant wife, tucked away.

All things considered, the rescue itself goes off...not terribly. It's chaotic, but he'd counted on chaos. The sound of fireworks ring in his ears all the way to the Weft, finally dying down once he and Inej make their way into an abandoned linen warehouse. It'd been victim to a fire relatively recently which meant no operations would be here until the real estate exchanged hands. Nor would anyone come looking for them here.

He watches Inej get settled on the leftover linen rolls and hands over the food and water he'd tucked away ahead of time. She looks pale and too thin. A week had been too long. A week shouldn't have existed, if he'd just kept his eyes on Van Eck instead of darting his gaze over to her.

Stupid, so stupid. He'll regret that moment for years to come.

Carefully, he lowers himself to the linen pile, sitting close but giving her space. ]

What did you say to Van Eck? On the bridge.

[ The merch had looked distinctly unhappy. ]

[ It's starting to become a trend, he thinks, with days feeling like weeks. Frankly, it's not something he enjoys. Because there's both too much time and not enough of it. The hours drag by like sticky toffee and he still wishes he had more of it to get everything in place.

But, it is what it is. And if there's one thing he's good at, it's working with what he's got. Not to mention: he hates feeling cornered. He's going to make Van Eck pay up for the discomfort and for all the shit he's put them through. It's not just about getting even, it's taking the man down completely, burning his legacy and good name down to ashes. Because he doesn't deserve it. Doesn't deserve to have such wealth and power when he's shown exactly how ugly he is on the inside. When there's a group of people right here that deserve it more. Kaz is going to make him regret every second he's spent lording over "Barrel scum".

First, though, he has a particular debt to settle. It's not his, exactly, though it would be around his neck if Inej ever decided she didn't want to deal with the Dregs any longer. Despite that lurking leash, he's never felt bitter about it. That contract was her relative freedom from Heleen; he'd do it again, a thousand times over.

Striding into the bathroom, he stops at the sink, pulling his coat off and tossing it over the counter away from the water basin. Inej sits a couple feet from him, cutting up bandages at the vanity. What he's about to ask is incredibly risky and stupid but it's necessary. Necessary so they all got out, even if he had to hang for it, as much as that sends a sharp jab of anxiety through him. Inej doesn't deserve to have that mark on her arm distort, not after everything she's gone through.

But he couldn't handle it if she died before living out her dream.

So: ]

I need an alternate route to the Slat, off the streets.

fights.

tattoos

dekappel.