THERE’S SOMETHING SOFT IN ME / WE KILLED IT, AND IT’S ROTTING || layout by archaic, filter by sladestrokes.
penned by INGRID!
Joined April 2021
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her grisha abilities used to be something kaz rarely considered, treated as less than an option, but now, with her loss of sight and with her torture for her status, they were something he took careful note of. dark eyes followed her progress, lips twitching up.
shoulders lifted once, adapting a devil-may-care attitude that was not at all sincere. the dregs were his life’s work. he was fighting tooth and nail to keep them in power.
‘fight.’
he’s taut as a bowstring, every muscle tensed, as though he is a predator ready to strike. it is a common stance for him now, one she has seen him adapt more commonly over time.
when her eyes lock on his, he lifts his hands, signing, ‘we’re in trouble.’
one gloved hand rakes across darkening facial hair, growing in after weeks without true dedication to keeping it perfectly shaven.
a frightening sight. kaz was a man of appearances, but tonight, he was wilder, hair ungelled and far longer than usual, dark eyes gleaming.
he thought of her the same way. eleo was nothing close to evil. eleo wasn’t even truly bad. she was not a selfish person, but one who would die for her loyalty to others, and yet her own personal drive for self-preservation was strong, making her a fighter. still, that desire —
to feed ketterdam, ketterdam fed on more of his soul.
‘ fool who thought they could knock you into the sea. ’ kaz snorted, shaking his head once more. ‘ may have taken your eye, but i’m sure you took far more from them. ’ violent boy, who can only express love with daggers. a —
a growl escaped scarred lips, the new angry puckering of flesh splitting slightly, scab revealing old blood. he had no portrait as dorian did — every evil deed showed itself on his features, every new scar and break revealing some other monstrous act.
‘ of course. have to —
replace my sea crew. that’s going to be a fucking nightmare. ’ a shake of his head as he limped over to his window, absent-mindedly pulling his cigarette from behind his ear and lighting it. a deep drag before he signed once again, the action hindered by his nicotine. ‘ how did —
too kind, too soft, ( you’re what got us killed it’s your fault we both died ) and yet somr childish part of him deeply craved it still. an irritated huff escaped him as he considered that attack, head shaking as he rose to stand, his own weight balanced heavily on his cane. —
he had no memories of a mother or a father who had caressed his hair; but there was jordie, who had spent many long nights gently running his fingers through the knotted curls, detangling them, to attempt to put kaz to sleep. an amazing impossible task when sleeping on the —
