𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄 — gifts and geels

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 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐎𝐕 𝐇𝐀𝐃 called, and Aleksa knew she couldn't turn away. The woman made of nothing but pure sunlight had begged in her letter, she had pleaded for Aleksa to help her. Like calls to like, the very words Aleksander had always sprouted were finally coming to fruition.

 The three of them; The Black Heretic, the wily Shadow Summoner, and the Sun Saint... it would have to end with the three of them, wouldn't it? It would always come down to the three intertwined in ways beyond anybody's imagination.

 Thus, at the revelation that Aleksander had survived the Volcra... Aleksa had answered Alina's call.

 It had only taken a day for Aleksa to board a boat resting within Ketterdam's docks. It was scuffed and the wood was covered in barnacles... The poor thing looked as though it'd be swallowed by furious ocean waves, but it was all that could be gathered.

 When Aleksa had found herself right where Alina had beckoned her... Alina hadn't been alone. There was Mal, of course... Mal was always right by the Sun Summoner's side. But there was another, a man with a cooked nose and scars covering his skin. Sturmhond was his name, a privateer with sea salt still etched within his flesh.

 Aleksa's eyes had almost immediately drifted to the Shu twins flanking his sides, curious as to why they'd settle beside this privateer with such vigour in their gazes, such protectiveness forcing their hands to settle against their chosen weapons.

 Aleksa had stared at the man; tracing his features with a scrutiny one could only learn through Kaz Brekker. She had found no traces of scarring, no bruises or welts of red tracing his flesh. Only the crooked nose... a nose that seemed to have been set in such a specific way.

 But it wasn't just those things that had made Aleksa privy to the secret being held; it was the weapons and the clothes they donned. The King of Ravka wouldn't dare permit a lowly privateer enough coin to drench himself in woven coats and steel of Grisha craftmanship.

 "Alina?" Aleksa had cooed, leaning over the table, squinted eyes unrelentingly upon Sturmhond, "You've called me here, and I answered. My face is out in the open and you're asking the world of me... so why, pray tell, is this man tailored?"

 There had been a bout of silence that 'Sturmhond' had been the first to shatter. His lips had curled, a boyish grin alighting his face as he leaned back in his chair, "Oh, you're good!"

 "And you'll soon see that pristine Tailored skin of yours bruised and battered if I don't get an answer —" But then Aleksa's lips parted. Enough coin to buy pistols and axes and golden-trimmed coats. A face planted beside Alina Starkov while his own personal bodyguards held their ground... he was important. He'd come in the place of the prince — or did he?

 "— Ah, I see." Aleksa drawled, her voice echoing endlessly around the dreary little room they were stuffed within, "I hope you aren't expecting me to kneel, Sobachka."

 Alina's smile was undeniable as she rose a hand to her lips. Mal's laughter had spilled in a rather unruly way... And Sturmond — Nikolai — had grinned like the cat that got the cream.

 "I knew I'd been right to hire you." He said, clapping his hands as he shifted in his seat.

 "Hire me?"

 "You run with Kaz Brekker."

 Aleksa's eyes had slid Alina's way, "Have you told him about the mole on my back, too?"

 "I never —" Alina hastened, only to pause as Nikolai shook his head.

 "Our Sun Summoner mentioned your names only... But even I, or rather, Sturmhond, know's about the Bastard of the Barrel. A rat capable of getting in and out of a room without doors or windows. A boy with claws for hands — is that true?"

 "Yes." Aleksa hiked a brow, "Now, back to you hiring us."

 "You didn't really think that idiot Dreesen put together your little adventure, did you?"

 Flashes of their abysmal journey through the Fold with Arken suddenly came to the forefront of Aleksa's mind, she could have shuddered, "I could throttle you, you know that?"

 "I'll certainly take you up on that when we're in the comfort of the Palace." Nikolai grinned, and the lips of Sturmhond curled as mischievously as a wily little fox, "Now, however... I think we need to talk about your big brother."

 After such a strange revelation, after such odd introductions, Alina had pleaded her case, she had shown all of the cards still resting within her embroidered sleeves... she couldn't fight Aleksander alone. No amount of sunlight could drown the nichevoya. No amount of sunlight would simply unveil the last of Morozova's amplifiers.

 Alina needed help; not only to fight and search for an animal that had only been sighted in children's stories... but she had no clue how to run an army, how to command people to bend to her will. Aleksa, well, she was rather gifted at making people fall to their knees...

 However, there had been a request from the Shadow Summoner. She would help slay her brother, she would help heal the world of its infested scar... but she wouldn't do it while wearing her own face.

 If they won, if they managed to banish the darkness that Aleksander wished to drown them in, Aleksa wanted to return to Ketterdam and her crows. She just wanted to go back to her definition of normalcy.

 Thus... a Tailor had twisted her fingers, and Aleksa's features had followed suit. Brunette locks became the colour of her own shadows. Tanned skin had been drained of all colour, leaving her cheeks to glow ever so relentlessly like sunlight upon an icy shore. Her nose was curled, her lips thinned, her eyebrows evermore pointed...

 She hadn't recognised herself in the mirror, and that meant that when the time came to remove her facade, nobody would know the face of the last Shadow Summoner.

 Inej Ghafa scarcely allowed others to brush their fingers against her skin. The feeling of confinement was too much, it felt like shackles bound to her wrists and ankles... and yet, the moment her darling brown eyes landed upon Aleksa, Inej had surged forth. The knife she'd been twirling was abandoned upon a table, a mere afterthought as she held her dear friend close, fingers tangled within her hair.

 "I thought —" Inej breathed, tears gathering as she steadily pulled back, "You stopped sending letters."

 Aleksa's stomach twisted. In the beginning, she'd written day and night to her crows. Ink spilt upon parchment and soon servants of the palace sent away her words... until the Black Heretic had invaded. He took lives with him, he deployed his shadow soldiers. He used Merzost.

 They had fled, and all thoughts of letters to recount her days soon dwindled. Aleksa couldn't risk it... for what if Aleksander had stolen her words away? What if he had gotten his blood-smeared hands on her Crows?

 It had been for the best to go utterly silent. If they had thought Aleksa had... had died... then that was the cost for their safety.

 Aleksa only drew Inej closer. Inej was always so impossibly warm; from her words to her skin, everything was just warm. Aleksa didn't know how she had survived without her Wraith. Every day with Alina and Mal, with Nikolai and Zoya... they had made her welcome, even the Storm Witch herself... but nothing could compare to the doting of Inej, to the laughter from Jesper... or even those glares from her most prettiest of boys.

 "I'm sorry." Aleksa breathed. She could finally feel the wetness upon her eyes, tangling within her mass of dark lashes... Aleksa had thought her tears had finally dried up after everything she'd already been through. But, of course, Inej was the one to spur them forth again, "I had to keep you safe."

 Inej pulled away, her brows huddled together, "Safe?"

 Aleksa looked away with a swift cough to clear her tightening throat. She might have done everything she did for her family, yet even still, the truth was as bitter as nightshade. Kaz always said harsh truths were better than kind lies... but Aleksa simply wasn't able to bring her words to life, she couldn't elaborate and explain herself.

 So, she changed the subject.

 The table Inej had been seated at was secluded within the darkest corner of the club. The surface of the oak was slick and sticky with old alcohol yet to be wiped away, there were chips in the wood and scrapes even against the curled legs... Aleksa tapped her fingers over the top.

 She'd been waiting for so long to see her Crows again, to watch as their pretty faces flushed with pink as her words became laced with honey and wine. But there was someone missing... Aleksa slumped upon the booth chair, the wine-red material dotted with light swirls had faded over time, and stains tarnished the surface here and there.

 "So..." Before she could bring up Kaz, Aleksa narrowed her eyes at the raucous crowd of crows and pigeons. It was no surprise to see chittering pigeons flitting from table to table with a spark in their eyes... but the crows, the Dregs seemed especially joyous tonight. Aleksa might have been flattered if she truly believed such a cause of delight was entirely her own doing, "What happened?"

 Jesper rose a slanted brow as he teetered forth, "We beat the Blacktips tonight, bug."

 The Blacktips had been a pain in the ass for a very long time. Yet another gang dwelling within the depths of the Barrel, the members of this one were each decorated with a tattoo depicting a hand with the first and second fingers cut off... the crow and cup to which the Dregs wore was much more preferable.

 The Blacktips had always gone against the Dregs, from diverting oblivious pigeons to thwarting supplies... but for Kaz to have finally make a move and trap them beneath his shoe? Something else must have transpired in her absence.

 Aleksa cocked her head, a sly strand of hair toppling before her delightful eyes, "What did they do this time?"

 "They were edging in on Fifth Harbour territory, intercepted a big shipment of Jurda..." but then Jesper seethed for a moment. His slender fingers curled inwards, sure to indent his palms beneath his bitten nails, "Big Bol — Big Bol he... he sided with them. We had an agreement, no weapons and Bol was the one to search Geels. He'd been taking bribes for weeks, never said a word about the gun Geels had... Kaz knew but..."

 "He never said anything?" Aleksa guessed, for if Kaz was still the same boy she had left behind on that dock, then she still knew him better than anybody else.

 "Just like him, isn't it?"

 It wasn't really a question, still, Aleksa hummed, "You know he did it so that he could get more information, right?"

 Jesper bristled, "Don't start defending —"

 "— Hey!" Aleksa snapped, clicking her fingers right before his nose as the boy rose his voice high enough to draw attention. He had the sanity to back away and look at the sticky ground with a hint of guilt behind his eyes, "Don't yell at me, Jes. But fine. If you want to know what I think, what I would do? I'd have done the same."

 She waited a moment, just to see if her dear friends would interrupt. As ever, Inej merely slinked to her side, hands planted atop her knees as she listened intently. Jesper huffed, yet kept his lips sealed, "If Kaz knew... then you must know that he used that information to his advantage. Knowing that Bolliger was playing him only set you all a step or two ahead. He went in knowing exactly how to walk all of you back out."

 Jesper groaned, a guttural sound from the pits of his stomach. He toppled forwards, slinging himself over the girls, "As much as I missed you... I do still hate that you're always right."

 "Some things never change."

 He grumbled in response, and his hat toppled from the mass of curls erupting from his head.

 "So..." Aleksa drawled out, groaning as Jesper's pointed elbow almost punctured a hole into her stomach. Nonchalance was easy enough to fake, especially for Aleksa... and after almost a year of being away she was certainly going to need such a skill, "Where is Kaz?"

 She had truly thought he'd be here, not exactly revelling like the other Dregs, after all... Kaz preferred his solitude. But to walk away after securing that the Dregs were feared, after securing their territory, Aleksa had at least thought he'd loom in the shadows like a perpetually bad smell.

 Inej hiked a shoulder higher. The answer to the question was something even she didn't have the information to answer for. She'd tailed the Bastard after their escapade with the Blacktips, but, as ever Kaz had sensed her shadows moving along the rooftops.

 She had cornered him as best she could, called him cold and calloused as though he would ever truly care for her words; Kaz had them all believing that Geel's girl had suffered in his stead, but it had been a lie. A bluff.

 She'd soon been sent away with the job to dismiss yet another member of their gang, something that hadn't ended pleasantly... but Inej was never the girl to back down. Not anymore.

 Still, Inej had left him behind, listening to that cane of his tapping upon the ground... "He was headed towards the Fifth harbour, the last I saw him."

 Aleksa felt her lips curl, "Did you have a disagreement?"

 "You really do know us so well."

 "Hm, that I do, darling Inej." To say that silly little nickname again brought Aleksa, and Inej, a sense of comfort that almost seemed long since lost... even after months apart, here were her crows bundling themselves beside her. Nothing had changed... Kaz, however, well... Aleksa knew he'd be bitter, for he always was.

 She banished such thoughts. Kaz had been gone for hours, but that wasn't exactly worrying... He was Kaz Brekker, the Bastard of the Barrel and he could handle himself. Aleksa reached down to the bag she'd slumped by her toes... it continued her usual shirts with frilled sleeves and pressed trousers that brushed the ground even when she wore her tallest of boots. There were three other things inside too, she grasped ahold of two of them.

 "I asked the Sun Summoner for this," Aleksa whispered, sure to keep any and all mentions of her dear Alina as quiet as a mouse. Aleksa twirled a little broach between her fingers, watching the way the dull lamplight bounced from its edges.

 It was the shape of the sun high above, the very symbol of Sankta Alina... Aleksa handed it over and Inej cradled it within her palms as though it were as fragile as a newborn child. She trailed a delicate finger covered in callouses over the glistening surface, watching with joy as each little jewel glistened and gleamed just as Alina herself had. 

 Inej had tears in her eyes, "Thank you." She blinked, eyes upon Aleksa, "Thank you."

 "And for my most favourite of sharpshooters..." Aleksa handed over a small leather pouch cinched shut with a fraying piece of string.

 Jesper narrowed his gaze, fingers scrambling to open it up. He tipped it upside down, watching as a single golden ring fell upon his flesh, "A ring? Bug, I'm flattered, but are you sure marriage —"

 Aleksa snorted, plucking the ring from the palm of his hand. It was seamless, no marks upon the metal surface, their faces glimmered upon the band... and a small flower was branded into the front. It was the blossoming jurda flower, the very plant Jesper had tended to alongside his mother and father. A reminder of home.

 "David Kostyk is the best Fabrikator I've ever met... he's actually —" Aleksa ran her tongue over her teeth, smoothing the laughter brewing at the back of her throat, "He's the Fabrikator that threw a book at you —"

 "— Never!"

 "Yep." Aleksa finally laughed. She soon nodded to the gleaming ring, "Before I left, I had him make each of you something. Alina agreed on the broach for Inej... and for you," Aleksa lowered her voice, pinching the ring between two fingers as she held it out to him, "I spent so much time with people like you, Jes... and I wanted you to have something, an option, should you ever choose to follow my path."

 He knew immediately what she was referring to. His mouth was dry, his tongue as rough as sandpaper. She was referring to his own abilities, the fact that he, Jesper Fahey, was a Durast.

 "It's made from a soft metal, one David rather treasures. He mentioned that even a novice would twist it with ease should they ever need to." Aleksa cast her eyes over the crowd once more, watching as cards were delt, as dice were cast, "I know you stay away from it, to protect yourself... but this is a 'just in case'. I've lost one brother, I won't lose another."

 That last little whisper was more than enough for Jesper to relent. His fingers slackened, and his tightened jaw relaxed as though someone had trailed a delicate finger along his chin. His heart positively boomed, "That —" Jesper muttered, watching as Aleksa took the ring and slid it right onto his left pointer, "Thank you, bug."

 "You're welcome, Jes."

 The Slat hadn't changed at all, well, no that wasn't entirely true. The Slat had always stood upon crooked ground, so the building itself seemed to teeter to one side. It was always warm and filled with the noise of its occupants; the Dregs. A little rag-tag group of thugs, thieves and criminals... and yet each and every one of them had a certain light that made you forget about the knives in their pockets, or the bullets they'd shot.

 It felt warmer now, less damp. Aleksa could only assume that, as ever, Kaz Brekker had put his own kruge into keeping the old and creaky building afloat. She savoured the smell drifting from the dining area; the usual soup made from a spiced broth, chopped vegetables and some sort of dough balls that would float atop the surface.

 Jesper scrambled to their table, slouching upon a creaky chair as he slid two bowls over the tabletop.

 Aleksa wasted no time in siping up her spoon and swallowing a mouthful, "Inej, I cannot thank you enough for finding those spices your mother used to use..."

 Inej grinned around her own spoonful; the food their poor excuse of a cook served had always been bland and so incredibly salty... until Inej had slid a little pot of leaves and jar of spiced powder his way. A dash or two of either one made every dish warm them from the inside out; something needed beneath the downfall of rain perpetually flooding Ketterdam.

 "So, bug, "Jesper managed to gasp while letting hot soup flood his tongue, "What exactly happened? You left to..." His voice lowered, "Fight the... well... you know. He's dead, isn't he? And the Sun Summoner?"

 A line of questions Aleksa had so foolishly thought she'd evaded. To speak of what happened, one might have thought it would have been difficult, but for Aleksa, it was impossible.

 It wasn't so simple as a fight between two sides. It wasn't quick and painless for those who survived. It was war, as bloody and filthy as any other battle. Aleksa had survived with all limbs intact, but that didn't mean she hadn't acquired a copious amount of scars along the lengths of her glowing skin. It didn't mean that her mind had stayed entirely whole.

 It hadn't.

 Aleksa blew the soup resting upon her spoon, "Maybe I'll tell you one day, Jes... For now, I'd really rather things just go back to how they were."

 "Right." Jesper nodded with haste. Only then did he truly realise what he'd asked. The Black Heretic was dead... but that wasn't to say that his departure hadn't caused Aleksa any grievances.

 It was odd to think she might have cared for him still, after every lie and bruise... but no matter how much they all seemed to forget it, Aleksa was human. She might have looked truly other-worldly, she might have been able to make the shadows dance upon her flesh... but she was still just like them. Plagued by petty human emotion.

 It was still only hours into the break of dawn; Aleksa had arrived obscenely early, and yet the entirety of the Slat was awake with a certain slice of vigour. The win against the Blacktips was just enough to rouse everybody from the slump that came with Big Bol's betrayal.

 But that vigour only seemed to deepen when the door to the Slat creaked open once more.

 Click. Click. Click.

 Aleksa stiffened in her seat. The spoon clutched between her calloused and scarred fingers could have bent beneath her hold... if she was Jesper, or had she been blessed with his hidden gifts... it truly might have.

 Kaz Brekker. Aleksa would know the sound of his cane tapping against the ground, as well as his uneven gait, anywhere. She could have been parted with any and all senses, and even then she'd still know the moment Kaz walked into a room and commanded all attention.

 Everyone around them bristled. Some grinned and some still applauded the boy who had snagged their victory. Per Haskell had never come close to accomplishing the feats to which Kaz had.

 Aleksa was rather fortunate to have her back to the door. Tendrils of long curled hair flooded down the length of her spine. The coat still grappling to her flesh pooled over the seat and brushed her calved. Boot-clad feet were crossed oh-so-delicately beneath the table. She didn't dare peer over her shoulder, not until he grew closer.

 When the sound of his cane striking the ground was only inches away, that was when Aleksa brought her gaze to rest over her shoulder. There he was. She'd thought of inej and Jesper every single day, but Kaz... Kaz had occupied her thoughts from dawn until dusk from the moment they'd parted. From his stupid, golden crow-headed cane to his intricately detailed suits. From that perpetual frown that was pried higher with her wit, to those miraculously bitter eyes of his.

 She was so incredibly far gone, and Aleksa had known for quite some time...

 Kaz froze, something he so scarcely did. The dull thud of his cane and the light click of his shoes came to a sudden stand-still. That face... the china mask that clung to his features slipped and cracked upon the ground like a fragile old teapot. The scowl he crafted, the shadow that crossed his gaze... they tumbled.

 His eyes widened a fraction, his thinned lips parting so scarcely. Then, like somebody had clicked their fingers, his mask was tied back to his face. His features were schooled and doused in a fresh coating of pristine bitterness.

 There was a mixture within his stomach and it was almost nauseating. He felt like a child whenever he looked at Aleksa, the same feeling he'd felt back when he'd been just a boy new to the dull streets of the city. The boy he'd been when his fingers still tangled with Jordie's.

 She was... Kaz blinked. Aleksa looked the same, yet so starkly different. Gone was the splash of youth that made her cheeks round and rosy, now her cheekbones poked through her flesh. Her hair which had always billowed in careful curls was longer, even longer than the braid trailing down Inej's back.

 Her features had matured in those moths that had passed them by; cerulean blue eyes were covered in glaciers, and a cool undertone had replaced the spark of warmth. The wide grin that often pulled at her plump and pink lips was so small now...

 He shouldn't have expected less, really.

 But Kaz Brekker was hurt. He'd never admit that of course... but watching her leave and choose to stand by Alina Starkov had felt like Inej had plunged a knife into his chest, twisting and twisting until he couldn't bare it a second longer. It had felt as though Jesper had unloaded every single bullet in his arsenal.

 So while the feeling in the pit of his gut was ever so overwhelming, Kaz knocked his head higher, peering down the slope of his curved nose all the while his slicked hair glinted beneath the swinging lamplight. He should have turned to Inej or Jesper... he should have... but he didn't.

 Somehow, as though it was muscle memory, his coffee-coloured eyes landed upon Aleksa and he issued his order, "Wait in my office."

 Then, off he went.

 Aleksa blinked. Then she blinked again, and then once more. She tossed her hands into the air, "He was there for two seconds and still he managed to fill me with the intense desire to throttle him."

 Jesper shrugged, though he too was just a little bewildered that Aleksa had been the one to receive his short and snappy order, "He's talented."

 "He's a prick."

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DATE: 23-03-2023

:･ﾟ★ BYE MY BABIES ARE TOGETHER AGAIN!! 

yep we're diving headfirst into SOC... which means.... NINA. WYLAN. MATTHIAS. the relationships between those three and aleksa are going to be so FUN.

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