𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 — baghra 

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 "𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 understand why you're doing this." Zoya Nazyalenski huffed. Her wonderful eyes had rolled ever so forcefully that Aleka had thought they might pop out of that beautiful face. She'd keep them as jewels in a crown just to make Alina Starkov scurry and squirm, "Baghra hasn't been taking any students. She even sent Alina on her way... which is understandable."

 Baghra's home reminded Aleksa of the one The Black Heretic had hidden her within; it was nothing more than a dungeon, a place for seclusion and isolation but where Aleksa had fought to free herself, Baghra tucked herself further within its depths. It was like an old cave, really, stuffed away at the far end of the palace grounds.

 From what Aleksa had heard from more than a dozen different Grisha, Baghra was more temperamental than even the delightful Squallor by Aleksa's side... which was somewhat hard to imagine.

 But such a trait was never something that would scare Aleksa away. She'd been raised by The Black Heretic, after all. From smacks to the cheek, bruises alighting the skin on her arms, or even just the most raucous of yells... Aleksa had seen and felt it all. Baghra would be a walk in the park.

 Aleksa waved a hand, "It's alright, Zoya. I think it's time to meet my... I'm not really sure what she is, actually."

 "And you're sure you want to meet her as, well, you?"

 Aleksa and Zoya didn't linger alone; the most gifted — and loyal — Tailor that had formerly served beneath the watchful eyes of Genya Safin was ready and waiting for instruction. Aleksa still had the guise of an unknown face; long and sleek black hair trailed the length of her spine, and pale skin glistened like moonlight... The poor Tailor had to visit every morning to keep up the effects.

 But Baghra was family, so just this once, Aleksa was willing to let her true face show.

 She looked to the Tailor, "Go on, then."

 It took some time, for none was as talented as this Genya Safin Aleksa had heard so much about, but the Tailor did her job, and soon enough Aleksa found her scarred peach-coloured knuckles tapping against the crooked wooden door to Baghras home.

 "Away with you." Came Baghra's voice. It was about as pleasant as a wilted and thorny rose crushed beneath somebody's boot.

 Aleksa rolled her cerulean eyes and merely pushed the door open. She could hear the 'good luck' Zoya had wished for her, and the spluttering of the young boy who'd tried his hardest to keep visitors away. Still, Aleksa trailed into the darkness of Baghra's abode. It was sweltering.

 "Saint's," Aleksa breathed, flapping her arm in a meagre attempt to generate a nice brush of cool air... maybe she should have forced Zoya to come along.

 There was a click of a cane, yet this was a sound Aleksa couldn't recognise. It sounded heavier, far more dull than the sound she had grown used to... the sound she almost craved.

 Baghra stepped into a sliver of light, "I said —" But she paused like she'd seen a ghost. Her unpleasant scowl simmered to nothingness and her face remained as placid as the emotion you'd find hidden within Kaz Brekker himself.

 It was like Baghra could tell who was standing before her. What was standing before her.

 Her voice was like the crack of a whip, "Who are you?"

 "Aleksa." She shrugged, twirling a lock of the brunette hair she'd missed so very much, "You're Alexander's mother, yes?"

 Baghra said nothing.

 "I see. I suppose I'm the only delight to come from our family, then?"

 Baghra neither laughed nor scolded her, all she did was draw ever closer. Then, she held out a hand.

 Aleksa rose a brow. First she'd been told to sod off, then she received dead silence... now, what? A handshake? A high five? Aleksa placed her hand upon Baghra's nonetheless... and the bleak little home with the lowest of light became engorged in darkness.

Not even the flickering flames of her billowing fire could persevere.

 Aleksa could see as well as though it were daybreak, a delightful talent she'd always had and retained, "You're an amplifier, like he is."

 Bagra's eyes narrowed, "Where have you been, girl?"

 "Aleksa. That is my name. Not girl." Aleksa withdrew her hand, watching with vague interest as the shadows Baghra had pried from her scuttled away as though running to their mother, "Though... I do use a different name at the moment so I'd prefer that one — Lissa — you know, keeping a false identity and such. As for where I've been..."

 Aleksa peered around the bleak little space, "Aleksander kept me hidden away from the world... That old building the queen got so quickly bored of? I was in there for fourteen years." The spark of hope Aleksa had once held when it came to family had diminished until nothing but soot was left behind.

 Disappointment was all she had left. Betrayal. Aleksander was never the doting brother she'd managed to dream of. Her parents had died before she could even understand the simplest of words... and Baghra, well, she didn't look as though she wanted a cosy little family reunion with tea and sweet cakes.

 Aleksa had decided that family no longer pertained to those in which she shared blood. No, the title of family applied to her Crows. To Alina and Zoya and Petra... such few people, "Apparently your other son, the otkazat'sya one, is my great, great... something... grandfather." Aleksa's face lost all of its usual brightness and she mirrored Baghra's plain expression with ease, "Did you know?"

 Baghra turned away at the feeling within her gut. The boys she'd raised had been so very different. Her little Shadow Summoner had always wanted big and great things, he craved power above all... but her other little boy... he'd always been content with the smallest of things. He had been kind and sweet... almost too good for the world and their family.

 "No." Baghra said, "Aleksander made me aware that his brother had died without children."

 "I see."Aleksa wanted to ask more... yet her tongue moved upon its own accord, "do you — do you still love him? Aleksander?"

 Baghra whipped around, ready to yell and reprimand in the very way she was known to do. She stilled, lips parted around fading syllables. Aleksa had ducked her head, picking at her fingers. She'd been nothing but callous and confident, now she was like a child.

 Baghra could see the resemblance, not only in her face but her spirit and the way in which she presented herself, "Yes." Baghra said.

 "So do I... and I hate myself for it. I hate him for it."

 That, Baghra could understand. They were more alike than she'd thought.

 And so Baghra found herself seated within the chair before the flickering flames... there was another by its side, one that had been vacant for months. Students had been chased off, forbidden to enter, and now baghra bumped the chair leg with her foot, "Sit. Show me what you can do."

 "Aleksa, what have you done to Helvar?" Kaz's tone sounded as though he was entirely bored, as though he'd expected her to do something utterly nefarious. He was right, of course... Aleksa had planned to make their dear little Fjerdan suffer for just a stretch longer.

 Kaz just had to ruin the fun of it, didn't he?

 All eyes were drawn her way. The group had gained yet another bright little face; a boy no older than eighteen had tucked himself at the table Aleksa perched upon. He was small and hardly looked like a pro when it came to explosives... but even now, Aleksa trusted Kaz... and she certainly trusted the reason as to why Wylan Van Eck was seated at the table.

 Aleksa blinked slowly, waiting a moment to stare at the growing smear of darkness embedded within the skin of Matthias' hand... "Alright, fine." She groaned, slipping off the table like jelly off a freshly cleaned plate.

 She slinked closer and closer. There were chains and rope binding Matthias to the chair Nina and Jesper had managed to prop him on. He looked a sorry sight... from the slice at his neck to the bruises on his face and, of course, the mark on his hand.

 Aleksa drew ever closer. Baghra had warned her that their family always took things too far. From Morozova himself, to The Black Heretic. They were destined to create chaos, they were destined to destroy everything they touched.

 There was something within them all that craved power above all else, yet the means to achieve such power always came at a cost. Baghra had made her promise that she'd never tap into that strength... Aleksa had broken that promise far too many times to count.

 Aleksa hovered her hands over Matthias' and with each passing second his flesh regained its colour. It looked as though smoke was billowing from the wound like an old and hazy chimney. Bit by bit the slivers of obsidian seeped into Aleksa's palms, trailed the length of her veins and soon settled back beneath the surface where they belonged.

 She tossed a look over her shoulder, "Happy now, pretty boy?

 Nina was the one to answer, "What did you do?"

 "Well... I stabbed him with an ancient blade infused with shadows —" Nina parted her lips, "— Please don't interrupt, Nina, dear — Then the shadows started to seep into his blood rotting his skin, tainting his flesh, etcetera, etcetera... I just took them out."

 All she received was silence... until a quiet voice from the table piped up. Wylan narrowed his eyes, pointing a blunt pencil in her direction, "You took them out?"

 Aleksa could have tossed a very hefty book at Kaz Brekker's forehead. She'd have enjoyed it; it would have been cathartic. Aleksa had made it very clear that he had to tell both Nina and Wylan what she could do, and what exactly she was... it would have made things far, far easier.

 "I hate you." She said flippantly, glaring a hole into Kaz's pointed face. His lips quirked.

 "No, you don't."

 "Pretty boys really shouldn't speak," Aleksa hadn't the energy to argue with him, for it would turn out to be a little game of back and forth. Plus, they all knew she'd be lying, "To put it simply... Nina dear, and you too Wylan... if you tell anyone what I'm about to say..."

 The room seemed to grow cold, as though winter had knocked Ketteram off its feet and flooded the halls of the Crow Club with enough snow to remake the entirety of Fjerda. Aleksa's voice changed again, lowering to the same nasty level she'd regarded Matthias with, "I'll ensure that you don't make it back from our little trip."

 Nina and Wylan blinked as they glanced at one another... their eyes soon fled to Kaz, hoping to find some confirmation that what they'd heard was a mere jest, but they were only greeted by stoic faces. Kaz, Jesper and even Inej regarded them in similar manners.

 Inej was the kindest of them all, finding it well within her arsenal to forgive almost anyone. When it came to Aleksa, however, Inej found herself capable of banishing that goodness still lingering within her battered heart.

 Jesper was a kind soul himself, but whenever things grew nasty he'd ever so happily pull out his pistols and start shooting... if he had to shoot in the name of protecting his dear little bug; he'd fill anyone with a dozen bullets.

 Then there was Kaz. Both the copper-haired demolitions 'expert' and trained Grisha Heartrender should have known they'd find no safety within Kaz's eyes, yet all the same, they both chanced a look.

 What they found staring back at them was no longer the face of Kaz Brekker; this was Dirty Hands. Ruthlessness clouded his vision, and Wylan truly believed that if he so much as breathed the wrong way within Aleksa's presence... he'd soon find himself down a limb or two.

 Kaz was stoic, his lips pulled tougher, head inching higher as he peered down his nose as though it were the beak of an old crow. His head ever so carefully dipped when Wylan and Nina looked at him; he knew what they saw in his eyes — a threat — and he was far more than willing to follow through.

 They might have needed all hands on deck for the heist at hand... but the moment Bo Yul-Bayur touched the streets of Ketterdam, Kaz wouldn't lose sleep over spilling blood. Not a word would get out about Aleksa, that he was certain of... not even a particular Fjerdan would be able to fight his way out of the terror Kaz would plan should even a whisper pass his lips.

 "Do you understand?" Aleksa waited for their meekest of nods... then she brightened as though a fire had broken out, "Wonderful. I'm a Shadow Summoner... The Shadow Summoner, I suppose."

 Wylan seemed to make himself appear even smaller, an impressive feat indeed. Despite the way he seemed to slink further into his seat, his soft voice was the first to sputter, for Nina seemed to have swallowed her tongue, "As in... You're..."

 "Oh, You'd probably recognise the name Lissa? The one who stood alongside Alina Starkov?"

 "That's — That's you?"

 "Some Tailors made it possible for me to keep my face hidden from the world... I could come back here without being targeted the second my lungs were filled with smog."

 Nina gaped like a fish out of water. Her hands were waving wildly, "So, you helped Alina tear down the Fold... defeat the Black Heretic and what? Decided to go back to being a thief?"

 "I'm so glad you understand, Nina."

 "Actually, I don't."

 Aleksa truly didn't wish to explain the way her wonderful mind worked. What was so hard to understand? A caged bird needed to fly free... but that didn't mean it didn't have its duties to perform. Those duties were well and truly over, the past was buried beneath the permanent black pit of sand that rested where the fold had once towered.

 She was free once more, and this time... she actually felt free.

 But then those eyes stared back at her again. The quartz ones that seemed flooded with the utmost betrayal, with such anger that Aleka couldn't bring herself to pull away from. She blinked, staring through an empty line of sight...

 Nina peered over her shoulder, yet found nothing.

 Aleksa watched him — The Black Heretic — just standing there like a ghost ready to haunt every movement she made. It was a fair trade for what she'd done, for the deed she'd committed.

 He wavered, lips moving and yet no words were freed from their confines.

 When a groggy grunt echoed through the room, Aleksa pried her eyes away.

 They'd brought Matthias Helvar into one of the gambling parlours of the Crow Club. Its raucous atmosphere would drown out their conversation, their plans they were soon to enact... The table Aleksa was perched upon was covered in a lavish smattering of crimson cloth, dotted with a repeating pattern of little crows taking off in flight. The walls were lacquered with black, harsh reflections of the lantern glaring back at them.

 Kaz was further removed than the rest of his crew with the perfect view of each and every one of them. He could gauge their reactions, and watch the way each of them fiddled with particular appendages and fraying cloths on their clothes.

 He liked to pick them apart, it was like a game. A magic trick... But Aleksa, as ever, evaded him.

 What had captured her attention in such an iron grip that she'd paused so steadily in her conversation with Nina? Kaz knew it had to be something rather enrapturing, for Aleksa was never one to leave without the final word, even if the conversation was a pleasant one.

 She had stared and stared through those wide eyes of hers, the ones that always reminded him that she was, in fact, actually human. There had been nothing behind Nina. No person to gawk at, no window to stare out of, not even a table or chair to assess of nicks and scrapes.

 He'd seen this happen from the moment she'd returned... and he wasn't entirely sure if Aleksa had even noticed just how many times her eyes had strayed to the side, peering through absolutely nothing.

 He wondered what she could see, what demons she'd brought home after being gone for so long. There were differences he'd noticed... as had Jesper and Inej. The shorter temper was a stand out... the way she seemed to descend into nothing but rage whenever Matthias so much as breathed — which Kaz didn't exactly see a problem with. It was justifiable.

 Inej had mentioned the temper. Jesper had sent a look his way when Aleksa had stared past him in the boat... But time would tell, it always did.

 Kaz tore his eyes away from her before she could notice the holes he'd already burnt straight through her skull and soon sent them Matthias' way.

 The lump of a man let out a string of Fjerdan words beneath his muted breath, all the while grunting and groaning as his bruises finally caught up to him. There was still a gaping wound on his hand, though far less black, and far more red. Hopefully, it'd do a lovely job at reminding Matthias exactly what could, and would happen to him should he find himself being... disagreeable.

 Aleksa twirled the blade she'd formerly embedded within his skin, watching with the utmost carefree expression she could possibly muster. Now that the cat, or shadow, was out of the bag... it was time to prepare.

 Matthias Helvar was about to get the chance of a lifetime, all he had to do... was spill his guts. Aleksa rather looked forwards to that, and with Wylan — to whom Kaz had told her everything about — right there to keep him honest, what could go wrong?

 Many things. Many, many things... But Aleksa brushed such thoughts away, and soon enough, those big, cold eyes of the Fjerdan were right on the blade spinning within her fingers.

 Aleksa grinned, "Morning, sleepyhead... how's the hand?"

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DATE: 09/05/2023

:･ﾟ★ aleksa is my feral girlie, my sweetpea with murderous intent.

besties i've posted a graphic portfolio and i'm thinking about adding a section where i take a few graphic requests from all of you, would you want that?

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