[ quelling every instinct to debate, kaz listens as nikolai outlines his perspective. it’s a lecture, a warning, an admission of defeat — concern and care wrapped around it, with doubt as the overriding sentiment. every dismissal of his plans and cleverness rankles. jesper and inej wouldn’t feel the same, he tells himself, because they’ve seen him accomplish the impossible (and the truly horrible).
i’m not like you. when ketterdam ground him down to the bone, he could have made himself softer. like wylan. better. like nikolai. could have contented himself with the safety of being a dreg without striving for more, but he refused — and for what? not the good of a people and a country. for revenge. the darkling forced monstrosity on nikolai, but kaz chose to become dirtyhands at every turn, brick by brick.
the thought distracts him fully as nikolai steals his support and cages him in, a whorl of nerves zipping down his spine. pleasant and unpleasant as always, wading into the waters for this confounding man. is this closeness a warning or an invitation? ]
I need to fold — [ jaw angled up in challenge, braced for the next punch. ] Or you need me to?
[ because he can’t abide having kaz in the table stakes.
bending his good leg, kaz brackets nikolai’s hip but makes no other move. at once, he realises that beyond nikolai’s confessed refusal to allow him to meet with the monster again — he also has no interest in working alongside kaz to manage the situation in any capacity. leading the demon away from destruction suddenly seems preferable to convincing nikolai lantsov of anything. eyes slanted, he winds his free hand into nikolai’s hair, dragging through burnished strands down to his neck. ]
Nikolai. [ uttered slowly, into the crown his head, in the hopes of halting his downward spiral. with kaz’s leg bandaged, nikolai chases old wounds. something to preoccupy his hands, telling of what consumes his mind. measured, then — ] I know I can’t trust it or control it.
[ and if he won’t be controlled? the demon’s low timbre echoes in his ear. perhaps they’re more alike than either man or demon thinks. after all, how long has kaz been telling nikolai this? you can’t keep people; they’re not things. even the demon has its own mind. the illusion of control is a riptide in the harbour. he dropped a dime lion into the black water once and watched their body give out in minutes, damned by exhaustion. the more you fight, the faster you drown.
the brekker play has always been to find the nearest lever and pull. you can’t control what someone else wants, but you can be the one to withhold or extend it, to endanger or protect it. that’s the game of leverage. ]
But we both know what it wants. [ life and sustenance, chiefly. kaz brekker, somehow. to touch, kiss, bite in places that have only ever belonged to nikolai. a nonstarter, if it weren’t already too late. ] And every want is a waypoint. [ to guide their manoeuvres. it’s not control, to keep a hand on the wheel. it’s reading the tides and adjusting their course.
it’s like this: he slips his fingers from nikolai’s hair to fan at his cheek, then gently grip his jaw and tilt it up, just so. a catch in his throat, forever his tell. wonder slips through the open set of his eyes before his mouth quirks to the side. there’ll be no convincing nikolai of his theories and half-formed plans today. with a week to go, that’s not the most pressing tangle in nikolai’s head. not for kaz. ]
If you know me at all, then you know you’re the only one who can have me. [ he stretches their linked hands up, still pliant against the bedspread. testing, perhaps, in how he draws nikolai upward. kaz would counter that the demon doesn’t even have nikolai, seeing as it requires his services in brokering a truce, but that’s not the important thing to prove now. ] Do you think I’d kneel for anyone else? For another captain? A king? [ brows arching, a blade-like glint in his eyes. ] A saint or a monster? [ a laugh that’s half air. ] Please. Not for all the gold in the world.
no subject
i’m not like you. when ketterdam ground him down to the bone, he could have made himself softer. like wylan. better. like nikolai. could have contented himself with the safety of being a dreg without striving for more, but he refused — and for what? not the good of a people and a country. for revenge. the darkling forced monstrosity on nikolai, but kaz chose to become dirtyhands at every turn, brick by brick.
the thought distracts him fully as nikolai steals his support and cages him in, a whorl of nerves zipping down his spine. pleasant and unpleasant as always, wading into the waters for this confounding man. is this closeness a warning or an invitation? ]
I need to fold — [ jaw angled up in challenge, braced for the next punch. ] Or you need me to?
[ because he can’t abide having kaz in the table stakes.
bending his good leg, kaz brackets nikolai’s hip but makes no other move. at once, he realises that beyond nikolai’s confessed refusal to allow him to meet with the monster again — he also has no interest in working alongside kaz to manage the situation in any capacity. leading the demon away from destruction suddenly seems preferable to convincing nikolai lantsov of anything. eyes slanted, he winds his free hand into nikolai’s hair, dragging through burnished strands down to his neck. ]
Nikolai. [ uttered slowly, into the crown his head, in the hopes of halting his downward spiral. with kaz’s leg bandaged, nikolai chases old wounds. something to preoccupy his hands, telling of what consumes his mind. measured, then — ] I know I can’t trust it or control it.
[ and if he won’t be controlled? the demon’s low timbre echoes in his ear. perhaps they’re more alike than either man or demon thinks. after all, how long has kaz been telling nikolai this? you can’t keep people; they’re not things. even the demon has its own mind. the illusion of control is a riptide in the harbour. he dropped a dime lion into the black water once and watched their body give out in minutes, damned by exhaustion. the more you fight, the faster you drown.
the brekker play has always been to find the nearest lever and pull. you can’t control what someone else wants, but you can be the one to withhold or extend it, to endanger or protect it. that’s the game of leverage. ]
But we both know what it wants. [ life and sustenance, chiefly. kaz brekker, somehow. to touch, kiss, bite in places that have only ever belonged to nikolai. a nonstarter, if it weren’t already too late. ] And every want is a waypoint. [ to guide their manoeuvres. it’s not control, to keep a hand on the wheel. it’s reading the tides and adjusting their course.
it’s like this: he slips his fingers from nikolai’s hair to fan at his cheek, then gently grip his jaw and tilt it up, just so. a catch in his throat, forever his tell. wonder slips through the open set of his eyes before his mouth quirks to the side. there’ll be no convincing nikolai of his theories and half-formed plans today. with a week to go, that’s not the most pressing tangle in nikolai’s head. not for kaz. ]
If you know me at all, then you know you’re the only one who can have me. [ he stretches their linked hands up, still pliant against the bedspread. testing, perhaps, in how he draws nikolai upward. kaz would counter that the demon doesn’t even have nikolai, seeing as it requires his services in brokering a truce, but that’s not the important thing to prove now. ] Do you think I’d kneel for anyone else? For another captain? A king? [ brows arching, a blade-like glint in his eyes. ] A saint or a monster? [ a laugh that’s half air. ] Please. Not for all the gold in the world.
[ now, there’s the arrogance. ]