1. Arrival/Barracks (cw for mention of a corpse and its state)
For a moment the last seven years or so are nothing but a distant memory. All there is for Kaz in that moment is water and memories. A bloated body beneath his own worn and weak body, clinging tightly to his brother’s corpse within only one thought in mind. Surviving.
Cold water numbed his extremities, too weak to make it, the lights of Ketterdam growing sharper, growing brighter even as he sinks further beneath the water, not sure he’s going to make it.
He breaks the surface of the water, realizing someone is clutching at his hands, his arms, hauling him out of the water. The stadwatch goes through his mind, wondering what they’ll do with him, how he’ll explain it all… even as reality comes racing back to him.
Jordie’s dead. Long dead and gone. He is Kaz Brekker. Bastard of the Barrel. Dirtyhands.
And he’s naked.
Scrambling backwards over the dry stones, ignoring the scrape and grind of it against his skin as he moves as best he can until his back hits a wall. Feeling as weak as he had that night when he was ten, still sick with firepox and fighting for his life, and he wonders if that’s what he’s doing here as well and just doesn’t know it yet.
“Don’t! Just don’t!”
Voice fairly quavering as he warns back the guard who absolutely does and settles a blanket about his shoulders. Kaz glares as he gathers it about himself. Taking it all in with a dark glower, looking as angry as he can muster and in his condition looking a bit like an indignant wet cat even as the stifling air already begins to dry the dark hairs over his brow.
He follows, though suspicious not only of this so-called prime minister but of the others around him in blankets and various stages of dryness. Staying close to the back, moving with carefully measured steps. The stones may be worn for bare feet, but moving without his cane is not the easiest for him, especially in trying to hide his limp… and knowing he’s failing despite that.
“Kidnapping people for conscription seems a bit much,” he mutters, taking in the building where they’ve found themselves.
Kidnapping is definitely how it feels, and he wastes no time going through what he’s giving once in the barracks, dressing with sharp, precise movements. Clothes are a start, even if he finds himself clutching and releasing his hands, as uncomfortable with their bareness as he is with his uneven gait as he moves through the outpost.
He explores what they have from the mess hall to the even the training grounds though he doesn’t participate. Kaz Brekker was never military material. Not this kind of military, at least and he makes that clear when asked though it supports what he had suspected upon being hauled from the water.
Being unwilling to join them doesn’t stop him from seeking answers in a careful and methodical way. There isn’t a door he won’t try, a book he won’t flip through, and if he’s found checking behind curtains and generally finding himself looking into every nook and cranny he can.
Even if the room is occupied, or he’s not the first one there looking for answers.
2. Cadens
Taking a day or two to explore the outpost and get his bearings, Kaz takes advantage of the wagon to the city of Cadens itself. Getting about isn’t easy as he explores the center of the city as best he can on foot and without his cane. It’s frustrating as it should be humbling, doing his best to disguise the damage.
Which means often being found in the shadows of a building, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed as he draws sharp breaths to work through the pain. In those moments, despite his need for answers, seemingly trying to avoid others. Even if he’s pale with pain that he ignores as if that will make it go away.
That pain doesn’t stop him from plying his oldest trade, easily unburdening others of coin or anything else they might have on them of interest. It’s been years since he’s had to use this on the streets like a common urchin, but it’s where he began and he’s good at it. Even if he hates how close it brings him to others, unable to find gloves thin enough to do him any good on the streets.
He finds himself exploring the taverns and bars most. People are more likely to talk when they have drink in them, whether in good spirits or bad. So he situates himself close to others, listening while staring moodily ahead. Not that he entirely hides his reaction to something he’s heard, frowning heavily as he glances at someone nearby. He shifts where he sits, offering what might be an attempt at a smile.
"So... Libertas? How far is that? Only had Cadens mentioned to me." Which might reveal how new he is to this place, which is harder to avoid than he'd like.
It isn’t as if he isn’t used to pushing on through adversity though, unwilling to let it slow him down as he tries to get a sense of this place that reminds him of home, oddly enough. If all of Ketterdam and Ravka and even the Little Palace itself were all shoved into the same city and just about as crowded. He misses the Barrel where the locals parted to let him through and even tourists didn’t often stand in his way.
So when he finds his way blocked, Kaz reacts like… well, himself, huffing a breath as his dark glare settles on someone in his way.
“Would it be too much to ask you not block the sidewalk? I’m sure the building is no different than ones you have back home. Bricks. Beams. Supports.”
Please, correct him on this. Even if it’s a lie.
Eventually he finds himself in a tavern called The Sarstina Inn that reminds him of home, even if he’s acutely missing the sounds and scents of the Crow Club. The Barrel is in his blood, and he could do with a bit of assurance he’ll find it again. Or make it his own here.
It’s getting late, or perhaps it's early on another day, but he settles in a chair watching the door, dark eyes taking it all in even when he’s not looking directly at something. Using coin that he obtained from someone - whether they knew it or not - he orders a drink and forces himself to sip it rather than drowning his pain in liquor.
3. Wildcard
(Open to any interactions around the outpost or in Cadens. Kaz is a very good pickpocket and a master of sleight of hand though he’s not used to metahumans beyond the Grisha and those with extra sensory powers though he will do his best to talk himself out of confrontations. Also I will match brackets or prose though I tend to default to prose.)
Kaz Brekker | Grishaverse | The Chariot | Free Cities
For a moment the last seven years or so are nothing but a distant memory. All there is for Kaz in that moment is water and memories. A bloated body beneath his own worn and weak body, clinging tightly to his brother’s corpse within only one thought in mind. Surviving.
Cold water numbed his extremities, too weak to make it, the lights of Ketterdam growing sharper, growing brighter even as he sinks further beneath the water, not sure he’s going to make it.
He breaks the surface of the water, realizing someone is clutching at his hands, his arms, hauling him out of the water. The stadwatch goes through his mind, wondering what they’ll do with him, how he’ll explain it all… even as reality comes racing back to him.
Jordie’s dead. Long dead and gone. He is Kaz Brekker. Bastard of the Barrel. Dirtyhands.
And he’s naked.
Scrambling backwards over the dry stones, ignoring the scrape and grind of it against his skin as he moves as best he can until his back hits a wall. Feeling as weak as he had that night when he was ten, still sick with firepox and fighting for his life, and he wonders if that’s what he’s doing here as well and just doesn’t know it yet.
“Don’t! Just don’t!”
Voice fairly quavering as he warns back the guard who absolutely does and settles a blanket about his shoulders. Kaz glares as he gathers it about himself. Taking it all in with a dark glower, looking as angry as he can muster and in his condition looking a bit like an indignant wet cat even as the stifling air already begins to dry the dark hairs over his brow.
He follows, though suspicious not only of this so-called prime minister but of the others around him in blankets and various stages of dryness. Staying close to the back, moving with carefully measured steps. The stones may be worn for bare feet, but moving without his cane is not the easiest for him, especially in trying to hide his limp… and knowing he’s failing despite that.
“Kidnapping people for conscription seems a bit much,” he mutters, taking in the building where they’ve found themselves.
Kidnapping is definitely how it feels, and he wastes no time going through what he’s giving once in the barracks, dressing with sharp, precise movements. Clothes are a start, even if he finds himself clutching and releasing his hands, as uncomfortable with their bareness as he is with his uneven gait as he moves through the outpost.
He explores what they have from the mess hall to the even the training grounds though he doesn’t participate. Kaz Brekker was never military material. Not this kind of military, at least and he makes that clear when asked though it supports what he had suspected upon being hauled from the water.
Being unwilling to join them doesn’t stop him from seeking answers in a careful and methodical way. There isn’t a door he won’t try, a book he won’t flip through, and if he’s found checking behind curtains and generally finding himself looking into every nook and cranny he can.
Even if the room is occupied, or he’s not the first one there looking for answers.
2. Cadens
Taking a day or two to explore the outpost and get his bearings, Kaz takes advantage of the wagon to the city of Cadens itself. Getting about isn’t easy as he explores the center of the city as best he can on foot and without his cane. It’s frustrating as it should be humbling, doing his best to disguise the damage.
Which means often being found in the shadows of a building, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed as he draws sharp breaths to work through the pain. In those moments, despite his need for answers, seemingly trying to avoid others. Even if he’s pale with pain that he ignores as if that will make it go away.
That pain doesn’t stop him from plying his oldest trade, easily unburdening others of coin or anything else they might have on them of interest. It’s been years since he’s had to use this on the streets like a common urchin, but it’s where he began and he’s good at it. Even if he hates how close it brings him to others, unable to find gloves thin enough to do him any good on the streets.
He finds himself exploring the taverns and bars most. People are more likely to talk when they have drink in them, whether in good spirits or bad. So he situates himself close to others, listening while staring moodily ahead. Not that he entirely hides his reaction to something he’s heard, frowning heavily as he glances at someone nearby. He shifts where he sits, offering what might be an attempt at a smile.
"So... Libertas? How far is that? Only had Cadens mentioned to me." Which might reveal how new he is to this place, which is harder to avoid than he'd like.
It isn’t as if he isn’t used to pushing on through adversity though, unwilling to let it slow him down as he tries to get a sense of this place that reminds him of home, oddly enough. If all of Ketterdam and Ravka and even the Little Palace itself were all shoved into the same city and just about as crowded. He misses the Barrel where the locals parted to let him through and even tourists didn’t often stand in his way.
So when he finds his way blocked, Kaz reacts like… well, himself, huffing a breath as his dark glare settles on someone in his way.
“Would it be too much to ask you not block the sidewalk? I’m sure the building is no different than ones you have back home. Bricks. Beams. Supports.”
Please, correct him on this. Even if it’s a lie.
Eventually he finds himself in a tavern called The Sarstina Inn that reminds him of home, even if he’s acutely missing the sounds and scents of the Crow Club. The Barrel is in his blood, and he could do with a bit of assurance he’ll find it again. Or make it his own here.
It’s getting late, or perhaps it's early on another day, but he settles in a chair watching the door, dark eyes taking it all in even when he’s not looking directly at something. Using coin that he obtained from someone - whether they knew it or not - he orders a drink and forces himself to sip it rather than drowning his pain in liquor.
3. Wildcard
(Open to any interactions around the outpost or in Cadens. Kaz is a very good pickpocket and a master of sleight of hand though he’s not used to metahumans beyond the Grisha and those with extra sensory powers though he will do his best to talk himself out of confrontations. Also I will match brackets or prose though I tend to default to prose.)