set aflame, kb [disc]

16. i want you to know

Beside the big glass dome, Kaz had laid out the details of what he had in mind. If the old plan had been daring, this one would be considered mad. But that was Kaz for you; unpredictable, and you never knew what cards he would play.

The old plan had been built on stealth. This plan was audacious — they'd be trumpeting their presence to the Fjerdans, and be separated once again. They would time their movements to the Elderclock, and had even less room for error than before.

Catering to their new plan, they would need tattoos to pass as Menagerie members. They started with Nina. Using one of Kaz's lockpicks, and copper pyrite Jesper had extracted from the roof, Wylan traced his best imitation of the Menagerie feather on Nina's arm, following Inej's description and making correlations as needed. Then Nina sank the needle into her own flesh.

They repeated the same process with Elara's arm, then Inej following.

Finally, they stood. The knowledge that they might not all make it gnawed at Elara's heart, the thought that some of them — maybe all of them — could potentially somehow mess this up and not succeed. The hardest part of this entire situation, wouldn't even be successfully finding Yul-Bayur; but all of them managing to make it out alive.

A gambler, a convict, a wayward son, a lost Grisha, a Suli girl who had become a killer, an Inferni seeking for a place to call home, a boy from the Barrel who had become so much worse. What bound them together? Greed, desperation, or was it the fact that if one of them disappeared tonight, no one would come looking for them? Perhaps it was all of them.

If Elara died tonight, who would come looking for her? Her mother was probably dead, her father as well. ( She hoped. ) She had no family, only people she fought besides that she considered friends. But maybe that was something to be grateful for, after all.

It was Jesper who spoke first. "No mourners," he said with a grin. How he could be smiling in a time like this? Elara didn't know. Her mind was going a million miles per minute to ask.

"No funerals," they all replied in unison. Even Matthias brought himself to say the words.

"If any of you survive, make sure I have an open casket," Jesper said as he hefted two slender coils of rope over his shoulder and signaled for Wylan to follow him across the roof. "The world deserves a few more minutes with this face."

But even then, Elara found herself smiling.

Matthias cleared his throat and gave Nina an awkward little bow. "A word?" he asked.

Nina returned the bow with considerably more energy, and let him lead her away. Elara was glad; she wanted them to sort their situation out, she was tired of their lingering glances and holding back the urge to speak to each other.

Inej turned towards her, holding out her hands. Kaz's black leather gloves were placed at the palms of her hands; extending them for Elara's taking.

Noting the confusion on Elara's face, "I think you should be the one to return them," Inej told her, placing the gloves in Elara's hands. "It seems like he has something to say to you."

"I don't feel like speaking to him right now," she confessed. After the situation earlier, Kaz was the last person she wanted to speak to. Her annoyance had basically all faded at this point, yet she knew she shouldn't give in that easy.

Inej gave her a look and raised her brows at her. Lie, lie, lie. Elara rolled her eyes at that, she hated how she could read her that easily.

With a defeated sigh, Elara took the gloves in her hands. It almost felt wrong. Something Kaz always had on him — his hands vulnerable and bare — while his gloves resided in her palms only steps away from his grasp.

"These are from Inej, she got them from the discarded clothes." She told him as she passed them over.

She couldn't deny it; she was slightly disappointed, yet not surprised when he took them without even saying thanks. Nonetheless, she watched him slip the gloves on. He pulled the gloves on slowly, and she watched his pale, vulnerable, hands disappear behind the leather. They were trickster hands — long, graceful fingers, ( she never thought she'd see the day where she used the word graceful to describe Kaz Brekker, ) made for prying open locks, hiding coins, making things vanish.

"When we get back to Ketterdam, I want my money, and I'm leaving the Dregs."

He finished slipping his gloves on and looked away. "You should. The Barrel is no home for someone like you."

She couldn't decide if that was a compliment or an insult, but she decided it was most likely the latter.

Whatever it was, it didn't matter because time was running out. "The clock is ticking, let's go."

Kaz grabbed her wrist, "Elara." His thumb moved over her pulse, tracing her wrist. "If we don't make it out, I want you to know..."

She stopped and waited. Her breath seemed to stop at once, and she felt hopeful. She hoped the next thing that slipped from his lips would be the one thing she was dying to hear. After a couple moments, she new the words would never come.

She reached up a calloused hand and cupped his cheek. She thought he might flinch, or move away, but he remained still. His skin was cool and damp from the rain. He stayed still, but she could sense a tremor pass through him, as if he were fighting a war with himself.

His eyes were nearly black, his pupils dilated. She could see it took every last bit of his will to remain still in her hold. But even then, he remained still. She knew it was the best her could offer her right now, but was it enough?

She dropped her hand. He took a deep breath.

"Remember the plan, okay? I'm not losing my share of kruge because you can't remember a simple set of instructions." She told him with a gentle smile, repeating the exact words he had told her that day on the ship.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━