REAPER ─ kaz brekker

two; candid conversation

002;               CANDID CONVERSATION

THE CROW CLUB WAS MOST CERTAINLY NOT A WELCOME SIGHT.

After a decent night's rest and a bath that soothed her screaming, aching muscles, Onyx was not very pleased to be standing just outside the front doors of the horribly familiar gambling parlor. The crowd parted around her, despite where she stood at the center of the narrow, cobblestone walkway, as if she was carrying the plague. Passersby took a generous, wide berth, casting quick glimpses over their shoulders, while the tourists that simply followed along eyed her uncertainly-- like an attraction on a circus. Curious, yet wise enough to keep their distance, somewhat enthralled as if Onyx Vissier was a piece of entertainment to be had or paid or bought with their coin.

She stood out amongst the vast throng moving through one of the southernmost portions of the Barrel. Unlike most, with their colorful, patterned waistcoats and trousers, their hats in various different shapes or sizes, Onyx dripped head to toe in what would have been considered a mercher's black. Onyx twisted the string of her bow between her fingers. She didn't go anywhere without it, or her cloak. Was it out of spite, for the coddled, rich men that governed the city? Not particularly, but it was a nice thought.

Unlike the rest of the brightly colored buildings around it, the Crow Club was predominantly black, through there touches of red through the front. Atop the entrance, between the red and black portico and dark, raven colored columns was an oxidized silver crow, its wings spread. Onyx hated gambling parlors. But admittedly, she had to give some credit to Kaz for what he'd done to the once rundown, dilapidated building, and hour his steerers managed to get so many unsuspecting pigeons this far south on East Stave. It was truly impressive, considering the sorry state things used to be in. 

With a long, weighty sigh, Onyx unclasped the front of her cloak and stepped into the club. She'd spent the better part of an hour scrubbing at her cloak in the washbasin until that sorry slaver's blood came out and the cloak was deemed clean and suitable again. 

As soon as she entered the establishment, she was shown back into the one of the parlor's back rooms-- one absent of windows and complete with accents of black and crimson. Among the faces in the room, she recognized most of the them, save for the Fjerdan tied up in the middle of the room. 

Her dealings with Kaz were few and far between, but she was familiar enough with Nina. The Grisha in the city had a way of unknowingly finding each other, even when one was keeping her secret hidden and locked away, barred by countless locks and combinations of mental fortitude. Inej was somewhat of a friend, but more so an acquaintance, but the Suli girl was rather nice and pleasant, and good at her job. Onyx had run into Jesper on a few occasions, namely on the very few occasions she had been privy to information that Kaz wanted. But perhaps the biggest surprise of them all was not the brooding Fjerdan at the center of the room, but the ruddy haired, clean slated Wylan Van Eck that was silently doodling on a piece of paper at one of the many tables scattered around the room.

Jan Van Eck, for all his merchant power and prowess, still happened to be a target on Onyx's ever roving radar. Information on merchants was hit or miss. Certain parts of the Van Eck's lives were very, very easy to hit. 

Kaz's gaze shifted up, up, and over to Onyx as she slipped her cloak off and folded it neatly over her arm, then carefully leaned her bow against the wall. He tracked her movements like a hawk honing in on its prey as she slid into the empty seat next to Nina. "You're late." 

"I don't remember being told a precise timeframe." Onyx crossed her legs and laid her cloak over them. She nodded to the Fjerdan glaring daggers in her general direction. "But it looks like you've kept yourself busy in my absence. Now, why don't we get to business?"