The Crows Next Mission - Wesper

Chapter One

Hello! - Little info before starting, this is a Wesper story - Characters from the book The Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo - and I will warn you it's going to be a slow burn (my favourite). It takes place before The Crows have met Wylan, Nina and Matthias, and this is my own version of how they meet and the mission they go on. Alright, I'll stop boring you with words - Enjoy! (I apologize for any spelling mistakes).

      His red curls were soaking wet and drops of water decorated his face like freckles. It was cold and wet, which wouldn't have bothered him as much if he had an umbrella. But he didn't, so now he was cold and wet and that bothered him. His thin coat wasn't doing much work as the rain soaked the clothes beneath it.

The rain splashed and puddled on the cobblestone streets which were now empty seeing the sun set hours ago. He's got to stop working late.  He picked up his pace hoping it would get him home sooner, though he wasn't sure if his room at the Inn could even be considered a home. Though the room felt more like a home than the place he used to call his home. 

He was alone on the streets given the late hour and terrible storm, or so he thought he was alone. An old man with his face hidden by a hat and who heavily relied on a cane to walk was approaching from the other direction. The man didn't seem bothered by the rain in the slightest, maybe it was because he had a black umbrella over his head. Turns out he wasn't alone either, a woman he hadn't noticed before appeared next to the old man. She didn't seem bothered by the rain either, maybe it was the hood over her head that kept her dry seeing she didn't have an umbrella. She looked young, very young, maybe around his age or a year older, so sixteen or maybe seventeen. She whispered something to the old man who turned out wasn't an old man when he lifted his head. For a man who needed a cane to walk, he was awfully young, he couldn't be much older than himself as well.

He replied to her with a simple nod and words he couldn't hear, but whatever his answer seemed to satisfy the girl as in the blink of an eye she was gone. It was like she was never there at all, like a hallucination or a ghost. 

The not-so-old man held a tense look on his face as if he's never been relaxed in his life. He walked as if he had no plan on moving over on the street when it came to pass the boy, so the boy took it upon himself to move to the side as they passed. The man walked passed him and never spared a glance in his direction, maybe he was blind too? He couldn't help but take a glance over his shoulder and it could have been the dark playing tricks on him but he swears the man had turned around and was just standing there. They made eye contact and that was enough to send him running out of fear.

The rain felt heavier while he ran as if it was holding him down and he felt slower. He wasn't the fastest runner and was defiantly out of shape from how fast he lost his breath but it felt like 50-pound weights were attached to his feet causing him to run much slower. 

He looked for the landmarks he had memorized to find his way back to the Inn. From the little flower shop on the corner to the lamppost that marked where he would turn. After turning the corner he knew the Inn wouldn't be much further, and he was right, there was the sign hanging above the doors. The sign had a distinct pattern of flowers that circled the name of Inn. Before entering he looked back over his shoulder, he was sure the man couldn't have kept up to him with that heavy limp, he wasn't even sure if the man had any intentions of chasing him at all, but just to be safe he looked over his shoulder. The streets were nothing but dark and empty. 

I'm just paranoid. He thought as he reached to touch his neck.

He entered the Inn to be greeted by the frown of the woman who sat at the desk. He offered her a nice smile that she didn't return, it was clear she hated her job. She didn't say anything but pulled a letter tucked in a white envelope from under the desk and held it out to him. It was the third letter this week. He thanked her, took the letter, and made his way to his room on the third floor. He walked the hall till he found the room and pulled the key from his pocket.

Inside wasn't much but a bed, a nightstand, a small closet and a desk with a chair. There was not a single piece of artwork or anything on the walls, not even paint or any pretty wallpaper. He entered to room and locked to door behind him, placing the letter on the desk with the other unopen ones. He pried the wet clothes from his body and hung them over the chair before making his way to the closet. Inside there wasn't much of a selection but he chose something comfier to sleep in. In question was how much sleep he would even get tonight, would it be much from the other nights?

The Inn was loud and the paper-thin mattress was the most uncomfortable, he was debating whether the floor would be comfier to sleep on. The blankets were useless at their job and he spent the night freezing. He tossed and turned but the noise from the other rooms kept him awake. It felt like no one ever slept in this city, even though they were in an Inn where sleeping was the whole point. He ended up opening the window just a little bit hoping the sound of the rain would drown out any noise and that worked perfectly as in the next few minutes he was sound asleep.

Morning came quickly and the sun through the window was the thing that woke him, that and the knock at the door. Two thoughts were running through his mind as he debated answering the door, but by the third knock it was obvious the Inn had found out he hadn't paid in three days and they were there to kick him out. He got out of bed and put his shoes on while fixing his hair hoping to be a little more presentable. When he went to answer the door he missed three things that had changed in his room. 1. The window was a little wider than he had opened it. 2. The water on the floor that only went from the window to the desk. 3. The sealed letters were no longer sealed. And maybe there was a fourth thing he missed.

He unlocked the door and his thoughts changed to option number two because whoever was before him wasn't here to kick him out, instead, they held their hand on one of the two guns attached to his hips. His breath got caught in his throat as he wasn't sure what to do because before him was a boy his father hired to kill him. A boy with perfect lips... but that's beside the point of the most perfect boy before him. With his beautiful shade of dark skin and ridiculous outfit that he somehow made look good. Not many people could pull off a plaid suit with a matching hat. Well if this was the last thing he saw he really couldn't be mad about it.

He prepared for the boy to pull the gun to his forehead and pull the trigger in mere seconds, there was no point in ruining where there was nowhere to run. At least his week and a half of freedom were nice while it lasted. If freedom counted as working in a Tannery and living off scraps of food with little to no money, but either way he felt freer out here than he did trapped in the house of his father.

Seconds passed and the shot never came.

He took his hand off the gun and said "My apologies, wrong room." Then the boy turned on his heels and left down the hall leaving Wylan frozen in the doorway.

Chapter One - April 18, 2023

Word Count - 1464

Thank you for reading! I hope you stick around for the next chapter!

- Flyon