#day 8: knifewife

[ruins-and-rewritez]

DAY 8: KNIFE WIFE: Kanej

Sometimes it's hard to know whether the skills that you've adapted to survive are something to be proud of or not. If they've allowed you to keep going shouldn't they be seen as a badge of honor rather than a mark of shame.

Inej often walks that delicate balance between the two never able to decide which side to fall to if she'd ever lost her footing. The choice will be made later, after she's had enough time to make a proper decision, but for now she lets her newfound skills shine.

Her family can't seem to believe that these abilities she's gained with a knife are real and not some sort of trick. As performers they all know quite well that seeing and believing are two very different things.

Inej hits the target, marked on the trunk of a tree, again and again. One blade after another, slice into the bullseye, until the bark in the center has all been chipped away, and her collection falls to the ground with a clang.

Her parents, cousins, the whole family, take a collective pause before bursting into applause. Her uncle (a former knife thrower) gives her a pat on the back for her dexterity. Her cousin Miri asks with bright eyes if she can teach her how to do that (at 8 years old Inej is inclined to say no).

Everyone appears to take this new talent of hers in stride not questioning the reasons behind it or where it was learned and refined. The adults not wanting to turn the conversation to something unpleasant and untouchable, and the children only knowing the Inej was 'away' and not the circumstances that led to her being gone for so long.

Inej knows that the story is probably something they'd want to know, they don't refrain from letting her talk about her trauma but they don't ask either (save simple 'how are you' interactions). Inej can't blame them, she doesn't, they're there when she needs them but they still don't try to force it, it's something she has grown to appreciate, especially on the rarer growing bad days.

They might not ask for the story, but she can't help but watch it replay in her mind with every throw.

Kaz's dark attic room, an over cast sky, training dummies on the far end, bright splotches of red where their hearts would be.

"If you're going to make yourself useful to me, you need to be able to protect yourself when the time comes."

When he first pressed the handle into her palm she flinched, steeled herself, and tried to focus.

"Think as though its and extension of yourself."

Inej grips it better, making it comfortable in her hold, he doesn't correct her, so it must be sufficent.

"Put the weight behind it when you release."

He circles behind her to correct her stance, fear rises in her throat, being unable to see him, but she's the one holding the knife, and that helps.

"Bend your wrist. Like this."

He stands besides her, curling his own small blade toward his arm. She doesn't know whether him not touching her is for Inej or himself, but a small part of her is grateful.

"Dominant leg first."

She follows.

"Sight the target. Breath in. Pull back. Throw. Out."

She watches his every move filing it away, catalouging it, memorizing. It hits the target, a little right of the center.

"Now you."

His instructions are meager, straight to the point, and somehow, all she needs. She visualizes and follows through. She hits the target almost dead on.

Kaz seems relieved at this, or maybe angry, she can't read his expressions, not yet anyway. But the practice continues, and for the most of it she is near perfect. A natural.

He eyes her as their session ends, calculating something in those cold eyes of his.

"No doubt you'll be deadly with a knife. Wraith."

And no doubt, she is.

#six of crows duology #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kanej #six of crows #crowtober2023 #day 8: knifewife #ficlet #i cant draw so have a drabble instead #rarzo #ruinwrites