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southslates · 2 years

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Midas Touch

read on archive of our own!

it was so fun writing this piece for this year’s @grishaversebigbang!

materialki: @doorhandle16 [piece] and @oranges-and-stuff [piece]!

summary:

Perhaps the rumors that abound in the Staves are more fact than fiction. Brekker's touch burned like brimstone—a single brush of his bare skin caused your flesh to wither and die.

Whatever Kaz Brekker touches with his gloves, he makes sure to turn to gold. But there are only nightmares against his bare skin . . . until he finds the mysterious Suli girl in the Menagerie who can feel him without falling apart.

fic:

To those who live in the Fourth and Fifth Harbors, far from the fanciful Merchers’ Districts, Kaz Brekker is a legend who walks the streets. He’s a boy, but they prefer to call him a demon. Really, there are no boys in Ketterdam, especially not in the suspicious and broken alleys of the staves. But Brekker’s reputation is more than that of a corrupt man—there is no lack of those in Ketterdam either. It is supernatural and terrifying. No matter how morally bankrupt these men and women are, most have something to lose.

It is clear to see Brekker does not. He’s handsome in a disarming way, but also terrifying. And he is distinctive. All of those in the Staves with self-preservation know what to do when they glimpse a demon walking the streets with a cane and leather gloves. You run. There is no way to escape Brekker if you don’t run, but if he really wants you that will not help either.

Still, he is the only justice in this corner of Kerch.

He plays the game of the evils of the world better than anyone else. He is always underneath your window, always behind your door. He knows everything.

This is the reputation Kaz likes to hold up but he’s found himself in the awkward position, as of late, of losing track of informers and information—not something he can afford with the current state of the Crow Club and how well it’s doing. It would be terrible to lose his advantage over the other terrifying rats of the Staves now, and that’s why he finds himself at Tante Heleen’s Menagerie.

He’s not fond of the place for many reasons. A lot of them have to do with his fear of touch and of being touched. This pleasure house is meant for giving and taking, for soft moans and whispered comforts and most of all intimacy, and Kaz cannot stand that. The thought of skin against his makes him think of falling underneath the water, of the way Imogen had looked at him before she’d tried to kiss him and fallen to the ground and never gotten up again. He thinks of Jordie and waves against his skin, curling into his hands, of the way they gave him power and took away his vulnerability.

And also, Kaz hates the Menagerie because he detests the selling of skin. He is Kerch’s justice, and he knows the women here have not received justice. Most of them were stolen or forced into this lifestyle. Really, he can do nothing about it for now without jeopardizing his position in this place. But that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

He walks through its gilded, artificial gate and makes a beeline for the desk of Tante Heleen. He balances his stride as calmly as he can, as to not bely his level of uncomfort here. That is a weakness that would certainly be used against him.

Most of the people of the Staves and the Harbors could not fathom his real weakness—for most in his profession, the fall is caused by hubris or by letting too many words slide between bedsheets. Kaz knows to take advantage of those faults. Men like him, boys like him, are supposed to enjoy losing themselves in the pleasures of the bed and of women who can’t help themselves. They are supposed to enjoy the power of touching and getting touched. But Kaz’s hands have more power than any of those men, and he will not use it. He will make his way to the top and he will hide this disgusting quality of his forever—the fact that he himself is a weapon. The idea of touching a woman or man revolts him.

The visuals of the Menagerie are not supposed to be jarring, but seductive. To Kaz, they’re just uncomfortable. He throws a bag of coins with the requisite amount of coins at Heleen’s desk, and she peers up at him with over decorated eyes before slyly sliding it into her hands. She bites her lip and delicately removes coin by coin from the bag to her desk, deliberately, painfully slow.

Kaz grits his teeth but says nothing, keeping his face cold. Heleen sighs as she draws the silver through her smooth fingers and taps them with bold red fingernails. “You do look stressed, Mr. Brekker. I’m sure I could procure you one of my girls to the backroom. It can be quick, of course. I know a busy boy like you is on a schedule.”

He clenches his teeth faster but makes no outward movement other than a glare. “I need information, Heleen. You told me you had Jasker coming by,” he leans into her, not scared of a little intimidation—the crow’s head on his cane stares down at her like a curse.

To her credit, she barely balks under his unforgiving gaze. With a sigh, she deposits the coins back into the bag and then gets up. “My Suli speaks to him, and she is currently occupied. You will have to wait a few moments, Mr. Brekker. Unless you’d like to spend that time . . .”

She is a businesswoman and a cold-hearted, despicable one at that. “I do not have time or the care to listen to your ramblings, Heleen. Show me your girl.” Kaz does his best to hide the shiver that drives through his soul as Heleen moves and allows him to look at some of the girls standing in the shadows. Their skin arises a mixed bag of feelings he can’t contain, the intrusive thoughts to touch and ruin and also more that he know he cannot feel, what destroyed Imogen. He is cursed and he cannot reach out to them in any way.

Heleen rolls her eyes and calls for a doe-eyed Kaelish girl in the corner to call a girl she describes as a lynx. Kaz slowly steps back to the entrance of the Menagerie, trying to portray annoyance rather than claustrophobia.

The girl returns in moments with a slight Suli girl, covered in fake silks and looking downwards. There is a staunch downwards curve to her mouth. Kaz refuses to think she’s beautiful like this, like any of these girls are. He is not as much of a monster as he wants the Staves to believe, as his hands would say.

Tante Heleen grabs the girl’s wrists and tugs her in front of Kaz, who looks on unflinchingly. “Tell him what Jasker told you.”

In calm, accented Kerch, she quietly whispers everything Kaz had wanted confirmed about his planned raid on Jasker’s mansion and also more. He makes sure to not betray his satisfaction with the information, but a slight smirk makes its way through. He is, after all, human with all of his faults. When she finishes her belaying of information, he nods at Heleen and then turns out of the Menagerie to disappear to Fifth Harbor.

He needs to check several shipments of alcohol he has coming in from the South and then on the jurda he needs to ensure has arrived on time. His latest spider broke his leg coming from in from the Exchange a week ago, so Kaz has been on more excursions than he has in months. He hasn’t done so much ground-work in half a year, but it’s really quite entertaining, and a bit of a variation from his current day-to-day monotony. It’s also far more dangerous, and he finds that appealing too.

Kaz walks proud with his fingers clenched around the head of his cane, and he almost doesn't notice the small voice in his ear in the thrum of the evening in the darkest corners of Kerch. But then he does. “I can help you,” it whispers. Calm, accented Kerch.

He pauses. “Reveal yourself.”

“Don’t take me back,” the voice pleads again. Kaz has no idea where it’s speaking from, and that terrifies him. But it also intrigues him.

“Show yourself,” he says. “Then I’ll see.”

He digs his cane into the earth, waiting just a second for the girl from the Menagerie to suddenly materialize in front of him. She walks like water, and takes a step towards him he can’t hear in the slightest. Kaz looks discreetly to the alley behind her, and then to her feet.

They are clothed in purple slippers made of silk, and there are bells on her ankles. Bells, like chains. Bells meant to make sound, for men to play with and also for Heleen to hear her girls escaping, but they’re silent.

He hides his shock. “What do you want?” He knows, but he wants her to say it, wants to see what she’ll say to him.

“I am Inej. Please, Heleen . . .” she looks pitiful and also strong, such a complex picture. A puzzle, and he knows he is already fascinated. Kaz likes puzzles, and games, things he can work to solve. “I can help in other ways. I am from a caravan and I am good on my feet. I can spy, do whatever you want.”

“Why me?” Kaz asks, his cane still standing up in the ground. He closes one gloved hand around it, turning the crow’s head towards her. “Why me, and not any of the others?”

“You are different,” she says.

It’s her eyes, the way they peer into his soul at that moment—that is why, he will forever claim, he agrees to her request. He cannot really afford enraging Heleen right now, but some part of his mind is telling him to take this girl who can see right through him back to the Slat. And Kaz has survived this far in the Staves by trusting his instinct more than he would admit.

He doesn’t respond to her, really. He turns on his heel and she follows and he thinks that should be all. It is all, until she reaches for his gloved hand like she wants to hold it and make a promise.

Kaz never turns his back to potential threats, and perhaps he just made a grave mistake. But when Inej closes her hand around his glove and he turns around to insist she let it go, he is caught in a moment of sheer horror when he notices that his shirt sleeve has loosened. The tips of her fingers are touching his skin.

He looks at her wide-eyed, in some kind of expectation. He remembers what happened to Imogen vividly—how she’d fallen to the floor, fallen into herself. It had really just been a few months prior.

He hadn’t loved Imogen, but he had certainly felt something for her. He had made that feeling harden into something and guard his heart after she had died in his arms, after any of his desire has poisoned her.

Kaz had never considered himself religious, but in that moment he had thought Ghezen had put him on this Earth and then tortured him to make him a demon. To kill with nothing but touch was the consequence for his instinct and his mind. He could be the enforcer of Ketterdam, could read the minds of the worst men of these streets, but he could be nothing else. Have no connection, no love, no weakness.

Inej meets his gaze for a moment before she lets go of his hand, finishing the awkward grab she’s begun he hadn’t been receptive to. Kaz walks back to the Slat in complete silence, forgoing a trip to the harbor.

Before he enters the front door, he turns to Inej and speaks gruffly. “Go see Anika—the blonde one with the half-shaved head—and she will help you settle in. Don’t bother me.”

He stalks up the Slat’s stairs without looking back.

Two days later, he’s sitting doing numbers on his rickety desk when he sees a shape at his window. Kaz doesn’t move when the window opens and the slight Suli girl crawls in.

She looks at him with a tilt of her mouth he thinks he could make cruel. But in the moment, he says nothing. Inej sits in the windowframe and stares out into the dreary Kerch sky for half an hour until he finally puts down his pen. “What do you want?” he asks.

Inej blinks at him. Her eyes are so wide, so otherworldly. She is looking at him the same way she did, that first day. Like she knows why he is what he is.

Kaz is the monster that haunts this city, but she scares him. He would never admit it.

“Something to do,” she whispers, before gliding over to him. Again, she makes no sound at all. “I am grateful you took me with you. What do you want me to do?”

Heleen has not complained about a missing girl to him, not sent any letters. His other spiders have heard of nothing amiss in the Menagerie, either. Kaz files that information away to think of later.

Sentimentalities aside, he analyzes the girl with the eye of a crook. He has her, and he might as well put her to work. He reaches for the corner of his desk and takes out a map. “I’ll give you a house to stake out.”

Suddenly, she is in front of him, her hand in front of his face. “I don’t need a map,” she says. “What do you want to know?”

He is kind of affronted by the hand in front of his face, but he says nothing, just takes a minute to calm the beating of his heart. Inej looks down like she can sense the way it’s about to bounce out of his throat.

“The entrance time of the man, and his wife and his children. Any time that would be good to enter, and what you can tell about their security system. The guards and if they are lazy.”

Inej nods, and before he can think again she has jumped out the window.

When she returns a day later and lists off what she has found in a low, measured tone, he can tell something is off.

He doesn’t recall telling Inej the address of Meijer’s Geldin District house. Perhaps she saw his finger on the map. He tells himself it must be that.

She has taken to sitting in his window, all the time.

He should tell her to go, but he doesn’t, he can’t. He thinks of that first day and the way she had touched him, and he wonders if it was real. He shouldn’t want to find out.

Perhaps the gods that made him this way were right, to not allow him to touch. A second of contact with this girl has wasted him. All he needs to do is scare her off and tell her to leave, but now he can’t. He has a weakness.

Inej doesn’t say much. Sometimes, she brings up pieces of bread and throws them to the birds at his window. At first a medley of birds came, but now there are just crows. They have outlasted and outpicked the rest. Other times, she simply stares out into the sun. She is content with existing, simply, when he is not telling her what to find and where to go.

And she is very, very good at finding people’s secrets. With her invisibility, the way she disappears, Kaz has more than made up for Roeder’s short stint with an injury. He doesn’t comment on her methods, simply knows they are extraordinary. His annoyance is that she can make everyone else think she is but a wisp of air, but he cannot let her go.

She sits at his window, but she lives in his mind. And she has opened up a box in him he had screwed tight. Visions flood through his head, that of a boy underwater, gasping for air. A girl falling to pieces. The insides of a man on pavement, bloody bones lining a street. Kaz has seen a lot of things he needs to stay in his mind. Inej has brought them out.

She is the one that approaches first.

Kaz is sitting at his desk, and then she is in front of him. Up front, she almost takes his breath away. He doesn’t like thinking of her as a beauty, but she is. Her eyelashes flutter in front of him and there is so much power and knowing in her eyes.

“I need a weapon,” she says.

He looks at her with heavily veiled shock. “You haven’t had one, so far?”

“No,” she seems confused.

Kaz frowns. “Anika did not give you one?”

“No.”

“How have you not been attacked so far?”

She shrugs. “I am quiet.”

She is quiet. She is so silent that when she isn’t talking to him, he could look down and not even think she’s here. He can’t sense the pace of her breathing, her steps on the concrete. She is so—

That is the first day Kaz looks at Inej, the first time he lets his eyes see through her and land on the other side, the day he learns she is a wraith made of glass and that is why she is invisible. It is the day she reminds him of a corpse and of a body he’d used as a raft, something to save him, something upon which to build the body of Brekker the monster.

He ignores her face then, because to compare Inej to Jordie would make him fear loss, and he cannot be that boy again, cannot be weak. Instead, he slides out a sharp blade from the side of his boot. He drops it on the table and Inej swoops in like a bird and picks it up.

Kaz thinks she will go, but she stands in front of him.

“What?” he says impatiently.

“Do you believe in saints, Kaz?” she says it with all the thought in this world, his name. It sounds so soft coming out of her mouth, and he is reminded of Imogen. There had been so much hope with Imogen, a potential beginning, a different fork in the road for him to have taken—a life that wasn’t clouded with revenge, but with something else . . . not necessarily even with her, but with someone. A path he could never pursue.

He shouldn’t even give Inej an answer, but in a second he looks down at the map in front of him and whispers harshly. “No.”

“How sad,” she says conversationally. I am quiet, she had said, and now she wants to talk. “Have you heard the story of Sankt Petyr?”

“If I believe in God it is only Ghezen,” Kaz sums up his beliefs succinctly. His religion is barter and trade and the pulpits of Ketterdam, where money is prayer. Sometimes he thinks of a boy who believed in gods and saints, but he cannot afford to be him.

If that religion is real than they have deigned Kaz’s hands as a reward for a demon and a punishment for a man. He cannot think of that, cannot think there is a reason he has been made this way, without his thoughts spiralling to far depths of self-loathing. He doesn’t have time to hate himself.

“Sankt Petyr,” Inej says dreamily. She walks closer, perches on his desk, so close Kaz is forced to look at her. She is beautiful and her voice is hazy, and her braid is coiled in his direction as she stares out the window. She does not smell like anything, but he imagines flowers, the geraniums that were his mother’s favorite flower. “He was a priest, you know, in Brevno, in Ravka. I had gone there, before. It was one of my earliest memories.”

Kaz stays silent. He wants to bite something cynical but he cannot muster up the courage to.

“Brevno was attacked by a demon, one that did not use a cane or wear leather gloves, but lured villagers to their deaths regardless. The demon would seduce the villagers with tales of their dead loved ones.”

Kaz cannot speak. Any words he might have had are frozen in his throat and she is not looking at him.

“Petyr was haunted by his brother who had died in an accident when he was younger and he always blamed himself for it. And the demon tried to seduce him with the words of the brother, but Petyr recited prayers until the words could no longer harm him, the Sikurian Psalms. And then he convinced the villagers to light flaming arrows to kill the demon. When the demon came to collect Petyr, like his dearly loved brother, Petyr held him out of the water for the villagers to shoot him with the arrows. They shot him, too, and now he is a saint.”

Inej holds out the knife just so it reflects the sun. “I think that I will call this knife Sankt Petyr. Thank you, Kaz.”

Then she leaves and there is no trace of her, nothing anywhere, and Kaz does not know what to think, or do, or be.

After that, he starts seeing her around everywhere, but only when he’s alone. It’s then he starts to realize, when he starts to feel something like Imogen rise in his chest for this invisible girl. Something like Imogen but worse, because Inej knows he is the demon and also the saint. She knows he is both, she knows he is a demon, she knows, she knows . . .

It keeps him up at night, these thoughts he can’t think. The next week he commands that she go on a stakeout with him and she comes. They sit on a rooftop in the Financial District, and while Kaz watches the streets he notices Inej watches the stars. She looks otherworldly in the light of Ketterdam’s pollution, like she is one with the air or just floating through it.

He could watch the way she shimmers forever, in a way no demon should. He tells her that she should go with Rotty on his next foray into Black Tips category. He hears later that his man barely avoided death, praising his close encounter on religion. But Kaz knows, he knows now.

He has known, he has known ever since Tante Heleen had failed to question him about a missing girl, had not even inquired into a indenture. He has known ever since that day when they brushed skin and he felt Inej, felt her like she was alive, and she didn’t fall to the ground. He has known when she said she was quiet, when he could not hear her breathing, could not feel a heartbeat.

When Per Haskell asks for a roster of the Dregs he doesn’t even have to scan the list Anika puts together to know she will not be there. He could stalk back to the Menagerie, but he doesn’t do that.

The next day she sits at his window, he grabs his cane and walks towards her. She doesn’t move at all until he is right next to her, eerily still. If she did not turn towards him with wide eyes, eyelids dropping like she is remembering to blink, Kaz could have convinced himself to ignore the truth.

He glares at her, at her pretty face, and she smiles back beautifically. Then she reaches out a hand in front of her.

Kaz needs to take a moment because he is overwhelmed with thoughts of drowning and the ocean. Of his brother’s rubbery, loose skin that he had used as a raft, of the feeling that had sunk into his bones after he’d let Jordie go. Of how the man that had approached him not two days after his rebirth had crumpled when he’d reached for Kaz’s hand, had not gotten up again. Of Imogen and her lips and the way she had died with one touch. Of the way the people of the Staves thought of him, of the many reasons they thought he wore his gloves.

None of them knew Kaz Brekker was afraid of touch, that his touch did burn like brimstone, that it made you wither and die.

Unless you were already dead.

Kaz slides off his glove and his fingers shake, and he reaches for Inej’s hand—closer and closer until her fingers, almost warm and alive, are enclosed in his.

He wants to fall to his knees and pray to saints and cry like a child. It has been so long since he has felt touch. Maybe this is not real and she is not real, but it feels so real. He cannot look at her, but he can whisper.

Maybe he should say something that reveals the depth of his emotion, but he’s sharp. “Who are you?”

A hand falls to his head, brushes his uneven haircut with so much care. “Someone who did not have the chance you do.”

And then she is gone. Kaz is left sprawled across the floor of his room, pale hands splayed across hardwood and desolation unfolding in his chest.

"I'm sure you've heard the stories."

"Each more grotesque than the last."

Kaz had heard them, too.

#kanej #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #six of crows #grishaverse #shadow and bone #kanej fic #gvbb #grishaverse big bang #grishaverse mini bang 2022 #doorhandle16 #oranges-and-stuff

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grishaversebigbang · 1 year

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Greetings Grisha,

The Grishaverse Big Bang has returned. Pack your bags, because signups are now open.

What is it?

The Grishaverse Big Bang is a fan-run event where writers, artists, and edit makers work together to bring the Grishaverse to life! We’re looking for creators that are willing to invest their time into this project and are able to collaborate with others to create a successful project. Gangs will consist of one writer, a beta reader (if desired), and at least two artists and/or edit makers.

Who can participate?

Anyone! Creators of all levels of experience can participate. Even if you aren’t a content creator (writer, artist, or edit maker) you can still sign up to be a beta reader.

Where can I find more info about GVBB?

The Heist (more info and schedule)

FAQ (frequently asked questions)

Tidemakers (mod team)

Where can I sign up?

HERE

Deadline for applications if you want to participate in the Mini Bang (see Heist) is May 1. Deadline for all applications is June 1st at 11:59 pm pst

Thank you for your interest. Reblogs and shares are greatly appreciated.

As always,

No Mourners, No Funerals

#shadow and bone #six of crows #the grisha trilogy #grishaverse #leigh bardugo #grishaverse big bang #gvbb23 #gvbbannouncement

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sixofcrowsxzoya · 8 months

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me!

alright there is only one(1) complete actual fic ive written and this is it

also, ive written this new crack fic which allows my trash self to write nik/nik without feeling guilty and this is it.

however, i would absolutely LOVE asks from y'all- though i cant be sure as to when ill reply- but i WILL. love y'all! (also there are little sneak peeks to my fic for the gvbb all over my acc, so go check that out!)

#zoyalai #grishaverse #queen zoya #zoyalai fic #zoya x nikolai #nikolai duology #nikolai x zoya #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov

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saintprivateer · 4 years

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Got around to making my grishasona for @grishaversebigbang !!! Check out the mini bang series for a sneak peak at the Big Bang coming soon!! 🎆

#LET THE RECORD SHOW if not for the laws of this land i would have been etherealki 😔🤘💙#grishaverse #gvbb grishaverse big bang #gvmb grishaverse mini bang #soc six of crows #tgt the grisha trilogy #kos king of scars #saintprivateerart #saintprivateer #materialki #grishasona #grisha #lbardugo #character design #my face #me #my art

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dameronalone · 4 years

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There wasn't much Kaz Brekker hated more than customers who wouldn't hang up the phone when ordering. Pretentious, overly complicated drinks were a close second.

Rich Assholes, aka, Zoya Nazyalensky and Nikolai Lantsov by @shinpoochy

Scheming Bastard Geese, aka, The Crows by @fricklefracklefloof

written for the @grishaversebigbang minibang event! I absolutely loved working with these two wonderful human beings! Can’t wait for the big bang results!!

#gvbb #grishaverse mini bang #grishaverse big bang #my fic #six of crows #grisha trilogy #kos

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nazyalenskyy-archive · 4 years

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mini big bang!

written for the grishaverse mini big bang, run by @grishaversebigbang

Thanks to my other gang member’s @punchsomeoneforme-willyou and @6crowgang for their amazing art!! (x) (x)

also known as i try to write crack. i also don’t know how to dye things or what the slat is like or what the van eck manor is like or if they have the word goth in grishaverse. I also don’t care. AND I don’t know how to put cuts in tumblr posts i’m very sorry.

At the time, letting Nina give out the dares had felt like a good idea. Now Jesper wasn’t sure he wanted to do any dare remotely involved with Kaz. She would have been better off getting Inej to do it, frankly. He was more suited to being a distraction – it was the charming personality no one could resist – and she was more suited to climbing into windows and sneaking around the slat. They’d been playing truth or dare and Nina’s idea – and it was brilliant – had been to dye the entirety of Kaz’s wardrobe a vibrant lime green. It would have their names written all over it of course, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be fun.

The lime green dye, that Inej had flatly refused to tell him where she procured, was carefully balanced in his outside pockets. Due to the colour of said jacket, spilling it was hardly a catastrophe, but it might ruin the prank. With some flimsy excuses and much avoidance Jesper finally reached the room where Kaz slept. The wardrobe, he discovered as he opened it, was full of Kaz’s typical black clothing. Saints, this would be hilarious. He frowned and pulled out a jacket of Kaz’s and tossed it onto the bed. It wasn’t exactly something you were ever taught – how to put dye onto clothing. Kaz’s whole wardrobe consisted of the black tailored suits he insisted on wearing ironically to spite mercher’s or whatever. It was terribly boring in Jesper’s opinion.

He sighed and glanced at the jacket on the bed. According to Inej, you had to get a bucket of water (prepared by the Wraith herself), squirt the dye in and then the clothes followed. Inej hadn’t sounded particularly sure. Eh, there wasn’t much to lose. Pulling the dye from his pocket and unscrewing the lid, he somewhat carelessly emptied it into the bucket in front of him. The green of the dye fused seamlessly into the water, it looked like magic. Maybe it was. He hoped Inej could keep Kaz distracted for long enough, and dropped the first piece of clothing in. At this point he was stuck, again. Did you just leave the clothing in there? Take it out instantly? Who could say? Staring at it was unfortunately not going to yield him any answers.

He was pretty sure he’d heard somewhere you were supposed to stir it too, but there wasn’t exactly anything to use. In the end, deciding he’d get the job done a bit quicker if he did three garments at a time, he just left each in for ten minutes. The first set didn’t look all too bad. Aside from the fact they were soaking (Jesper had hung them up on hangers in various places on the top floor of the slat which was still mercifully quiet), they definitely looked like some form of green. After an hour of somewhat boring dyeing of clothes Jesper was satisfied Kaz had nothing left in his wardrobe that wasn’t at least a little bit green. The boredom would be worth it for the look on his face, which Jesper would be preferably seeing from a distance.

Grinning, he made to leave but instantly stopped in his tracks. There were footsteps. Kaz. Followed by laughter. Not Kaz. He breathed a sigh of relief and popped his head around the door.

“Inej?” He frowned as she and Nina reached the top of the stairs and slid past him into the room holding arms full of red and purple dye. “Nina?”

“We thought we should help,” Inej said, casting a pitying look at Kaz’s room. “But it looks like you have it covered.” Her eyes caught onto one of Kaz’s suits, which was now drying and proving to be a very neon shade of green, and she burst out laughing. “He’s going to me so mad.” Jesper and Nina both snorted.

“I would have liked to see him in a pink suit too,” Jesper mused, eyeing the dye Nina was holding. He scanned the room for something else to dye and found the stack of paper on Kaz’s desk. Nina grinned.

“Anyone know how to dye paper?” she queried and went over to the stack. They did not, but the concept of Kaz sending all his letters and memos and doing his paperwork on bright pink paper was far too much of an opportunity to pass up. So they could at least try.

Nina tried squirting the dye on the paper. It didn’t go well. Inej just dropped it straight in the bucket. That didn’t yield much either. It was finally Jesper who tried using the sink and slowly dipping the paper into the dye. It truly was vibrant pink. Brilliant.

“Pink paper is the only proper way to send threatening correspondence,” Nina remarked approvingly. Jesper turned to Inej, but she was gone. All that was left were a set of purple footprints where she’d been.

“Oh saints, Nina,” He pointed to them, and for a moment considered being concerned. But honestly, it just added to the joke. With a glance at his own shoes he realised they were coated in the garish green paint he’d begun with.

“You know,” She said slowly, eyebrow raised, “This, this could definitely be exploited.” Both red and pink dye was very abundantly on the side of Nina’s boots. They were not experts in cautiousness, clearly. She ran out the room and back in, leaving reddish footprints in her wake. The wooden floor of the slat was in dire need of a spruce up.

The two of them followed Inej’s purple footprints down the trailing stairs, and Jesper couldn’t help but wonder why she’d left. Then it hit him.

“If you and Inej are here, who’s distracting Kaz?” He frowned, Nina looked a little guilty.

“We didn’t want to miss all the fun.” She admitted.

“It's hardly fun! I was not especially good at that dying business. It's more complicated than it looks. And it took me ages.” He grumbled.

“Sorry,” She muttered. “But that’s a good point. No one is distracting Kaz.”

“Brilliant.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Jesper couldn’t resist a glance back at the stairs, now coated in gaudy dyes. Anika was leaning against the wall ahead of them, a very confused look on her face. Jesper merely grinned, and Nina put a finger to her lips. Jesper barely had time to blink, before Inej slid soundless around the corner and stood in front of them.

“Kaz is on his way back. Closet.” She said quickly. Then glanced at the floor. “Actually, run around a bit first.”

So, looking undoubtably extremely stupid, they began do run in circles around the floor. It was coated in multicolour by the time Inej finally usher them towards the closet that Jesper wasn’t entirely sure was supposed to be there.

“Go on! He’ll be here soon. It will be boring if he sees us before the rest of it.”

Jesper looked warily at the closet. It didn’t look like all three of them would fit.

“Please just get in the closet.”

“Oh not again,” He muttered before he could stop himself. Inej pulled the door shut from the inside, somehow, and Jesper had been right. It was a little left of comfort. Not that he would have wanted to be anywhere else the moment Kaz walked through that door. The look on his face, which Jesper could just about see between the doors of the closet, was priceless.

“What the fuck?” Kaz spluttered. It was all Jesper could do to not burst out laughing. Kaz began to angrily head towards the stairs, and by the time he was halfway up, Inej, Jesper and Nina had slipped away into Ketterdam.

***

They’d been out for waffles, as a celebration for their hard work. None of them could be bothered to go back to the Van Eck Manor straight away, and well, this was fun.

“Maybe we should have painted the bedsheets in the shape of a waffle,” Nina mused, as she finished second plate. Inej glanced at the various plates that had once had waffles on them scattered across the table.

“Maybe, but I think eating them is more fun.” Nina nodded in agreement.

“What do you think he’ll do?” Jesper mused.

“He’ll either not speak to us for a week, or Inej’s boat and your house will be bright orange by the time we get back. It’s a toss up.” Nina shrugged.

“I could live with the house being orange. Not sure what Wylan would think…”

“I could build a brand out of an orange boat,” Inej added.

“Not exactly scary though is it. Not instilling fear into the hearts of your enemies. Oh dear god, here comes the fearsome captain Inej Ghafa and her orange boat.” Jesper snorted.

“Hey!” Inej protested, snatching a waffle from his plate. “I’m plenty scary enough myself.”

“You sure are, that was my waffle!”

“Care to steal it back?” She smirked, taking a bit. He did not.

They probably kept the waffle place open past the closing time, and by the time they trudged back to manor sometime that evening, Nina’s predictions were almost true.

Wylan stood outside the manor, arms folded and a sceptical look on his face. He looked quite cute if you asked Jesper, if a little annoyed. The manor looked fine from the outside. Same as it always was.

“Did you think it would be funny to provoke Kaz so much that I return home to an entirely different coloured house?” He grumbled as they approached.

“I feel like I’m being berated by a puppy,” Nina remarked and Wylan glared at her.

“Oh come on merchling, it can’t be that bad?” Jesper raised an eyebrow, but the look on Wylan’s face suggested otherwise. To be fair, he’d made a similar face when Jesper had been trailing green around the house that morning.

“Kaz has Gothified the house,” Wylan retorted, pushing open the door. Jesper blinked incredulously. The entire thing was a strange shade of black grey that completely sucked the colour out of it. Again trailing green footprints around the place, he dashed through the house. Room after room was the same. Hell, even the food was dyed. Or painted. Whatever this was.

It would have been funny, if it wouldn’t be so bloody hard to undo.

“How did he manage this?” Nina was saying incredulously as he returned. “We were only gone a few hours.” Inej looked smug.

“What did you do Wraith?” Jesper asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at her.

“A magician never reveals their secrets. Kaz won’t, and nor will I,” She retorted smugly. Behind him, he heard Wylan snort.

“You complained when I put a few footprints in the house this morning,” Jesper protested. “Now the whole house is painted.”

“Well, you could put them in now. It might add character.” Even Jesper had to snort at that. He glanced at the black bucket of dye left outside the door, and he could have sworn he’d heard a click of Kaz’s cane in the distance.

“Very subtle,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“This is insane,” Nina said pointedly to Inej.

“Maybe so,” The smaller girl said, but she was grinning.

Behind them, Jesper heard a muttered “Demjin.”

He didn’t know where Matthias had come from, but maybe this time he was right.

#gvbb #grishaverse mini bang #grishaverse #soc #six of crows #my writing #soc fic #my fic

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niecity · 4 years

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my art piece for the mini-bang (a part of the @grishaversebigbang) for an excellent fic @six-of-crowfessions here!

#grishaversebigbang #gvbb #mini grishaverse big bang #my art #soc #ck #the language of thorns #tgt #the grishaverse

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paperplanenomad · 4 years

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Sungate Motel, ‘Dva Stolba’s Creek’ (Grishaverse, Schitt’s Creek AU)

Scene from @zemenipearls fic (read it here!) done for @grishaversebigbang Mini Bang 2020! Also check out @elle-arts stunning illustration for it here!

Sign-ups are still open for the Grishaverse Big Bang 2020 but not for long, so hurry! (Closes May 1st 2020 11.59pm PST.)

(Pens/pencils: Pentel Pocket Brush Pen; Staedtler Mars Graphic 3000 Duo in 35, 260, 800, 803; Sakura Gelly Roll Stardust XPGB#744 and Derwent colour pencils.)

#gvbb #gvbbcreation #gvbb2020 #grishaverse big bang #Grishaverse #grishaverse au #schitt's creek #mini bang #fanfiction #fanart #nikolai lantsov #zoya nazyalensky #genya safin #david kostyk

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aivicart · 3 years

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Zoyalai Howl’s Moving Castle AU!! Inspired by @dregstrash ‘s genius idea from this post. She also has written a fic of it for this years GVBB mini bang here!

#zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #grishaverse #zoya x nikolai #nikolai duology #leigh bardugo #howls moving castle #studio ghibli #ghibli #fan art #my art #digital art #drawing #drawings #art #artists on tumblr #the grisha trilogy #king of scars

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ninaaswaffles · 3 years

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Here’s my mini bang artwork for Alex’s (@logastellusaur) fic “Three’s a Crowd”

Also go check out Amihan’s (@we-are-made-of-stories) edit for the fic! It was a pleasure working with both of them and I’m looking forward to the rest of the gvbb!

@grishaversebigbang

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nazyalenskyism · 3 years

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Unusual Encounters

A/N: This fic is for the GVBB's mini bang @grishaversebigbang! We're so excited that we get to finally share our works with with you! @sketcherooroo ‘s fantastic art for this fic can be found here, and @art-by-me19 ‘s fantastic art for this fic can be found here!

Summary: With impossible stakes on the line for both the Ravkans and the Crows, the last quiet moments before the chaotic auction provide a brief opportunity for peace.

Ao3: Unusual Encounters

“You don’t trust them,” Inej’s voice whispered in his ear. She had quietly found her way to his shoulder, as she always had but something was different now. Ever since he’d caught her eye at the Slat, when she’d nearly leapt down to avenge him in what she’d thought were his final moments, he could sense that she saw through him, truly saw him. It was a feeling he had avoided, when his Crows tried to get to know him, or other bosses tried to figure him out, he’d evaded their attempts as easily as he slipped out of handcuffs. But Inej was different, she always had been. Even when he had guarded himself from her, she had always been able to find a way to understand him. It was an unspoken part of the pact they shared.

“I don’t trust anyone.”

He could feel her gaze on him without turning to confirm it, the dark brown of her eyes posing a question, maybe a challenge, don’t you? And she was right, didn’t he trust her? He had trusted her with his secrets for years, as much as he hated to think that he had let anyone know any part more of him than the lies he’d built around himself, he trusted Inej, and that was the truth. Fortunately for him, he was not virtuous or honorable like his Wraith and therefore he had no issue with lying, it was what thieves and conmen did, and he felt no shame in that. He ignored the look. “I don’t need to trust them. They care about their country, they were desperate enough to come make a deal with a thief from the Barrel because they have no other choice. They need Kuwei to save the Grisha, and they will pay any price for that. The idea that they could let him slip from their fingers is so unfathomable that I don’t need to trust them. Their position makes them predictable.”

Kaz flipped his pen between his fingers, allowing himself a moment to contemplate. He believed that what he had told Inej was the truth, but there was something about the Ravkans that made him want to hesitate. He had never played games alongside Kings before, and while he’d heard much about the incompetence of the Fjerdan king and the old Ravkan King, there were fewer whispers about the current king than there were shouting remarks. People in Little Ravka had hung banners for the new king, singing about the Boy King, the King of Scars, who had supposedly been taken prisoner and tortured by the Darkling. Kaz didn’t care about Ravkan politics, but in his business, secrets and knowing your surroundings were key, and there was something to be said of a man who had been king for years, yet had managed to keep any rumors from finding their way down into Inej’s hands, and then Kaz’s. Perhaps there was even more to the royal than Kaz had let himself see. He would have to keep note of that, no good came from underestimating your allies and enemies.

“You like him,” Inej mused, following his line of sight to the boy king turned pirate, “why?” “I don’t like anyone, Wraith.”

“You like Jes,” Inej countered, “you like Wylan and Nina, maybe even Kuwei and Matthias, and you like--” she broke off, turning away from him. Kaz desperately wanted to reach out and say, what, exactly? That he did like her, that it was more than like, that he valued her beyond her talents. That he appreciated her strength, her light, the magic she brought into his world that he had long since dreamt was impossible to conjure? But they didn’t have time for that, and she did not want to hear those words from him.

“Would you trust a pirate?”

“He’s a privateer Kaz, authorized by the Ravkan king to be here, accompanied with the highest ranking Grisha in the world.”

“You didn’t answer the question,” he rasped, amusement pulling at him.

“If I’ve learned anything from you, it’s to never trust anyone, so no,” she relented, hand brushing over her knives, and he knew she must be asking the Saints to spare them a betrayal. Kaz knew that if they did face a betrayal, he would put money on his crew to come out on top any day. ***

“Look at them,” Zoya hissed from over his shoulder. They were mulling over the plan they had concocted for the auction the following day, hunched over a desk in the corner of the room.

“Who, Nazyalensky?” “Nina, her Fjerdan, the Wraith, the Barrel rat, the Grisha and the merchant boy, the whole lot of reprobates.”

“So, everyone?” Nikolai muttered, amending the papers before him, the inner workings of Mister Brekker’s mind laid out before him. The plan was clever, but to someone who had built their life upon being clever, he could tell there were obvious omissions, Brekker was clearly up to something more than what he’d written down, but Nikolai would expect nothing less from the boy who’d orchestrated a heist into the Ice Court. “You should be more worried,” she huffed, snatching the pen from his hand to scribble something down, “they’re not trustworthy.”

“I don’t trust them, Nazyalensky. We’re simply allied towards a common goal.”

“Allies don’t trust one another?”

“I believe they’ll keep their side of the deal because they want their money, and they want Kuwei to make it out of Kerch alive. We are useful to them for that reason, so they won’t break the deal.”

“So our plans hinge on the wants of a group of children?”

“You were about their age during the civil war,” Nikolai said, “besides, I thought you would be elated that she’s alive,” he hummed, thinking back to how devastated Zoya had been when she’d come back from the mission where Nina went missing. She’d spent weeks searching for the girl, and it was only an order from him that had brought her back from searching the oceans for that Drüskelle ship, and though she’d never said it, Nikolai knew she had resented him for it. “She’s being reckless! A Fjerdan— not to mention a Drüskelle? What is she thinking?”

“That she loves him.” In the corner of the room, Nina sat with her legs splayed out over the boy-- Matthias’ lap as she indulged in a plate of waffles, heaping with whipped cream and strawberries. The Fjerdan simply smiled as Nina rambled on about the exact viscosity required for syrup to best enhance the waffle-eating experience, the smile transforming into reddening cheeks and an abashed look when she dalloped cream onto his nose.

Zoya huffed, looking away from the pair, “love is for fools.”

Nikolai cut her a glance, “ruthless as always, Commander. They found each other and despite all circumstances managed to fall in love. That’s the stuff stories are made of.”

“You need to cut down on the novels, you’re too much of a romantic already. I fear for your future bride.” “Not marriage talk again, Nazyalensky. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were trying to get rid of me.” “Clearly I’m failing,” Zoya muttered as Brekker motioned for everyone to gather round to discuss the plan. “If I had been successful, you’d be bobbing for herring in a canal.”

Brekker raised a gloved finger causing his gang to quiet like a group of children falling in line before their governess. Interesting. Not only was the thief an expert in disguise and evading attention, but commanding it was another skill entirely. Nikolai wondered what scars the boy bore, to don gloves like Nikolai’s own. What horrors caused a 17 year old to rise to being the most notorious Barrel Boss in Ketterdam, after years of climbing up the ladder and making a monstrous name for himself?

“Everyone out except the Grisha and the Pirate.”

“Did you hear that, Nazyalensky,” Nikolai muttered under his breath as the others began to protest, “‘the Grisha and the Pirate. Sounds like a rousing title for a play, though I do prefer ‘The World’s Handsomest, Most Skilled Privateer, and the Grisha.”

“I prefer, “The Pirate Who Finally Shut up Because the Grisha Ripped Out His tongue.”

“Privateer,” he corrected, returning her glare with a wink. “Such vivid imagery, Commander, have you ever considered becoming a playwright?” “Perhaps I’ll pursue that avenue once this plan goes to hell and our country falls because of it. I’m sure it pays better.”

Nikolai laughed, their attention turning back to the gang as Brekker held up a hand again, “we will discuss the final plan once the details have been agreed upon and the Ravkans are back at their embassy.”

The tall Zemeni boy-- Jesper, halted on his way out of the room, peering back around the door, “what about the airship?”

“What?” Kaz’s voice was irritable, or perhaps that’s how it always sounded. Then again, Nikolai thought as he caught Brekker’s eyes drifting towards the girl perched on the open window sill behind him, sunlight glinting against her plait, firing a similar light behind his eyes, maybe not always. “Perhaps if you visit Ravka, you’ll get a chance then,” Nikolai replied coyly, winking at the boy. “Yes,” Zoya added, as he let out a laugh, turning around to leave, “you’ll find that doors in Ravka are always open to those wanting to seek entry.”

“What was that?” Nikolai muttered as the others followed the boy out, “that was so cryptic that I barely put it together.”

“How else was I supposed to allude to it, Sturmhond? I can’t very well say, ‘you’re a Grisha, you should come to train at the Little Palace right this instant?’ You’re the brains, I’m the muscle.” “Why, Zoya, did you just call me smart?”

“You’re as smart as I am pleasant,” she retorted, moving towards the table Brekker and the Wraith were at. “Fortunately for me, I find your company to be nothing short of intoxicating, Nazyalensky.”

She rolled her eyes as they sat down across from Brekker and the girl named Inej, Nikolai spreading their plans out next to Kaz’s.

“So,” he said, letting the voice of authority slip him as easily as he slipped into his teal frock coat, “where do we begin?”

#gvbb21 #gvbbminibang21 #gang 15 #exp. gang 21 #kanej #zoyalai #zoyalai fic #kanej fic #soc #tgt #kos #soc fic #Kaz Brekker #inej ghafa #nikolai lantsov #zoya nazyalensky #jesper fahey #nina zenik #grishaverse

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grishaversebigbang · 1 year

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Greetings Grisha,

Signups for our last event of the year, the Reverse Mini Bang, is open now.

What is it?

The Grishaverse Reverse Mini Bang is a fan-run event where writers, artists, and edit makers work together to bring the Grishaverse to life! We're looking for creators that are willing to invest their time into this project and are able to collaborate with others to create a successful project. Teams will consist of one artist and one writer. Artists will be able to decide the direction of the project, and writers will write an accompanying fic for the art.

Who can participate?

Anyone! Creators of all levels of experience can participate.

How is this different from the regular Big Bang?

The timeline is shorter and our minimum word count is lower. Artists also get to decide on the direction of the project instead of the writer. Projects should be on a much smaller scale than with the normal event.

Where can I find more info about GVBB?

The Heist (general info and schedule)

FAQ (frequently asked questions)

Council of Tides (mod team)

Where can I sign up?

HERE

Signups close November 28th at 11:59 PST

Thank you for your continued interest. We'll see you soon.

—The Tides

#grishaverse big bang #gvbbannouncement #gvbb22 #grishaverse #leigh bardugo #shadow and bone #six of crows

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sketcherooroo · 3 years

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𝖀𝖓𝖚𝖘𝖚𝖆𝖑 𝕰𝖓𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘

Here’s my Grishaverse Mini Bang piece with @nazyalenskyism who wrote the amazing fic and @art-by-me19, a beautiful fellow artist!! They were such a pleasure to work with :))

@nazyalenskyism’s post: https://nazyalenskyism.tumblr.com/post/650589364384104448/unusual-encounters

@art-by-me19’s post: https://art-by-me19.tumblr.com/post/650635399434256384/in-the-corner-of-the-room-nina-sat-with-her-legs

@grishaversebigbang

Link to the fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31154720

#gvbb21 #gvbbminibang21 #zoyalai #shadow and bone #grishaverse #fanart #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #collab #zoya x nikolai #procreate

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gravity-lifts · 3 years

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Who’s Afraid Of Ghosts?

Hello everyone! Here’s my piece for the gvbb mini bang (organized by @grishaversebigbang)

Here’s some absolutely amazing art by @generalstarkov link and @emmaxtw link!!!! Also a wonderful edit by @jiangsziyas link!!

This story is like most of the ghost stories that you’ve heard so far, with the premise having happened in a house just like this one, in a small town of almost the same name. However, that is as far as the similarities go. You see, this one is actually true. It starts on a night like tonight, with a group of friends in a house together, telling stories around the fire. ~~ Sometimes, your friend tells a ghost story so stupid that you just need to prove that nothing bad happens in graveyards at night. Right?

ao3 link here

Fic under the cut warnings: violence, death of a minor character (non canon character) words: 2161

The group sat in a semi circle in the living room, sprawled across couches, chairs and each other, chatting amongst themselves, loud enough to make Zoya actually glad, for the first time, that Liliana wasn’t going to be home that night. She wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation --- she hadn’t really been for a while, more caught up in the flickering of the fire off of her friends as they talked. A shout drew her attention towards where Nikolai was sitting, looking equal parts regal and ridiculous in an armchair. He gestured wildly with his hands, trying to explain something to Tamar and Nadia who both seemed to not quite believe whatever tall tale he was spinning. It was probably just something about the mermaids he swears he’d seen the last time he’d been out boating.

However, as she turned back to the fire, she heard him mention the graveyard. Cursing her needless curiosity, she wandered over to Nikolai’s chair, just in time to hear him rambling about the person’s gory end. So, it was a ghost story, then. She settled in, back resting against his legs, waiting for him to restart with his new audience as Tamar and Nadia shuffled back to the couch and Alina drifted from where she’d been talking with Genya, probably having heard half of Nikolai’s story the first time, looking just as curious as Zoya felt about the beginning of a story that had such a gory end.

Nikolai sat up a bit straighter, his face brightening as he noticed that more people wanted to hear his story. He cleared his throat, and then he began.

“This story is like most of the ghost stories that you’ve heard so far, with the premise having happened in a house just like this one, in a small town of almost the same name. However, that is as far as the similarities go. You see, this one is actually true. It starts on a night like tonight, with a group of friends in a house together, telling stories around the fire. In fact, one of them is telling a ghost story just like this one, a true story of a group of friends all together in a house-”

“Yes yes, this story is true and it’s about true things that happened truthfully, now, what actually happened? I thought this was a scary story, not just one about what we’re doing now,” Zoya cut in, pushing a curl of hair out of her face.

“I’m getting there! Just wait, I promise it’ll be scary. Now, in this story there’s a girl that doesn’t believe the ghost story that is being told. She tells her friends off for being superstitious, for believing in the story that had been told. Now, like I said, this is a true story, a cautionary tale, if you will. And, the story inside the story is just like that as well, about a kid who went to the graveyard after dark, only to be killed, right on the grave. Now, as I said, the girl didn’t believe this story when her friend told it. She believed it to just be a stupid tale meant to scare children much younger than them away from the graveyard before dark, back home to their parents for dinner and bed. She declared that she would go out to the graveyard, to prove that the tale hadn’t been true, promising to leave something of their choice on the centermost grave to show that she had followed through with her plan. And so, she set out, a candle in hand, ready to prove that her friends were all just overreacting over a kids story. Now, this is where the story starts to blur. Some people tell it with a happy ending, one where she runs away, never to be seen again. That, in my humble opinion, is bullshit,” he pauses, seemingly for dramatic effect, the drumming of his fingers on the arm of his chair the only clue that he’s anxious to get to what he clearly thinks of as the important part of the story.

“In the much better version of the story, she goes to the graveyard, brave as can be. She walks to the grave, and sets her candle down, kneeling to light it as she hears footsteps behind her, getting closer with every moment she wastes fumbling with the matches. She stays there until she feels someone's breath on the back of her neck, feels the gentle press of a blade to her back, before it plunges in, then the searing pain took priority over everything else, a knife being twisted before it was withdrawn, leaving her to bleed on the cold graveyard dirt, candle lit at last.

The next morning, her friends came to find the candle. They were speculating wildly about why she hadn’t returned home the night before, all joking about how she must have met another friend, maybe even a partner, before they stepped inside the cemetery and got their grim answer, in the form of her body, laying in a puddle of what was unmistakably blood, still shielding the candle from the elements.” He leaned back in his chair, pushing a hand through his hair to either straighten it or ruffle it more, Zoya wasn’t completely sure. She was sure, however, that the story was completely untrue.

“So, Nikolai,” she said, standing up from where she’d been sitting on the floor and taking a step towards him. “You’re saying that if I go into a graveyard at night, I’m sure to die? Because, it is night right now, and last I checked, there’s a graveyard only two blocks from here.”

Nikolai sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I suppose you’d like to go alone, as well? Haven’t I just given two examples as to why this isn’t a good idea?”

“Oh come on! You were telling a scary story, those are supposed to be like cautionary tales. Besides, it’s not the same graveyard. No one has ever been killed in this one, I think I would know if someone had been, seeing as I live right. By. It.”

Nikolai stood, looking genuinely concerned. Concerned enough to make her feel like this may not have been the smartest idea she’d ever had. Well, if she was anything, she was stubborn, so she might as well follow through with it. If anything went wrong, it would serve Nikolai right for basically daring her to do it.

She turned towards the kitchen, tossing her hair behind her shoulder as she walked.

“If I’m actually going to prove your story wrong, then I might as well take something to prove I was there. Would a knife work instead of a candle? Of course I wouldn’t be lighting it on fire, but I could drive it into the ground to prove I was there.”

Nikolai just stared at her, before finally snapping out of whatever mess of thoughts had been running through his head.

“I’ll come and get you if you’re not back after what, ten minutes? Zoya, I never thought I would say this, but please don’t prove me right.”

She scoffed, pulling her boots on.

“Please Nikolai. It’s a children's story! Don’t tell me you actually believe I’ll die from being alone in a graveyard.

She walked out the door, letting it slam behind her in a way that would definitely have made any parental figure furious with her, and started on her way to the graveyard. She must have zoned out while she walked as it seemed to have taken far less time than it normally did to walk there, but she found herself already almost in the center of the graveyard, knife in hand. She checked that she was in between two graves -- it felt rude to stab a grave -- and knelt, swiftly digging her knife into the dirt.

She was quite ready to go back home, telling herself that it was just because of how cold it was, and definitely not because the wind whistling in the trees sounded like one of the monsters in the stories she had begged her dad to tell her when she was a child, even though she knew that she wouldn’t be able to sleep after hearing them. No, it was definitely the cold.

She tried to stand, brushing dirt off of her knees as she rose, but she found that she wasn’t able to move past a low crouch. Behind her, the wind grew ever louder, swelling as it whipped through the trees. It sounded almost like babies crying now, less like the roar of monsters as it had before, or the crash of waves on the shore as it usually did, during the day. Uninvited, thoughts of angry ghosts appeared in her head, and suddenly she was a lot less certain that she was actually alone in the cemetery.

She sank back to her knees, wondering if anyone would find her before morning, or if she would stay in the graveyard, laying dead until morning or even later, like in Nikolai’s story. She really should have thought a bit more before testing fate like this.

Once again, the wind swelled, almost as if it was trying to push her over. Zoya straightened her back, lifting her chin. If she were to be killed by spirits, at least she would go out with her dignity intact.

Then, from behind her, she heard something. Something that sounded like… footsteps? They stopped, but now she could hear someone breathing a bit behind her. Perhaps she had been too hasty to assume that ghosts were the only thing that could hurt her here.

“Zoya? I’m here to get you! We were worried about how long you were taking. Are you going to turn around, or do I have to make my dramatic entrance to your back?”

She whipped around - or tried to, at least. Whatever was keeping her pinned to the ground was definitely still there.

Nikolai walked around her, probably to make his grand entrance, as by now he had certainly decided that she wasn’t going to turn. With him here, her fears of ghosts and murders seemed almost silly, especially in the glow of his flashlight. He held out his hand to her, entrance seemingly having been set aside. He was looking at her rather oddly, and when she raised a hand to check for dirt on her face, she found the reason in the almost dried tear tracks. She hadn’t realized that she’d been crying until now.

As Nikolai pulled her to her feet, they heard the sound of fabric tearing, amplified by the relative silence surrounding them. The wind had died, leaving everything deathly still. Zoya glanced down, finally seeing what had kept her on the ground. The knife she had brought was still pinning some of the fabric from her dress, clearly stuck firmly enough that it wouldn’t come out without a fair amount of force. She reached down and tugged it out of the ground.

“Well, Nikolai, I suppose we can agree that I was here? Or do I need to leave the knife in the ground for proof,” she said, wiping the dirt off of the knife as best she could on the remaining part of her dress, which was most of it, but she was entitled to some dramatics after what had happened. She would have to get rid of this dress anyway, especially since it was now missing a piece of the skirt.

Nikolai laughed, a bright sound, one that seemed rather out of place here.

“Yes, I do think that everyone will believe your harrowing tale of the graveyard. Shall we head back now? It’s getting rather late.”

This time, it was Zoya who offered her hand. Nikolai took it, in silent agreement not to mention the fact that she had offered it, now or later.

Together they walked, hand in hand, back to the house where their friends were waiting. As they approached, Zoya could see firelight flickering through the window, and when Nikolai pulled the door open, she could hear them chatting and laughing. As soon as they had stepped inside, both Alina and Genya flew towards them, talking a mile a minute. Genya wanted to know why Zoya had been at the cemetery so long, Alina wanted to know if she’d seen a ghost. Or two ghosts. Maybe three, even, if she’d been lucky.

The four wandered back to the living room, Zoya assuring Genya that she hadn’t meant to stay as long as she had, and telling Alina that she’d seen exactly zero ghosts, ignoring her disappointed sigh.

Zoya sat again, feeling as though she’d be happy if she never had to leave this room again. It was warm from the fire, and the noise from her friends was comforting. She sank back into the couch, content just to sit here, with everyone, until morning.

#Bee's writing #gvbb21 #gvbbminibang21 #group 11 #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #grishaverse #tgt #yes I definitely know how to tag things and didn't forget the tags when I posted first of course

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