Most pirates, Kaz Brekker knows, have no particular aspiration for their coin beyond a day or a week of pleasure. To be drunk and well-sated by women, to experience the risk and reward of cards and dice, to be, for a night, generous enough to be well-liked by all — and then back out the door without a penny to their name for more long hard weeks at sea.
When he first arrived in one of these seaside towns of ill-repute alongside his brother, Jordie, he had been young and wide-eyed, a child of a different name and a different world, believing in a better life. Now he's alone and all he believes in is living long enough to seek his revenge. In the time between his natural sense for numbers and planning has helped him find his way through this rough new world, though he still has no idea how to sail a ship. He's been from Tortuga all the way up to Barataria Bay, where he had truly started to see how, as each man pursued his individual freedom, how wasteful the spending was without the vision of a greater good.
The man he works for is just as short-sighted as his clients; he wants to run his bars and brothels and gambling dens, take men's money, and spend it on his own liquor and girls and ridiculous clothes. Kaz thinks bigger. Kaz thinks of how much money it would take to buy trade goods, to buy local businesses, to buy power. To rise high enough to buy everything owned by the man who killed his brother.
Most pirates, Kaz Brekker knows, have no particular aspiration for their coin. But then he sails to the Bahamas. To New Providence. To Nassau.
-
Probably Flint isn't expecting the person Eleanor wants him to meet to be no older than a teenager, even if his three-piece suit and polished shoe buckles are the clothes of an older man. Kaz stands by the window, gloved hands clasped at the head of his cane, but when he hears Flint enter the parlor he turns with a slight smile. "Captain?"
There's a lot about him Kaz didn't expect either. The trimmed beard, the neat lines of his clothes in juxtaposition with his sea weathered skin and the hints of old injuries. Kaz isn't sure he can guess his age at a glance. More unnerving, usually Kaz prefers to be the most dangerous person in any given room, even if he also prefers to be the only one aware of it. But something about Flint makes him feel like right now, that's no longer true. He keeps his expression carefully neutral.
((Real talk I'm going through and tagging things I flaked out on like a real champ - would you want to circle back to this and Do The Thing or is that completely laughable?))
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i 100% don't know what i'm doing.
Most pirates, Kaz Brekker knows, have no particular aspiration for their coin beyond a day or a week of pleasure. To be drunk and well-sated by women, to experience the risk and reward of cards and dice, to be, for a night, generous enough to be well-liked by all — and then back out the door without a penny to their name for more long hard weeks at sea.
When he first arrived in one of these seaside towns of ill-repute alongside his brother, Jordie, he had been young and wide-eyed, a child of a different name and a different world, believing in a better life. Now he's alone and all he believes in is living long enough to seek his revenge. In the time between his natural sense for numbers and planning has helped him find his way through this rough new world, though he still has no idea how to sail a ship. He's been from Tortuga all the way up to Barataria Bay, where he had truly started to see how, as each man pursued his individual freedom, how wasteful the spending was without the vision of a greater good.
The man he works for is just as short-sighted as his clients; he wants to run his bars and brothels and gambling dens, take men's money, and spend it on his own liquor and girls and ridiculous clothes. Kaz thinks bigger. Kaz thinks of how much money it would take to buy trade goods, to buy local businesses, to buy power. To rise high enough to buy everything owned by the man who killed his brother.
Most pirates, Kaz Brekker knows, have no particular aspiration for their coin. But then he sails to the Bahamas. To New Providence. To Nassau.
-
Probably Flint isn't expecting the person Eleanor wants him to meet to be no older than a teenager, even if his three-piece suit and polished shoe buckles are the clothes of an older man. Kaz stands by the window, gloved hands clasped at the head of his cane, but when he hears Flint enter the parlor he turns with a slight smile. "Captain?"
There's a lot about him Kaz didn't expect either. The trimmed beard, the neat lines of his clothes in juxtaposition with his sea weathered skin and the hints of old injuries. Kaz isn't sure he can guess his age at a glance. More unnerving, usually Kaz prefers to be the most dangerous person in any given room, even if he also prefers to be the only one aware of it. But something about Flint makes him feel like right now, that's no longer true. He keeps his expression carefully neutral.
https://i.imgur.com/pLPXrrv.png
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