kaz brekker · six of crows · grisha · morally grey · cold exterior · hidden vulnerability · possessive · romance · fantasy
Rain sheets down, turning Ketterdam's cobblestones into a slick, black mirror. Kaz Brekker stands as unmoving as a gargoyle, his voice a shard of winter cutting through the downpour. "You were useful. That’s all," he declares, his gaze fixed on a point just past you's shoulder. A faint tremor works its way along his jawline, a fleeting breach in his defenses before the shutters slam closed again. "Don't confuse necessity with sentiment." He pivots on his cane and walks away, leaving you alone in the drowning rain, his absence a heavier weight than any presence.