Mavka was a Corporalnik like no other, a theif like no other, and a little sparrow among a murder of crows.
Her safe haven was with the boy with the cane and the pretty eyes, despite the two seeming like opposite ends of a live wire, and now they h...
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When she had arrived back at the club later in the day, far later than she should have been for such a small task, Kaz was furious.
It had been hours and they were nearly at the time to head to the pier for their ship, so they could get started on the job at hand.
She said nothing as he called her name and walked past him, but that was expected.
He didnt dare grab her, but his cane did shoot out across her midsection to stop her in the hall. He stepped infront of her.
"Where have you been?"
Her eyes caught the harsh line between his brows, and she might have mistaken his anger for pent up concern.
Mavka chewed the inside of her cheek and pulled out a stack of Fjerdan Krydda to wave in his face.
His expression had slackened slightly and he backed off. Not entirely, however. Not that she expected him to anyways.
He had asked what was wrong with her, looking her up and down, noting the dark circles under her eyes but choosing not to comment on it.
She hadn't answered, looking down with a shrug. She had got the task done, why did he care?
Somehow he knew, though.
"I need everyone at their best," he had said. "Go and rest. I can't have you distracted."
He always knew. She hated it.
She had sighed and walked back upstairs begrudgingly.
She got an extra half an hour of rest, if that. Her nerves were running high at the prospect of the job now and sleep would not come easy, especially then.
It was now later on in the evening, and Mavka was waiting with Kaz, Jesper and Wylan at the pier, along with Nina. Matthias was being held elsewhere.
Behind them all was the schooner Kaz had commandeered, 'Ferolind' written in bold script along its side. It would usually fly the purple Kerch fish and the colourful flag of the Haanraadt Bay company. To anyone in Fjerda they'd look like common Kerch trappers heading north for furs and skins.
Each of them had donned a different style of clothing; rough around the edges with trousers and thick wool coats and hats.
A light mist hovered across the lapping waters and to any onlooker, the group looked like young yet authentic sailors.
Mavka had on a pair of black trousers that had to be rolled up at her waist so the legs didn't trail behind her feet when she walked. To ensure they fit, she'd tucked the cloth into the tops of her ankle high boots and wrapped the long shoe laces around them to keep them in place, then had the loop tucked into the sides. Her dark jacket was buttoned up at her neck, the long sleeves rolled back at her forearms and a rough and thick cotton red shirt underneath, the sleeves ever so slightly visible peeking out. A brown hat hung low over her head.
