Inej has felt a little... lost since arriving in this world. She'd made her way well enough in Solvunn, when she didn't know any of her people were here. Even once she learned of Matthias' presence, she had some sort of purpose toward finding a way to be together again. But the move when Jesper arrived in Cadens, simply as it happened, has brought some strange, conflicting feelings to her attention.
Jesper is a social creature, always prone to making connections wherever he goes, so it is unsurprising that he's already made so many in his short time here. He has projects he's running, both things he's picked up along the way from other people and on his own, with his powers which she wishes she could help more with, but she will always be a cheerleader in his corner about. She wants him to find the faith in himself that she has in him, and if she can find a way to help him get there, she will.
But it doesn't stop there being a sort of... reflection of it against her own sense of purposelessness in this place. She's made her mental maps of the city of Cadens since the end of the summit. She doesn't know it like she knew the streets of Ketterdam, but that sort of automatic knowledge would only come with the passage of time. She knows it well enough, and it leaves her with little else to focus on, suddenly.
Sam has been a beacon in the city since she arrived. He holds the kind of hope and light in himself that Inej tries desperately to keep alive in herself. Sometimes, it's harder than she'd like to admit. She knows that Jesper sees her in a certain way, that all of their friends back home do, because of her religion, because of the way she has fought tooth and nail, blood and bone, to not allow the horrors of the last few years of her life to taint the goodness in her. But it's hard and she's tired, and she's had so many winding months of quiet, of a sort of solace she never could have met in The Barrel, that maybe it's all sort of caught up to her now.
She's perched in the windowsill of Sam's room. Perhaps not the best way to greet someone who doesn't expect to find you there, but she's perfectly still, perfectly harmless. Well. Harmless is a stretch. There is a dagger hidden away, but it isn't as though she plans to use it. She just feels anxious without it. Feels not herself if she does not have at least one blade strapped to her person– a fact that makes her stomach twist. She has lost so much of the girl she used to be.
Perhaps, at least, he will not be too caught off-guard when he comes into his room to find her perched in the window, the way she always did when she came to report to Kaz.
(All Saints, she misses him so much it aches).
One leg is draped over the outside edge of the window while the other is tucked up toward her chest. She tears off bits of bread in an attempt to feed the straggler birds not yet stowed away for the night. Some habits, she supposes, aren't so bad to keep.
Early April » Mag's Inn, Sam's room
Jesper is a social creature, always prone to making connections wherever he goes, so it is unsurprising that he's already made so many in his short time here. He has projects he's running, both things he's picked up along the way from other people and on his own, with his powers which she wishes she could help more with, but she will always be a cheerleader in his corner about. She wants him to find the faith in himself that she has in him, and if she can find a way to help him get there, she will.
But it doesn't stop there being a sort of... reflection of it against her own sense of purposelessness in this place. She's made her mental maps of the city of Cadens since the end of the summit. She doesn't know it like she knew the streets of Ketterdam, but that sort of automatic knowledge would only come with the passage of time. She knows it well enough, and it leaves her with little else to focus on, suddenly.
Sam has been a beacon in the city since she arrived. He holds the kind of hope and light in himself that Inej tries desperately to keep alive in herself. Sometimes, it's harder than she'd like to admit. She knows that Jesper sees her in a certain way, that all of their friends back home do, because of her religion, because of the way she has fought tooth and nail, blood and bone, to not allow the horrors of the last few years of her life to taint the goodness in her. But it's hard and she's tired, and she's had so many winding months of quiet, of a sort of solace she never could have met in The Barrel, that maybe it's all sort of caught up to her now.
She's perched in the windowsill of Sam's room. Perhaps not the best way to greet someone who doesn't expect to find you there, but she's perfectly still, perfectly harmless. Well. Harmless is a stretch. There is a dagger hidden away, but it isn't as though she plans to use it. She just feels anxious without it. Feels not herself if she does not have at least one blade strapped to her person– a fact that makes her stomach twist. She has lost so much of the girl she used to be.
Perhaps, at least, he will not be too caught off-guard when he comes into his room to find her perched in the window, the way she always did when she came to report to Kaz.
One leg is draped over the outside edge of the window while the other is tucked up toward her chest. She tears off bits of bread in an attempt to feed the straggler birds not yet stowed away for the night. Some habits, she supposes, aren't so bad to keep.