𝕾𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖉𝖘 - 𝙺𝚊𝚣 𝙱𝚛𝚎𝚔𝚔𝚎𝚛

I

Saints do I love the rain.

For a moment the heavens cry for the sin of the people below. For a moment the world matches the events. And for a moment, the world is baptized anew.

But it never lasts.

Mira knows this, and it's why she's taking her time on her commute back home. That, and Ran would probably kill her if she stained the floors with blood again.

She watches the people on the streets, wondering how many of them she'd have to kill if she knew who they were. Probably enough to make the harbor run red.

Lifting her face to the sky, she lets the sky's tears wash away the drops of life that were sprayed across her face. She rolls her shoulders to relieve some of their tension as she continues her walk from rooftop to rooftop. Occasionally she has to jump across a gap, but the houses in Ketterdam are so close together it's barely more than a hop.

A change in the beating of water droplets or the roofs. A change so miniscule she would've missed it had she not been waiting for this person.

"What business?" She asks without turning. Some would call it foolishness. She calls it strength. Showing them that death does not fear the people who seek it.

"You're a hard one to find, Coronach." The voice says. Male. That's unusual.

"What business?" She repeats. "Before I put a bolt in your skull."

He chuckles. "Rollins wants you to do a job."

Mira does face him at this, crossing her arms and lifting a brow.

"He wants you to kill Kaz Brekker."

~̴~̴~̴~̴~̴~̴~̴

Mira makes sure to kick the mud off her boots before entering Ran's bar. With the lack of gambling-something rare in the Barrel-most of the visitors are pigeons who come here to drink away their wallets, or their misery at getting their wallets stolen.

Sometimes they'll get that one person though. That one woman dressed too nicely, eyes too shifty, steps too quick. Ran'll pull them aside. They'll give her a name and Ran will give it to Mira.

It's thanks to Ran's willingness to do this that Mira is still alive and not running for one of the gangs. Thanks to her that she's able to do what she does without sleeping in wet alleys and pools of her own blood and tears.

Ran see's her from behind the bar and nods. It's rare a smile breaks her worn face, but every time Mira comes back safe, she rests a little easier that night.

Mira tips her head and makes her way to the stairs, heading up to the small attic room she's called home for a few years now. She takes her boots off at the door and hangs her coat on the hook above them. She sits on her bed and wiggles her fingers, trying to warm them back up. Once they have feeling in them again, she takes her crossbow off and sets it in a drawer beside her bed. Next to it she lays her garrote and a few of her knives, deciding to keep the rest on.

She walks over to the fresh basin of water Ran put out for her and takes a washcloth, wiping the blood from her pale skin.

Once clean and out of her black clothes, she lies down in bed and falls asleep in minutes.