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chapter 4 :  the ravkan ship

The soft strums of a guitar grew audible in the distance, slowly nearing like a wave rolling over the waters of the True Sea; a familiar joy.

A blonde girl raised her head from the white pillow she rested upon, strands of blonde hair dangling around her small face.

Sleep was still present in her pale eyes as she threw herself from her worn-out bed, chubby legs dashing through the small hallway and down the stairs, searching for the source of the familiar sound.

"Papa!" she exclaimed as she entered a small living room. A brunette with a face too old for his age turned his head, losing focus from the guitar in his hands. but still, the music continued on.

A smile grew upon his lined face, and he put the guitar to the side, just in time for the young blonde to crush him into a hug, "My darling Livia."

The man embraced the girl tight, broad shoulders and muscled arms enclosing the child's tiny frame within his own. His sleeveless shirt revealed a tattoo of an anchor; a symbol of the many dock workers that provided the city with its riches.

When the man removed the girl from his hold, he reached behind him, grabbing hold of a colourfully wrapped package.

He handed it over to the young girl, whose blue eyes grew wide at the sight, "For me?"

The brunet chuckled and nodded, "I always bring you back something, don't I?"

Now it was the blonde's turn to nod, eying the package in her hand, before looking up, "Can I open it?"

Another chuckle, "Of course."

The girl didn't need to be told twice and ripped up the feeble paper, revealing a small wooden ship, decorated with glistening white sails.

"Woah," the girl beamed in awe, large eyes taking in the object she held in her hands. She tilted it to the side, the fragile-looking ship almost falling from her hands.

Large, coarse hands grabbed hold of the tiny ship as well, returning it to its stable position within the girl's small hands.

"Careful now," the man spoke softly, "It's special, this ship. It's all the way from Ravka."

The girl tilted her head slightly, "Rawka?"

The man laughed, "Ravka. All the way across the True See. It was made especially for you by the king of Ravka himself, Alexander III."

The blonde giggled. A toothy grin on her face displayed a gap between her teeth, "Really?"

"Really."

"Thank you, papa," she shouted as she pulled the man into another hug, leaving only the smallest space for the toy ship that she still held in front of her.

The soft melody of the guitar was still filling the air, surrounding the entire room.

Two other figures appeared, the same white-blonde hair cascading down their shoulders. The only obvious difference between the two, however, was their sizes, as the first seemed to be even younger than the little girl herself; with chubby limbs and a round face wobbling forward. The second figure, hair placed in braids down her chest, carefully walked behind, regulating the toddler's movement.

A swell of joy filled the room, warmth hugging the young girl's body, making her cheeks glow a rosy red.

The family sang as the man started playing the guitar again, restarting the melody he had been playing before and taking over the sounds from the atmosphere, making them his own.

Warm light filled the windows that made up the wall behind them, until the sun hid away, the melody distorting slightly.

The young girl stopped singing as she looked at her family, a restless feeling bouncing around her stomach. She looked around, a cold stinging her body, making the hairs on her arms stand up straight.

The music drowned out, she looked at her father, he was still playing. She looked over at her sister and mother, the spitting image of her own, they were still singing. But she could hear no sounds, only a buzz.

A buzz, swelling in intensity, the cold she felt grew icier, and the windows outside that previously glowed white turned grey. A light grey, then darker, until the glass only showed a pitch blackness outside, the buzz that rang through her ears growing overwhelming. She placed her hands over her ears and closed her eyes, shielding from the world.

Until nothing. Silence.

The girl dared to open her eyes and looked up at her family.

She gasped. Bloated faces stared back at her, sunken-in faces burning into her vision.

But before she could truly react, the glass of the windows of the small living room broke, water slamming in, throwing the blonde to the ground from the impact.

She gasped for air as she screamed out for her father, for her mother, even for her little sister, but none answered as she was dragged through the rooms of her home by the dark water that seemed to contain dirt and rats and crowns.

The water filled the house. She couldn't leave as she tried her best to remember the swimming lessons from her father. But she couldn't think as the water rose and rose until she was almost at the ceiling.

She screamed.

Liv woke up with a gasp, immediately reaching for the lamp that stood on her bedside table.

She took a hold of the pendant around her neck, clinging onto it as she let herself fall back onto the bed, her back slick with sweat.

The painful memories infused with the torture that came with dreams swam through her mind.

She held back a sob, eyes stinging with tears. But she refused. She refused to let her emotions overwhelm her, not again. But how can you fight such emotions when a wave of the plague had flooded the city and swallowed your family whole?

Liv shut her eyes again tightly, telling herself to go to sleep again, not give in to the loss. She took a deep breath.

She stayed still like that, her entire body tensed with the leftover adrenaline that had shot through her body. Only after a while, she could feel the dull throb of her jaw return, a result of their encounter with the Black Tips. She focused on it, holding on to it like a lifeline back into reality.

Muffled talking, laughing and shouting were annoyingly audible as Liv tried to force herself to go back to sleep, every ounce of concentration was needed to force her way back into the world of dreams, which was ultimately fruitless as she wasn't quite sure if she was ready to go back there herself in the first place.

A frustrated groan left her dry lips before she sat up in her bed, swinging her legs over the side and standing up.

She pulled a woollen shirt over her nightgown and quietly left the small bedroom.

Light footsteps down the narrow hallway of the part of the Crow Club that presented as living quarters, the sound absorbed by a thin red carpet that ran down the length of it.

Liv did not think much before she turned right, opening the door to a room she realised she found herself in increasingly often.

Only light glowing from the flames of the fireplace on the opposite of the room lit the space, besides the window that let in a few strands of pale moonlight.

She walked over to the fireplace, taking hold of the wooden guitar that leant against the green chair that she had sat in so many times before, and she did again now.

Absent-mindedly, she started to play. Her fingers ran along the strings, attempting to reproduce the melody that had haunted her dreams and memories.

It was not nearly good enough to be a passable copy, but attempting to play her father's favourite tune was enough of a comfort to Liv as she moved along the frets and strings.

Liv discovered at quite a young age that playing music brought her comfort, a therapy. She was a Kerch native, Ketterdam born and raised. Outbursts of emotions had never been an option in this city; controlling them was key. When Liv was a child, when she was too young to make music, her therapy had been drawing and painting, it still also was, she supposed.

Her mother had been a painter and a good one at that. She made her own landscapes in her free time, but they never sold well enough to sustain their family. So instead, she worked for merchants and rich people, painting their furniture and walls at their every whim. With Liv's father gone for long hours when he worked in the docks, Liv, alongside her sister, was always brought along whenever her mother had work to do. They would be allowed to help out a little as well. Whenever a large piece of the wall had to be repainted, Liv, her sister Mara, and whatever other child was present in the home were allowed to draw on the walls for a while with the new colour of paint while their mother prepared to start. That's when Liv realised her love for painting.

"You're in my office again," a gravelly voice started from behind her, the unbothered and even tone all too familiar to the blonde, leaving her to pay it no mind.

"I didn't realise," Liv muttered absently, continuing to play, sending back the voice's own attitude.

A huff was the only reaction she got, besides the ticking of a cane against the wooden flooring, until it stopped.

Liv moved her head to the side slightly as she observed Kaz sitting down behind his desk, his cane placed against its side.

She was half expecting him to tell her to get out, to leave him alone while he worked, as it would be a Kaz thing to do. But surprisingly enough, he didn't. He did not seem to pay mind to her as he picked up a stack of papers and started sorting it, a focused frown displayed on his sharp features. It was like Liv wasn't even there.

And so, she continued on, replaying and replaying the strangely complicated tune, which slowly became easier and more familiar as she practised.

Besides the strums of the guitar, it was quiet for a good while, both teens on their own side of the room, a respectful agreement of peace between them, until Kaz spoke broke it,

"You're getting less shit at playing."

Liv's fingers froze for a moment, hovering over the strings, all sound leaving the room, before continuing again, "You're getting less shit at complimenting."

She could almost hear the roll of his eyes, and a small smile tugged at her lips.

"Why do you keep playing that song?" Kaz asked, his gaze now trained on the side of her head. Liv did not meet it.

"Because I like it," Liv spoke dismissively.

From the corner of her eye she could see the shark's gaze deepen, a small moment of silence, "It must hold some importance to you. Otherwise, you would've grown bored with it already."

Liv's hands froze once more, and this time she turned to meet Kaz's eyes, her brows furrowed slightly, her gaze cold, "It's none of your business, Kaz."

And that was her mistake. He had put out bait, and she had taken it with both of her hands. She blamed her still half-asleep state.

His lips turned upwards into that aggravating smirk of his, and Liv considered bashing his head in with her guitar.

"It is my business to know what goes around in the heads of my investments, especially pricey ones."

Liv's gaze sharpened, outmatching that of the brunet that stared her down as well, "It's no big deal. Leave it. Or I'll give you another black eye to match"

Kaz squinted, taking in Liv's entire frame, observing it, his smugness dropping ever so slightly, but still very much there.

During their fight with the Black Tips, he had apparently been hit over the head by Geels, which earned him a dark circle to decorate his right eye with, "Touchy subject, I see."

With that, he surprisingly left it alone. But Liv knew that it was only for now. Dirtyhands needed to know everything about everyone, that was also practically what Liv was for anyway. So now that Liv had revealed to him a potential secret; a potential weakness, he needed to know what it was. Because weakness is unpredictability, and unpredictability is a liability. It was all risk assessment to the Bastard of the Barrel. He was a true businessman or rather a true con man. Both were the same in his eyes anyways.

"I want you back to work tomorrow. A ship arrived from Ravka this morning filled with potential pigeons. I need to know what goes around their little heads while they gamble and drink their money away."

Liv nodded, readjusting her hold on the guitar in front of her, "Sure, anything in mind?"

"Everything," Kaz replied, his gaze trained on the papers in front of him, before he lifted his gaze, "Can you cover up the bruise on your jaw, it might distract them from spilling."

Liv's jaw hardened slightly. She only nodded, before turning back to her guitar.

He did not care. He did not care for her. He did not care that she was injured because of the job he took her on. He did not care for anything.

So when Jesper shouted for Kaz to come down, and he left without a word, Liv couldn't help but feel surprised when she spotted her drawing of the Crow Club neatly framed and placed against the wall.

____

Liv found herself in her favourite bar the day after, sitting on one of the stools that lined the bar with a piece of parchment and a pencil in her hand, sketching away. A plate of bread and a glass of beer were displayed next to the paper, half-forgotten about already as she drew.

The coal of the pencil created different shades of grey as it moved over the page, slowly creating the image of a plump woman, white shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow to reveal slightly muscled arms that held a glass bottle as she cleaned it.

Said woman made her presence known as she cleared her voice, "Livvy, honey, can I get you anything else?"

Liv looked up, glancing to the side to see her unfinished food and drink, "I'm fine, Johanna, thanks."

Johanna nodded, her honey-coloured eyes showing nothing but caring, until a flash of concern passed by, "What happened to you? Your jaw is all bruised, who did this!"

Liv instinctively reached for her cheek, covering it, a warmth creeping up the sides of her face, "Oh, it's nothing. Just an incident, that's all."

The older woman crossed her arms around her chest, frowning, "If somebody is hurting you, you just have to tell me, sweety, I can take care of it."

It was hard to take the sweet-looking woman in front of her seriously as she spoke such potential threats. But still, the glint of a burning passion in her eyes was the tell-tale sign not to mess with her, even when she appeared so soft-looking. Liv had questioned for the longest time how a short, sweet, grandma like Johanna had survived the Barrel for so long, but after seeing her encounter a few drunken or violent customers, Liv had learned enough.

Liv sighed, smiling, "Thank you, Johanna. I will, but really, it's okay."

The woman nodded, before moving away, over to the other side of the bar to speak to a customer.

Liv continued with her sketching.

That, until sounds of an argument broke out in the back of the bar, and Liv turned her head, looking for the sound of the discourse.

Two men were standing near the corner booth, eyeing each other with a look that could only be described as murder.

The two men, or rather, one man and one boy, were standing in front of each other, the older man having a hold of the collar of the teen, pointing at his chest angrily. The teen's eyes were set in anger as he tried to remove himself from the man's grip. She couldn't make out exactly what was being said, but when the older man shoved the boy to the ground with a sickening crack to the boy's back as he hit the table, it made Liv cringe.

An obviously unfair fight broke out between the two. The man had fallen down to his knees, punching the boy in the face, shouting multiple angered curses at him, before he was pulled back by another man, who punched him in the face in return.

In under a minute, the bar had turned into an amateurish boxing club, where every slightly intoxicated customer had joined the battle of ultimate masculinity.

Liv hung back and observed as two gunshots rang in the air, and she spotted Johanna standing atop the bar, pistol raised into the air, "If I see one more of you feckers throwing punches against another customer I will make sure you will end up in Reaper's Barge before you can finish another pint."

A small smile tugged at Liv's lips as she looked up at the powerful woman that stood on the bar, a fierceness she could only admire as the man scrambled back to their seats, peace returning to the little bar dubbed the 'Kopstoot'.

She looked back at her drawing, took out an eraser, and removed the glass bottle placed in Johanna's hands, replacing it with a revolver.

Seven bells sounded from outside, and Liv looked up, noticing the setting sky that was barely visible over the houses of Ketterdam, and she quickly moved to gather her belongings. She bade Johanna goodbye, and made her way outside, entering the bustling streets of the Barrel once more.

The evening was peaceful, the weather hadn't been harsh today, so the last shopkeepers that littered the streets were slowly closing down their stalls, a careful eye trained on any potential thief that would rob them of their last goods of the day.

Liv let out a dry chuckle at her own memories and experiences and moved along, taking a sharp turn into a small alleyway, one she knew would give her a direct passage to the Crow Club where she should have been now.

She quickened her pace, not particularly in the mood to face the wrath of Kaz Brekker, until a shadow shifted in on her right side.

Liv had no time to react as another figure moved from the shadow, his face entering the diluted light of a setting sun, revealing a face with thick sideburns and thinning hair; Geels.

"This is for Elzinger, you bitch!"

A blunt object connected to the side of her head and her eyes rolled back as she fell to the ground with a limp thud.

Her vision turned black as she swam into the abyss.

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[A/N]
obligatory i love you to my boyfriend- so naar jou man.  no just wanted to let you guys know that the that Liv and her father play is café 1930- it's really good you should definitely listen!