Wave
A wave of panic crashed over Warriors, and he let himself flounder for two seconds before the Captain took over. He stood taller under the bright, cold sun of an unfamiliar era.
"Sky and Legend," he snapped, not bothering to soften his voice, "talk to people. See what you can find. Twilight and Wild, see if you can pick up a trail somewhere, anywhere. Time and I will talk to law enforcement. We meet back here in two hours, exactly. We have three members missing, and one day to find them."
For once, nobody argued.
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Ezra vibes — you’re right and you should say it ❤️
Also — tell me more 👀👀
Uhhhhhh I don't know what happened, but here's 600ish words of some real gen Ezra meta with a side of accidental girldad schmoop and a reader who's worked with Ezra before.
Bish I do not know what this is or if it is good but it is words and I will take it 😅
***
Ezra was not a man you would've ever considered frugal with his words. Point of fact the man carried on so effusively that you had, on more than one occasion, accused him of having lost the key, lock, and latch to his bonebox all together. With time, though, you grew accustomed to the easy chatter, mapping out the cadence and rhythm of his speech, the tone and temperature of his voice, and the meticulous navigation of his vocabulary.
Fringeling dialect was no small part of it - that odd colloquial snarl of Basic, Vayok, and Kevva-only-knew-what that had crossbred and rooted out there at the edge of the Black, a manner of speech that had by design or by chance grown thick and sharp and able to confuse and snare the unwary or dim-witted. But that wasn't the end of it.
Ezra was careful with his words. He rarely lied. Not that he never did, but he seemed to prefer a cautious navigation around the truth rather than an outright lie. On a good day he could talk even the dustiest old floater into pirouettes around a single point of avoidance with a pearl-bright smile and barely a pinprick of sweat on the laddered creases of his brow. On a bad day, well, those were the reasons he preferred such caution. The close scrape of honesty by virtue of a technicality had been his salvation more than once.
All this to say, he was not a man that gave his word lightly. If he gave it at all. Deals, bargains, and arrangements, sure. But oaths; well, those that held an ounce of air were scarce. Promises were a hard thing to keep in the Black, and the folk that drifted out in it long enough to survive it learned to dispense them prudently.
The girl, hard-eyed and unmoving as a gods-damned sand bear, had no mind for such prudence.
You're leaving, she said, arms folded tightly to her narrow chest, fingers digging into the grimy sleeves of her sweatshirt. A statement, not a question, a splinter of fear wedged deep through it.
Hear me out, little bird, Ezra said, his lone hand raised in placation. Two cycles. Three at the most. Long enough to arrive at our destination, make our trade safely, and return. The docking here's paid up for seven, and your room the same. We'll be back long before then, safe and sound and far, far richer than we left.
The girl's eyes landed on you, sharp and cold as stones. If even half of what Ezra said about their time down in the Green was true, you could hardly fault her for her mistrust. Ezra knew you, trusted you. She didn't.
You trust them?
Ezra looked to you, brows hiked high. The shadows under his eyes were lessening finally, but he still looked thinner and more haggard than the sly, round-cheeked man you last saw stepping onto the loading docks at Puggart Bench.
I do, he said, the words plain and unembellished.
The girl scowled, but the set of her shoulders relaxed an inch. You nearly smiled. Brevity was the clearest hallmark of sincerity with Ezra. You knew it; clearly the girl knew it, too.
Two days, Cee, he said again. This is the best price we're like to get on this haul without a corporate contact. Two days, and we come back rich.
Swear. The word left the girl's mouth like a rifle shot. Swear you're coming back.
The lines of Ezra's face slackened, and there was a brief look of understanding in his eyes before an unusual warmth bloomed in its place. And then, slowly, he nodded.
On my life.
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