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Kattigan's ears are ringing as he shoulders through the thrum of people gathered under the Guardian Wall. He ignores the rising instinct to flee as the crowd gets tighter, instead focusing on the familiar heat at his side. Wuflric is pressed close, growling at anyone who gets out of their way too slowly. The sense of urgency that he's felt since hearing Thjazi's name in that piss tavern earlier grows as a cheer erupts through the crowd. Kattigan whips his head up, his stomach dropping when he sees a figure walk beneath the gallows in the distance. The ringing in his ears grows louder, almost drowning out the trumpets that start up their shrill fanfare.
He doesn't hear any of the announcements as his fists tighten, his vision darkening around the edges. Nobody's doing anything, Thjazi's up there and nobody is doing shit. All his muscles engage at once, his heartbeat thundering through him. He could jump up there, probably would even get there in time, take a guard down with him. He'd shield Thjazi long enough to get him out of there. At least long enough to get someone else to do something. Why is nobody doing anything? Fucking cowards. Fucking coward. Kattigan's knuckles are white on his club. He'll get Thjazi out from under the noose, jump off the stage, run a few strides before the arrows tear through his back. He'd take his last breath looking up at the statues above the Guardian Wall. The heroes of the revolution.
Wulfric's wet nose nudges his clenched hand, shaking him from his reverie in time to hear the end of Thjazi's list of crimes. Skulduggery. Kat barks out a laugh, his eyes darting around wildly. There – in the back of the crowd, on the opposite side. He'd recognize that lionheaded old man anywhere. If Teor's here, someone must be getting Thjazi out of this fucking mess. There's a plan. Kat roughly pulls his flask from his satchel and takes a long drag, relishing in the sting of the dark liquor.
"Have you any last words?"
"Last–" Kattigan finds himself pushing closer to the stage, a strangled laugh escaping him. "Last words my ass, he ain't done fighting."
Whatever plan those fucks cooked up should kick in any minute now. Teor– yeah, Teor and that little pixie probably got something going behind the scenes right now.
"The false authority..." Thjazi's voice rings across the space, and Kat's vision starts to tunnel again. Suddenly the people surrounding him are too close, the press of the crowd overwhelming. His feet move backward of their own accord, slowly and then faster. He stumbles over something and there are too many people, he's trapped and Thjazi's still speaking but his ears are ringing louder and louder and–
"I can still hear the falcon's cry!"
The snap is the loudest damn thing he's ever heard.
Wulfric pressing into his side keeps Kattigan from tipping over, and Kat grips for the fur at the nape of his neck.
"Fuck," his eyes search out Teor across the crowd, and he pushes everything away to focus on tracking his movement. But fuck, his head is spinning, and he keeps glancing back at the gallows, and– wait, that's a familiar– what is Azune fucking Nayar doing up there?
The crowd is starting to move, pockets of quiet and chaos erupting in response to the execution. It would be easy to get lost in the thrum of people, the sounds pressing in from all sides, but Kat's senses kick in and he starts to move towards Teor. This, he's familiar with. His shoulders relax a fraction as he settles into the rhythm of tracking Teor.
Kattigan eventually finds himself in some steep, residential neighborhood, all of the houses pressed together like these people enjoy living on top of each other. Wuflric huffs, shaking out his fur.
"Yeah, you and me both, eh?" At least there's not as many gods-damned people around here. Kat takes another drag from his flask, settling into the shadows as he watches Teor and another figure stride up and into to a house.
The greenery looks strangely more vibrant than he would expect for the city, and it all seems to converge on the front door of that house. Kat absent-mindedly fiddles with a vine growing down from a tree. As he watches more people filter in, he supposes this must be the funeral. He leans heavily against the tree, reaching back to feel the bark, rough and comforting beneath his fingers. He doesn't have to go in just yet– Thjazi will wait. He huffs out a gruff laugh.
The afternoon drags on, and he watches a sundry crowd filter in and out of the house. The scene with the demon girl and the bird was particularly amusing, and Kat briefly thinks that coming into the city wasn't such a shit idea. Especially after Pinebrough. Gods– he has a headache. He takes another long drink from his flask, and thinks he might just be drunk enough to go into the funeral.
Kat lets his feet carry him closer. Thjazi's body would be in there, as is custom. Seeing him again, after all these years, he could–
The door opens as someone new enters the funeral, and a cacophony of voices streams out. A laugh stands out, one he recognizes. Kat closes his eyes and rubs at the bridge of his nose. Thinks of disappointed faces. Walls pressing in.
He turns around, tugging up his hood. Gets halfway down the street before he hears the soft sound of the door opening, and two familiar voices stop him in his tracks. Teor, Azune, and a smaller figure (who he sizes up to be around 5'11") stand talking in hushed tones for a minute before they begin quickly, purposefully, walking in the opposite direction. Kattigan knows trouble, and there's trouble here. He'd be damned if he missed out on the fun after all the shit he's seen these past few days. And a quiet part of him, a part he hasn't indulged in years, wonders what it might be like to be accepted into the fold again. To reconcile.
Kattigan begins to follow, moving towards his past.