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fine line between - Thalassa - 07-17-2025
She's still adjusting to the new molten tiger shift, observing the soft pad of her paws with mild interest and running her teeth along the fangs as she listens to the lava drip onto the grass with a quiet sizzle. None of these are things she'd noticed in her hollowed state of roaming, but as she'd hunted and killed a blink hare to satiate her growing bloodlust, every shift of her muscles and twitch of her tail felt like something she'd always know, a piece of her that had escaped from the crack that Pierce had ripped open.
It's depressing to think that it took him leaving for the feline to make an appearance, making her wonder if she's always meant to be broken, to be cast aside in order for her to find these new aspects of herself. It makes her want to reject it, willing to give up anything and everything to bring him back. But she knows it doesn't matter. She knows he's not coming back. And she hurts all the more for it.
Sitting at the edge of the water, she slowly cleans some of the blood from her black and silver fur, letting her mind wander a safe distance from the hole in her chest. It's hard to do when every topic is a slippery slope back to that purple-black hollowness, but she does her best to put up a flimsy gate of warning in hopes she doesn't stumble.
Thal runs a damp paw over her muzzle, whipping more blood from her cheek when her ears perk at a sound, intrigued by how easily she can hear it amongst the other ambient noises. She lifts her head from the puddle of water, glancing through the darkness to spot a figure walking her way - another apparent benefit of this form. At first, she's tempted to resume her mindless cleaning, but the familiar scent and casual gait has the fur on her haunches raising, a different kind of ache making her tail twitch.
Before he can see her (at least that's what she thinks), Thal slinks off to the side and into the darkest of midnight shadows, where only the glow of her pelt might give her away at the edge of the garden- but she doesn't leave yet. For some inexplicable reason, she stays, watching and waiting.
RE: fine line between - Vesper - 07-23-2025
The garden is restless tonight. Its hedges are whispering again, leaves twitching in some half-formed breeze that doesn’t reach the skin. Moonlight paints the blossoms in ghost-pale hues, and Vesper doesn’t bother watching where he walks — the Queen’s Gambit always chooses the path for you.
He’s toying with a card between his fingers, the edges worn soft by repetition. The hum of roses, heavy and half-rotten, blends into the chorus of insects and faint trickle of maze-fed water. But it’s not the flora that makes the shadows twitch. It’s the coil of thought — coarser than before. Darker. Touched with something feral. He hears her before he sees her, of course.
Not because he hears her—the molten pads of her paws are quieter than breath—and not because of the faint sizzle of blood and lava trailing through the air, but because rage makes her thoughts jagged, sharp around the edges. She’s trying not to feel — which always makes it louder.
His grip shifts slightly on the card. Then, without turning, without breaking stride, he speaks—not loudly, not sharply. Just enough to cut through the dark. [say]"I know you're there,"[/say] he says, tone like polished glass. Vesper pauses at the next fork in the hedge, one that hadn’t been there seconds ago. [say]"If you're thinkin' about tryin' to ambush me, I'd think again about it."[/say]
RE: fine line between - Thalassa - 07-24-2025
Despite the aching hollowness that she's come to recognize, Thal still has more emotions than the average person. Anger, shame, frustration, sadness, pride: they all lap against the recesses of her mind, threatening to drag her back down into that dark depression while she tries desperately to focus on anything else. Maybe it's why she doesn't leave, why she lingers just long enough to hear his drawling voice echo across the night air like a crystalline promise of violence and momentary distraction.
She pauses mid-step, eyes scanning him from the shadow she's taken refuge in, noting the card in his hand and the infuriatingly casual ease with which he walks the garden. His words break the illusion of surprise, but Thal doesn't reveal herself, under the incorrect assumption that he can't know it's her in this new shift. It's somehow easier not having to face him and whatever accusing words he might have for her - to be something else stalking him for the sole purpose of predatory instinct.
Slipping around the nearest hedge, she remains tucked into the shadows, using them like a cloak of security to disguise who she really is - to hide the pain that's barbed against her chest. There's no growling or hissing to give her away, a deadly silence that she eases into as she stalks a littler closer, pretending for a moment that she's nothing more than a molten tiger hunting an arrogant prick - one's whose words can't hurt her.
RE: fine line between - Vesper - 07-24-2025
He doesn’t stop walking, not right away. Just shifts the card once more between his fingers, his steps carving a quiet line through the hedge-woven dark. But his focus has already turned inward — not to himself, but to the echo trailing behind him. The molten tiger slinks through the maze like she believes in her own myth — that fire can hide her, that hunger makes her something new. But Vesper’s never needed to see her to know her. The shadows curl at the edge of her thoughts like they remember the shape of her rage. And gods, it’s so loud. That bruised pride still aching where he’d cut her last, that reluctant curl of shame tucked behind the teeth. The way even now she pretends she’s only hunting—not bleeding. Not mourning.
And of course, the hollow ache she thinks is buried. He brushes past it like one might a broken bottle in the street: with care, and disgust. A huff escapes him — soft, humourless. [say]"You’ve seen a few of my talents,"[/say] he calls idly over his shoulder, tone bone-dry. [say]"But darlin'—"[/say] He turns the card one final time and vanishes mid-step. A flicker of shadow. A breath caught between heartbeats. And then— He’s there. Right in front of her. One boot crunching softly in the grass. The card slipping neatly back into his coat. His expression is unreadable, carved in moonlight and restraint, but his voice, when it comes, is low and deliberate.
[say]"—I didn’t show you all of ‘em. Call it a demigod thing, but you can't hide in the shadows from someone like me."[/say]
RE: fine line between - Thalassa - 07-26-2025
His words sound too painfully familiar, her suspicions rising before he even deigns to call her 'darlin' in that drawling tone that feels like sandpaper against every ache and bruise. She doesn't need to understand how he knows, only that he does. Suddenly, she doesn't feel like the predator anymore, her haunches raising and her head lowering in preparation for whatever attack he might throw her way, the illusion broken in a single word. Because she's not just a tiger stalking through the garden, she's a prideful woman who has too much history to ignore, too many feelings to comprehend, and too many thoughts to organize.
When Vesper blinks into existence in front of her, Thal is already shifting, the snarling lips of her tiger form unmistakably the same on her own fanged features, even if her appearance is slightly more disheveled from the hunt and weeks of distracted attempts to find direction. Regardless, there's still a recognizable fire burning in her eyes - although dampened with pain - as she looks stubbornly up at him. [say]"You're not worth hiding from."[/say] She won't admit her feelings - she never does - especially not to someone else. She'd rather he think she hates him than know how much damage his words can do.
Without any more foreplay or preamble, she strikes forward with a flaming fist at his chest, the fire spreading faster as it catches against easier emotions. [say]"Call me 'darlin' again."[/say] Even if the punch doesn't land, the threat does, jagged and full of simmering violence.
Then she darts away, melting into the shadows - not hiding, but disguising herself in the dark recess of the hedge for the next opportunity to strike.
1/4
RE: fine line between - Vesper - 07-27-2025
Thal shifts before the punch lands—teeth and fire and heartbreak flaring into the space between them—but Vesper’s already moving. The shadows around him recoil like struck animals, and in their place, starlight bursts into form: a hard, crystalline shimmer of light-forged magic that flickers like a constellation caught mid-collapse. The blow hits the shield with a hiss and no small amount of drama, flames blooming harmlessly along its arc.
Vesper doesn't flinch as he lets the magic dissolve back into the dark like it was never there, his smirk slow and thoroughly unbothered. [say]"And yet..."[/say] he murmurs, the words lilting into a snicker, low and needling. [say]"That’s exactly what you were doin’."[/say]
The card is still tucked in his hand, idly spinning between his fingers as he glances at the spot she vanished from. He doesn’t pursue right away; instead, Vesper straightens, dusts invisible ash from his coat, then stoops slightly and lifts a leaf with exaggerated delicacy, peering under it like he’s searching for something precious.
[say]"Where oh where,"[/say]” he muses aloud, all velvet mockery, [say]"could Thalassa have gone?"[/say] He knows exactly where she is, of course. He can feel the sharp press of her thoughts curled in the hedgerow, bruised and defensive and trying so desperately not to fall apart. Rage makes a good disguise—she’s always worn it well—but even rage has its tells. And gods, the ache beneath it is loud.
[say]"You used to like all the names I'd call you,"[/say] he says idly, flicking a thorn from his sleeve as he strolls closer to where she hides. [say]"Maybe the void has rotted out that part of your mind as well."[/say]
1/4
RE: fine line between - Thalassa - 07-28-2025
She might have argued with him about the difference between 'hiding' and 'stalking' but the vibration of magic up her arm stuns her as much as the frustration; because he's right and she's too stubborn to admit it beyond an annoyed grit of her teeth as she flickers out of existence. Her eyes look back to where the glittering shield no longer stands but Vesper does, looking like she's done nothing more than stuck her tongue out at him, making his mocking words cut all the deeper.
He's toying with her and she knows it - she hates it. Nothing she does fazes him, every bite of her fangs meeting air while he points out that she hadn't been meaning to hit him anyways. She wants desperately to prove him wrong and sink her teeth into his neck - literally or mentally - but he always seems to know that her bravado is empty, to see the pain behind her words rather than the insults she throws. It's infuriating and the clench of her jaw starts to ache, feeling like a fool just waiting for him to find her in the dark.
Losing her patience (did she have any to begin with?), Thal darts behind him and attempts to slam her foot against the back of his knee. [say]"You lost the right to call me that."[/say] Venom coats her tongue, hating the reminder of all the times her traitorous heart had fluttered to hear his drawling affection - the reminder of how weak she is was. And Vesper doesn't ease up as he presses painfully into the gaping wound that's been ripped from her chest, his words drawing blood from the loss that hasn't healed like pushing fingers into gauze just to see the red seep around it. Her vision flashes a deep ruby.
2/4
RE: fine line between - Vesper - 07-28-2025
The strike lands hard against the back of his knee — not a devastating blow, but sharp enough to make him stagger, shadows hissing out like startled vipers as his body drops low in the grass. Rather than fighting the fall, Vesper sinks smoothly into it, letting the momentum carry him down onto one knee, one palm braced in the dirt. His breath escapes in a soft grunt, but there’s no rage, no bark of surprise. Just a low, rumbling chuckle. When he lifts his face toward her, moonlight spills across the edge of his smirk, all teeth and gall. [say]"If you wanted me on my knees, darlin',"[/say] he drawls, lazy as smoke, [say]"you could’ve just said so."[/say]
The shadows twist at his command, smooth and liquid, lashing out to coil around her ankles — not with brute force, but with the slick inevitability of ink soaking into cloth. He doesn’t yank. Not yet. Just enough to throw her balance if she resists. Enough to drag her down beside him if she lets it.
He tilts his head as he watches her, silver glinting faintly at his throat. Her thoughts are like stepping barefoot through broken glass now—not just jagged, but cruel in their shape. What used to be wildfire and instinct and a hunger for more has been scorched down into sharp corners and echoing void, and gods, it’s a fucking tragedy. Because once? Once, her mind had been a place he liked to linger. Now, it bites. And not the fun kind.
He’ll never tell her that. She doesn’t deserve to know he mourns it.
[say]"Don’t take it out on me just ‘cause your alien boyfriend fucked off,"[/say] Vesper says at last, voice still smooth but colder now, like seawater over a deep wound. His grip on the shadows tightens. Just a little.
2/4
RE: fine line between - Thalassa - 07-29-2025
That cocky grin has her fangs pressing against her lips, more animal than human as a growl threatens to scrape from her throat. [say]"I don't want anything from you."[/say] Everything he does is like too sharp claws where gentle hands had once roamed, from his 'endearing' term to the shadows that caress her legs, slick as oil that clogs and reminds her of how easily she'd drowned herself in his presence.
Fire flares. It starts in her head, a ringing red that swelters and sears through her thoughts. There's no room for reason or logic, blinding her in the smoke and flames of pain and memories that find fuel in his every word - the 'darlin' like a piece of dynamite against the heat that sparks when he mentions Pierce. It pushes out of every pore, looking for anything to devour and finding his shadows to chomp at. The tendrils wrap around her body like it might hide her behind the physical embodiment of every emotion, a wall of fire that doesn't care about the casualties, determined to force Vesper out.
3/4
RE: fine line between - Vesper - 07-29-2025
A low huff escapes him; not quite a laugh, more a breath dragged through a cracked smile. [say]"Oh, I don't believe that's true,"[/say] Vesper murmurs, brushing imaginary ash from his knee. [say]"I think you do want somethin' from me."[/say] The word drips like honey into saltwater, and though he says nothing more, the truth of it hums in the space between them. If she didn’t want something—revenge, release, ruin—she wouldn’t still be here. She wouldn’t still be fighting him like a goddamn wounded animal circling a wound she can’t stop licking.
But her fury doesn’t wait. Fire surges before he can lift his shield—faster this time, less performance and more violence—and the heat licks up his side, searing through his coat and biting across his hand where the playing card smoulders and curls. [say]"Fuck,"[/say] he hisses, vanishing a second too late into mist and shadow.
He reappears several feet away, crouched and braced, eyes narrowed as he flicks the burned card to the grass. It lands facedown, edges still glowing faintly as smoke coils off his fingers. Vesper runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back with a sharp breath as the last of the fire winks out. [say]"Don't fucking take it out on me,"[/say] he snaps, low and dangerous now, the ice beneath the velvet. [say]"Just ‘cause he didn’t care enough to stay and you didn’t care enough to go."[/say]
Vesper's shadows surge; this time they strike with purpose, lashing around her ankles with all the grace of a noose tightening mid-sentence with the intent to yank her off her fucking feet.
3/4
RE: fine line between - Thalassa - 07-30-2025
[say]"You're right. I want you to stop patronizing me."[/say] And for a sweet, blissful moment, Vesper is forced out of her proximity, his voice losing the mocking tone for something that recognizes what she feels: pain. There aren't any stabbing words or biting names that dig deeper into the wound, her body sagging with relief, the fire winking out around her to reveal panting breaths and singed clothing that she hadn't been coherent enough to protect, a hazy red lingering in her gaze.
There's no joy in her brief victory - and such a brief victory it is as he somehow knows enough to slip the knife between her ribs, straight to the guilt beneath. [say]"Just stop. You don't know anything."[/say] She might as well be yelling, the emotions so thick they nearly choke her. Moments of his departure flash through her mind - the way they'd been forced out by the people of Caido, the regret in his eyes, the pendant that dangles from her neck, the damning autonomy that had inexplicably ruined it all and kept her from following him. It's too much, the pain stealing her breath before his shadows hit her, the sweeping of her legs nothing in comparison to the loss of equilibrium he glimpses in her memories, the crashing of her body against the ground like a blip in comparison to the way she'd been crushed under the weight of emptiness, the pain laughable in comparison to how the dead connection aches like a phantom limb that she can't remove.
Only instinct darts her into a nearby shadow, unable to hide the wounded sound that cracks from her chest but obscuring her sprawled form in the darkness so he can't see the tears that well like storms on the horizon, harbingers of the damage wreaked and still to come. And if he dares to approach in the moment, a wall of fire will raise like a loyal sentinel, silent but threatening in the protection of its charge.
4/4
RE: fine line between - Vesper - 07-30-2025
The sound that rips from her chest is raw enough to give most men pause. But Vesper? He just huffs a dry laugh; not amused, not kind. Just tired of pretending to be anything other than what he is. [say]"Then make me,"[/say] he says simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like he hasn’t already watched her try and fail to do just that.
She vanishes again, a streak of wounded heat and pride curling into the shadows, but she doesn’t vanish fast enough. He catches the sharp edge of her grief before it slips beneath the surface, the shape of that emptiness dragging behind her like a tide-bound corpse. He sees too much. He always does. Her voice chokes through the dark, a final plea: Just stop, but of course he doesn't.
[say]"I know more than you think,"[/say] he calls, voice low but cold now, stripped of pretense. [say]"Like how you never used to hide in the fucking shadows. Not until the void sank its teeth in and twisted you around until even you can’t stand what’s left."[/say]
He steps toward the dark, and sure enough, fwoomph, the wall of fire rises like a summoned guardian, licking up from the garden path in a flare of violent orange and amethyst. The heat bites at his skin, but Vesper’s already raising his arm, a shimmer of starlight forming a curved shield across his front, refracting flame like a mirrored moon.
He sneers into the blaze, the silver rings on his fingers catching the firelight, his voice carrying through it all. [say]"Hide behind it, then,"[/say] he snaps, the words slicing clean. [say]"Build yourself a fucking bonfire and pretend it makes you strong."[/say]
4/4
RE: fine line between - Thalassa - 07-31-2025
His taunt fans the tendrils of her fire, a reminder that she had shut him up, even if it was only for one blissful moment when she'd failed over and over and over. She's tempted to do so again just to prove a point, but she flees in the onslaught of his verbal and physical attack, suddenly just doing her best not to fall apart.
Hidden in the recesses of her mind, hints of lingering logic whisper that he's right, that she'd never felt this way before the Family; but they'd never been cruel to her, they'd never eviscerated her with vicious words and malicious intent, they'd done nothing more than shown her kindness where Vesper continues to dig his blunt fingers into every wound, carving deeper just to watch her bleed. There's such a heartless chill to his words that she swears he must enjoy it.
Between the shaking breaths she manages to draw, Thal hisses out a searing [say]"You're a bastard."[/say] She questions how she'd put up with him for so long, about what she'd been thinking, about what she could have ever found so endearing in his drawling tone that hides such a rotten personality. Her flames don't drop, suddenly feeling like he's the one who's hollow inside. She won't admit that part of her envies him, the ability to actually feel so little for people that she didn't have to hide. But she feels too much and he mocks her for it.
What else does he want her to do?
Thal thinks she might be broken, and if she lets other people see, she won't be able to lie to herself anymore, she might not be able to put herself back together, she might actually break - and people would rather have a dirty dagger covered in grime and singed edges than a shattered one, at least then they can't see the cracks in the metal.
Pushing herself from the ground, she does her best to pick up the scattered pieces of aching memories and sharp emotions, a tear running down her face as they cut along the tender flesh of her skin. It burns like a brand against her cheek and she swipes a discrete shoulder roughly over her face, rolling them back in the process but not feeling the iron will that she tries to pour into the movement. She knows it's not convincing but she still goes through the motions of gritting her teeth and planting her feet under her, turning to step into the light of her flames - to face Vesper.
There's no hiding the excruciating pain still rimming her eyes, the quiet tension through the slight tremble of her limbs, the resignation on her face that gives weight to her words. [say]"At least they keep you out."[/say] Not just her flames, but whatever it is he thinks he knows about her suffering and whatever he'd found in her that had disgusted him enough to make him recoil. It'd been a blessing in disguise, a merciful liberation despite the scent of blood in the air, and she stands bruised yet relieved that there's a wall of fire between them - and she's the only one who's fireproof.
RE: fine line between - Vesper - 07-31-2025
She says he’s a bastard, and Vesper laughs. It’s sharp, mirthless, dragged from the hollow where sympathy used to live. He straightens with a shrug, the firelight casting shadows across his face like warpaint. [say]"Well,"[/say] he says, voice curling like smoke around a blade, [say]"you’re not wrong."[/say] No denial. No apology. Why would there be? He’s been called worse by people who meant less.
His cool blue start continues to watch her. As she rises. As she lies to herself with every clenched muscle and shaky breath. As that tear, no matter how quickly it’s scrubbed away, leaves its mark like a brand down her cheek. And he feels it; not the tear itself, but the way it drags through her thoughts, slicing across the glass-slick surface of her composure. The frantic shuffle of memory. The pain she keeps trying to bite back. The fear that if she breaks now, there’ll be nothing left to put together.
He doesn’t reach for her. He’d be a fool to, but one of his shadows does.
It slithers forward through the hedge-light, slow and careful, wrapping around her like it remembers her. The way it brushes her cheek isn’t rough or binding, not the way it once was, anyhow: Just a flicker of pressure, cool and not-quite-there. Familiar in the worst way as it highlights what she clearly doesn't want to be seen. Even so, she’s still beautiful, even with the rage, or maybe because of it. Eyes like stormlight rimmed in grief. Lips pulled taut over everything she doesn’t want to say. The fire makes her glow like a goddess fallen sideways. Like something dangerous and divine and unmade.
With a tilt of his head to correct her, he murmurs, [say]"Your flames might make me step back..."[/say] A pause. A breath. A slow blink that drags the words out sharp and low. [say]"...but you should know better than to think a little pain’s enough to keep me out."[/say]