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RE: someday soon this dust's gonna settle - Vesper - 08-26-2025
He doesn’t flinch at much. Not the crack of bone, not pain, not even her when she’s cornering him with a grin like a loaded trap. But the flash of her thoughts in that moment—sharp, cold, and so suddenly cruel in a way she likely doesn’t mean—has his shoulders drawing taut. The shift is slight, the kind of tension he’s long since learned to smooth out, but not quick enough this time. His jaw ticks once. Just once. And then it’s locked away again. He doesn’t look at her—doesn’t want to—not with that chill lapping at the back of his mind like a tide gone mean.
If she wanted someone older, someone who’d racked up a proper number of funerals to earn their place in her bed—fine. The world wasn’t lacking for loss or the men who wore it like a fucking badge. But if she thought age made someone more human, more real, more worthy of understanding her pain—well. There’s a reason he doesn’t say a godsdamned word as he turns and walks out. Because what he wants to say wouldn’t come out gentle.
By the time he’s back, any trace of the moment’s bite is buried deep. Shoved down into the place where all the other barbs go to rot. He meets her smile with a quieter one of his own, lopsided and faint as moonlight through cloud, and raises a brow at the scold tucked in her voice. [say]"What’re you doin’ with one of Frey’s dogs?"[/say] he drawls, the dryness returning as he eyes the canine offender still sniffing suspiciously at the grill’s legs.
He doesn’t wait for an answer. Shadows flick from his shoulders, sinuous and sure, gathering up the plates from the counter. He can still feel her, though—the hum of her hands as she worked, the glint of butter-slicked confidence still simmering through her thoughts. At her question, the way she leans in on it like it means something more, he gives a low huff of laughter. [say]"You can open the wine, then."[/say]
And with that, he steps back out, letting the door swing behind him on a gentle hush of air, the plates held aloft by silent dark wings as he heads toward the waiting heat of the grill.
RE: someday soon this dust's gonna settle - Colt - 08-26-2025
Pressure always drops just before a storm. It's something you don't quite notice at first, not so dramatic as the darkening skies or the distant rumble of thunder, but you can sense it all the same, especially when you've seen enough of 'em. It's the same thing that can set the animals restless and the trees swaying different, as invisible as the wind and no less impactful.
She feels something akin to it, when talk of counters leads to loss. Unlike the usual times where she's caught the drop just before all hell breaks loose, storms with men other than him, she is not still draped in golden delight. Those times it had been them ready to burst into something fierce and terrible, one which stands above the rest in that regard. This time though, it's easy enough to attribute the change to her thoughts. The strain in his jaw, the rigidity in his shoulders, is surely just a reflection of the gaze she bears like a blade before remembering and sheathes it. For once, she's the only storm gathering instead of just being the one caught in it, and while hers might not be a twister or a hurricane, dark clouds and rain can be enough to drown a field.
She works it out into the vegetables, holds it back with laughter about dogs and cooking, like a warmer breeze and sunlight driving back the thunderhead before it builds enough.
She shrugs at his question, the answer nothing difficult. [say]"Gave him to Frey as an offering with the last surprise litter. Got plenty of my own, thought Frey might appreciate a pup."[/say] That plan had turned out grand, given Smooches is still wagging at her doorstep. [say]"Frey kissed him, but he still needs looking after, so."[/say] So he's here. Might one day get old and wise enough to stay by the shrine of his true master, but for now she'll accept convincing him to pee outside properly.
Her eyes trace each shadow that stirs while she responds, a pack belonging to Vesper. She bets they never piss on him when they're excited.
The look follows after him as he heads back outside, and it sits more like a retreat than work being tended. Her lips purse in quiet thought before she kicks up off the counter, stripping off her apron and ignoring the wine.
Instead she grabs their two glasses, rum and tequila, and joins him outside. [say]"Figured I ought to play body guard for you,"[/say] she offers with a light smile, setting his drink down near the plates, intentionally brushing her shoulder against him with the lean. She glances up, a quick wink exchanged before she retreats to her porch swing. It's a practiced ceremony of twirling in place, a clue for the dogs to get the fuck up, before she curls into the sway of the wood. She tilts her margarita just so to avoid spilling, folding her legs neatly against one another with a quiet sigh of peace.
[say]"What was your favorite thing to watch among the stars,"[/say] she asks casually, part of the words muffled as the tilt of her drink takes them, amber stare peering over the edge of glass to watch him. She can let things rankle her for years without moving past them, a scar built up into something ugly over a splinter, but if it matters she'll face it head on—understanding him, wrapping her head around this part of him, is something worth digging a sliver out. She's been watching it sink into her little by little, but all of hers and Thorn's thoughts haven't been able to tweeze it free.
RE: someday soon this dust's gonna settle - Vesper - 08-27-2025
He snorts without looking at her, something soft and disbelieving that she'd tried to offload part of her litter onto a god. [say]"Nature Frey might’ve taken him. Seems like the one who would."[/say] A shrug follows, like maybe the pup wasn’t worse off for having been kissed by a god.
He’s already half into the rhythm of grilling when he feels it: the faint pressure of her mind brushing against his awareness like the stir of wind before a door opens. He doesn't need to turn to know she’s coming, and he doesn’t—until her footsteps find the porch and that glass sets down near his elbow. One brow arches as he glances over his shoulder, eyes flicking from the glass of rum to her easy lean against him, the brush of shoulder to shoulder not lost on him. [say]"Either you just lost your bartender’s license,"[/say] he says, [say]"or you don’t like the wine I brought."[/say]
He knows the actual reason, of course. That’s the problem. Knowing the quiet why behind every half-smile and swallowed sigh. Knowing when logic is just fear dressed up in sense. When kindness is masking guilt, when judgment is self-defence. Telepathy made it easier to be sharp, but it also made it easier to be distant, impossible to get close to. Because knowing didn’t soften the blow, it just made it land cleaner. Still, he takes the drink without comment, lets the warmth of rum settle on his tongue instead of any leftover tension because it didn't do him any good to sour the evening.
As he turns to look at her, curled into the porch swing, something eases a fraction. Maybe not trust, but a step toward it. He studies her for a moment longer than necessary before tipping his gaze skyward, the bruised twilight a smear across the heavens, stars flickering through like they’re hesitating. [say]"Hmm."[/say] The hum rolls low as he sets the vegetables down with a hiss and leans against the porch rail, rum glass in hand. [say]"The ripples,"[/say] he says finally, voice quiet like he’s not sure he wants to say it aloud.
His eyes flick back to her, steady. [say]"From that high up, you could see how shit spilled outward. One choice in one place, how it fucked with another somewhere else. Not in a ‘divine plan’ kinda way. Just...consequence."[/say] He rolls the glass gently in his palm, thoughtful. [say]"Watching people from that far up, you start to see how connected everything is. Like dropping stones in a pond, but everyone’s doing it, all at once."[/say] He takes a sip from his rum. [say]"Harder to see it now that I’ve got my feet on the ground,"[/say] he admits, not quite smiling. [say]"But it's still a hobby of mine."[/say]
RE: someday soon this dust's gonna settle - Colt - 08-28-2025
His remark takes her by surprise, not having expected such an easy slide of humor amid the focus and annoyance of cooking (although maybe it only annoys her), or for her earlier joke to still be running between them. A short laugh slips free of it's own accord, thoroughly delighted by the reemergence of her second job. [say]"My, you run a tight bar sugar, girl can't even step outside under your supervision? Feel sorry for everyone at the Hanged Man now."[/say] As the wood cradles her, she sinks against it fully, one foot driving the swing to a steady sway. [say]"You said it's for dinner, and unless I'm mistaken, this ain't dinner, yet,"[/say] she muses, [say]"or did you think it'd take me just as long to open it as you to be done grillin'?"[/say] Which, given his praise for managing vegetables, perhaps he really had set the bar into the ground, which is fine by her, all the easier to step over. [say]"Can't say I'm partial to wine though,"[/say] she admits with a soft sigh and a subtle crinkle of her nose. She'd try it though, for his sake, but every other glass has usually been the same disappointment.
Her head tilts back as the sour heat of the margarita hits, and lazily she sprawls an arm over the swing's side, the glass loosely dangling from the claw of her hand. He takes a moment to consider, rolling the thought around the same way someone chasing down every flavor of a new drink would. She can barely take her eyes off him normally, but watching lean of him in sincere thought, calculating in a way that seems softer than normal, that's a sight she couldn't bear to miss.
His answer isn't what she expects, isn't sure what she did to be honest—something simpler she supposes, something that might be considered beautiful, or impossible, or something she'd have no hope of understanding. Instead he says something that's a little bit of it all.
The swaying stops as she focuses more intently, perching her chin on a hand as she considers it all. [Say]"Not sure if that's comforting or unnerving,"[/say] she murmurs, a corner of her lip quirking up. [Say]"The connection, I mean. Sometimes it's nice to think what you do doesn't matter, that you're just one little raindrop amid a flood."[/say] A demotivating or lonely idea for some, but there's a kind of peace to existing on an island, at knowing all your fuck ups are just yours. [Say]"Other times, it's nice to know you mattered. That you changed something."[/say] There's a kind of power to that, realizing what you do carries weight, that it could be used to shape the world, even in small ways. Not something she thinks about much.
[Say]"What was the longest ripple your followed?[/say] she wonders, imagining some wayward trail of events that land someone into their best or worst day.
RE: someday soon this dust's gonna settle - Vesper - 08-29-2025
A dry snort breaks from him, low and amused. [say]"If you had to run a bar with Nova and Caly for staff,"[/say] he says, [say]"you’d run a tight fuckin’ ship too. Calypso’s gettin’ hit on every other minute, and Nova’s got the attention span of a mayfly when there’s anything shiny around. It’s less drink service and more herdin’ cats."[/say] He glances at her, the faint edge of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
At the admission about wine, he quirks a brow. [say]"If that’s the case,"[/say] he murmurs, turning the skewers with a slow flick of his shadows, [say]"you can bring it out here. I’ll throw it in with the meat, and we’ll keep drinkin’ what you like."[/say] There’s no judgment in the offer, just ease, like the world could shift to her comfort without needing to be asked twice.
As the grill crackles, he looks back to her, draped over the porch swing like the heat softened her bones, head tipped back, gold-blonde hair catching the light in places like dry grass at sunset. He doesn’t look away, just lets his gaze settle on her with a quiet sort of curiosity as she considers the ripple effect.
Her question draws his eyes back toward the glass in his hand. Ringed fingers tilt it once, twice, before he takes a sip and lets the thought spool loose. [say]"Focused mostly on Torchline,"[/say] he says, voice low enough to ride the breeze. [say]"Knew me ‘n my sisters were gonna end up there eventually, so I kept watch. Meant watchin’ Jack, too."[/say] A faint snort escapes him, fond and sharp. [say]"His ripples went pretty fuckin’ far. Not really a surprise."[/say]
But then his gaze drifts upward, into the bruised sky with its scattered stars, as though sifting through memory. [say]"Mm, there was one that started with this married woman."[/say] His voice is soft now, the kind of softness that comes when handling a story with too many edges. [say]"Not unhappily, far as I could tell. Had a husband she cared for, two kids who didn’t scream too much. They ran a shop down by the docks—sold charms, little bottles of perfume, pocket mirrors with wards carved on the back. Honest place."[/say]
He rolls his glass between his fingers. [say]"But there was a sailor. Young. Stupid. Pretty in a way that makes people forget better judgment.[/say] A pause, then a glance her way. [say]"You know the type."[/say] He grins. [say]"They didn’t mean to start nothin’. Wasn’t that kind of affair. Just shared a drink after her husband locked up late one night. Talked about books. She liked books about storms. He said he dreamed of bein’ struck by lightning and survivin’ it. Idiot poetry. But somethin’ in it cracked her open. Made her laugh in a way she hadn’t in years.
They met up twice more. Never touched. Never kissed. Just talked. But she started smiling at nothing while she stirred her teas. Forgot ingredients. Her husband noticed. He followed her, thought it was worse than it was. Picked a fight with the sailor outside the bar. The sailor fought back. He had a knife."[/say] Vesper’s voice goes quieter as he takes another sip of his rum. [say]"Didn’t kill him. But it changed things. Husband started drinkin’. Shop closed a few weeks later. Sailor skipped town with a busted wrist and a rumour behind him. The woman stayed. Didn’t speak much after. One of her kids went and sided with the Family after things got real bad at home, and he got killed shortly after tryin' to steal a lily from someone. The husband became that mean kind of quiet that's always on edge. Ended up killin' himself over it not long after their kid died."[/say]
Vesper lifts his rum in a dry salute, expression unreadable in the dim porch light. [say]"All ‘cause of a laugh and a boy who thought he could survive lightning."[/say]
RE: someday soon this dust's gonna settle - Colt - 08-29-2025
He stares at his glass like he might catch the reflection of memory in the rum. Her gaze drifts there too, not wanting to miss it. Though, as he talks—starting off simple and easy before tilting into something harder, quieter—it trails back to him. The drink remains an anchor for the tide of his thoughts, each twist of the drink angling a bit of the light as the pattern cut into it spins the twilight glint. It almost strikes her as nervous, but that doesn't seem to sit quite right beside him, not even now. There's weight to it though, what he says, what he's reliving, and that tugs on her. Purposefully, she grounds herself in her own liquor as he turns the tale.
Her gaze meets his at the pointed glance, a smile flashing in. Forgetting better judgement for someone young and pretty, nah, she doesn't know a thing about that. He's not stupid though, so maybe she's safe.
There's little kindness to the story, a worst day being the direction he went, or maybe that's just the direction they all end up. She didn't ask for kind though, and each crease of the ripple he described is one she could trace as easy as snakeskin. If that'd just been one pattern, long, but still just one, then perhaps he'd seen more loss than she had after all. Nothing personal maybe, but still witnessed. Seemed strange to ever want to come down and join this hell at all, or maybe like the rest of them, he'd had no choice in the matter.
[say]"Mm,"[/say] she says after a moment in silence, voice drifting after his salute. [say]"Sounds more like it was all because a husband forgot how to make his wife laugh,"[/say] she offers instead, one finger tapping the edge of her seat. [say]"I think that ripple started well before the sailor."[/say] And isn't that half the problem with blaming hurricanes on butterfly wings, there's far too many of them flapping about.
She rises with a soft sigh, the getting out of the swing a less graceful process that requires a shove and some effort, like it always means to trap whoever it takes. [say]"I'll get that wine,"[/say] she explains as she slips inside. She exchanges her emptied margarita for two wine glasses, tucking the bottle under her arm and wielding the corkscrew like a knife as she steps back out onto the porch. She shakes it in thought as she nears him, gaze distant in the arches of her mind. [say]"So, you could just what, watch everyone, all the time?"[/say] Clarity brightens up her amber as she lands it back on him.
[say]"Everyone's vulnerable, secret, private moments just on display?"[/say] She'd always figured, the what with the way the gods always know, but she half hoped everyone mostly went ignored, the way she doesn't pay mind to the lives of insects. Then, when the gods needed to know or answer something, they could pull each person up like a book from a shelf, skimming for the synopsis to catch them up on the plot highlights. That all smut, anxiety-riddled horrors, and everything else inbetween is laid out in bare detail for them to read is unsettling. Some might find comfort in the constant potential of the presence, but there's times when being alone is worth more than anything else in the world.
RE: someday soon this dust's gonna settle - Vesper - 08-29-2025
Vesper lifts a brow, thoughtful. [say]"Could be,"[/say] he allows, voice low and unhurried. [say]"Except that’s the trick with ripples. Hard to know where they start. You can follow ‘em a long way, but even from up there,"[/say] he gestures vaguely toward the stars with the neck of his bottle, [say]"I couldn’t rewind time."[/say]
When Colt returns with glasses and the bottle of wine tucked under her arm, he glances back over his shoulder, brow lifting just slightly in surprise. [say]"Take a sip first. If you hate it, we’ll ditch it and drink somethin’ worth the trouble."[/say]
Her question drifts out across the porch, soft and curious and not quite accusatory, but it hooks in him all the same. Vesper doesn’t answer right away, just exhales through his nose and tilts his head, watching her like he’s measuring the shape of her understanding. [say]"Mhm. Pretty much all there was to do,"[/say] he says at last. [say]"Watchin’. Learnin’. Call it celestial puberty if you want. We were meant to come down already shaped—, not blank slates wanderin’ blind."[/say]
The next question lands a little heavier. Vulnerable. Secret. Private. He watches her mouth around each word, feels the edges of them like they’re trying to pry something open. Arms folded loose across his chest, Vesper studies Colt with that same unreadable calm, as if her concern isn’t an accusation but a stone dropped in a still pond. One he’s seen fall before. [say]"I came down knowin’ more shit than most folks’d ever believe."[/say] The words are even, not a boast, just truth stated clean. His gaze finds hers, steady and clear in the dimming light. [say]"Still do."[/say] He doesn’t say it like a threat, doesn’t try to soothe it either. His voice is too calm for that, too steady, even as it threatens to brush with a truth he isn't so sure he should name.
RE: someday soon this dust's gonna settle - Colt - 08-30-2025
She's too caught up in the idea of never-ending eyes to do anything but comply to his instruction, despite the fact that'd already been her intent. What he'd said earlier about tossing the wine on the meat, it's his bottle to do whatever he wants with, but she'd be remiss if she didn't at least try it since he brought it for them before getting their dinner drunk.
She sets the glasses down between them on the porch rail, turning the corkscrew into the top as she watches him start to gather an answer. The cork pulls free as he explains, and her 'brow furrows a bit as she sets the tool aside. [say]"Okay—"[/say] she begins slowly, careful with the way she picks her words, wine held hostage in her hand as every bit of concentration goes to this idea that he grew and learned by watching the world instead of being in it. Nothing she feels any one way about except she hasn't lived it, so she can't quite get a hold of it in full.
[say]"So, you watched everyone, but...you couldn't practice anything, right?"[/say] Her wandering eye flicks back to him, intent as it finds him within the gathering dusk where shadow and low light have become hard to separate. Despite him being hard to see, she feels it even now—especially now actually, with him offering more of himself than ever before, not that she's ever asked this much—the draw to him like gravity.
[say]"How'd you learn to swim, or ride, or, or—"[/say] she trails off, clipping back that last thought, fuck me senseless. Maybe this is him learning how still, but gods, if he got any better at it she'd lose every scrap of civility she's managed to cling to around him. Hell, she'd had to leave him with a paint brush in hand just to prove to herself she still could.
She tilts her hip into the rail with a flush to her cheeks, grateful the descending night will cover it, and busies herself pouring their glasses. Much of her experiences in life have been failing until each mistake and dusted off pair of pants yield success, and with it an understanding of how to keep getting back up from the falls. He just, what, dropped down this good? Didn't have to nearly drown day after day in a pond, fighting reeds like they're river monsters? His riding...well honestly that does need work, so maybe there's a limit to the divine blood after all.
She sets the bottle down and and grabs her glass, turning it in hand as his response edges out cautiously. It's nothing direct, maybe he's under celestial NDA, but that feels like answer enough. Yes, is what sits between all his words, and she exhales heavy and silent, making space for that truth. Already a half-realized one, it doesn't deliver any new prickles to the patch of burrs where other things she dislikes have caught on her. It's already got one there, and it just wriggles in deeper. There's a lot in life that can't be changed, and liked or not, you've got to learn to live with it. She'll be sure to wave to the gods next time she's curling up at the bottom of her shower for a good cry.
His answer does give something else though. [say]"Oh yeah?"[/say] she asks with one 'brow sketching up, sipping at the wine. Immediately, and without her consent, her nose scrunches up and one eye partly closes against the flavor. She sets the glass down with a shake of her head, tongue rolling against the roof of her mouth. [say]"Like what?"[/say] she challenges, attention shifting back to him in full.
RE: someday soon this dust's gonna settle - Vesper - 08-30-2025
Vesper lets his head tip side to side, like he’s weighing stones in each palm. [say]"Not quite,"[/say] he says slowly, watching her as the cork twists free and the dusk settles further across the porch like a heavy shawl. [say]"There were things we could do, up there. Illusions, mostly—Safrin conjurin’ starlight ‘n memory. Made for decent toys and trials and whatnot."[/say]
His shoulder rolls, smooth and casual. [say]"We learned to walk and speak just fine. Could run, build, throw knives if we wanted. Just...all of it was on stuff that glittered instead of growin’. Stardust instruments, conjured swords, dance floors that weren’t even real."[/say] His mouth quirks faintly. [say]"Made us graceful in ways that didn’t always translate."[/say]
The trailing flick of her thoughts—bitten off before they can cross her lips—brushes soft and amused through his mind, like the ghost of a kiss never given. He doesn’t show it, but gods, he would’ve smirked. Might’ve said something bold if he weren’t so practiced at keeping it all cinched tight. Instead, he just tips his head. [say]"There were definitely things we wanted to try for real once he got down here though."[/say] His tone stays light, conversational. [say]"Some more than others."[/say]
She pours the wine and, yeah, doesn’t take a mind reader to know she hates it. The scrunch of her nose, the half-pursed eye, all of it’s enough to pull a snort out of him. The smile that follows is brief but warm, more real than it has any business being. [say]"No, huh?"[/say] he says, already reaching for the glass she’s just set down. He takes a sip himself, rolling the taste over his tongue. It’s fine. More than fine. But when he swallows, his smile’s already crooked.
Then comes the question, and her challenge, and her eyes on him in full. The porch hums a little quieter. His smile lingers just long enough to feel like a holdover, then fades; not vanishing, just retreating. Like something folding its wings in. She deserves more than a shrug, even if the full truth’s not on the table, something real should be. So he pulls in a slow breath, lets his eyes drift to the stars just barely starting to glow. [say]"Like how piss-poor the demigods work together,"[/say] he says after a moment. [say]"All that power, and it’s still like watchin’ toddlers fight over a single toy."[/say]
His tone doesn’t sharpen, but it cools. Steadies. [say]"How most of the leaders across the map’ve fucked each other or are one removed from it. How bitter the lot of 'em are with their immortality and their powerful abilities, still treatin' life like one big gods-damned dick-measurin’ contest."[/say] There’s a pause. Then his grin returns, this time slow and wolfish as he meets her gaze. [say]"Or maybe I’m wrong,"[/say] he drawls. [asy]"Maybe everyone knows that already."[/say]
RE: someday soon this dust's gonna settle - Colt - 08-30-2025
Oh, dancing on starlight and fighting with the moon, it all sounds like a terrible improvement over choking on dirt and pond water. [say]"Sounds nice, actually,"[/say] she admits quietly, gradually gentling to the image of him pillowed by the cosmos. She casts a glance towards the first stars breaking through the violet nightfall, distantly wondering what prying eyes might be tracking this ripple. It'll never be something she ever fully comes to understand, their experiences too different, better than what she had in some ways, worse in others. She can sit with it though, and that's not nothing.
A smile tilts in as a temporary response to him while she works through the terrible swallow of wine and all the lingering punctuation of it on her face. [say]"Champagne next time,"[/say] she recommends, snorting over the dry curl upon her tongue. [say]"Whether we're celebrating or not."[/say] Honestly, every day above ground deserves its own sort of party.
It's no easy thing, watching his smile drop off, and it begs her to lean in further like he might need to whisper whatever is coming next. What does surprises her again—seems that might always be the case around him. She thought he might say something profound about the way the world works, and maybe amid the political disapproval there is some of that. Still, her disbelief flutters across her with a faint laugh, especially as he ends on a verbal shrug.
[say]"In my experience, power doesn't tend to make anyone better,"[/say] she says simply, slouching further against the rail. [say]"Just makes whoever they are amplified."[/say] Good or bad, understanding or stubborn, forgiving or vengeful, they're all that and more even when they're empty handed and untouched by a god. [say]"They're still people, and that's always a damn mess."[/say]
Her gaze glints over him though, smile rich with wonder. Every time she gets a chance to know more of him, it only makes him that much harder to read right. She doesn't fault his annoyance for the shortcomings of his peers, because arguably they should be better. She imagines he had to bear witness to numerous failures while the Family's claws curled in tighter. Maybe she's just become too jaded to expect anything better from anyone, has just settled on asking it of horses and dogs instead of men and gods. Maybe that in itself is a problem.
She exhales steadily, blowing away this weight. [say]"I do know I'm gonna start measuring your cookin' skills soon if we don't eat before every last bit of light is gone."[/say] Say what you want about her meals, but she'd have fed herself long ago by now.
RE: someday soon this dust's gonna settle - Vesper - 08-30-2025
Vesper shrugs one shoulder, slow and nonchalant, like it’s nothing more than the truth. [say]"Only upbringing I had,"[/say] he says, tone light but not careless. [say]"But yeah, considerin’ the lot most others got? Pretty damn good."[/say]
Her champagne comment earns a lift of his brows, the barest flash of amusement curling through his otherwise dry expression. [say]"Champagne it is,"[/say] he says with a quiet laugh, low and brief. [say]"I’ll keep that in mind.[/say]"
The smile doesn't last. As her thoughts pivot back to the demigods and their shortcomings, so too does his expression shift. With a wrinkle of his nose, he straightens up and shakes his head, eyes narrowing slightly at the porch rail like it’s the thing that deserves the brunt of his frustration. [say]"Thing is,"[/say] he begins, tone losing its usual velvet and gaining grit instead, [asy]"this ain’t just power for power’s sake. You get a crown, you’re expected to rule. Get immortality and a god behind you? That’s a fuckin’ vow, far as I’m concerned."[/say] An explicit one, in most cases.
His voice tightens, that soft-spoken edge giving way to something sharper, more principled. [say]"They ain’t just people anymore. Not when they can live forever and take down entire regions with the power at their fingertips. You don't get all that and get to act like it’s casual."[/say] His jaw clicks, then sets. [say]"Not when folks like me had no choice about bein’ born into it."[/say]
He doesn’t let it linger too long. A breath, then another, and his shoulders fall back into their usual slope. He grabs a pair of tongs and gives them a dramatic clack in her direction, mouth curling again into something that might be called a smirk if not for the residual heat in his eyes. [say]"You can measure all you like, darlin’,"[/say] he says, tone returning to its smooth drawl, [say]"but some things are worth doin’ right."[/say]
Turning back to the grill, he adjusts the flame, pokes at one of the steaks with the kind of attention usually reserved for precious metals or divine relics, and finally nods to himself. [say]"Alright,"[/say] he declares, beginning to shift the sizzling meat and vegetables onto plates. The scent rises rich and mouth-watering in the thickening dusk. He glances over his shoulder as he arranges the second plate. [say]"Outside or inside?"[/say]
RE: someday soon this dust's gonna settle - Colt - 08-30-2025
Although his ire is apparent, it's not the sort that rises up sudden and directionless, so she does not balk at it. She studies it a little, because it's one of the few times she's seen him without his careful control, which is reason enough to pay attention. Vesper wouldn't let that slip without cause, and since his sisters aren't around to stir it up, this is coming straight from him, so she lets it breathe.
Not when folks like me had no choice about bein’ born into it.
Maybe for the first time, even after talks of channeling him and starlit nurseries, she sees him not just as Vesper, but Vesper the demi-god. Not just son of Safrin, but someone bearing more expectations than she could count on his shoulders, some of the heaviest of which he put there. Her head tilts to the side, gaze struggling to keep him through the damn dark, but her smile grows steady all the same. It's small and simple, but certain with all the fondness it carries. [say]"You're at risk of being too good again, Ves,"[/say] she warns kindly.
Although she's tempted to see what's on the other side of this storm of him, dinner is calling, and they've got all night to wonder about how the world should work.
She leans back with a sudden, crisp laugh as the tongs grab for her space. A dog or two barks in response, which sets the pack of them on foot and alert. Some of the clueless ones that don't want to miss out on the action start barking too, although they don't know why, and suddenly the pack is off racing down the road, yelling about nothing and everything at once. She shakes her head and gives a long sigh, the only explanation she has.
[say]"Inside,"[/say] she confirms as she gathers the glasses and the wine. [say]"Unless you wanna balance those plates on your knees while fighting with a swing that doesn't like to hold still?"[/say] Which, she'd be happy to witness him attempt. She slips inside ahead of him, depositing the wine glasses and the bottle before making herself another decent drink. She pours the brownies into a tray and slides that into the oven, then gathers up the silverware for the table.
RE: someday soon this dust's gonna settle - Vesper - 08-30-2025
It hits him soft and sharp at the same time—that flicker of thought as she sees him not just as Vesper, but as the demigod he’s always been. Not just Safrin’s son, but something forged beneath all those expectations he never asked for. Something too heavy to name most days. The kind of gaze she gives him now isn’t wary, or worshipful, or even pitying. It’s steady, and it’s that steadiness that breaks something open.
He exhales sharply, a sound pulled straight from his chest, and steps in before he can second-guess it. One hand lifts, the heel of it warm as it finds the curve of her lower back, fingers fanning out in a slow, starburst spread. Not a cage—never that—but an anchor, a draw, a gravity of his own, drawing her flush against him. And when he kisses her, it’s not gentle, not idle. It’s firm and real and searching, like he might be able to trade the starlight weight on his shoulders for the taste of her mouth instead. It’s a kiss meant to undo him. Maybe her too.
When he pulls back, there’s a flicker of surprise in the soft blink of his blue eyes, as though his body got ahead of his careful mind. But then something eases in him, something steady and calm, and his mouth curves just enough to bring the moment back into orbit. [say]"Maybe you could help with that,"[/say] he murmurs, voice low and rough at the edges, of his hedging too close to too good.
The dogs burst into noise and chaos, but he doesn’t spare them a glance—his eyes stay fixed on her, on the way she moves and the glow she seems to gather even in the dark. His grin returns, this time sharper, lazier, lips twitching with wicked intent. [say]"If I remember right,"[/say] he drawls, [say]"I’m pretty good at holdin’ onto things that don’t like to hold still."[/say] With that, he scoops up both plates and follows her inside, the warm air of the home curling around him like it knows where he belongs. He sets the dinner down with careful precision while she slides the brownies into the oven, and without needing to be asked, begins to dish up their portions—steak sliced clean, vegetables plated with the quiet ease of someone who takes pride in presentation, even now.
He doesn’t say anything yet. Just watches her for a moment, the corner of his mouth still pulled in a smile that hasn’t fully decided whether it’s dangerous or tender. Maybe both.
RE: someday soon this dust's gonna settle - Colt - 08-31-2025
In an instant, everything that'd been languid and slow as syrup in Deepfrost is removed. He's there suddenly, claiming the space between them, and that barely has time to register before he's shoring her up to him in a loop of his arm. Her breath catches, then is gone entirely beneath the kiss she tilts into. The spark of surprise fades, melting into something that meets him, then reaches for more. Each and every time he's kissed her it's stolen her away, but this time, this time she's trying to take him too. One hand fists in the fabric of his chest, while the other curls around his neck, fingers threading into his hair. She leans in like she might press him back with the force of it, corner him against the rail and climb into his arms completely, as though that's always been the place she should be.
Unfortunately, they need air. Her hands fall into her back pockets as they separate, breaths audible for a moment as she glances around, trying to remember where the hell she's even at much less what she'd been doing. Right—her porch—wine glasses, dogs, and dinner.
A 'brow arches up at his remark. [say]"You sayin' I'm a bad influence?"[/say] She tries for her usual tease, but the slant to her grin is softer, shier, and her voice only manages the lilt of the question and no other edge to it. She's still half swept away from that embrace and trying to drag herself back in full.
The dogs are a helpful distraction, his damn reminder is not. A blush rises anew at it, and that's about all she can afford to respond with if she has any hope of making it inside. The screen door swings shut behind her and she has just enough time to unload her arms and catch a breath. She braces a free hand on the counter and leans into it, her other dragging a thumb slowly over the electric tingle that's still ghosting along her lips.
She straightens up at the sound of the door parting for him and busies herself with her drink, brownies, and silverware. Some part of her is still adamant about patience, about sitting down for this meal, but gods, it's growing weaker every time she looks his way. [say]"I have to hand it to you, that looks delicious."[/say] She intentionally sets the island between them as she glances across at the plating he's arranged. It'd be a shame to let all that time go to waste by ignoring the meal now. That's what she tells herself to disperse the thoughts that rise up, the ones of him leaning back against the counter while she eases all his burdens with her mouth. [say]"Bartender and top chef,"[/say] she grins instead, blinking the image away.