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+---- Thread: you've got to stay pretty while you can (/showthread.php?tid=11259)
you've got to stay pretty while you can - Vesper - 05-03-2025
Midnight in Rae’s Fingers is a lesson in silence and shadow. The ocean’s breath echoes through the tunnel mouths, distant and rhythmic, like the world itself is asleep. Vesper’s boots whisper over the damp stone, shadows curling tight around his ankles with every step, drawn toward the press of deeper dark.
He hasn’t lit his lantern; the small one clipped to his belt remains shuttered, untouched. Safrin’s instructions had been clear: test the reach of what she’d given him in the dark. And here, beneath Torchline, there are no stars to answer, no moonlight to cheat by. Just ink and instinct.
The walls sweat brine and secrets. Somewhere far off, water trickles, the sound irregular enough to feel like breath. And then—faint but sharp—he hears it: A hiss. A scrape. The unmistakable strike of steel against stone. Vesper halts. The sound dies quick, like it knows it’s been heard. He draws a slow breath and lets his thoughts slip outward, casting his telepathy like a net into the silence.
Nothing.
Not emptiness—there’s always the thrum of distant minds, threads of worry and want drifting from the edges of Haulani above—but no one near. No thoughts biting back. Might be the tide, then.
RE: you've got to stay pretty while you can - Jack - 05-03-2025
Midnight in Rae's Fingers, as it happens, is also a lesson in good business practices. Want something especially hidden, perhaps even from yourself to give plausible deniability? Walk the howling tunnels in the dark and try your luck. If you manage to make it out again, odds are good that no one - not even you - will find what you've buried.
That isn't what Jack's here for, coincidentally, but he has come across a cache of very interesting goods on his travels. His lantern had been burning quite merrily up until a few moments ago, when a rogue gale from the tunnel at his back had blown it out before he'd considered mustering his air magic to keep it at bay. And so, dropping to a knee on the damp stone, he tries using steel and flint to spark it back to life; one of these days, he thinks, fire magic might actually come in handy.
Especially as the flint seems to stop cooperating. Hissing a near silent curse under his breath, Jack shifts to reach for his matchbook instead. Around him, he draws the air close and still and quiet so as to not disturb the tiny flame he brings to life. With his face ghoulishly illuminated, the captain guides the match into the lantern to give him something to see by once again.
RE: you've got to stay pretty while you can - Vesper - 05-03-2025
The sudden flare of light cuts through the dark like a blade, jagged and orange and far too close. Vesper hisses, the sound sharp and involuntary as he jerks backward, boots skidding on wet stone. Shadows rise like hackles, coiling tight at his back, one arm snapping up reflexively—not to strike, but to shield.
Because it isn’t just any stranger crouched in the dark with a guttering match and the kind of stillness that could belong to a ghost. It’s Jack. Of course it’s Jack. And of course, neither of them heard the other coming—telepathy rendered useless between them like two gods playing chess with invisible boards.
[say]"Fuck’s sake,"[/say] Vesper mutters, breath sharp in his chest as he lowers his arm. The silver star at his temple glints in the half-light, his features etched in flickering lines of irritation and relief. [say]"You tryin’ to get yourself stabbed, or is this just a trust exercise you forgot to warn me about?"[/say]
He lets the shadows ease back down with the faint rustle of gravel, watching the match flame stretch toward the lantern’s wick. There’s a very real chance his heart is still punching the inside of his ribs like it wants out, but his voice remains flat, almost amused. [say]"Reckon I'm the only one who can sneak up on you quite like that. And you, me."[/say] And it didn't take a telepath to know that neither of them was likely particularly fond of that fact.
RE: you've got to stay pretty while you can - Jack - 05-04-2025
The skitter of boots on stone has Jack reacting not dissimilarly to the demigod in the dark, though rather than jerking back, the area around the captain becomes infinitely more hostile than before. Jagged shards of ice push from the ground in a rough semicircle before him, the ground gleaming and slippery, and the sudden scent of ozone in the air suggests that there's lightning barely held at bay between his fingers. Rather than blazing with anger or surprise or any expected emotion, his blue eyes are flat and dangerous, and only the sudden familiarity of the voice in the darkness has him holding his magic tight against the assault he wants to let out.
[say]"Fuck,"[/say] he echoes, letting out a long breath that shivers only slightly at the bottom of his exhale, the ice melting back down to puddle around him. Closing the door to the lantern and rising to his feet, leaving it on the ground between them, Jack roughly pushes his hair back and out of his face. [say]"Neither,"[/say] he grates. [say]"Here to collect on a debt. Was just on my way out."[/say]
Regarding the boy before him with his pulse still jumping in his neck and his fingers numb and tingling from the adrenaline continuing to whipcrack through his blood, as Vesper speaks, Jack is painfully aware of the truth in his words. [say]"Yeah, well,"[/say] he grumbles, [say]"good thing neither of us wants to do the sneakin' when it comes to the other."[/say] It is fucking inconvenient, though, and gods if the idea of anyone sneaking around in the dark without his knowledge isn't hideous enough without it being a demigod.
[say]"You practicin'?"[/say] he assumes, based on their prior conversation.
RE: you've got to stay pretty while you can - Vesper - 05-04-2025
The scent of ozone hits first—sharp and metallic, curling into Vesper’s nose like the warning before a storm. Then the ice follows, jagged and sudden, erupting from the stone in a semicircle of lethal, glittering intent. He stills, drawing himself up to his full height as instinct, training, and power all shift into place like tumblers in a lock. One wrong word and he’s not entirely sure Safrin would pull him back. Not when she had another demigod waltzing through the world.
But the voice that follows is familiar enough to hold off whatever catastrophe might have followed. Vesper exhales slowly, watching Jack straighten and snuff the match, the lantern’s soft glow pooling on the wet floor between them like the aftermath of a detonation. [say]"Yeah,"[/say] Vesper says, his tone returning to something like casual, though it never quite loses its edge. [say]"Was practicin’. Thought I’d see if I could catch someone ahead by listenin' for em'."[/say]
He shifts his weight and gestures faintly down the tunnel behind him. [say]"Was tryin’ to use the shadows to feel for walls, roots, anything in the way. Turns out I can call 'em in the dark."[/say] Another pause, more thoughtful now. [say]"But they’re shit at feedback. Slither over everything without tellin’ me where it is."[/say] A faint shrug. [say]"Tripped more than I’d like to admit."[/say]
The tension hasn’t left his shoulders entirely, but as Jack swears and starts grumbling about sneaking and debts and the general inconvenience of knowing someone too well, Vesper exhales again—sharper this time, and with it, lowers his mental shields just a fraction. Only a sliver.
A crack in the facade that lets the surface of his thoughts leak out like heat from a window left open overnight: the low thrum of adrenaline, the sting of almost-dying (probably), the flicker of that familiar pulse of affection swirled with aggravation, buried under something sharper; respect, maybe. Wariness, definitely. And curiosity, always curiosity.
The vulnerability persists, enough that Jack would feel him now, faintly—but just enough to register that he’s there, rather than pushing against a brick wall. Vesper rolls one shoulder like he’s shaking off a shiver. [say]"Not lookin' to get skewered,"[/say] he mutters by way of explanation.
RE: you've got to stay pretty while you can - Jack - 05-04-2025
[say]"Well, you did, no thanks to any magic,"[/say] Jack says with a scoff - whether or not his telepathy had been useless and his shadows had been providing shitty feedback, Vesper's own sharp hearing had clued him up to the sound of flint on steel, and here they stand. Shaking the residual static out from his hands and tucking them into the pockets of his coat to keep them warm now that he's set the ice to melting to nothing, the captain raises an eyebrow as Vesper explains about how things had been going.
[say]"Least you know now,"[/say] he points out. [say]"Might be a good idea to keep a light source handy now that you do."[/say] He gestures to the unlit lantern at the boy's waist and the one flickering between them, giving the shadows some substance to latch onto.
Glancing suddenly and sharply back up, not at the huff of breath but at the flicker of something between them that he'd only ever sensed once before in their very last meeting during the fight, Jack feels his hands unconsciously clench into fists, as if waiting for the catch. But there is none; like peeking at a gift beneath a sliver of wrapping paper, or catching a glance of someone you know in passing, Vesper is simply and suddenly present in a way the captain has never been able to read from him before.
Idiot, he thinks instantly from behind his own mental walls, because what's shared can be used, especially by someone like Jack. Only... is Vesper, really?
Whether or not it's to prevent him from being accidentally diced up by skewers of ice magic, the fraction of himself that the boy has chosen to reveal is regarded quietly, solemnly by the captain, trying to discern the extent and depth of his revelation. Then, and only then, does he part his own mental shield enough - like a slat opening in a security door to reveal distrustful eyes - to offer the same in return.
In place of adrenaline there's calm and self-assurance; in place of almost dying, there's a quiet and dangerous well of experience to draw upon. The wariness between them is identical, though the affection and the boundless curiosity are absent. A cousin to them lingers, though, bordered by something that might one day be called pride towards the boy, and Jack noses towards the lantern on the ground.
[say]"Want to put it out and follow me instead?"[/say]
RE: you've got to stay pretty while you can - Vesper - 05-04-2025
The shift in Jack is subtle but unmistakable—like a cold wind edging under a door, too measured to be accidental. Vesper feels it before he fully understands it: the narrowing of some invisible aperture, the brief but deliberate draw of attention. Not suspicion exactly. Not yet. But the kind of careful stillness that says you’ve offered something rare, now let’s see what it’s worth.
His own shield twitches as if to slam shut again on instinct, but he doesn’t let it. Doesn’t backpedal or flinch, just studies Jack in the lantern glow, the flicker of firelight catching in the blue of his eyes and gilding the ice that still glistens across the stone. It’s strange, seeing Jack like this—quiet and uncovered, even if just by an inch. And Vesper doesn’t know if it’s a threat or an answer. Maybe it’s both. Still, he's sure that they both fuckin' hate it, necessary as it might be.
[say]"Well then,"[/say] he says, voice low and dry, though something in it flickers toward warmth. His boot nudges the lantern, not with force, but with finality—enough to tip it, snuffing the flame beneath the hiss of melted wax. The dark reclaims the tunnel in an instant, thick as velvet. Shadows slip up around his heels again, blind now that the light is once more removed, though Vesper moves without hesitation to fall into step just behind Jack.
[say]"Lead the way, captain."[/say] His voice is smooth, unhurried. Taking a breath before letting it out, Vesper tries to use his tether with Jack like some strange echolocation, putting his faith in his dear old dad in order to not lead him astray as he sends out his shadows like invisible tendrils of water.
RE: you've got to stay pretty while you can - Jack - 05-05-2025
Hateful and necessary, then, is the flavour of the next few minutes, and Jack doesn't glance down as Vesper's foot inches out, knocking the lantern and plunging them back into darkness that feels dazzling after the eye-strain of the light. [say]"My pleasure,"[/say] he rumbles, sensing the movement of the boy behind him and waiting for it to settle before he turns on heel and continues down the tunnel he'd been traversing. It's true that Jack had also been using the light to find his direction, but there's more than one way to navigate Rae's Fingers, and with all sorts of magic at his behest, it shouldn't be all that difficult.
Shouldn't.
With a hand brushing against the wall, at first Vesper will only sense what Jack deliberately filters through - a large rock to the left that the boy will want to avoid walking into, the manipulation of an air current he then releases to sense which direction it goes, the sound of nearby water. But although the captain is one hell of a multitasker, lowering his mental shield (especially only by a fraction) is something new and untested and in need of practice, and before long, Vesper will get more than he bargained for as Jack's concentration leaves his defences to focus on the task at hand.
Like a spider's web draped delicately across to the very edges of his telepathic range, to say that the captain's magic is always on is an understatement, sharp for anything that might set it off. But that's only the bare bones of it. Above them someone is having a conversation on the surface, and it twangs a note in his magic that quickly filters through anything of value - things like his name or other monikers, things that pertain to his business, to The Ark, things that might portend danger - and then lets it go again, finding it innocuous.
Elsewhere, telepathy collides with his own thoughts, with past experience, making note of bodies buried nearby, caches of supplies or weapons or other notable items, symbols he might feel on the wall and any changes in them. He tracks the tide by the sound of it and the bleeding man he'd left by the distance - twenty paces back, two rights, a left, then down - and whether he'd be able to get out of the Fingers in time. What it will mean if he does. What it will mean if he doesn't.
Jack tracks the boy behind him, too. Footsteps, any tiny crumb of thought let loose from his mental shield. He wonders whether Vesper will try to slip a knife between his ribs in the dark. He drags ice and lightning and air to the forefront of his mind, gripping it tight, then relaxes it. He wonders if he will try to slip that knife between Vesper's ribs first. He lets the thought go.
And all the while his footsteps remain soft and steady, hearing the drip of water and imagining the way it might change if someone was near to it, the net of his telepathy dragging in his wake and consuming any and every other stray thought it encounters like a tsunami. Down here in the dead of night, the passes are quick and few and far between, but in a crowd, or in a fight, or even with the distraction of a heated argument, there's a quiet reassurance that the loose magic might grow taut and narrow at any moment, ready to focus.
[say]"How're you doin'?[/say] he rumbles, glancing behind him even though Vesper won't be able to see it, as casual as he's always been.
RE: you've got to stay pretty while you can - Vesper - 05-05-2025
The deeper they go, the darker it gets—not just around them, but within. Vesper walks quiet, his footfalls soft as breath, but his mind is reeling. At first, it’s just surface noise. A rock here, a shift in air pressure there. Smart, measured, deliberate. But then—like a lock clicking open—Jack’s thoughts unfurl, and it’s like stepping into a cathedral made of spider silk and loaded guns.
Vesper feels the web stretch, impossibly wide, impossibly precise. Every thread is tuned to something—names, symbols, shifts in tide, the weight of water on stone, the breath of danger. Not paranoia. Preparation. A net cast so wide it brushes against half the world and still knows how to twitch when something important hits.
And still Jack walks like he’s bored. Talks like they’re just strolling to a pub.
The boy’s shield doesn’t falter, but the tremor that slips through it betrays him anyway—a flicker of awe, of frustration, maybe even fear. By comparison, his mental reach feels like a campfire in a hurricane. Focused on instincts, not strategy. On feelings, not facts. Vesper tracks people. Jack tracks everything.
It’s a lot. Too much.
Vesper exhales through his nose, sharp and quiet, and it takes him a full two steps to answer. [say]"I’m...fine,"[/say] he mutters, though the word lands hollow. There’s a hesitation before he tacks on, voice dry but not as flippant as usual, [say]"Just makin’ peace with the fact that you might actually be smarter than me."[/say]
RE: you've got to stay pretty while you can - Jack - 05-05-2025
The tremor through the mental shield behind him has Jack's delicate telepathic web twanging to life - awe and frustration are one thing, but the fear has the immediate surrounding reach tightening to something razor sharp. It lasts only an instant - an instant of every sense on alert, of memorising the route he now knows to the exit, of understanding the width of the tunnel, how many men might stand abreast in it, how easy it would be to dodge or jab or cast magic in here - before he realises it's directed at himself.
Curiosity and intrigue twists through Jack's thoughts, and then he realises it - realises he's left himself wide fucking open. Slamming his mental shields down so quickly it can only be instinct, he holds out a hand in the dark and abruptly pauses so Vesper might bump into it, needing a second (or several seconds) to collect himself. Hearing the boy's words, but only barely over the thunder of his own pulse, it's a long few moments, but eventually Jack lets out a soft laugh.
Slowly, ever so slowly, that slit in his shield reappears, trickling the intentional thoughts through again and feeding Vesper the mental map of the tunnel and the way it will spill them out onto the beach. [say]"Don't beat yourself up, I'm smarter'n most people think,"[/say] he says softly. [say]"'Sides, I got age an' experience on you. If anyone can catch up, you can, an' then I'll really be fucked."[/say]
Demigodly power and range on top of that kind of intelligence? Torchline will either thrive or suffer under Vesper, and Jack's here to see which side of the coin he'll call when the time comes.
Ahead of them, moonlight begins to flicker off the shallow water like milk-white flames, and Jack nods. [say]"There's our exit."[/say]
RE: you've got to stay pretty while you can - Vesper - 05-05-2025
The hand in the dark halts Vesper a breath before collision, and he stills—every muscle tight, every sense prickling. The shift in Jack’s mind is sudden, absolute. Like the crack of a whip or the snap of a trap closing, the shield slams into place and damn, it’s almost like getting shut out of a house he didn’t know he’d stepped inside.
Vesper doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. Just waits—still and watchful—until the mental wall parts again, just enough for intention to trickle through. A gift, or a test. Either way, he takes it because fuck if being alone in the dark isn't worse than in the tangled web of Jack's mind.
The boy exhales slowly, lips twitching as Jack’s words echo back to him through the dark. He doesn’t laugh, but it’s close, a ghost of sound shaped like amusement and laced with something heavier. [say]"That why you keep teachin’ me by accident?"[/say] he drawls, letting the words stretch like cooling metal.
The glint of moonlight off shallow water sends a quiet rush of relief through Vesper’s chest—subtle, but real. Not because Jack’s guidance was lacking; quite the opposite. But walking blind under another man’s lead, especially his, had felt like treading water with iron in his lungs. Necessary, but costly. A debt in trust he wasn't used to owing.
The tension seeps from his shoulders as the silver light cuts a clear line through the dark, and he follows it like a lifeline, shadows slipping back into the walls where they belong. [say]"Definitely ready for that drink now,"[/say] he mutters, the words low and dry and trailing behind him alongside his shadows, as he steps toward the exit.
~FIN