hang with me down this old road

if you try and chase the sun you're never gonna catch it

"Really should be thankin’ you," Vesper says, voice low over the steady creak of the wagon and the muted thud of hooves against damp earth. His boots are up on the footwell like he owns it, good shoulder propped against the edge of the seat, and the other still cradled protectively though the worst of the pain has dulled. Mist curls through the air like it’s listening. "Last thing I needed for my quest was usin' my shadows in a fight, so guess you did me a favour by takin' out your frustration on me."

Ahead, the Last Step looms—thirty feet of broken ambition, stone swallowed by lichen and time, spiralling into nothing. All around, barrows rise like sleeping giants, their iron doors shut tight against the mist that coils and clings like it has secrets to keep. It’s quiet out here in a way that gets under your skin. Not silence, just...muffled. Like the world’s been padded in wool.

Vesper glances over at Colt, profile soft in the gloom but eyes still sharp. "And I appreciate the detour," he adds, more sincere now as the wrangler directs the wagon toward Safrin's shrine. "Much prefer your company to just my own." A crooked grin plays on his mouth, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes—not here, not with all this fog pressin’ close like breath on glass.

And now it's turning out to be the worst of my bad habits

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

COLT

"Don't think I've ever been thanked by someone for punching them," she says with a wry twist of her lips, glancing sidelong at him. Like a cat that doesn’t have all nine, she ought to know better, but she just can’t keep the curiosity in check when it comes to him. No matter what they’re doing, he’s utterly in his element—it feels as if he doesn’t just beckon shadows, but is comprised of them, slipping into every pocket of the world as if it were made for him to claim. Even now, he's perched upon the wagon with a muted authority, nothing but the stillness of a trigger before the pull. It might have unnerved her, likely should, but then he'd smile in that lopsided way of his and the stars would blink on like they'd been waiting for him—the dark felt less like a threat then, more like a choice.

She glances back to the road as they plod along, striving to keep the bumps minimal, but much of it isn't up to her. The road is prone to developing dips with the rains, puddles gathering and growing with each passing wheel or foot that strikes them when they're soft. Now, baked under the sun, the grooves remain like an undesirable tale of weather and time. They're not likely to get smoothed out again anytime soon. Still, she does what she can with a practiced rein, uninterested in breaking the wagon or their asses with a regrettable lurch. The mist that floats here like an aboveground sea doesn't help, and she hunches up against its eerie press.

Slipping the reins under a boot heel, she reaches up with both hands above her head in a tall stretch, back bowing into it and away from the stiff wooden seat with a weary groan. As her arms fall back to her sides she rolls her neck, sighing softly, before sliding down to rest over her knees. Her hair spills gradually over her shoulders as she gathers the reins back in hand. "Darlin', I think my sterling company and a pit stop don't even scratch the surface of my debts." She tilts her head to regard him, blowin' out the corner of her mouth at a strand of hair in her way. "But happy to oblige." She offers a faint smile before glancing back at the unicorn team pulling them. She waits for him to motion where exactly he wants to have her stop before queuing the two bays to whoa.

If I go missing, don't bother looking, I'm probably just riding the wind
'Cause cowboys and sunsets, you can always count on them, but never to stay
I guess I'm a cowboy, 'cause there's a sunset on the way

if you try and chase the sun you're never gonna catch it

Vesper chuckles, the sound low and lazy as it curls into the mist like smoke from a just-snuffed lantern. "Maybe you’ve just been hangin’ out with the wrong crowd," he drawls, casting her a sidelong look that borders on playful. The kind of look that flicks like a card at the start of a game, not quite a bluff, not quite a bet.

He doesn’t comment on the thoughts that shimmer at the edges of her mind—how she watches him like a match she can’t help but strike again. But he feels it; the curiosity, the quiet fascination. And it does something to him, nestling under his ribs in a place he doesn’t often let people go. He doesn’t feed it, doesn’t tease it...but he doesn’t turn away from it either, because gods damn if it ain't a wonderful thing to bask in.

Instead, he lets his eyes follow her as she stretches, the arch of her back a long, lazy curve that pulls his gaze like a tide. His smirk sharpens slightly, the glint in his eyes unmistakably wicked as he glances over his shoulder—not subtle, not shy, just quietly appreciative. There’s no rum-and-ribbons softness here; what Colt has is earned, carved into her like a brand, and he respects that more than he’ll say out loud.

When she settles again, reins back in hand, Vesper shrugs one shoulder—carefully, this time. "You still owe me a better explanation of what the hell a rodeo even is," he says, voice half-mocking, half-intrigued. "Unless it’s just a metaphor for the way you treat a man’s joints."

Then, glancing up at the stairway rising like a broken god’s monument through the mist, he juts his chin toward one of the higher barrows just off to the right. "Got a family thing to take care of up there," he says casually, gesturing toward the shrine. "Top of tht hill. You wouldn’t mind parking us somewhere upwind of any angry ghosts, would you?"

And now it's turning out to be the worst of my bad habits

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

COLT

There it is, that damn look to him that's all warning bells and the best cup of coffee in the morning at the same time. He's probably the one that could convince everyone to jump off a bridge if he asked. Her attention flicks over to him with a curl of humor, shaking her head with a chuckle. "Not so sure that's the right crowd," she murmurs, wondering if that's his world. Trouble indeed if so.

At his take on a rodeo she laughs loud and long, "you aren't far off the mark," she hums. "It's a way for cowboys to compete and test their skills against each other. There's several different events, each tied to something you'd have to do in some form or another on a ranch. This settles all the shit taking the hands otherwise do all day, and gives them some earnings to walk away with for the trouble, and the risk." Her mirth quiets to a grim line, remembering a few accidents over the years, some where the horse died, some where the men died. "Team roping, barrel racing, calf tying, bronc riding, and the big ticket item—bull riding. Longest 8 seconds of your life on the back of a bull." She can't keep the passion out of her voice, the love for the life and the strength it takes to saddle up and ride fear like that.

There's a wistful desire too, because those riders are always something worth looking at, and it makes a girl want to get a pair of horns for herself. "Sunjata offered to play the part of a bull with some of his shifts," she grins, fond of her Archon and his easy heart. "So that seemed like a new spin on an old thing and I thought I'd see around for who else might be willing to buck the people of Caido onto their asses. Even if you don't compete, a rodeo's just fun." A delighted gleam enters her eyes as the idea slowly becomes more real with each passing day and completed task. "Just need to repair the arena and the stands, gather the vendors for all the food, and start to assemble the entrants." It sounds simple said like that, but the work will consume her.

Her attention falls from him to the broken staircase that looms, and at his direction she directs the team closer to the area around it, to the high barrow he pointed out. "Family?" she asks curiously as the wagon rolls over the hill, groaning as it stops and the unicorns shift against the tug of it settling. No angry ghosts so far. "A grave?" she reasons, glancing around, as if expecting his family's marker might be some obsidian monolith.

If I go missing, don't bother looking, I'm probably just riding the wind
'Cause cowboys and sunsets, you can always count on them, but never to stay
I guess I'm a cowboy, 'cause there's a sunset on the way

if you try and chase the sun you're never gonna catch it

Vesper listens, quietly though not idly. His fingers toy absently with one of his rings as Colt speaks, eyes half-lidded but mind anything but still. The imagery spills from her like warm smoke, thick with colour and dust and crowd-noise. It’s not just her words—it’s the flood of memory he brushes against without meaning to, the baked gold of an arena under Caido’s sun, the raucous cry of spectators half-drunk on beer and adrenaline, the flash of hooves and muscle and braided ropes flying through the air. It’s chaos. It’s power. It’s theatre. No wonder she’s so drawn to it.

"Ah, so just a few chores left then," he murmurs, straight-faced despite the glint in his eyes. "Should have it all wrapped up by tomorrow, I reckon." The grin that follows is pure mischief, and when she mentions bulls, it curves into something slow and feline. He leans back against the worn bench of the wagon, letting the weight of his stare slide toward her as he purrs, "Can’t say I make a great bull. But if you’re in the market for somethin’ sleek and dangerous with claws instead of horns..." His voice trails off, but the smile remains—intentionally feline, sharp as a sunbeam through a windowpane.

Then, as the wagon groans to a halt near the hill, his tone shifts, softer but no less certain. "Ain’t a grave," he says, reaching for the edge of the seat to steady himself as he stands. The mist thickens as they crest the rise, but he’s surefooted, the shadows gathering low around his boots like loyal dogs.

"Once you see it, it’ll make sense." If she hasn’t pieced it together yet—who he is, who he was made by—he won’t spoil the big reveal.

And now it's turning out to be the worst of my bad habits

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

COLT

She casts him a disbelieving look when he states it'll all be completed soon, trusting that matter-of-fact delivery for a moment, before locking eyes with him and smirking in turn at the humor shining there, as wicked as the rest of him. "Yeah, easy as making sweet tea with no sugar," she agrees. As he leans back and chews on the thought of bulls, she can't see him too well, but she can feel that smug stare sure as daylight. "Here I thought you'd have some veiled joke about 8 seconds, or riding something else dangerous," she laughed a breath, "but sounds like you actually have something ferocious you're offering? A shift of yours?" She peers over at him, not able to catch all of him from his angle, but almost like she's searching for those claws he mentioned.

As they park, she hops out of the wagon, grunting as her boots hit the ground. She adjusts her shorts and pulls her hair around to one side, glancing over at him with lips pursed in confusion. "That clears it up," she mutters as she trails after him, hands slipping into her back pockets as she moves unhurried after the shadows winding around his heel like a cat trying to trip you going downstairs.

If I go missing, don't bother looking, I'm probably just riding the wind
'Cause cowboys and sunsets, you can always count on them, but never to stay
I guess I'm a cowboy, 'cause there's a sunset on the way

if you try and chase the sun you're never gonna catch it

Vesper snorts, flicking her a sidelong glance full of dry amusement. "What, and sound like every other idiot you describe a rodeo to?" he drawls, the grin tugging at his mouth saying he absolutely could make a comment about riding something dangerous, but is choosing—for now—not to. "Nah," he adds, stretching out his arms as he hops down from the wagon with a grunt, boots landing in the grass-blanketed mist. "It’s a shift. I can show you after."

He knows full well he hasn’t explained shit. But as her footfalls crunch after him through the low fog, Vesper tosses a glance over his shoulder, expression unreadable save for the spark in his eye. He slows just enough for her to catch up, letting their silhouettes walk side-by-side as they ascend the worn rise.

The mist curls thin near the top, revealing what little ambiguity remains: a shrine.

Stone set like constellations. Star-shaped etchings across obsidian walls, overgrown just slightly with moss and time. The burnished bronze of Safrin’s sigil gleams from the highest point, catching the last low light like a watchful eye.

And now it's turning out to be the worst of my bad habits

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

if you try and chase the sun you're never gonna catch it

insert [God Quest] wherever sweet time takes us

---

The stars fade from the air like the last sparks from a fire gone to embers.

Vesper stands still in the hush left behind, the light cooling from his skin, shadows settling back against him like wolves to heel. He doesn’t speak for a moment—doesn’t move, either. Just breathes. The kiss still hums warm against his temple, and his mother’s parting words coil gently behind his ribs, threading between the ones she didn’t say.

Then he exhales, and the silence breaks.

One hand rakes through his curls, catching briefly where sweat and starlight have left them damp. Vesper rolls his shoulder once, slow and loose, like he’s testing a joint that never ached in the first place. "Well, she’s nothin’ if not helpful," he drawls, as if they hadn’t just stood beneath a divine kiss and been wrapped in the literal pulse of the cosmos. His voice is easy, unbothered, like they’d just bumped into his ma at the market instead of at a shrine steeped in starlight.

Without another glance toward the altar, he shoves both hands into his pockets and steps off the rise, boots crunching softly on grass still warm from her departure. No awe. No ceremony. Just the same Vesper as before, a silhouette of casual indifference trailing a hint of celestial glow.

He tips his head toward Colt as he moves, his smirk cutting sidelong like a blade in sunlight. "Still wanna see my shift?" he asks, tone light. "Best do it while we’re up here—don’t want to spook the horses."

And now it's turning out to be the worst of my bad habits

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

COLT

Her hands slip from her pockets, lifting slightly with wonder as her head turns in time with the swirl of cosmos that wind around her like a swarm of heaven-sent fireflies. She's breathless for a moment, the worry dispersing as awe and gratitude settle instead, each freckle of stars that lands upon her a warm tickle of relief like none she's felt before. It's incredible, shimmering and kind, and then it's over, and the haunting quiet of the mist seeps back in on the heels of the midnight goddess' departure.

She glances to Vesper, eyes wide and bright, lips pursed with thought and presence that she doesn't set free. His nonchalance punctures the remnants of the divine moment, and Colt's lips settle into a wry twist of mild disbelief at him. She supposes if he'd been delivered by such galactic grace and diving might, that this is just an average encounter for him. It speaks to the adaptability of the spirit, that it can normalize anything after enough time, even godly attention—even horror.

Each question answered seems to sprout additional ones, and the enigma of Vesper deepens like the reach of his shadow hounds. She laughs at the stark opposition of it all, the absurdity bubbling up inside her and pealing free as she shakes her head. "Alright star boy," she says on exhale, smirking. "Let's see what you're made of," she crosses her arms beneath her chest and tilts her head as the spark of her gaze lights on him.

If I go missing, don't bother looking, I'm probably just riding the wind
'Cause cowboys and sunsets, you can always count on them, but never to stay
I guess I'm a cowboy, 'cause there's a sunset on the way

The laugh cuts through the lingering hush like sun through fog, and Vesper—already half-turned away—glances back, that grin curling across his face like it was waiting for her to find it. It isn’t just the sound of her, though it’s sharp and bright and exactly what the hilltop needed. It’s the feeling that rises behind it: the spark of wonder still clinging to her thoughts, that sun-warmed flicker of disbelief and amusement, like the aftertaste of starlight.

"Happy to oblige," he drawls, rolling his shoulders once before his body ripples, shadows sluicing down his frame like oil.

The shift is clean, seamless. One second he’s standing with his hands in his pockets, the next there’s a gleam of white fangs, a ripple of lean muscle, and the soft sound of paws brushing against sun-dried grass.

The tide jaguar that sits in his place is sleek and black as obsidian, save for the constellation of glowing white rosettes scattered across his body like a living sky. No colour to them—just bright, cold brilliance against a dark coat that drinks in the sun. His tail flicks once, then curls elegantly around his paws as he lowers into a seated position. He’s large—almost unnervingly so up close—but not hulking. Built like something carved for speed and silence.

His bright blue eyes, unchanged by the shift, blink slowly up at Colt from where his head sits nearly level with her hip. Then he yawns, wide and feline and utterly unbothered, teeth flashing in the sunlight like small moons. And then he just sits there, watching her, tail tip twitching in amusement. He's not the sort of thing that anyone could ride per se (wink wonk), but if Colt's rodeo ever wanted a gladiatorial component, Vesper would happily give her competitors a run for their money.

all these little things together don't build up to somethin' small

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

COLT

If he's unnerving as a man, he's utterly intimidating as a jaguar. Built like death incarnate, the first sight of him is a thrill of terror that cuts through her like lightning amid a cloud. It widens at the edges of her eyes, tenses in the muscle of her legs, hums in the pattern of her heart as every inch of her prepares to run.

She likes the feeling.

Her fingers twitch with the electric pulse of the adrenaline spike, goosebumps lifting along her arms, but she doesn't yield to the wild scream of instinct that begs for survival. There's just something about stepping up to that cliff edge and looking down that you can't beat. It's the same with every mean bull, every wild horse, every brandished horn from a feral beast she sets out to bend to her will. That relentless urge to push back against the very nature of safekeeping and test your limits. Colt doesn't want to survive, she wants to live.

Of course, the logic of it all also soothes that impulse with the reality that this vicious beast is still Vesper—one look at those unrelenting eyes proves it. Behind the fear-inducing power of him, he is a sight to behold, draped in shadowed muscle and starlit patterns that threaten to rival the sky above. "Beautiful," she commends as one hand unfolds, thumb and finger resting in thought against the curve of her chin. The thought of seeing him under saddle brings a wicked gleam to her expression, picturing a bloodbath of grooms and riders alike for the attempt.

"Too bad the goal is to keep everyone alive," she shrugs, like it's an actual shame she can't use this shape of him.

If I go missing, don't bother looking, I'm probably just riding the wind
'Cause cowboys and sunsets, you can always count on them, but never to stay
I guess I'm a cowboy, 'cause there's a sunset on the way

if you try and chase the sun you're never gonna catch it

Colt moves like temptation, like challenge—two of Vesper’s favourite things. The jaguar’s tail flicks once across the ground behind him, the only outward sign of the tension rippling under his glossy black hide. His white rosettes glow like fractured constellations across his flank, pulsing faintly as he watches her, unblinking. Not hungrily. Not even warily. Just...entirely. The kind of gaze predators save for things they’re deciding how to approach—slowly, or all at once.

He hears nothing, not in this form. No thoughts, no murmurs, no static cluttering the edges of his mind. Just the wind and her scent and the thrum of his own heartbeat—quiet, steady, vulnerable in a way he never is with his shadows slinking through people's skulls.

It makes him feel both raw and clean.

When she lifts her hand, that subtle curve of thumb to chin like she’s appraising a creature she might one day try to understand, Vesper’s ears twitch. Not in protest—just acknowledgement. Of her nerve, or her drive, maybe.

The jaguar blinks, and then it's Vesper rising with a ripple of shadow and muscle, shifting back into himself with the lazy grace of someone who’s never quite sure whether his human shape is his first or second skin. He brushes a hand down his shirt and tips her a crooked smile..

"Shame, that," he drawls, voice smooth now that it’s back in his throat. "How’s there meant to be any excitement if there ain’t a little danger?"

And now it's turning out to be the worst of my bad habits

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

COLT

He slips from one skin to another with such casual ease, like either is as comfortable as the other. Everyone wears some version of a mask or another, hard to even know the real you sometimes with all the different versions you deal the world, but most of those are just variants of you, not a death-jaguar. Although really, it suits him.

"Oh, don't worry," she says as she gently bats at his arm, a mild chastise for desiring the slaughter of her rodeo. Is that the cat talking, or the man? "There's plenty of danger, and accidents do happen." After all, bulls are dangerous, that's why you don't leave gates unlocked, that's why no one questioned it when her darling late husband accidentally did just that—what a shame.

"C'mon," she urges, turning back towards the waiting wagon. "You might not need ice any more, but I still owe you a beer, or two."

If I go missing, don't bother looking, I'm probably just riding the wind
'Cause cowboys and sunsets, you can always count on them, but never to stay
I guess I'm a cowboy, 'cause there's a sunset on the way

if you try and chase the sun you're never gonna catch it

Vesper chuckles, low and easy, the sound curling like smoke from his throat. "Oh, I’m keen to see," he says, voice still a touch gravely from the shift, hands sliding into his pockets as his gaze flicks toward the rise and fall of the land beyond. "I'm plannin' on bringin' my sisters. If anything ends up covered in glitter, you can go ahead and blame me." If anything happened to explode that'd probably be one of his sister's as well, but he'd just as soon Colt not worry herself about it.

He falls into step beside her, a lazy kind of stride that eats ground without trying. His shadows stay close, still loose from Safrin’s touch but quiet now, calm, as if the tension from earlier has finally left his bones. When they reach the wagon, he hops up with a casual grace, boots thudding soft against the wood as he settles into his spot like he’s ridden that bench a hundred times before.

The sun’s on its way down, casting the sky in smears of gold and peach, and already the first stars begin to bloom overhead—faint at first, then brighter, more insistent. Vesper leans back, stretching out with his arms behind him, gaze tipped toward the deepening dusk. "That one’s Tiamel," he says suddenly, pointing up without lifting his head. "Brightest one in that curve. Looks like a hook, yeah? And those three just off it—they’re the Daughters. Story goes, she cast her spear into the sea and called the land up from under it."

He doesn’t say he was there, born and raised in their light. He just points again, lazy, reverent. "That’s Haleth. Trader’s star. Shifts a little every season, just enough to drive sailors mad if they don’t learn her rhythm. And those—" His finger draws an arc through the sky, "—are the Hollowing."

So the rest of the wagon-ride and evening goes, with Vesper naming stars and reciting their histories for as long as Colt was inclined to hear about it.

~FIN

And now it's turning out to be the worst of my bad habits

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3