shadows from the starlight

// Sweet shot of kerosene //

It’s late when Vesper arrives. The stars overhead burn like open eyes, their light fractured across the dark tide that laps against the base of the cliff. Above it all, perched like a secret at the top of the lighthouse, Safrin's shrine waits like a secret.

Vesper’s boots are quiet on the stone as he steps inside, trailing a little shadow with him. The air is cool but smells faintly of salt and jasmine, and the shrine, while still beautiful, bears the signs of neglect: candle stubs burned down to waxy ghosts, dust gathered in the fine corners of her altar, the faint trace of ash along the marble lip. He doesn’t bring an offering tonight—nothing wrapped in silk, no jewel tucked into a pouch. But he does something else. With a slow wave of his hand, his shadows begin to move. They ripple outward in near-silence, drifting between the empty sconces and dormant wicks, tracing along the stone floor and curling around the base of the statue. Where they pass the demigod follows, coaxing candles to life until the shrine glows with a soft, celestial warmth.

Only once it’s fully lit does Vesper approach the altar. He doesn’t kneel. Just dusts off the edge with the sleeve of his coat and leans against it, gazing up at the face carved in marble.

"Evenin’, ma," he says quietly, the nickname nearly swallowed by the wind. His arms fold loosely over his chest, shadows coiling lazily around his boots again, as if they’re waiting too. 
"My shadows are gettin’ better," he admits, glancing down at the curling tendrils at his feet. "More precise. Quicker, too. But their reach... still short." A pause, his tone thoughtful now, edged with something like a smirk. "Wouldn’t mind if they could go farther. Deeper. Through walls, maybe. Or people." He straightens then, letting the silence settle as the sea hushes below, as if even the waves are waiting for her reply.

Vesper

// When I threw it back, it poisoned me //

sweet dreams till sunbeams find you, sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you

The wind stills just slightly, and the stars above Aumakua flare with a pulse so subtle it might’ve been imagined. But for those attuned to celestial patterns—especially her children—it’s unmistakable.

There is no grand display, no herald of flame or fanfare. Safrin arrives like dusk creeping across the sea, stepping out from the folds of the lighthouse shadows as if she had always been there, waiting just beyond perception. Her presence shifts the shrine from quiet reverence to electric intimacy, like a secret suddenly shared.

Barefoot, hair braided with starlight and shadows alike, she moves with all the serenity of a goddess and none of the distance. The light from the newly kindled candles glows across her face as she approaches, but her expression is unreadable—sharp and soft all at once, celestial beauty forged in gravity and affection.

"Vesper," she murmurs, voice rich and low, a smile tugging faintly at one corner of her mouth. Her fingers reach out, cool and sure, to gently brush the side of his face, then slide beneath his chin to tilt it ever so slightly upward. "They suit you," she notes, and though her tone holds no prideful boast, the approval in it is unmistakable. "But one thing at a time, mmm?"

---

Vesper has been given a quest! He must:
1. Complete a training thread using his shadows
2. Use his shadows to make something easier
3. Use his shadows to make something harder
4. Go somewhere where there are hardly any shadows and see how it affects things.

but in your dreams whatever they be, dream a little dream of me

// Sweet shot of kerosene //

Vesper doesn’t resist when her fingers brush his face, when they tilt his chin up like he’s still a boy she’s coaxing to meet her gaze. His lashes flicker low for a moment, shadows shifting like restless smoke around his boots, but when he looks at her there’s no hiding the glint of something sharp and fond in his eyes.

"One thing at a time," he echoes, voice a rough murmur of obedience, though the corner of his mouth tugs in a crooked smirk that says it chafes him a little, as it always does. Still, he bows his head slightly—not out of worship, not out of duty, but something closer to trust. To blood.

Without hesitation, he leans in and presses a kiss to Safrin’s cheek—quick, but not careless, the way only a son raised by shadows and starlight could. Then he steps back, the scent of jasmine and salt lingering in his nose, his shadows furling tighter around his ankles as if reluctant to leave.

"Night, ma," Vesper says, voice low and rough, before he turns and slips back into the darkness, the light of the candles flickering in his wake as the shrine returns to quiet, glowing vigil.

~FIN

Vesper

// When I threw it back, it poisoned me //