[SE] the tricks of the trade

// Sweet shot of kerosene //

The boardwalk hums beneath them, a patchwork of creaking planks and hollowed hulls stitched together by rope and stubbornness. The Castaway Exchange smells like brine and tar and frying oil; every stall glitters with something strange—maps painted on sailcloth, glass bottles stoppered with coral, half-melted candles that promise luck at sea.

Vesper keeps his scarf drawn high against the saltwind, breath ghosting pale through the wool. His coat’s buttoned to the throat, and still the chill finds its way in, crawling through the seams. He’s stopped in front of a table stacked with cards and dice carved from driftwood, one gloved thumb idly rolling a die until it clacks against another.

"Don’t think we’ll even need weighted ones t’win," he drawls, the words almost soft enough to be lost under the wind. A sidelong glance flickers toward his sister, dry humour warming his voice. "Half the crew’s drunk before the first hand’s even dealt. Be a mercy if they could count high enough to lose proper."

He sets the die back into its velvet pouch and picks up a deck of cards next, the corners softened with use. The faint salt on the paper sticks to his fingers as he fans them out absently. "Still, can’t have a LongNight without somethin’ t’gamble over. Candles, dice, rum, and snacks—reckon that covers survival."

He glances over the market’s expanse, where smoke curls from cooking fires and vendors shout about their wares, and then looks back at Caly with a crooked half-smile that doesn’t quite hide the cold in his eyes. 'Anthin' in particular you're after?"

Vesper

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

suddenly i'm spinning like a ceiling fan, around and 'round we go

She, too, is bundled up to the brim. A spark of light amongst the haze created by the cold and the water nearby in her golden yellow sweater and striped scarf. It’s tucked up around her hair and neck, hiding her mouth, paired with an equally dark beanie that she tugs down over her head before her gloved hands are reaching out to poke and prod at a stack of cards that appear as though they’ve been meticulously painted by hand to reveal little artworks with each card.

“Oh, they’ll have no idea they’re bein’ fucked with.” She agrees, equally as quiet, but her mind is a vast array of amusement and mischief despite everything else. She stops prodding at the deck of cards she’s found to instead slip up beside her brother to peer at the ones he’s fanning out. “Emphasis on the rum.” Bouncing her brows, as if her plan is to bet entirely with liquor (it might be, who knows), the young attuned’s grin is bright even as its hidden under the lip of her scarf.

As for what she’s after? She pauses, pulling her gaze away from him to glance down the boardwalk of shops and merchants, head tilting curiously as she considers all of the options carefully. If Vesper’s getting the gambling necessities, maybe she could stock up on the heating and hangover aspects, sure that the crew would likely forget to take care of themselves and drink enough water to prevent the pain of their rum hangovers. The crew are getting older, after all. Hangovers only get worse with age (and sugar). “Mm, I’m thinkin’ wood ‘n hangover cures.” She bounces her brows as she looks back at him and snickers a bright chime of a sound, cutting him off before he has a chance to make a joke about her stocking up on wood. “Get outta the gutter, V.”

Calypso

suddenly i will never be alone

// Sweet shot of kerosene //

Vesper chuckles, the sound low and rough, fogging faintly in the cold air. Caly’s thoughts crackle bright against his telepathy; sharp flashes of mischief, the hum of satisfaction at being out here instead of holed up somewhere quiet. Her mind’s always been a riot of colour when she’s in good spirits: golds and oranges and quicksilver laughter skimming across the surface, the kind of warmth that pulls him in whether he means to feel it or not.

He raises a brow in agreement with her plan, catching the merchant’s eye with a small nod. "Both decks," he says, and the cards disappear into a cloth pouch with a soft clink of coins.

When Caly turns back around, his expression is already guilty enough to confirm her suspicion. Brows lifted, mouth twitching, he offers up one hand in mock surrender. "My mind’s only goin’ where yours went first," he says, all smooth innocence before the smirk breaks through. Then, wrinkling his nose, he tilts his head toward the next stretch of stalls. "Slim pickin's on the Ark from what I've seen, though not entirely picked clean," he adds with a shrug.

Falling into step beside her, Vesper tugs his scarf higher against the chill. "So what kind of hangover cures we talkin’? Something medicinal?" His tone is playful, but there’s an edge of curiosity under it. "Or are we goin' for more of a hair of the dog type of cure?"

Vesper

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

suddenly i'm spinning like a ceiling fan, around and 'round we go

She knew he’d go straight to the gutter – though she isn’t surprised. A young man like him looks for any kind of opportunity for innuendos wherever they can, and while he’s a demigod, he isn’t shy of doing that. So it’s with a smug amusement of catching him before he has a chance to say anything that he’ll feel the curl of satisfaction that grows in her gut. “The crew’s kind’ve a last resort, I think.” She admits with a hand that waves the idea off. “And I ain’t that desperate yet.”

Not to say she wouldn’t ever be, because having it on the table was better than nothing. But for now? They have a whole untainted region she could probably find some poor guy to fuck around with for a time until she got bored. But rather than think about potential victims to her whims, she chooses instead to sidle up beside her brother, flashing him a bright smile that’s at odds with the insanity she’s felt over the past few weeks. “Hair of the dog, an’ maybe some awful gods forsaken concoction.” She muses, snickering to herself.

“Like when ol’ man Humphrey came into th’ Hanged Man and told me he never has a hangover despite how old he is ‘cause he always eats yogurt ‘n mixes it with fuckin’ cucumber an’ mint an’ rose petals or some shit.” She tilts her head up at him, beaming under the scarf tucked tight around her. “Sounds fuckin’ horrible but I guess it’s kept him goin’ for like, forty years.”

Calypso

suddenly i will never be alone

// Sweet shot of kerosene //

Vesper feels the edges of her thoughts; warm and flickering like sunlight on the water, mischief curling through them but tempered now by something softer. The rage that had once burned red-hot feels dulled to embers, still capable of catching but not consuming her the way it had in Torchline. He lets out a quiet breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. Cold vengeance he can handle; gnawing hurt sits wrong in his chest and he's glad it isn't running so rampant in his sister's mind anymore.

He grunts his approval and gives her a sidelong look, a flicker of humour ghosting through his features. "If you ever do stoop that low with one of the crew," he drawls, tapping two fingers against his temple, "make sure it’s at the other end of the damn ship. Some things I don’t need t’accidentally overhear."

The smirk that follows is half-buried in his scarf, but it’s there all the same. He snorts when she brings up Humphrey, shaking his head. "If I hadn’t seen that image in his head myself, I wouldn’t’ve believed it." The thought of the old man happily spooning mint-rose-yogurt sludge is almost enough to make him grimace out loud. "Guess that means we’re headin’ for the vegetable stalls, then," he adds, grin widening as he glances toward the far end of the Exchange where lanterns sway over crates of produce. "Not sure we'll find roses this time of year, but it ain't like we're lackin' for subjects to test this concoction on back on the Ark."

Vesper

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

suddenly i'm spinning like a ceiling fan, around and 'round we go

Time away and without the impending doom of Kaisel showing up to darken her doorstep, Caly’s rage only simmers now. No longer explosive, it’s still there in the nooks and crevices of the edges of her mind. It’s dimmed enough to be able to let the warmth and her usual mischief return, because she knows better than most that she can’t let it devour her. So she doesn’t let it.

“Aw, y’sure?” She teases him when it comes to succumbing to the low fruit that was the Ark crew. It’s a thought that’s there and passes – not letting him dwell on it for too long as the thought of Humphrey and his miracle hangover cures infiltrates her mind. It’s a sight she’s silently thankful to not have her brother’s powers because just the thought itself was enough to make her a smidge queasy at the idea.

Snickering at Vesper’s response, she nods her head, the blonde curls bouncing around her head. “An’ I wouldn’t have if ya didn’t tell me about it.” Because as they both know, multiple people come into a bar willing to talk a lot of shit. “I’m sure any ol’ flower should work.” She mutters, unsure if it really was the make or break for it but at least they’d have unsuspecting victims.

Following his gaze down the way toward the produce, her steps pick up a little faster to guide them down the way. “So.. I was talkin’ with Nova about makin’ a new place here in New Haven. Not a bar this time… but maybe a boutique cafe kinda thing? You got any thoughts?” She glances sidelong up at him with a raised brow.

Calypso

suddenly i will never be alone

// Sweet shot of kerosene //

Vesper doesn’t bother answering her teasing out loud, he just pulls a face for her benefit, a full theatrical grimace that twists his mouth and makes his eyes crinkle. When she laughs, the tension in his shoulders loosens a notch, the winter air less biting for it. A smirk follows, dry and crooked, the corner of his mouth ticking up as if to say yeah, yeah, you win.

He nods along while she talks flowers, shoulders shifting in an easy roll as they weave through the narrow stalls toward the smell of produce and wet wood. "Think you’re right," he murmurs. "Pretty sure it’s the yogurt that does the heavy liftin’ anyway." The sarcasm drips warm as molasses.

When Caly mentions the café, he glances down at her, brows climbing in mild surprise before settling into thought. "Hm. Sounds like the kind of thing that’ll keep you both outta trouble—" a pause, then a deliberate, sideways look, "—or at least in a different kind of trouble." The sort that would provide them endless entertainment based on how they chose to run things.

He ruffles a hand through his hair, the pale strands mussing under the wind. "Not sure how much help I’d be, though." His tone’s light, but there’s honesty beneath it. Then his head tilts, eyes narrowing as he sighs. "Think I might make myself scarce in King’s End for a bit anyway."

Vesper

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

suddenly i'm spinning like a ceiling fan, around and 'round we go

“Gross.” She drawls, nose wrinkling at the thought – yogurt wasn’t her favorite in general, even without all the weird additions Humphrey seemed insistent on. But she hears his sarcasm and finds amusement in it anyway, drifting down the boardwalk, peering out onto the docks for any of the more specific shops, before she flashes her brother a sharp, glittering smile.

It would be a different kind of trouble. Gossip and clothing, catty and playful and bright as opposed to the sadness that the Hanged Man drunks could bring in. This would be lighter, sharper, more defined when it came to the potential of oversharing information or overhearing private conversations. And besides, she could always make fancy infused drinks for a little extra drama.

She could even make space for him, which blossoms in her mind as a back room – hidden away for any kind of devilish dealings he might have or want to be a part of, before it stops short just as abruptly as she does to turn to him and squint at him. “Hang on. We just got here an’ now you gonna run off?” She twists around to him, pausing just outside the shop that they’ll need to gather the yogurt and cucumber from, her mind on an edge of whether to be excited at his new opportunities or to nose dive into being upset.

Calypso

suddenly i will never be alone

// Sweet shot of kerosene //

Vesper listens quietly while the ideas about the café drift through his sister's head; bright, busy, full of sound and laughter and the sharp glint of gossip. He can almost see it through her thoughts, all the gold light on polished wood, Nova’s chatter weaving through the hum of patrons, and Caly herself a spark at the centre of it all. He nods, slow and thoughtful. "Could always host private parties, too," he offers, a small shrug pulling at his coat. " If you an’ Nova ever get the itch to play bartender again, place could do both. Keep things lively."

But when her mind flickers—shifting from building to losing—he feels it before she stops walking. The thought hits his ribs a breath before she speaks, and he winces, already bracing for it. A sigh slips past his teeth as he halts beside her, gloved fingers tightening around the strap of the bag at his shoulder. "Yeah," he admits, the word soft and resigned. He bites at the inside of his lip and tips his head back, eyes tracing the grey stretch of sky above the stalls. "Turns out tryin’ to be in a relationship when you can—" he lowers his voice, glancing around before murmuring, "—do the things I can do—" then returns to normal volume, "—is a bit of a bitch."

His hand rakes through his hair, pushing it back from his face as he exhales. "I like Colt," he says, simple and sincere, "but it’s gettin’ harder to be around her. And I can’t exactly come right out and tell her why." There’s no bitterness in it, only a quiet weariness. He shakes his head, faint smirk flickering across his mouth as he adds, "So I’m gonna go north for a bit. See what kinda trouble I can stir up along for the Grey Road and see if that doesn't...solve it."

Vesper

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

suddenly i'm spinning like a ceiling fan, around and 'round we go

It’s like all the golden flame in her mind surrounding the boutique begins to get snuffed out – one by one until her mind feels full of hollow smoke drifting aimlessly in the confines of her skull. She pauses by the stall, turning to look at him where it’s painfully obvious he isn’t looking at her but instead looks at the sky and the storms of snow that likely wait on the horizon.

Her jaw tightens before she loosens a soft breath, understanding flickering in her chest that radiates out, bringing those snuffed out flames back into a warm buzz of understanding. “Oh.” She murmurs – because yeah, she can’t even imagine it. If she could read Kaisel’s mind, maybe it would’ve saved her a lot of pain later on. But she couldn’t and chose to be somewhat ignorant about it.

Ah well. “You’ll still drop by, though, right?” A flare of worry sinks into her gut, like it might be the last time she sees him in months. She hopes she’s wrong, but she can’t help but feel a little worried that he might find himself too busy to stop by.

Calypso

suddenly i will never be alone

// Sweet shot of kerosene //

Vesper lets out a breath, quiet and rough, feeling the shift in Caly's thoughts as clearly as if she’d spoken it. The flare of warmth, the soft pulse of worry, it tugs at him, even as he tries to look anywhere but at her. Eventually, though, he gives in and meets her eyes.

"It’s not like I wanna go," he says, voice low, shaped more by weariness than regret. " I thought King’s End was big enough when we came here, but Colt freaked when she realised how close I’d be." His mouth twists; he runs a hand through his hair, dishevelled strands catching the Deepfrost light. "It’s gettin’ way too serious, Cal. The kinda serious where I know I need to stop it before she starts thinkin’ I can be the sort of person she could actually be with." The last few words are quiet, sad, swallowed by the wind off the water.

Then he snorts softly, breaking the heaviness before it can settle too deep. Sliding an arm around her shoulders, he pulls her against him in a rough, brief squeeze. " Of course I’ll drop by, don't be silly." His smirk finds its way back, faint but real. "You can come up anytime you like too. I hear they got this room where you can cause all sorts of trouble with no consequences, and their own marketplaces and bars."

He squeezes once more before letting go, voice softening. "Ain’t leavin’ you, Cal. I just need to..not be here right now."

Vesper

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

suddenly i'm spinning like a ceiling fan, around and 'round we go

It does soothe her to know that he doesn’t want to go, and gods if she doesn’t understand that. It settles in her like a stone, his weariness blending with her own apprehension. She hesitates before she steps over to the edge of the stall, snagging a few random flowers to try for their hangover cure, nodding to the shop keep and handing over a few coins before she can give Vesper her full attention.

Pulled back into his embrace, Caly’s jaw works as she winds her free arm around his middle, soaking in the warmth that escapes from his coat with the press. “Yeah.. Can’t be easy, I imagine.” Her nose wrinkles, sighing – wondering for a brief moment if he’d ever manage to find happiness and love if he was worried about his magic. Or maybe he could keep it a secret, though that would probably be hard after a little while too.

“Room with no consequences, huh?” She murmurs, the sun flickering over the horizon of her mind again, bringing back in warmth from the cold swell of worry. “Sounds like a blast. Don’t make me jealous, V.” She snorts, relaxing a little more as the thought settles. “We’ll make sure t’have a spot for you whenever ya come by.” Even if her plan is a little cute café named Sunbean.

Calypso

suddenly i will never be alone

// Sweet shot of kerosene //

Vesper sighs against her, the sound low and content in a way it rarely is. Around Caly—and Nova—he can breathe without holding half of himself behind his teeth. They’re the only ones who know what he can do, what he carries, and still they love him. "Good thing I got you an’ Nova then, huh?" he murmurs with a wry twist of his mouth. It’s half a joke, but it lands heavier than that, because it’s also true. The two of them are all the love and loyalty he’s ever really counted on, and all he’s ever likely to have. The rest is temporary; bright, but fleeting.

When she mentions Sunbean, the flicker of warmth in her thoughts catches him off guard enough that he snorts, a short laugh slipping free as he finally lets her go. "Good name," he says, rolling his eyes affectionately but smiling all the same. 

He tips his head toward the Ark, scarf shifting with the wind. "You can always come up, y’know. See the place for yourself." A dry smirk tugs at his mouth as he starts walking, hands buried deep in his coat pockets. "C’mon. Let’s get this yogurt before we freeze solid."

~FIN

Vesper

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