Vesper arrives at the Levinsward beneath a rumbling sky that seems to spark with every breath he draws. He’s dressed for the biting cold, a long coat of dark, heavy fabric pulled tight at the waist to shield his lean frame from the wind slicing through the barren stretch of grassland. Static dances along its hem, crackling whenever he steps through the frosted stalks. The roar of thunder in the distance does little to mask the sharp tsss of lightning striking the ground over and over.
He’s here—ostensibly—to follow up on a tip about a smuggler’s stash rumoured to be hidden somewhere in these storm-scorched fields. In truth, though, Vesper isn’t sure he’ll even bother searching tonight. When he senses a flare of raw emotion rippling across his mental radar—anger, shame, frustration—Vesper pauses. Something about a curse that’s twisted a tongue. He picks up the taste of that bitterness with the innate ease of his telepathy. Rounding a corner of what passes for a settlement, he spots a small building tucked amid the skeletal silhouette of leafless trees. There, on the stairs, is Thalassa, hunched over a glass of whiskey, flame dancing at her fingertips like it’s the only warmth left in this desolate place.
Vesper lets a low whistle slip past his lips, though it’s nearly lost to a roll of distant thunder. "Some fuckin' weather, huh?" he offers by way of greeting, his voice pitched to carry above the wind. A casual swagger carries him closer, and he hitches a thumb over his shoulder at the chaotic skies. "Mind if I wait out the next lightning strike with you?" he asks, as though his reason for being out here is purely incidental. His gaze flicks to the bottle at her side, arching a brow. "Bein' tall ain't doin' me any favours out here."
He’s here—ostensibly—to follow up on a tip about a smuggler’s stash rumoured to be hidden somewhere in these storm-scorched fields. In truth, though, Vesper isn’t sure he’ll even bother searching tonight. When he senses a flare of raw emotion rippling across his mental radar—anger, shame, frustration—Vesper pauses. Something about a curse that’s twisted a tongue. He picks up the taste of that bitterness with the innate ease of his telepathy. Rounding a corner of what passes for a settlement, he spots a small building tucked amid the skeletal silhouette of leafless trees. There, on the stairs, is Thalassa, hunched over a glass of whiskey, flame dancing at her fingertips like it’s the only warmth left in this desolate place.
Vesper lets a low whistle slip past his lips, though it’s nearly lost to a roll of distant thunder. "Some fuckin' weather, huh?" he offers by way of greeting, his voice pitched to carry above the wind. A casual swagger carries him closer, and he hitches a thumb over his shoulder at the chaotic skies. "Mind if I wait out the next lightning strike with you?" he asks, as though his reason for being out here is purely incidental. His gaze flicks to the bottle at her side, arching a brow. "Bein' tall ain't doin' me any favours out here."
I'm pedal to the metal make no mistake, this is my pity party, pity party
& I'm living out of time, eternal heatstroke
& I'm living out of time, eternal heatstroke
☆ has a pale star tattoo beneath his left eye, and freckle-sized constellations move across his skin
☽ hair changes from bleached blonde to brown
☆ telepathic: Sunlit Shadows | The user can read the surface thoughts and emotions of those within a 60ft radius. Control is excellent. Note: "Thoughts and emotions" include anything written in a character's narration in a post.
☽ hair changes from bleached blonde to brown
☆ telepathic: Sunlit Shadows | The user can read the surface thoughts and emotions of those within a 60ft radius. Control is excellent. Note: "Thoughts and emotions" include anything written in a character's narration in a post.
