Got a head full of spiders & a heart that isn't here
Sun blazes off the water in hard, glittering shards, and the Boondocks lie spread out like a sun-bleached quilt—hulls scabbed with rust, decks patched by whatever driftwood the tide donates. It’s Longheat, and even King’s End feels it: the planks radiate warmth through Vesper’s boots, tar smells rise thick as molasses, and hels wheel lazy loops in a sky as wide as any ocean.
He noses a narrow skiff into the lee of a cracked frigate, ties off, and strides up a rope ladder stiff with salt. Mid-morning bustle is already in full swing, and Vesper folds into the flow, ribs still sore but tolerable from his recent skirmish with a Lamplighter, eyes skimming for a flash of sun-lit blonde.
Posters slapped on barrel staves promised a “RODEO!”. The word conjures dust devils and bronc-bucking adrenaline—a far cry from Torchline’s surf. Curiosity keeps his pace unhurried but intent, letting his telepathy reach out the way a spider might listen for vibrations through its web, searching for a sparkle of Colt in the minds of those he passed by.
A trader wipes her brow with a gingham kerchief; past her shoulder, a tall figure with straw-pale hair ducks behind a canvas awning. "Mornin’," Vesper drawls, words running together like river water over stone. "You ain’t happened to spy a tall blonde, Meadowreach ranch sort, answers to Colt? Got posters in Torchline advertisin’ a rodeo." The merchant shakes their head; Vesper tips two fingers by way of thanks and moves on, ribs twinging as he threads through the crush. He keeps half an ear tuned to the bustle, half his focus on the matted weave of thoughts brushing his periphery—surface impressions only, skimming for someone picturing arenas, broncs, or a woman named after a gun.
He noses a narrow skiff into the lee of a cracked frigate, ties off, and strides up a rope ladder stiff with salt. Mid-morning bustle is already in full swing, and Vesper folds into the flow, ribs still sore but tolerable from his recent skirmish with a Lamplighter, eyes skimming for a flash of sun-lit blonde.
Posters slapped on barrel staves promised a “RODEO!”. The word conjures dust devils and bronc-bucking adrenaline—a far cry from Torchline’s surf. Curiosity keeps his pace unhurried but intent, letting his telepathy reach out the way a spider might listen for vibrations through its web, searching for a sparkle of Colt in the minds of those he passed by.
A trader wipes her brow with a gingham kerchief; past her shoulder, a tall figure with straw-pale hair ducks behind a canvas awning. "Mornin’," Vesper drawls, words running together like river water over stone. "You ain’t happened to spy a tall blonde, Meadowreach ranch sort, answers to Colt? Got posters in Torchline advertisin’ a rodeo." The merchant shakes their head; Vesper tips two fingers by way of thanks and moves on, ribs twinging as he threads through the crush. He keeps half an ear tuned to the bustle, half his focus on the matted weave of thoughts brushing his periphery—surface impressions only, skimming for someone picturing arenas, broncs, or a woman named after a gun.
VESPER
☆ 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.
