I don't know what I'm looking for
The moment the snowball hits him square in the ribs, Vesper reels back—not in pain, but in flat, theatrical disbelief. A grunt leaves him as the cold packs into his side, and he sways, hand pressed to the dramatic wound like some tragic actor struck down mid-soliloquy.
For a second, it almost looks like he might play along.
Then he exhales, long and slow, shoulders rolling back as shadows swirl tight around his boots. "Absolutely not," he mutters, more to the air than to anyone in particular. Jail is for quitters. Or for people who actually care about the rules.
The shadows surge forward like a crashing wave, scooping up a broad, icy armful of snow that curls in midair like it’s just waiting for an excuse. Vesper vanishes in a blink—one flicker of light and dark—and reappears just behind the nearest tree.
Where Iskra is crouched. Perfectly smug. Perfectly exposed.
"Hey you," Vesper says again, this time right at the back of Iskra’s ear.
The snow crashes down a heartbeat later—soaked and heavy and cold, aimed so that it would pour down the collar of Iskra’s shirt with no mercy and all the precision of a man reclaiming his dignity in the pettiest way possible.
Vesper says jail is for babies and gathers up a shadow-arm-full of snow, misty-steps behind Iskra to try and dump it directly down the back of his shirt/jacket/whatever.
For a second, it almost looks like he might play along.
Then he exhales, long and slow, shoulders rolling back as shadows swirl tight around his boots. "Absolutely not," he mutters, more to the air than to anyone in particular. Jail is for quitters. Or for people who actually care about the rules.
The shadows surge forward like a crashing wave, scooping up a broad, icy armful of snow that curls in midair like it’s just waiting for an excuse. Vesper vanishes in a blink—one flicker of light and dark—and reappears just behind the nearest tree.
Where Iskra is crouched. Perfectly smug. Perfectly exposed.
"Hey you," Vesper says again, this time right at the back of Iskra’s ear.
The snow crashes down a heartbeat later—soaked and heavy and cold, aimed so that it would pour down the collar of Iskra’s shirt with no mercy and all the precision of a man reclaiming his dignity in the pettiest way possible.
Vesper says jail is for babies and gathers up a shadow-arm-full of snow, misty-steps behind Iskra to try and dump it directly down the back of his shirt/jacket/whatever.
but I swear to God I'll find it
☆ 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.
