if you try and chase the sun you're never gonna catch it
The things Vesper feels through the fracture in Iskra’s thoughts aren’t pretty.
They’re hot, raw, tar-thick—self-hatred flaring like the snap of a faulty wire, panic folding in over pride until it curdles into something sharp enough to bleed on. It's not just fury in Iskra’s mind; it’s fear, glittering and gold-bright and aching, tangled up in the thought of her. And Vesper, gods but he could do damage with that. He knows it. Knows how to break someone open so quietly they don't even realize they’re bleeding until they drown in it.
And it's tempting...it really is. But he doesn’t. Instead, he exhales slowly, the tension bleeding off his shoulders in one lazy shrug. The shadows fall back, slinking away from Iskra’s chin, the snowball dissolving mid-air before it lands.
Vesper dusts his hands on the thighs of his pants, casually, like none of it—none of Iskra’s shame or desperation—touched him. But there’s a weight in his glance, a glimmer of something unreadable in the constellation of freckles across his cheek as he murmurs, almost kindly: "Yeah," he says with a faint chuckle, stepping lightly over the patch of trampled snow. "But y’know Ludo probably made her swear not to give up all the gory details. S'posed to be all about chaos, right?"
Assuming that Iskra was going to stay crumpled there in the snow—steam rising faintly from his shoulders, his pride scraped raw—Vesper straightens, rolls his neck once, then starts to walk off across the churned-up battlefield, hands tucked into his pockets. His voice carries easily behind him, casual as ever.
" 'Spose I oughta walk my fellow demigod home." Surprise bitch, Melita wasn't the only one who could pack a divine punch.
They’re hot, raw, tar-thick—self-hatred flaring like the snap of a faulty wire, panic folding in over pride until it curdles into something sharp enough to bleed on. It's not just fury in Iskra’s mind; it’s fear, glittering and gold-bright and aching, tangled up in the thought of her. And Vesper, gods but he could do damage with that. He knows it. Knows how to break someone open so quietly they don't even realize they’re bleeding until they drown in it.
And it's tempting...it really is. But he doesn’t. Instead, he exhales slowly, the tension bleeding off his shoulders in one lazy shrug. The shadows fall back, slinking away from Iskra’s chin, the snowball dissolving mid-air before it lands.
Vesper dusts his hands on the thighs of his pants, casually, like none of it—none of Iskra’s shame or desperation—touched him. But there’s a weight in his glance, a glimmer of something unreadable in the constellation of freckles across his cheek as he murmurs, almost kindly: "Yeah," he says with a faint chuckle, stepping lightly over the patch of trampled snow. "But y’know Ludo probably made her swear not to give up all the gory details. S'posed to be all about chaos, right?"
Assuming that Iskra was going to stay crumpled there in the snow—steam rising faintly from his shoulders, his pride scraped raw—Vesper straightens, rolls his neck once, then starts to walk off across the churned-up battlefield, hands tucked into his pockets. His voice carries easily behind him, casual as ever.
" 'Spose I oughta walk my fellow demigod home." Surprise bitch, Melita wasn't the only one who could pack a divine punch.
And now it's turning out to be the worst of my bad habits
☆ 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.
