Got a head full of spiders & a heart that isn't here
The first blow Colt lands on the shadow-man shudders through Vesper like a live wire. Though it isn’t him she’s hitting, he feels every strike—not in his skin, but in his mind, in the ache of old grief and borrowed guilt. His shadows react instantly, crumpling beneath her fists as if the smoke-bodied man could bleed. Each punch collapses a piece of the illusion: the sternum folds with a ragged exhale, a cheek caves like wet ash under her knuckles, and still Vesper holds the construct steady until she’s spent, until the tension coiled in her chest is shaken loose and the echoes of him are scattered across the sun-drenched dirt.
The catharsis in her thoughts rushes toward him like a wave, hot and clear and blessedly not his own. It doesn’t dull the white-hot fire in his shoulder, but it cushions it—makes the pain bearable in the face of something else. Something earned. When she collapses to her knees, his shadows finally dissipate into curling wisps, lifting in the breeze like smoke rising from a spent fire.
Vesper lets out a slow, rasping breath, jaw tight as he shifts—gingerly—his dislocated arm. The grunt he makes is quiet but rough, and he doesn’t try to fix it yet. Not while she’s still bowed under the weight of everything she just let go. Instead, he takes a single step forward. He doesn’t reach out, doesn’t touch. His shadow, his own this time, stretches long and dark over her, shielding her from the burn of the sun, softening the line of her shoulders with cool relief. And in a voice not quite smug, but edged with something like understanding, he mutters:
"My sisters… they haven’t been wrong yet." A small, crooked exhale that might be the ghost of a laugh hums past his lips. " ’Bout hittin’ me, I mean." Vesper pauses. "Now, any chance you could do me one last favour and stick your boot in my armpit and haul my shoulder back into place?"
4/4
The catharsis in her thoughts rushes toward him like a wave, hot and clear and blessedly not his own. It doesn’t dull the white-hot fire in his shoulder, but it cushions it—makes the pain bearable in the face of something else. Something earned. When she collapses to her knees, his shadows finally dissipate into curling wisps, lifting in the breeze like smoke rising from a spent fire.
Vesper lets out a slow, rasping breath, jaw tight as he shifts—gingerly—his dislocated arm. The grunt he makes is quiet but rough, and he doesn’t try to fix it yet. Not while she’s still bowed under the weight of everything she just let go. Instead, he takes a single step forward. He doesn’t reach out, doesn’t touch. His shadow, his own this time, stretches long and dark over her, shielding her from the burn of the sun, softening the line of her shoulders with cool relief. And in a voice not quite smug, but edged with something like understanding, he mutters:
"My sisters… they haven’t been wrong yet." A small, crooked exhale that might be the ghost of a laugh hums past his lips. " ’Bout hittin’ me, I mean." Vesper pauses. "Now, any chance you could do me one last favour and stick your boot in my armpit and haul my shoulder back into place?"
4/4
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.
