if you try and chase the sun you're never gonna catch it
Vesper chuckles, the sound low and lazy as it curls into the mist like smoke from a just-snuffed lantern. "Maybe you’ve just been hangin’ out with the wrong crowd," he drawls, casting her a sidelong look that borders on playful. The kind of look that flicks like a card at the start of a game, not quite a bluff, not quite a bet.
He doesn’t comment on the thoughts that shimmer at the edges of her mind—how she watches him like a match she can’t help but strike again. But he feels it; the curiosity, the quiet fascination. And it does something to him, nestling under his ribs in a place he doesn’t often let people go. He doesn’t feed it, doesn’t tease it...but he doesn’t turn away from it either, because gods damn if it ain't a wonderful thing to bask in.
Instead, he lets his eyes follow her as she stretches, the arch of her back a long, lazy curve that pulls his gaze like a tide. His smirk sharpens slightly, the glint in his eyes unmistakably wicked as he glances over his shoulder—not subtle, not shy, just quietly appreciative. There’s no rum-and-ribbons softness here; what Colt has is earned, carved into her like a brand, and he respects that more than he’ll say out loud.
When she settles again, reins back in hand, Vesper shrugs one shoulder—carefully, this time. "You still owe me a better explanation of what the hell a rodeo even is," he says, voice half-mocking, half-intrigued. "Unless it’s just a metaphor for the way you treat a man’s joints."
Then, glancing up at the stairway rising like a broken god’s monument through the mist, he juts his chin toward one of the higher barrows just off to the right. "Got a family thing to take care of up there," he says casually, gesturing toward the shrine. "Top of tht hill. You wouldn’t mind parking us somewhere upwind of any angry ghosts, would you?"
He doesn’t comment on the thoughts that shimmer at the edges of her mind—how she watches him like a match she can’t help but strike again. But he feels it; the curiosity, the quiet fascination. And it does something to him, nestling under his ribs in a place he doesn’t often let people go. He doesn’t feed it, doesn’t tease it...but he doesn’t turn away from it either, because gods damn if it ain't a wonderful thing to bask in.
Instead, he lets his eyes follow her as she stretches, the arch of her back a long, lazy curve that pulls his gaze like a tide. His smirk sharpens slightly, the glint in his eyes unmistakably wicked as he glances over his shoulder—not subtle, not shy, just quietly appreciative. There’s no rum-and-ribbons softness here; what Colt has is earned, carved into her like a brand, and he respects that more than he’ll say out loud.
When she settles again, reins back in hand, Vesper shrugs one shoulder—carefully, this time. "You still owe me a better explanation of what the hell a rodeo even is," he says, voice half-mocking, half-intrigued. "Unless it’s just a metaphor for the way you treat a man’s joints."
Then, glancing up at the stairway rising like a broken god’s monument through the mist, he juts his chin toward one of the higher barrows just off to the right. "Got a family thing to take care of up there," he says casually, gesturing toward the shrine. "Top of tht hill. You wouldn’t mind parking us somewhere upwind of any angry ghosts, would you?"
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.
