VESPER
Vesper doesn’t rise to the bait.
Doesn’t snarl, doesn’t lash out, doesn’t let her fury tear him open the way it might’ve done—back when her fire was all blood and heat and none of this violet rot that now clings to her mind like barnacles to a drowning thing. Instead, he chews slowly on the peppermint bark, letting it burn cool against his tongue, letting it anchor him while her anger spills like hot oil across the obsidian ground between them.
The words don’t strike clean. They graze. They sting. But only because he can feel the hurt behind them. "Wasn’t like this before," he says at last, and though his voice stays lazy-soft, it doesn’t have the usual warmth it might’ve. "You," he clarifies with a vague tilt of his head toward her, "weren’t."
He lets his shadows slip a little farther, pooling around the soles of his boots like melted glass. He doesn’t point fingers. Doesn’t call it what it is, because he doesn’t need to. Just shrugs one shoulder, his tone drifting somewhere between casual and cruel. "Could feel it soon as I touched you." He smirks faintly, not in mockery, but with the ease of someone speaking a plain fact despite it being an utter lie. "I don’t think purple’s your colour, darlin'. I liked you better in red."
As for wasting his time? He doesn’t even bother answering that. Just slips another piece of bark from his coat and slides it past his teeth, the crisp snap of it breaking the quiet more than anything else he might’ve said. Then, with a glance that finally—finally—lands on her, he adds, just barely audible: "Hope it was worth it."
Doesn’t snarl, doesn’t lash out, doesn’t let her fury tear him open the way it might’ve done—back when her fire was all blood and heat and none of this violet rot that now clings to her mind like barnacles to a drowning thing. Instead, he chews slowly on the peppermint bark, letting it burn cool against his tongue, letting it anchor him while her anger spills like hot oil across the obsidian ground between them.
The words don’t strike clean. They graze. They sting. But only because he can feel the hurt behind them. "Wasn’t like this before," he says at last, and though his voice stays lazy-soft, it doesn’t have the usual warmth it might’ve. "You," he clarifies with a vague tilt of his head toward her, "weren’t."
He lets his shadows slip a little farther, pooling around the soles of his boots like melted glass. He doesn’t point fingers. Doesn’t call it what it is, because he doesn’t need to. Just shrugs one shoulder, his tone drifting somewhere between casual and cruel. "Could feel it soon as I touched you." He smirks faintly, not in mockery, but with the ease of someone speaking a plain fact despite it being an utter lie. "I don’t think purple’s your colour, darlin'. I liked you better in red."
As for wasting his time? He doesn’t even bother answering that. Just slips another piece of bark from his coat and slides it past his teeth, the crisp snap of it breaking the quiet more than anything else he might’ve said. Then, with a glance that finally—finally—lands on her, he adds, just barely audible: "Hope it was worth it."
Push, shove, a little bruised and battered
oh lord, I ain't coming home with you
oh lord, I ain't coming home with you
☆ 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.
