if you try and chase the sun you're never gonna catch it
Vesper nods once, slow and easy, like Melita’s answer has confirmed exactly what he’d hoped. No borders; just ocean and opportunity. That kind of freedom suits him fine—suits his blood, his shadows, the drift of his name.
She disappears, but he doesn’t need her voice to know she’s still there. He feels the hum of her conviction like a live wire in the air. Vesper’s eyes flick to where she’d been a moment ago, his grin curving slightly as he tips his head in acknowledgment to the empty air.
Then he turns, squinting back toward the Spillwave with a hand shading his brow. The skyboat cuts a sharp line through the air, and his shadows skim the deck like a second crew, flickering and trailing behind him.
"Oi," he calls casually, raising his voice just enough to carry, though not loud enough to be urgent. "Tell me, Melita—what d’you reckon a plain ol’ merchant ship needs with curtains over its cannons?"
He nods toward the vessel in question, a small unassuming thing bobbing a little too innocently on the waves. Painted dull, sails trimmed to look non-threatening. Except the gunports are barely concealed beneath frilly fabric, like someone threw a table runner over a powder keg. The smirk on his face widens, sharp as salt on a split lip. " She's a bit overdressed for a trade route, don’t you think?"
She disappears, but he doesn’t need her voice to know she’s still there. He feels the hum of her conviction like a live wire in the air. Vesper’s eyes flick to where she’d been a moment ago, his grin curving slightly as he tips his head in acknowledgment to the empty air.
Then he turns, squinting back toward the Spillwave with a hand shading his brow. The skyboat cuts a sharp line through the air, and his shadows skim the deck like a second crew, flickering and trailing behind him.
"Oi," he calls casually, raising his voice just enough to carry, though not loud enough to be urgent. "Tell me, Melita—what d’you reckon a plain ol’ merchant ship needs with curtains over its cannons?"
He nods toward the vessel in question, a small unassuming thing bobbing a little too innocently on the waves. Painted dull, sails trimmed to look non-threatening. Except the gunports are barely concealed beneath frilly fabric, like someone threw a table runner over a powder keg. The smirk on his face widens, sharp as salt on a split lip. " She's a bit overdressed for a trade route, don’t you think?"
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.
