Vesper snorts in response—less derision than shared disdain. Yeah, he doesn’t like it either. The Furnace is all blisters and silence, and the heat that coils off the stone feels like being watched by something that forgot how to blink.
Eventually, he pulls up. Not abruptly—just a gradual shift from canter to trot, then down to a walk, hooves ticking against the fractured ground. It’s not exhaustion exactly, but close enough to tap at the edges. His sides rise and fall with the rhythm of hard-earned breath, the sweat darkening the fine black of his coat. He can feel the heat clinging to Colt too, his sweat likely having soaked through the insides of her thighs, her calves.
Still, he walks easy beneath her, his gait long and deliberate, giving her the smoothest path he can manage. The silence that follows isn't awkward. It’s the hush of a necessary pause, of survival briefly outweighing conversation.
When she speaks again—soft, steady—he lifts his head slightly, ears twitching toward her voice. His response is subtle: a small toss of his head, a faint bob that acknowledges the bright pinpoint she’s found. The constellations aren’t much comfort here, not when the ground feels like it might crack open and swallow them whole. But they’re still something; markers in a world where direction’s more mirage than truth.
Eventually, he pulls up. Not abruptly—just a gradual shift from canter to trot, then down to a walk, hooves ticking against the fractured ground. It’s not exhaustion exactly, but close enough to tap at the edges. His sides rise and fall with the rhythm of hard-earned breath, the sweat darkening the fine black of his coat. He can feel the heat clinging to Colt too, his sweat likely having soaked through the insides of her thighs, her calves.
Still, he walks easy beneath her, his gait long and deliberate, giving her the smoothest path he can manage. The silence that follows isn't awkward. It’s the hush of a necessary pause, of survival briefly outweighing conversation.
When she speaks again—soft, steady—he lifts his head slightly, ears twitching toward her voice. His response is subtle: a small toss of his head, a faint bob that acknowledges the bright pinpoint she’s found. The constellations aren’t much comfort here, not when the ground feels like it might crack open and swallow them whole. But they’re still something; markers in a world where direction’s more mirage than truth.
You know it's all just a game that I'm playin'
☆ 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.
