when rome's in ruins, we are the lions
Vesper exhales a dry laugh through his nose, the kind that doesn’t quite reach his eyes but lingers in the air like smoke. "Trust me, I got two very good and very blonde reasons not to drop dead out here." His fingers flick a loose bead of sweat from his brow as he glances toward the horizon. "Nova’d cry, and Caly’d dig me up just to kill me herself for bein’ inconsiderate and kickin' the bucket before they were ready for me to go." The threat is fond, but true. He has no illusions about how his sisters would handle his untimely death—not well, and not quietly.
He doesn’t need to look at Colt to feel her watching him, but he stretches anyway—arms overhead, ribs rising, the long, lazy motion as much performance as practical release. When he drops his arms again, he snorts and glances sidelong at her. " ’Cause you’re the kinda woman who can’t help but hand out praise to the animals around her," he drawls, a flick of amusement undercutting the smirk curling his mouth. "Even when they’re just sweatin’ and complainin’ and eatin’ your apples, you'd go out of your way to tell 'em that they're good. Or am I wrong?"
Grinning, he knots his shirt loosely around his waist, the fabric damp but clinging with enough salt to hold its shape. He turns his apple core over in one hand, then shrugs and sets it on the rock beside him. "We oughta head out a little farther," he says, tone casual but deliberate. "Bein’ stuck somewhere with no shade when the sun hits is gonna be a real bitch."
With that, he shifts—no flourish, just a smooth, silent blur of motion—and the horse is back. Black as pitch, sleek with heat, constellation-spotted hide still damp from effort. He moves first for the rock, plucks the apple core delicately between his teeth, then turns toward Colt. With a snort that could only be described as smug, he sidles up beside her and goes to knock her hat clean off her head with a firm nudge of his nose.
He doesn’t need to look at Colt to feel her watching him, but he stretches anyway—arms overhead, ribs rising, the long, lazy motion as much performance as practical release. When he drops his arms again, he snorts and glances sidelong at her. " ’Cause you’re the kinda woman who can’t help but hand out praise to the animals around her," he drawls, a flick of amusement undercutting the smirk curling his mouth. "Even when they’re just sweatin’ and complainin’ and eatin’ your apples, you'd go out of your way to tell 'em that they're good. Or am I wrong?"
Grinning, he knots his shirt loosely around his waist, the fabric damp but clinging with enough salt to hold its shape. He turns his apple core over in one hand, then shrugs and sets it on the rock beside him. "We oughta head out a little farther," he says, tone casual but deliberate. "Bein’ stuck somewhere with no shade when the sun hits is gonna be a real bitch."
With that, he shifts—no flourish, just a smooth, silent blur of motion—and the horse is back. Black as pitch, sleek with heat, constellation-spotted hide still damp from effort. He moves first for the rock, plucks the apple core delicately between his teeth, then turns toward Colt. With a snort that could only be described as smug, he sidles up beside her and goes to knock her hat clean off her head with a firm nudge of his nose.
free of the colosseums
☆ 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.
