just because the fog is there
The bar isn’t busy—not yet. LongHeat afternoons have a way of making everything feel slow and slick, like the whole world’s caught in a bottle of molasses and sun. Behind the counter, Vesper works through the usual quiet rhythm: drying glasses, sorting bottles, ignoring the soft groan of an ancient fan overhead. He's dressed down for the heat, loose linen and dark sleeves pushed high on his forearms, the constellation of freckles on his arms catching little sparks of sun where it slices through the shutters.
The man at the bar barely registers at first. Just another whiskey-soaked soul stewing in the kind of silence that always makes Vesper think too hard about pulling up a chair or walking away. But then—
Flora. Oh, ho ho.
He doesn’t look like much, but his thoughts are loud. Not in volume, but tone. Guilt like seawater in the lungs. Longing wrapped around denial. A name—Maea?—that has Vesper’s eyes flicking over.
The rag slows in his hands. Then stills entirely.
A long moment ticks by before Vesper tips the glass upside down, sets it on the rack, and finally reaches for the whiskey again. Sauntering over, he holds up the bottle, letting the amber liquid catch the light before filling the man's glass.
"Rough day?" he asks, tone casual, quiet. His eyes flick up, sharp as sea glass. "Or just regrettin' somethin’ you've got planned?"
The man at the bar barely registers at first. Just another whiskey-soaked soul stewing in the kind of silence that always makes Vesper think too hard about pulling up a chair or walking away. But then—
Flora. Oh, ho ho.
He doesn’t look like much, but his thoughts are loud. Not in volume, but tone. Guilt like seawater in the lungs. Longing wrapped around denial. A name—Maea?—that has Vesper’s eyes flicking over.
The rag slows in his hands. Then stills entirely.
A long moment ticks by before Vesper tips the glass upside down, sets it on the rack, and finally reaches for the whiskey again. Sauntering over, he holds up the bottle, letting the amber liquid catch the light before filling the man's glass.
"Rough day?" he asks, tone casual, quiet. His eyes flick up, sharp as sea glass. "Or just regrettin' somethin’ you've got planned?"
don't mean nothing's behind it
☆ 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.
