VESPER
The first few bounces had been curious.
A strange percussion overhead—irregular and rubbery, like hailstones drunk on sugar—and then the shriek of someone chasing a rogue ball past the door, followed by the unmistakable ping of one ricocheting off the gutter.
Vesper had lingered in the doorway, bottle of water hooked loosely in one hand, watching the tide of neon chaos begin to flood Haulani’s lowest quarter. His expression had hovered somewhere between dry bemusement and resignation, the kind that belonged to a man who'd seen gods pull worse stunts but still didn’t appreciate them near his liquor shelves.
Then came the barrage.
A cluster of bouncy balls slammed into the front windows of the Hanged Man with the force of a badly-thrown spell—thwack, thwack, crack—and that was enough to jolt him into motion. “Alright,” he muttered, turning back inside with a flick of his fingers and a roll of his shoulders like he was shrugging off rain, “that’s enough romance for one evenin’.”
Shadows stirred before he reached them, tugging open cabinet doors and hovering as if anticipating instruction. Vesper moved quickly, crouching behind the bar and beginning to relocate the more delicate liquor bottles—the ones Nova had waxed poetic about, or spent too much coin on because the label was “so dreamy”—tucking them down behind the counter with the care of someone handling glass roses. The older bottles, the sentimental ones that Caly had scrubbed the dust off with her sleeve just last week, he wrapped in a spare bar rag and slipped into the bottom drawer.
Then came the shutters.
He moved to the front windows, peering out just in time to see a glitter-packed orb bounce off a market awning and explode into a flurry of heart-shaped confetti. A dog in a sunhat was barking triumphantly nearby, its tail wagging like it was chasing comets.
He left the top half cracked—couldn’t resist the view entirely—but cast a shadow ward over Nova’s newest stained glass, just in case. The chandelier, fragile and brilliant and hung with no less ceremony than a crown, earned a second glance. His shadows climbed it delicately, bracing like a net.
Outside, the storm of bouncing declarations continued.
Inside, the Hanged Man held its breath, quiet and dim and somehow warmer for the effort. Vesper exhaled through his nose and leaned one elbow on the bar, twisting the cap off his waterskin and murmuring toward the ceiling.
A strange percussion overhead—irregular and rubbery, like hailstones drunk on sugar—and then the shriek of someone chasing a rogue ball past the door, followed by the unmistakable ping of one ricocheting off the gutter.
Vesper had lingered in the doorway, bottle of water hooked loosely in one hand, watching the tide of neon chaos begin to flood Haulani’s lowest quarter. His expression had hovered somewhere between dry bemusement and resignation, the kind that belonged to a man who'd seen gods pull worse stunts but still didn’t appreciate them near his liquor shelves.
Then came the barrage.
A cluster of bouncy balls slammed into the front windows of the Hanged Man with the force of a badly-thrown spell—thwack, thwack, crack—and that was enough to jolt him into motion. “Alright,” he muttered, turning back inside with a flick of his fingers and a roll of his shoulders like he was shrugging off rain, “that’s enough romance for one evenin’.”
Shadows stirred before he reached them, tugging open cabinet doors and hovering as if anticipating instruction. Vesper moved quickly, crouching behind the bar and beginning to relocate the more delicate liquor bottles—the ones Nova had waxed poetic about, or spent too much coin on because the label was “so dreamy”—tucking them down behind the counter with the care of someone handling glass roses. The older bottles, the sentimental ones that Caly had scrubbed the dust off with her sleeve just last week, he wrapped in a spare bar rag and slipped into the bottom drawer.
Then came the shutters.
He moved to the front windows, peering out just in time to see a glitter-packed orb bounce off a market awning and explode into a flurry of heart-shaped confetti. A dog in a sunhat was barking triumphantly nearby, its tail wagging like it was chasing comets.
He left the top half cracked—couldn’t resist the view entirely—but cast a shadow ward over Nova’s newest stained glass, just in case. The chandelier, fragile and brilliant and hung with no less ceremony than a crown, earned a second glance. His shadows climbed it delicately, bracing like a net.
Outside, the storm of bouncing declarations continued.
Inside, the Hanged Man held its breath, quiet and dim and somehow warmer for the effort. Vesper exhaled through his nose and leaned one elbow on the bar, twisting the cap off his waterskin and murmuring toward the ceiling.
And I'm going down, where the waves will surround
to the roar and the pound, Of the wild wild sea
Talking sweet to me
to the roar and the pound, Of the wild wild sea
Talking sweet to me
☆ 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.
