VESPER
He can feel her thoughts as if they were mist against his skin, curling slow and warm around the edges of his mind—soft surprise, that flicker of pleasure like sunlight caught on glass, and something deeper that settles into him like heat into stone. He doesn’t chase it, but instead just lets it steep.
Her hand on his cheek lingers longer than the kiss. It still hums through him when her fingers slip down to hook into the crook of his arm, nestling into place like she’s always belonged there. "Lead?" Vesper echoes with a grin, one brow arching lazily. "Now what would I do a foolish thing like that for." It was a figure of speech, sure, but Colt wasn't the sort of woman to just follow along.
Rather than tug her along, he lifts their joined hands and brushes a featherlight kiss to her knuckles, mouth warm against her skin. Then he laces their fingers together—no pressure, no pull, just the offering of place. At his side rather than toddling along in his shadow. He lets his eyes drift pointedly down to the heels clicking soft against the platform. A quiet chuckle escapes him, low and edged with memory. "You already know I’d carry you,”" he says, voice pitched to her alone.
And though his pace is slow—metronomed to her stride, careful on the wood-planked stairs—there’s a coiled sort of elegance to it. The garden path unfolds ahead in a ribbon of warm gold and wandering light, lanterns swaying like sleepy fireflies, and here and there, flickers of will o’ wisps glimmer where they please, unbothered by rules or guests. They walk in silence for a stretch. Long enough for her warmth to soak into his side. Long enough for him to feel the edges of her tension begin to ease, just a fraction. Then, like he’s about to remark on the foliage or some other idle thing, Vesper leans slightly, close enough for the next breath she takes to pull him in. His voice slides between the hush and the gold.
"You look so godsdamn stunning tonight," he murmurs, every syllable unhurried, the kind of praise meant to be worn—not just heard. "Would’ve told you sooner, but I got a little distracted by seein' you like this."
And just like that, he straightens again. Keeps walking. Though Vesper doesn't look down at Colt, there's a smile on his lips as he waits to see if her pulse will echo the shape of his words.
Her hand on his cheek lingers longer than the kiss. It still hums through him when her fingers slip down to hook into the crook of his arm, nestling into place like she’s always belonged there. "Lead?" Vesper echoes with a grin, one brow arching lazily. "Now what would I do a foolish thing like that for." It was a figure of speech, sure, but Colt wasn't the sort of woman to just follow along.
Rather than tug her along, he lifts their joined hands and brushes a featherlight kiss to her knuckles, mouth warm against her skin. Then he laces their fingers together—no pressure, no pull, just the offering of place. At his side rather than toddling along in his shadow. He lets his eyes drift pointedly down to the heels clicking soft against the platform. A quiet chuckle escapes him, low and edged with memory. "You already know I’d carry you,”" he says, voice pitched to her alone.
And though his pace is slow—metronomed to her stride, careful on the wood-planked stairs—there’s a coiled sort of elegance to it. The garden path unfolds ahead in a ribbon of warm gold and wandering light, lanterns swaying like sleepy fireflies, and here and there, flickers of will o’ wisps glimmer where they please, unbothered by rules or guests. They walk in silence for a stretch. Long enough for her warmth to soak into his side. Long enough for him to feel the edges of her tension begin to ease, just a fraction. Then, like he’s about to remark on the foliage or some other idle thing, Vesper leans slightly, close enough for the next breath she takes to pull him in. His voice slides between the hush and the gold.
"You look so godsdamn stunning tonight," he murmurs, every syllable unhurried, the kind of praise meant to be worn—not just heard. "Would’ve told you sooner, but I got a little distracted by seein' you like this."
And just like that, he straightens again. Keeps walking. Though Vesper doesn't look down at Colt, there's a smile on his lips as he waits to see if her pulse will echo the shape of his words.
Will I ever quit playing with matches?
Why am I making angels in the ashes?
Why am I making angels in the ashes?
☆ 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.
