VESPER
His laugh slides low between them, not bright but rich, like something aged in barrels and better sipped than swallowed whole. "Mm," he hums, head tilting slightly, the firelight catching the sharp line of his cheek. "Hak Etme’s a godsforsaken stretch of dust and bone, sure. But I think keepin’ my hands off you tonight might be worse." It’s not a compliment, not really. More a confession, shaped like something casual and laid gently into the space she’s just left behind.
He watches her like a man watches fire—not with fear, but with the steady hunger of someone who’s been cold too long. Her fingers trail beneath his jaw and his breath doesn’t stutter, not even once, but his lashes lower in slow appreciation. Not shy, but a touch calculated, as though he’s letting her have that moment, letting her think she’s leading—while every part of him is already counting the ways she’s undone him. And gods, it’s a touch that speaks of taming things. Not with a whip. Not with teeth. Just a quiet, knowing hand and the kind of grit that doesn’t need to prove itself.
When she steps away, he lets her go. Lets her tug at his sleeve like it’s a leash he’s chosen to wear. There’s a softness in his motion, a rolling ease as he slips back into stride beside her, his free hand finding his pocket, his other curling warm into hers without fanfare.
"Nova's still talkin' about your rodeo," he says after a breath, voice low and amused, like the breeze teasing the lanterns overhead. "We could have saved ourselves a lot of time and just got her somethin’ dipped in glitter and callin’ it a day had I thought she'd be the winner." His gaze slides sidelong, more shadow than threat, more moon than sun—dark and watchful and amused all the same. "Then again, this would've been pretty empty if we had." So saying he pulls his other hand out of his pocket, revealing the black leather corded bracelet she'd given him for his birthday, the middle star of which held sand from the desert.
He watches her like a man watches fire—not with fear, but with the steady hunger of someone who’s been cold too long. Her fingers trail beneath his jaw and his breath doesn’t stutter, not even once, but his lashes lower in slow appreciation. Not shy, but a touch calculated, as though he’s letting her have that moment, letting her think she’s leading—while every part of him is already counting the ways she’s undone him. And gods, it’s a touch that speaks of taming things. Not with a whip. Not with teeth. Just a quiet, knowing hand and the kind of grit that doesn’t need to prove itself.
When she steps away, he lets her go. Lets her tug at his sleeve like it’s a leash he’s chosen to wear. There’s a softness in his motion, a rolling ease as he slips back into stride beside her, his free hand finding his pocket, his other curling warm into hers without fanfare.
"Nova's still talkin' about your rodeo," he says after a breath, voice low and amused, like the breeze teasing the lanterns overhead. "We could have saved ourselves a lot of time and just got her somethin’ dipped in glitter and callin’ it a day had I thought she'd be the winner." His gaze slides sidelong, more shadow than threat, more moon than sun—dark and watchful and amused all the same. "Then again, this would've been pretty empty if we had." So saying he pulls his other hand out of his pocket, revealing the black leather corded bracelet she'd given him for his birthday, the middle star of which held sand from the desert.
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.
