i'm a lost cause, do it the way I want
The strike lands hard against the back of his knee — not a devastating blow, but sharp enough to make him stagger, shadows hissing out like startled vipers as his body drops low in the grass. Rather than fighting the fall, Vesper sinks smoothly into it, letting the momentum carry him down onto one knee, one palm braced in the dirt. His breath escapes in a soft grunt, but there’s no rage, no bark of surprise. Just a low, rumbling chuckle. When he lifts his face toward her, moonlight spills across the edge of his smirk, all teeth and gall. "If you wanted me on my knees, darlin'," he drawls, lazy as smoke, "you could’ve just said so."
The shadows twist at his command, smooth and liquid, lashing out to coil around her ankles — not with brute force, but with the slick inevitability of ink soaking into cloth. He doesn’t yank. Not yet. Just enough to throw her balance if she resists. Enough to drag her down beside him if she lets it.
He tilts his head as he watches her, silver glinting faintly at his throat. Her thoughts are like stepping barefoot through broken glass now—not just jagged, but cruel in their shape. What used to be wildfire and instinct and a hunger for more has been scorched down into sharp corners and echoing void, and gods, it’s a fucking tragedy. Because once? Once, her mind had been a place he liked to linger. Now, it bites. And not the fun kind.
He’ll never tell her that. She doesn’t deserve to know he mourns it.
"Don’t take it out on me just ‘cause your alien boyfriend fucked off," Vesper says at last, voice still smooth but colder now, like seawater over a deep wound. His grip on the shadows tightens. Just a little.
2/4
The shadows twist at his command, smooth and liquid, lashing out to coil around her ankles — not with brute force, but with the slick inevitability of ink soaking into cloth. He doesn’t yank. Not yet. Just enough to throw her balance if she resists. Enough to drag her down beside him if she lets it.
He tilts his head as he watches her, silver glinting faintly at his throat. Her thoughts are like stepping barefoot through broken glass now—not just jagged, but cruel in their shape. What used to be wildfire and instinct and a hunger for more has been scorched down into sharp corners and echoing void, and gods, it’s a fucking tragedy. Because once? Once, her mind had been a place he liked to linger. Now, it bites. And not the fun kind.
He’ll never tell her that. She doesn’t deserve to know he mourns it.
"Don’t take it out on me just ‘cause your alien boyfriend fucked off," Vesper says at last, voice still smooth but colder now, like seawater over a deep wound. His grip on the shadows tightens. Just a little.
2/4
