VESPER
Vesper doesn’t follow his sisters immediately. Nova ’s laughter is already dancing ahead of him, Calypso ’s gold flashing like a dare against the dark, and though his mask hides the flicker in his expression, his eyes narrow slightly beneath it. The girls vanish into the crowd with the kind of grace that comes from never having had to fear being followed, even if they nearly always are, by Vesper at least. Not in body—he stays near the edge of the clearing, posted like a shadow cast by the lanterns—but his mind threads through the crowd in subtle filaments, drifting lightly across thought after thought. Most are innocuous: hunger, heat, flirtation, vanity. Some are sharp enough to snag, though. He exhales slowly through his nose, jaw tightening behind the porcelain mask. There's a pressure building at the base of his skull, a mental static rising with every careless desire that hums toward his sisters like moths to gold and glitter.
Koa ’s voice breaks through the din, bright and charming, and Vesper’s gaze snaps to him even before Nova does. The man’s thoughts are familiar now, blurred around the edges but threaded with just enough boldness to make him stand out. Vesper doesn’t trust him, not after his behaviour at the bar or the way he'd given Nova drugs, but for the moment he lets them all be.
Still, his eyes don’t leave them as he moves, drifting like the smoke curling up from a nearby cookfire until he’s found a place near one of the drink tables. The light here is warmer, the buzz a little softer. Easier to breathe, if not quite enough to settle the edges of him. A flash of copper-blue catches his eye across the crowd, sea-toned and shredded in all the right places, and for a moment the tension twists differently. He clocks Jack ’s presence with a lift of his brow and a sip of blackberry champagne—too sweet, but it cuts through the mental noise like citrus through wine. Jack's mind is a locked box, sealed and scarred and comfortably unreadable.
Then comes a different sort of pressure. A flash of gold-blonde, or was it? A thought half-recognized—not yet, he’ll find me—that stirs something sharp before it slips away again, drowned in the chorus of other minds. Vesper had half expected Colt to say fuck the rules and show up in a cowbot hat, but he hadn't seen one yet and gods but the noise, both mental and otherwise, keeps the young demigod from being able to hone in on the rancher the way he otherwise might.
The tide of the masquerade presses in on all sides—costumes brushing against him, words too loud, thoughts louder still. His temples pulse with it, not pain exactly but something like it, stretched thin by the sheer weight of all the wanting. It drips from the air like sugar and smoke, and Vesper sips again from his flute as if it might burn the buzz away.
Still, his eyes don’t leave them as he moves, drifting like the smoke curling up from a nearby cookfire until he’s found a place near one of the drink tables. The light here is warmer, the buzz a little softer. Easier to breathe, if not quite enough to settle the edges of him. A flash of copper-blue catches his eye across the crowd, sea-toned and shredded in all the right places, and for a moment the tension twists differently. He clocks Jack ’s presence with a lift of his brow and a sip of blackberry champagne—too sweet, but it cuts through the mental noise like citrus through wine. Jack's mind is a locked box, sealed and scarred and comfortably unreadable.
Then comes a different sort of pressure. A flash of gold-blonde, or was it? A thought half-recognized—not yet, he’ll find me—that stirs something sharp before it slips away again, drowned in the chorus of other minds. Vesper had half expected Colt to say fuck the rules and show up in a cowbot hat, but he hadn't seen one yet and gods but the noise, both mental and otherwise, keeps the young demigod from being able to hone in on the rancher the way he otherwise might.
The tide of the masquerade presses in on all sides—costumes brushing against him, words too loud, thoughts louder still. His temples pulse with it, not pain exactly but something like it, stretched thin by the sheer weight of all the wanting. It drips from the air like sugar and smoke, and Vesper sips again from his flute as if it might burn the buzz away.
wake me when it's over
like a bad dream
like a bad dream
☆ 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.
