VESPER
Vesper squints at Jack like he’s just started reciting poetry at a knife fight. The metaphor earns a long pause and a look that says, what the fuck glass are you talking about, but he doesn’t interrupt. His silence isn’t deference so much as survival—every extra word still feels like a threat to his composure, but he also knows Jack isn't one to wax poetic for his own fucking health. So he listens, jaw still tight, breath shallow, and when the ice is offered, he takes it without hesitation.
His fingers close around the sphere, pressing it first to one temple, then the other, sighing into the cold like it might leech the tension from his bones. For a moment he just stands there, eyes half-lidded behind the mask, shoulders slowly beginning to drop from where they’d been riding high against his ears. "It’s not just the thoughts," he says eventually, voice roughened by restraint. "Even when I picked one—just one—everything else was still vibrating in the background. Like a thousand tuning forks all ringing at once, each one expecting me to pay attention." He lets the ice trail down the side of his neck before curling his fingers around it again.
"I could barely keep track of Nova and Caly," he admits, eyes narrowed at some middle distance. "Not with all the shit people were thinkin' around them." He doesn’t elaborate on that part, though his lip curls faintly in distaste.
There’s a flicker of frustration behind the words, but it’s not ego. It’s the quiet, simmering kind that comes when someone who’s used to being in control suddenly isn’t. Like trying to walk across water only to realise you’ve sunk ankle-deep without noticing. He glances at Jack, not with a plea this time, but something like reluctant curiosity. "The uh..web you've got goin'..." Though he'd only seen the inside of his dear old dad's mind just the once, it wasn't the sort of thing he'd forgotten. "..how do you keep the rest of it still?"
His fingers close around the sphere, pressing it first to one temple, then the other, sighing into the cold like it might leech the tension from his bones. For a moment he just stands there, eyes half-lidded behind the mask, shoulders slowly beginning to drop from where they’d been riding high against his ears. "It’s not just the thoughts," he says eventually, voice roughened by restraint. "Even when I picked one—just one—everything else was still vibrating in the background. Like a thousand tuning forks all ringing at once, each one expecting me to pay attention." He lets the ice trail down the side of his neck before curling his fingers around it again.
"I could barely keep track of Nova and Caly," he admits, eyes narrowed at some middle distance. "Not with all the shit people were thinkin' around them." He doesn’t elaborate on that part, though his lip curls faintly in distaste.
There’s a flicker of frustration behind the words, but it’s not ego. It’s the quiet, simmering kind that comes when someone who’s used to being in control suddenly isn’t. Like trying to walk across water only to realise you’ve sunk ankle-deep without noticing. He glances at Jack, not with a plea this time, but something like reluctant curiosity. "The uh..web you've got goin'..." Though he'd only seen the inside of his dear old dad's mind just the once, it wasn't the sort of thing he'd forgotten. "..how do you keep the rest of it still?"
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.
