if you try and chase the sun you're never gonna catch it
Vesper’s chuckle curls out low, his head tipping just enough to angle a look her way. "Pretty sure you’ve got an upper limit on how often you can yank on that trick before it fizzles out," he murmurs, letting the pause draw long enough to invite her to test it. "I’ll take my chances." The words are light, but the pull of her mind isn’t, not when the images she brushes across him slip deeper than the playful threat riding her voice.
It starts like a tide running underfoot, the quiet tug of something she’s not saying. Idle evenings aren’t idle at all; they’re laid out in full colour, salt-warm and deliberate. The tide pushing against their toes, sand sticking to skin, the heavy-limbed sprawl of sleep that only comes when she’s tangled against him. She’s careful not to linger there too long, folds the notion back under the humour she’s better at wearing, but it leaves a faint outline behind, something like a watermark he can still see when he blinks. There’s weight in it, heavier than anything he’s caught outside the triplets. Nova and Caly think of him because he’s family, a constant fixture. In Colt’s head, he’s a place she circles back to, an anchor she keeps within reach whether she admits it or not, and that...
He doesn’t hold it long—dwelling never does him favours—but it settles in the chest all the same. "What I need?" His shoulders lift in a slow exhale. "Skin’s gotta sit out under the moon all night, run into some kind of illusion, and—" there’s a faint twist of his mouth "—get Nova’s measurements."
With a grin, Vesper's gaze flicks to hers, deceptively casual. "Healing waters can be worth it even after the fact. I soaked for about an hour the day after the masquerade." The lie comes easy, helped along by a shrug as loose as the claim itself. "Was hopin’ to see you there, but I got a bit sick. Jack hauled me back to the Ark before I could find you." Sick is easier to sell than the truth; there’s no easy way to explain what happens when too many minds press in at once to anyone who isn't a telepath.
Vesper doesn’t elaborate, though, instead letting the quiet stretch between them while his eyes skim over her stance again. The ladder had wobbled earlier, but it’s the subtle shift in how she leans that tells him more than any answer might. "You’d’ve been a good distraction," he adds at last, the dry edge to his voice soft enough that it might almost pass for something else.
It starts like a tide running underfoot, the quiet tug of something she’s not saying. Idle evenings aren’t idle at all; they’re laid out in full colour, salt-warm and deliberate. The tide pushing against their toes, sand sticking to skin, the heavy-limbed sprawl of sleep that only comes when she’s tangled against him. She’s careful not to linger there too long, folds the notion back under the humour she’s better at wearing, but it leaves a faint outline behind, something like a watermark he can still see when he blinks. There’s weight in it, heavier than anything he’s caught outside the triplets. Nova and Caly think of him because he’s family, a constant fixture. In Colt’s head, he’s a place she circles back to, an anchor she keeps within reach whether she admits it or not, and that...
He doesn’t hold it long—dwelling never does him favours—but it settles in the chest all the same. "What I need?" His shoulders lift in a slow exhale. "Skin’s gotta sit out under the moon all night, run into some kind of illusion, and—" there’s a faint twist of his mouth "—get Nova’s measurements."
With a grin, Vesper's gaze flicks to hers, deceptively casual. "Healing waters can be worth it even after the fact. I soaked for about an hour the day after the masquerade." The lie comes easy, helped along by a shrug as loose as the claim itself. "Was hopin’ to see you there, but I got a bit sick. Jack hauled me back to the Ark before I could find you." Sick is easier to sell than the truth; there’s no easy way to explain what happens when too many minds press in at once to anyone who isn't a telepath.
Vesper doesn’t elaborate, though, instead letting the quiet stretch between them while his eyes skim over her stance again. The ladder had wobbled earlier, but it’s the subtle shift in how she leans that tells him more than any answer might. "You’d’ve been a good distraction," he adds at last, the dry edge to his voice soft enough that it might almost pass for something else.
And now it's turning out to be the worst of my bad habits
☆ 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.
