just because the fog is there
Vesper doesn’t make a production of the fact that he was staying over; not on the surface, anyway. A night bag slung from one shadow, wine balanced in another, the weight of steaks and fruit and vegetables divided neatly between the rest, Vesper strolls up Colt's porch steps with his hands empty and his pockets deep, like he’s come only to knock. In truth, it’s the first time he’s ever shown up somewhere intending to stay, and the difference hums through him like a taut string he refuses to pluck.
He’s dressed for ease, the collar of his shirt open to the evening air, hair pale as bone in the last light before dusk. The bag carries more than its share of meaning; a change of clothes, a scattering of essentials, the viper skin that needs to breathe the night air for his quest, tucked carefully in its folds. He’d let his sisters handle the packing; better for them to send what he might need than admit he doesn’t know what someone brings when they mean to stay. Besides, letting them help pack would probably keep them from interrogating him had he just sent a letter saying he'd not be back for a bit.
The market in New Haven had offered up its treasures readily enough when he'd passed through: Halovian ursur steaks—marbled and thick—with fruits that taste like sunlight and vegetables earthy enough to balance them. The wine he picked without ceremony but with a good eye; a deep red that promises heat and comfort alike.
By the time Vesper reaches her door, his shadows have neatly arranged the whole spread like a silent entourage. He leans one shoulder against the frame, knocking with the other hand as if he hadn’t brought half of a feast with him. When she opens it, he’ll greet her with the same easy crooked smile as always, as if this isn’t the first time he’s made the choice to belong anywhere overnight.
He’s dressed for ease, the collar of his shirt open to the evening air, hair pale as bone in the last light before dusk. The bag carries more than its share of meaning; a change of clothes, a scattering of essentials, the viper skin that needs to breathe the night air for his quest, tucked carefully in its folds. He’d let his sisters handle the packing; better for them to send what he might need than admit he doesn’t know what someone brings when they mean to stay. Besides, letting them help pack would probably keep them from interrogating him had he just sent a letter saying he'd not be back for a bit.
The market in New Haven had offered up its treasures readily enough when he'd passed through: Halovian ursur steaks—marbled and thick—with fruits that taste like sunlight and vegetables earthy enough to balance them. The wine he picked without ceremony but with a good eye; a deep red that promises heat and comfort alike.
By the time Vesper reaches her door, his shadows have neatly arranged the whole spread like a silent entourage. He leans one shoulder against the frame, knocking with the other hand as if he hadn’t brought half of a feast with him. When she opens it, he’ll greet her with the same easy crooked smile as always, as if this isn’t the first time he’s made the choice to belong anywhere overnight.
don't mean nothing's behind it
☆ 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.
