VESPER
Vesper takes the parchment like it might bite, unfolding it just long enough for his gaze to skim the neat rows of names and fronts, the sort of ledger that could tilt an empire if handled right. No soot, no blood—no hidden cry for help tucked between the lines. Just business, as clean and sharp as Jack’s hand always is. He folds it back into its creases and tucks it into the inside pocket of his coat, where the shadows curl protectively as if they mean to keep it safe.
He doesn’t look up right away; his shoulders draw back, posture held too straight for someone who usually leans into the world like it’s a game to be toyed with. The sack at his feet grows heavier as another shadow drags a broken net free from the tide, the water glimmering clear again once it’s pulled loose. His silence stretches, filled by the low hiss of waves and the distant rattle of dockside voices.
"An’ you think leavin’s worth it?" The question comes low, even, spoken once and left there like a card on the table he won’t pick back up again. His eyes stay on the sea instead of the man beside him, but the quiet draw of his jaw, the too-careful stillness in the way he stands, betrays the truth—that sudden absence doesn’t sit right. He may not have known war or the kind of losses that leave men hollow, but he knows his sisters will ask, and he already doesn’t like the answer he’ll have to give.
He doesn’t look up right away; his shoulders draw back, posture held too straight for someone who usually leans into the world like it’s a game to be toyed with. The sack at his feet grows heavier as another shadow drags a broken net free from the tide, the water glimmering clear again once it’s pulled loose. His silence stretches, filled by the low hiss of waves and the distant rattle of dockside voices.
"An’ you think leavin’s worth it?" The question comes low, even, spoken once and left there like a card on the table he won’t pick back up again. His eyes stay on the sea instead of the man beside him, but the quiet draw of his jaw, the too-careful stillness in the way he stands, betrays the truth—that sudden absence doesn’t sit right. He may not have known war or the kind of losses that leave men hollow, but he knows his sisters will ask, and he already doesn’t like the answer he’ll have to give.
Push, shove, a little bruised and battered
oh lord, I ain't coming home with you
oh lord, I ain't coming home with you
☆ 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.
