just because the fog is there
Vesper lets his head tip side to side, like he’s weighing stones in each palm. "Not quite," he says slowly, watching her as the cork twists free and the dusk settles further across the porch like a heavy shawl. "There were things we could do, up there. Illusions, mostly—Safrin conjurin’ starlight ‘n memory. Made for decent toys and trials and whatnot."
His shoulder rolls, smooth and casual. "We learned to walk and speak just fine. Could run, build, throw knives if we wanted. Just...all of it was on stuff that glittered instead of growin’. Stardust instruments, conjured swords, dance floors that weren’t even real." His mouth quirks faintly. "Made us graceful in ways that didn’t always translate."
The trailing flick of her thoughts—bitten off before they can cross her lips—brushes soft and amused through his mind, like the ghost of a kiss never given. He doesn’t show it, but gods, he would’ve smirked. Might’ve said something bold if he weren’t so practiced at keeping it all cinched tight. Instead, he just tips his head. "There were definitely things we wanted to try for real once he got down here though." His tone stays light, conversational. "Some more than others."
She pours the wine and, yeah, doesn’t take a mind reader to know she hates it. The scrunch of her nose, the half-pursed eye, all of it’s enough to pull a snort out of him. The smile that follows is brief but warm, more real than it has any business being. "No, huh?" he says, already reaching for the glass she’s just set down. He takes a sip himself, rolling the taste over his tongue. It’s fine. More than fine. But when he swallows, his smile’s already crooked.
Then comes the question, and her challenge, and her eyes on him in full. The porch hums a little quieter. His smile lingers just long enough to feel like a holdover, then fades; not vanishing, just retreating. Like something folding its wings in. She deserves more than a shrug, even if the full truth’s not on the table, something real should be. So he pulls in a slow breath, lets his eyes drift to the stars just barely starting to glow. "Like how piss-poor the demigods work together," he says after a moment. "All that power, and it’s still like watchin’ toddlers fight over a single toy."
His tone doesn’t sharpen, but it cools. Steadies. "How most of the leaders across the map’ve fucked each other or are one removed from it. How bitter the lot of 'em are with their immortality and their powerful abilities, still treatin' life like one big gods-damned dick-measurin’ contest." There’s a pause. Then his grin returns, this time slow and wolfish as he meets her gaze. "Or maybe I’m wrong," he drawls. [asy]"Maybe everyone knows that already."
His shoulder rolls, smooth and casual. "We learned to walk and speak just fine. Could run, build, throw knives if we wanted. Just...all of it was on stuff that glittered instead of growin’. Stardust instruments, conjured swords, dance floors that weren’t even real." His mouth quirks faintly. "Made us graceful in ways that didn’t always translate."
The trailing flick of her thoughts—bitten off before they can cross her lips—brushes soft and amused through his mind, like the ghost of a kiss never given. He doesn’t show it, but gods, he would’ve smirked. Might’ve said something bold if he weren’t so practiced at keeping it all cinched tight. Instead, he just tips his head. "There were definitely things we wanted to try for real once he got down here though." His tone stays light, conversational. "Some more than others."
She pours the wine and, yeah, doesn’t take a mind reader to know she hates it. The scrunch of her nose, the half-pursed eye, all of it’s enough to pull a snort out of him. The smile that follows is brief but warm, more real than it has any business being. "No, huh?" he says, already reaching for the glass she’s just set down. He takes a sip himself, rolling the taste over his tongue. It’s fine. More than fine. But when he swallows, his smile’s already crooked.
Then comes the question, and her challenge, and her eyes on him in full. The porch hums a little quieter. His smile lingers just long enough to feel like a holdover, then fades; not vanishing, just retreating. Like something folding its wings in. She deserves more than a shrug, even if the full truth’s not on the table, something real should be. So he pulls in a slow breath, lets his eyes drift to the stars just barely starting to glow. "Like how piss-poor the demigods work together," he says after a moment. "All that power, and it’s still like watchin’ toddlers fight over a single toy."
His tone doesn’t sharpen, but it cools. Steadies. "How most of the leaders across the map’ve fucked each other or are one removed from it. How bitter the lot of 'em are with their immortality and their powerful abilities, still treatin' life like one big gods-damned dick-measurin’ contest." There’s a pause. Then his grin returns, this time slow and wolfish as he meets her gaze. "Or maybe I’m wrong," he drawls. [asy]"Maybe everyone knows that already."
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.
