VESPER
Thalassa tears the life out of the last one like it’s currency owed, dragging it up through his lungs in a scream so guttural it scrapes the walls. Her hand is steady. Her magic cruel. Vesper watches, his expression unchanged. Her thoughts churn like a sea that never learns to calm; fury masking pain, accusation masking want. She directs it all at him as if he’s the fire and not the mirror. It’s exhausting.
Not frightening, not even interesting, anymore, just exhausting. Like watching a dog bark at its own reflection, teeth bared with all the theatre of dominance, when you know full well it curled belly-up not so long ago, scared of shadows.
Thal is strong, clearly. Four men down and no sign of injury, just the gleam of blood and righteousness. But he’s stronger, and they both know it, which makes her mind all the more irritating to brush up against; still so wildly feral, still so tangled in purple vines even after the Family’s rot was cut clean.
He sighs. "You can say that again," he mutters dryly, in response to her claim that the man isn’t the only one who owes an apology. If anyone’s owed one, it sure as fuck isn’t the pile of ribs currently screaming himself to death and it isn't Thalassa either. But he doesn’t press the point.
Instead, while the man writhes beneath her, Vesper steps past the blood-slick stones with quiet ease. He kneels beside one of the corpses, rifling through the pockets without ceremony, fingers brushing past damp paper and bits of rusted metal. At last he finds what he’s looking for: a scrap of parchment folded down to a precise square.
Still crouched, he flicks it open. His blue eyes scan the contents once, swift and clinical. A small nod to himself follows—a gesture more thoughtful than satisfied—and then the scrap disappears into his coat with the soft hiss of oiled fabric folding shut.
He doesn’t look atThal as she finishes up, happy to let her keep her fire and to drag what she needs out of the carcass. He’s already got what he came for.
Not frightening, not even interesting, anymore, just exhausting. Like watching a dog bark at its own reflection, teeth bared with all the theatre of dominance, when you know full well it curled belly-up not so long ago, scared of shadows.
Thal is strong, clearly. Four men down and no sign of injury, just the gleam of blood and righteousness. But he’s stronger, and they both know it, which makes her mind all the more irritating to brush up against; still so wildly feral, still so tangled in purple vines even after the Family’s rot was cut clean.
He sighs. "You can say that again," he mutters dryly, in response to her claim that the man isn’t the only one who owes an apology. If anyone’s owed one, it sure as fuck isn’t the pile of ribs currently screaming himself to death and it isn't Thalassa either. But he doesn’t press the point.
Instead, while the man writhes beneath her, Vesper steps past the blood-slick stones with quiet ease. He kneels beside one of the corpses, rifling through the pockets without ceremony, fingers brushing past damp paper and bits of rusted metal. At last he finds what he’s looking for: a scrap of parchment folded down to a precise square.
Still crouched, he flicks it open. His blue eyes scan the contents once, swift and clinical. A small nod to himself follows—a gesture more thoughtful than satisfied—and then the scrap disappears into his coat with the soft hiss of oiled fabric folding shut.
He doesn’t look atThal as she finishes up, happy to let her keep her fire and to drag what she needs out of the carcass. He’s already got what he came for.
wake me when it's over like a bad dream
☆ 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.
