VESPER
Vesper scoffs, the sound low and hollow, like laughter stolen from something with teeth. No need to point out that he’s only been walking Caido a little over a year; not long enough to have racked up a library of mistakes, but it's an entirely unfair point so he doesn't make it. Just huffs a humourless breath that calls bullshit without lifting a finger as she says she only made the one mistake.
Then he pulls back, slowly, gaze dragging down her frame like he’s weighing whether it’s worth stepping back into the fire again. Whether there’s anything left to salvage in the embers for either of them. Apparently deciding there is, he speaks again, voice frayed now with exasperation. "I was probably the only one tellin’ you the truth from the start. That you were infected. That it was rot, not redemption, twistin’ up your mind." His mouth twitches, not quite a smile, not quite a grimace. "And apparently there's enough purple left in you to think I’m the bad guy for sayin’ it to your face."
As she plants her feet but drops her eyes, that, more than anything, digs a splinter under his skin. Vesper breathes in through his nose and tips his head back, staring past her like he’s searching for distance he can’t quite reach; the wall behind her, the past behind that. Somewhere safer. Somewhere quieter. At least in the beginning, she’d gotten under his skin with her hands and her teeth and the salt-wet heat of her mouth. Now it’s all thorns and gods but he should just walk the fuck away now.
He watches the snap of her anger. Watches the tremble in her jaw, the twitch of her tail, the way her fists tighten like she’s trying to hold herself together by force. And he listens. Really listens, even when she spits his words back with venom, warping them into something ugly. That’s when he straightens—shadows stretching faintly in his wake—and leans forward, the crack in his mask finally visible. "I never said I understood," he growls, quiet but sharp. "I said I knew more than you thought. "
His hands twitch at his sides, not quite reaching for her, not quite fisting into restraint. For a moment, the shadows at his heels furl and furl again, like wings that don’t know how to fold as he fights the urge to reach out and shake some grit and strength back into her. Instead, Vesper runs a hand through his pale hair instead, dragging his fingers through the strands like it might keep him from letting those same hands force some sense back into her. "Fine, you know what?" he says, voice smoothing into something cold again, tired and sanded down. "Paint yourself the victim. Me the asshole. That’s easier, right?"
He leans in now, a full foot of height making the angle necessary, not to intimidate, just to reach. The words are barely more than a whisper, but they hit like a stone dropped in water. "We both know that’s a fuckin’ lie though."
Then he pulls back, slowly, gaze dragging down her frame like he’s weighing whether it’s worth stepping back into the fire again. Whether there’s anything left to salvage in the embers for either of them. Apparently deciding there is, he speaks again, voice frayed now with exasperation. "I was probably the only one tellin’ you the truth from the start. That you were infected. That it was rot, not redemption, twistin’ up your mind." His mouth twitches, not quite a smile, not quite a grimace. "And apparently there's enough purple left in you to think I’m the bad guy for sayin’ it to your face."
As she plants her feet but drops her eyes, that, more than anything, digs a splinter under his skin. Vesper breathes in through his nose and tips his head back, staring past her like he’s searching for distance he can’t quite reach; the wall behind her, the past behind that. Somewhere safer. Somewhere quieter. At least in the beginning, she’d gotten under his skin with her hands and her teeth and the salt-wet heat of her mouth. Now it’s all thorns and gods but he should just walk the fuck away now.
He watches the snap of her anger. Watches the tremble in her jaw, the twitch of her tail, the way her fists tighten like she’s trying to hold herself together by force. And he listens. Really listens, even when she spits his words back with venom, warping them into something ugly. That’s when he straightens—shadows stretching faintly in his wake—and leans forward, the crack in his mask finally visible. "I never said I understood," he growls, quiet but sharp. "I said I knew more than you thought. "
His hands twitch at his sides, not quite reaching for her, not quite fisting into restraint. For a moment, the shadows at his heels furl and furl again, like wings that don’t know how to fold as he fights the urge to reach out and shake some grit and strength back into her. Instead, Vesper runs a hand through his pale hair instead, dragging his fingers through the strands like it might keep him from letting those same hands force some sense back into her. "Fine, you know what?" he says, voice smoothing into something cold again, tired and sanded down. "Paint yourself the victim. Me the asshole. That’s easier, right?"
He leans in now, a full foot of height making the angle necessary, not to intimidate, just to reach. The words are barely more than a whisper, but they hit like a stone dropped in water. "We both know that’s a fuckin’ lie though."
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.
