VESPER
The only reason Vesper doesn’t walk away the moment Thal speaks is that trace of sadness behind her eyes; the kind that doesn’t cry for pity, doesn’t beg, just lingers, worn and quiet like something left out in the rain too long. For all the sharpness she’s wrapped herself in, it still flickers through in the way her shoulders settle, in the shape of her mouth when she stops trying to win.
So he stays, just long enough to breathe her words in, to let them settle and sift and crystallize in the back of his throat like frost. "No," he says at last, the word dragged through his chest on a sigh, soft and flat and final. "It wouldn’t’ve killed me." And maybe that’s the truth she wanted, some small concession to prove he hadn’t been made of stone the whole time. But it doesn’t buy her much. His hand lifts to his mouth, thumb pressing lightly to the corner as he exhales again, eyes tilted upward toward the firelit ceiling like it might have the patience he doesn’t.
"But tell me, what exactly about anything you'd done or said or did up until that point between us, made you think compassion was gonna be what you got from me?" His gaze finally drops back down to her, slow and deliberate, like drawing a curtain. "You were hardly anything more than teeth and daggers with me before of all of this. I get why you wish I'd tried for you, but gods Thal, the only person you get to blame for how small your circle of saviours is, is you." She couldn't have it both ways in this world, no one could. If she acted like she didn't need anyone in her life, there was gonna come a time she found out whether or not that was actually true, and based on the resentment still ebbing off of her in waves, she'd discovered an island of one was perhaps lonelier than she gave it credit for.
Vesper's breath deepens again, this time all the way to the soles of his feet, and when it leaves him, so does the rest of it; the brittle tension in his shoulders, the last thread of hoping she might see it clearly. "You cuddled up to the enemy," he says, and there’s no heat in it anymore. Just fact. Just the line she drew, whether she meant to or not. "That’s the choice I care about." As a man, as a demigod, as the son of a man gutted by Pierce. What came after, whether she did or didn't explicitly ask for the infection, was already too far.
There’s a moment where his expression shifts; not softens, not entirely, but the line of his mouth loses its edge, the glassy calm in his eyes turning contemplative. Vesper really had liked her. Not in the fumbling way some men like danger, like it might sharpen them to brush against something bright and bloody, he’d liked her for what she was. All the difficult, calculated fire of her thoughts, the push and pull of someone who needed to be chased but wanted to be caught, if only by someone who’d put in the work to do it right. She had wanted effort. And he hadn’t minded giving it.
She’d felt good. Not just in the ways that heat and skin collide, though that had certainly been worth remembering, but in the way her mind moved; restless, sharp-edged, full of dark corners he couldn’t see around, but wanted to. She was one of the few who’d ever surprised him, and he didn’t offer that lightly. But a few fucks and one half-spun date weren’t enough to make him step off the line drawn by gods and stars alike, not when the only reason he was alive and breathing was because of the blight that the Family had brought to Caido.
If Thal didn’t understand that, if she truly believed she’d offered enough to be worth the fight, then maybe mind was still more distorted than she thought, and Vesper was finished trying to explain himself to people who wanted the story to end differently but refused to write a better chapter.
As Thal takes a step back, the demigod watches her. He doesn't move, or chase, but there's a version of him that does. A version that walks across the firelight, reaches for her cheek, and says the words he already knows she wants to hear, because they’re loud in her thoughts even when she’s pretending otherwise. But that version of him died the moment she stayed in the orbit of the man who had gutted his father.
"Guess not," he murmurs, and the disappointment in his voice is real. It sits behind his tongue like sea salt, quiet and dry. And still, she can’t help herself. One last barb, one more dig wrapped in fake serenity. He huffs a breath through his nose, not quite a laugh. Just tired. "See, that’s exactly what I mean." His head tilts, not scornful, not smug. Just thoughtful. "You keep waiting for people to tear down your walls, like it proves they care—but then you lace the top with broken glass and act surprised they didn’t come running."
There's no anger in his words now, just a shake of his head, slow and faint, like someone closing a book they know they’ll never finish. And then, with a brow lifted—not in challenge, but in parting—he turns toward the dark mouth of the cave. "I’m sure I’ll see you around."
So he stays, just long enough to breathe her words in, to let them settle and sift and crystallize in the back of his throat like frost. "No," he says at last, the word dragged through his chest on a sigh, soft and flat and final. "It wouldn’t’ve killed me." And maybe that’s the truth she wanted, some small concession to prove he hadn’t been made of stone the whole time. But it doesn’t buy her much. His hand lifts to his mouth, thumb pressing lightly to the corner as he exhales again, eyes tilted upward toward the firelit ceiling like it might have the patience he doesn’t.
"But tell me, what exactly about anything you'd done or said or did up until that point between us, made you think compassion was gonna be what you got from me?" His gaze finally drops back down to her, slow and deliberate, like drawing a curtain. "You were hardly anything more than teeth and daggers with me before of all of this. I get why you wish I'd tried for you, but gods Thal, the only person you get to blame for how small your circle of saviours is, is you." She couldn't have it both ways in this world, no one could. If she acted like she didn't need anyone in her life, there was gonna come a time she found out whether or not that was actually true, and based on the resentment still ebbing off of her in waves, she'd discovered an island of one was perhaps lonelier than she gave it credit for.
Vesper's breath deepens again, this time all the way to the soles of his feet, and when it leaves him, so does the rest of it; the brittle tension in his shoulders, the last thread of hoping she might see it clearly. "You cuddled up to the enemy," he says, and there’s no heat in it anymore. Just fact. Just the line she drew, whether she meant to or not. "That’s the choice I care about." As a man, as a demigod, as the son of a man gutted by Pierce. What came after, whether she did or didn't explicitly ask for the infection, was already too far.
There’s a moment where his expression shifts; not softens, not entirely, but the line of his mouth loses its edge, the glassy calm in his eyes turning contemplative. Vesper really had liked her. Not in the fumbling way some men like danger, like it might sharpen them to brush against something bright and bloody, he’d liked her for what she was. All the difficult, calculated fire of her thoughts, the push and pull of someone who needed to be chased but wanted to be caught, if only by someone who’d put in the work to do it right. She had wanted effort. And he hadn’t minded giving it.
She’d felt good. Not just in the ways that heat and skin collide, though that had certainly been worth remembering, but in the way her mind moved; restless, sharp-edged, full of dark corners he couldn’t see around, but wanted to. She was one of the few who’d ever surprised him, and he didn’t offer that lightly. But a few fucks and one half-spun date weren’t enough to make him step off the line drawn by gods and stars alike, not when the only reason he was alive and breathing was because of the blight that the Family had brought to Caido.
If Thal didn’t understand that, if she truly believed she’d offered enough to be worth the fight, then maybe mind was still more distorted than she thought, and Vesper was finished trying to explain himself to people who wanted the story to end differently but refused to write a better chapter.
As Thal takes a step back, the demigod watches her. He doesn't move, or chase, but there's a version of him that does. A version that walks across the firelight, reaches for her cheek, and says the words he already knows she wants to hear, because they’re loud in her thoughts even when she’s pretending otherwise. But that version of him died the moment she stayed in the orbit of the man who had gutted his father.
"Guess not," he murmurs, and the disappointment in his voice is real. It sits behind his tongue like sea salt, quiet and dry. And still, she can’t help herself. One last barb, one more dig wrapped in fake serenity. He huffs a breath through his nose, not quite a laugh. Just tired. "See, that’s exactly what I mean." His head tilts, not scornful, not smug. Just thoughtful. "You keep waiting for people to tear down your walls, like it proves they care—but then you lace the top with broken glass and act surprised they didn’t come running."
There's no anger in his words now, just a shake of his head, slow and faint, like someone closing a book they know they’ll never finish. And then, with a brow lifted—not in challenge, but in parting—he turns toward the dark mouth of the cave. "I’m sure I’ll see you around."
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.
