VESPER
Colt’s thoughts flare like sparks in dry brush, too tired to burn clean, too raw to be quiet. There’s a rhythm to them he’s learned by heart; all blunt edges and ragged turns, spiralling tight around fear of abandonment, of misreading the signs again, of reaching for something real and finding it was only smoke. She doesn’t shout in her mind, not tonight. There’s no rage or resentment, just the heavy ache of being caught unprepared. The kind of ache that comes from bracing for fire and finding silence instead.
He doesn’t mean to listen. Gods, he never means to. But it’s like standing in the wind and pretending not to feel the cold. Her thoughts are wind-wild things tonight, scattering ash and memory with every step, and even when she looks away, even when she tells herself not to need anything from him, he still hears how much she does. And maybe that’s the worst of it—that he hears all of this, every unsaid truth and fractured hope—and still can’t give her answers that make it easier.
As her pacing begins and her questions come, each one smaller than what she fears but larger than what she dares admit, he exhales slowly, gaze tracing the soft press of her thumbnail to her mouth, the shifting lines of her brow. "I don’t know how long it takes to rebuild the scaffolding of an empire," he says at last, voice low, and a little dry. The corner of his mouth lifts, not quite a smile, more like a shrug wearing a clever mask. "But I doubt it’s quick."
Her spiral is palpable, not just in the sharp staccato of her thoughts, but in the way her body responds before she even realizes it. He can feel the tension like a live wire stretched across the room. It thrums in his bones even as he stays still, offering her that stillness like a lighthouse might offer its shore. And yet...for all the ache, this is better. Better it be miles that wedge between them than words he can’t explain. Better she resent the silence of absence than the confusion of knowing something’s wrong and never hearing why.
Because how would he say it? That it's not you, it's me, in ways she’s not allowed to know? That there are corners of his mind even she shouldn’t touch, truths that warp the closer you get? She doesn’t deserve that burden, not from someone who already hears her too clearly.
"Likely soon as LongNight’s over," he adds, voice softening around the edges, roughened by restraint. "Jack wants someone settin’ up shop soon as the sky clears."
Colt startles on a step, and the sharp sound of Smooches yelping breaks the air, drawing his gaze. For a second, it’s almost enough to forget the weight between them—the sheer, domestic absurdity of it—but it doesn’t last. Her offer comes on the heels of it, breathless and maybe half-untrue, but real enough to stir something in him. His lips quirk again, more wry this time, though there’s a warmth behind it that refuses to hide. He nods once, slow and sincere. "I’ve never been up there, but I hear there’s plenty of shit to do in the Grounds," he says, folding his arms loosely across his chest, leaning just slightly against the island.
He doesn’t mean to listen. Gods, he never means to. But it’s like standing in the wind and pretending not to feel the cold. Her thoughts are wind-wild things tonight, scattering ash and memory with every step, and even when she looks away, even when she tells herself not to need anything from him, he still hears how much she does. And maybe that’s the worst of it—that he hears all of this, every unsaid truth and fractured hope—and still can’t give her answers that make it easier.
As her pacing begins and her questions come, each one smaller than what she fears but larger than what she dares admit, he exhales slowly, gaze tracing the soft press of her thumbnail to her mouth, the shifting lines of her brow. "I don’t know how long it takes to rebuild the scaffolding of an empire," he says at last, voice low, and a little dry. The corner of his mouth lifts, not quite a smile, more like a shrug wearing a clever mask. "But I doubt it’s quick."
Her spiral is palpable, not just in the sharp staccato of her thoughts, but in the way her body responds before she even realizes it. He can feel the tension like a live wire stretched across the room. It thrums in his bones even as he stays still, offering her that stillness like a lighthouse might offer its shore. And yet...for all the ache, this is better. Better it be miles that wedge between them than words he can’t explain. Better she resent the silence of absence than the confusion of knowing something’s wrong and never hearing why.
Because how would he say it? That it's not you, it's me, in ways she’s not allowed to know? That there are corners of his mind even she shouldn’t touch, truths that warp the closer you get? She doesn’t deserve that burden, not from someone who already hears her too clearly.
"Likely soon as LongNight’s over," he adds, voice softening around the edges, roughened by restraint. "Jack wants someone settin’ up shop soon as the sky clears."
Colt startles on a step, and the sharp sound of Smooches yelping breaks the air, drawing his gaze. For a second, it’s almost enough to forget the weight between them—the sheer, domestic absurdity of it—but it doesn’t last. Her offer comes on the heels of it, breathless and maybe half-untrue, but real enough to stir something in him. His lips quirk again, more wry this time, though there’s a warmth behind it that refuses to hide. He nods once, slow and sincere. "I’ve never been up there, but I hear there’s plenty of shit to do in the Grounds," he says, folding his arms loosely across his chest, leaning just slightly against the island.
rot gut whiskey's gonna ease your mind
but when the hell are you gonna ease mine?
but when the hell are you gonna ease mine?
☆ 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.
