VESPER
Rain trails down the gothic spires like veins of quicksilver, the Temple rising from the Hollowed Grounds as though carved directly from the storm. Vesper steps inside without haste, the echo of his boots softened by the vaulted hush that clings to the air. The downpour still hums beyond the doors, a low and constant percussion that makes the interior seem even quieter. He has left his coat by the entrance—black wool, heavy with the scent of rain—and the faint drip of his umbrella leans against it like an afterthought. Without them, he looks lighter, the pale sweep of his hair carrying the sheen of recent weather, a few drops still caught at his collar.
The Temple itself feels alive in the way only old places do, its stone bones full of memory. Shadows breathe in the corners; the sconces burn low, their light amber and liquid. Vesper’s hands rest loosely in his pockets as he moves through the hall, constellation freckles glimmering faintly when the torchlight catches. He isn’t in a hurry. There’s something almost meditative about his pace, as if the vast silence deserves to be learned before spoken through.
He lets his mind unfold; quietly, discreetly, like ink bleeding through water. Thoughts shimmer faintly at the edges of perception: prayers that rise and fade before words form, the hum of old emotion pressed into the walls. His telepathy skims gently across the corridors like mist, searching for a mind that glows with the name Charlie, as that's who he'd been told to come and find.
The Temple itself feels alive in the way only old places do, its stone bones full of memory. Shadows breathe in the corners; the sconces burn low, their light amber and liquid. Vesper’s hands rest loosely in his pockets as he moves through the hall, constellation freckles glimmering faintly when the torchlight catches. He isn’t in a hurry. There’s something almost meditative about his pace, as if the vast silence deserves to be learned before spoken through.
He lets his mind unfold; quietly, discreetly, like ink bleeding through water. Thoughts shimmer faintly at the edges of perception: prayers that rise and fade before words form, the hum of old emotion pressed into the walls. His telepathy skims gently across the corridors like mist, searching for a mind that glows with the name Charlie, as that's who he'd been told to come and find.
wake me when it's over
like a bad dream
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.
