when rome's in ruins, we are the lions
For a moment he gives the light the same suspicious, narrow-eyed scrutiny he’d give any small, treacherous creature pretending to die beneath his paws. It flickers erratically across a patch of moss and he assumes—without much interest—that it’s some cheap trinket caught in a branch, shifting each time the wind snakes through the Glade. He lifts one heavy forepaw, testing whether the glimmer will dart again, tail curling lazily in a slow, considering sweep.
Then—
Vesper?
The sound slips through the leaves lighter than breath, but the jaguar’s ears flick sharply toward it. His whole body stills, one paw half-raised, head turning with the liquid precision of a predator interrupted mid-instinct. He blinks once, twice, blue eyes narrowing as the forest quiets around him. The whisper doesn’t repeat itself immediately, and he’s left parsing echoes and direction, jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.
The second call hits with far more force. VESPER!
His head snaps upward, gaze cutting through brush and greenery until it locks onto the unmistakable shape perched in the crook of a tree. Colt; mud-flecked, travel-scarred, braced against the trunk as though she’d been comfortably settled a heartbeat before hollering his name into the Glade. A ripple of instinct surges under his skin, tightening muscle and readying his haunches; not for attack, but escape. He could vanish into the undergrowth in three strides, gone before she dragged another syllable into the air. He even measures the angle, the cover, the likely paths.
But no amount of convenient fiction is going to obscure the constellation-lit pelt he’s wrapped in. There’s only one jaguar in Caido whose flank reads like a star map; even a carnival escape story wouldn’t save him from the recognition burning in her eyes.
And it isn’t embarrassment that grips him—not the ridiculous sight of him pouncing after a dancing shard of light—he could live with her knowing that, uncharacteristic as it was. What sparks hot and unwelcome is the memory he’s been trying to claw out of his skull: Colt leaning in, Thalassa closing the distance, their mouths catching with the kind of unrestrained hunger that had no business tangling with his thoughts for this long.
He hadn’t wanted to see her. Not yet at least. So the tension winds itself tight in his shoulders, trapped between the urge to vanish and the iron certainty that it’s already too late. So he merely looks up at her, a massive, black-coated tide jaguar, constellation freckles faintly pulsing, frozen mid-prowl with a glint of stray light still caught beneath one paw. He blinks once, slow and deliberate, blue eyes bright and unmistakably Vesper despite the shape he’s wearing.
Then—
Vesper?
The sound slips through the leaves lighter than breath, but the jaguar’s ears flick sharply toward it. His whole body stills, one paw half-raised, head turning with the liquid precision of a predator interrupted mid-instinct. He blinks once, twice, blue eyes narrowing as the forest quiets around him. The whisper doesn’t repeat itself immediately, and he’s left parsing echoes and direction, jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.
The second call hits with far more force. VESPER!
His head snaps upward, gaze cutting through brush and greenery until it locks onto the unmistakable shape perched in the crook of a tree. Colt; mud-flecked, travel-scarred, braced against the trunk as though she’d been comfortably settled a heartbeat before hollering his name into the Glade. A ripple of instinct surges under his skin, tightening muscle and readying his haunches; not for attack, but escape. He could vanish into the undergrowth in three strides, gone before she dragged another syllable into the air. He even measures the angle, the cover, the likely paths.
But no amount of convenient fiction is going to obscure the constellation-lit pelt he’s wrapped in. There’s only one jaguar in Caido whose flank reads like a star map; even a carnival escape story wouldn’t save him from the recognition burning in her eyes.
And it isn’t embarrassment that grips him—not the ridiculous sight of him pouncing after a dancing shard of light—he could live with her knowing that, uncharacteristic as it was. What sparks hot and unwelcome is the memory he’s been trying to claw out of his skull: Colt leaning in, Thalassa closing the distance, their mouths catching with the kind of unrestrained hunger that had no business tangling with his thoughts for this long.
He hadn’t wanted to see her. Not yet at least. So the tension winds itself tight in his shoulders, trapped between the urge to vanish and the iron certainty that it’s already too late. So he merely looks up at her, a massive, black-coated tide jaguar, constellation freckles faintly pulsing, frozen mid-prowl with a glint of stray light still caught beneath one paw. He blinks once, slow and deliberate, blue eyes bright and unmistakably Vesper despite the shape he’s wearing.
free of the colosseums
☆ 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.
