if you try and chase the sun you're never gonna catch it
Vesper studies Jack’s reaction with the same quiet, feline attentiveness he’d had in the Glade, only now the instinct isn’t to pounce, it’s to parse. To weigh. Jack’s nose wrinkles and the word no comes out with the blunt finality of a snapped rope. It earns him a faint, wry curl of Vesper’s mouth, one eyebrow lifting like he expected nothing less.
But then Jack keeps talking, and Vesper’s gaze sharpens. Governor. Meetings. Begging gods. All the trappings of a life neither of them has ever wanted. Vesper’s head tilts, the angle small but meaningful, a tell he never quite learned to hide. "Ain’t a kingpin anymore, though," he murmurs, letting that settle before rolling his shoulders in a slow, thoughtful shrug. "And there ain’t anyone sayin’ we’d have to attend those meetin’s. Or beg for a godsdamn thing."
The notion of begging makes something cold flicker behind his eyes. He might be young, but he knows enough about where he stands in Safrin’s pantheon—and where Jack stands now—to recognize how few hoops they’d ever have to jump through. "Safrin’d give us what we asked for," he adds, voice quiet but certain. "Ain’t exactly a stretch." And honestly, what would there even be to ask for?
He shifts a little on the bunk, leaning back just enough that the lanternlight cuts a faint gleam across the constellation freckles drifting over his cheek like a slow pulse of starlight. "And as for politics...doubt anyone’d try pokin' at a place run by a demigod and a man who used to run half of Torchline from a tavern table." There’s no arrogance in it, just an awareness of power, sharpened by hurt and survival, and tempered by the fact that he couldn't imagine the likes of Danta or Sunjata batting an eye at an empty seat at any meeting.
But then Jack keeps talking, and Vesper’s gaze sharpens. Governor. Meetings. Begging gods. All the trappings of a life neither of them has ever wanted. Vesper’s head tilts, the angle small but meaningful, a tell he never quite learned to hide. "Ain’t a kingpin anymore, though," he murmurs, letting that settle before rolling his shoulders in a slow, thoughtful shrug. "And there ain’t anyone sayin’ we’d have to attend those meetin’s. Or beg for a godsdamn thing."
The notion of begging makes something cold flicker behind his eyes. He might be young, but he knows enough about where he stands in Safrin’s pantheon—and where Jack stands now—to recognize how few hoops they’d ever have to jump through. "Safrin’d give us what we asked for," he adds, voice quiet but certain. "Ain’t exactly a stretch." And honestly, what would there even be to ask for?
He shifts a little on the bunk, leaning back just enough that the lanternlight cuts a faint gleam across the constellation freckles drifting over his cheek like a slow pulse of starlight. "And as for politics...doubt anyone’d try pokin' at a place run by a demigod and a man who used to run half of Torchline from a tavern table." There’s no arrogance in it, just an awareness of power, sharpened by hurt and survival, and tempered by the fact that he couldn't imagine the likes of Danta or Sunjata batting an eye at an empty seat at any meeting.
And now it's turning out to be the worst of my bad habits
☆ 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.
