VESPER
The pulse of the festival thrums around him—balloons creaking overhead, vendors shouting prices, the perfume-thick reek of popcorn and blooming pollen—and Vesper lets it all slide past as something distant and unimportant. His attention flicks instead toward the egg kiosk where Nova, triumphant as always, is accepting whatever sparkly nonsense the vendor has pressed into her hands.
A thin ribbon of shadow slips from the pool at his feet, subtle as a fingertip brushing the hem of her sequined dress. It nudges her ankle, a whisper-soft tap, playful in the way only she would recognise. When she glances over, Vesper lets the shadowy hold of his Grey Road magic peel back from him like a curtain drawing aside, revealing his shape fully at last.
He stands with one hand casually hooked chambray pocket, weight settled into one hip, the desert sun catching the faint shimmer along his constellation freckles. He tilts his head in a silent come on, the gesture small but unmistakable, an invitation meant only for her. Then, without waiting to see if she argues or barrels into him or both, he turns and begins to stroll away from the thick of the crowd. His pace is unhurried, deceptively lazy, like he has nowhere particular to be, when in truth he is choosing very carefully where not to be.
A thin ribbon of shadow slips from the pool at his feet, subtle as a fingertip brushing the hem of her sequined dress. It nudges her ankle, a whisper-soft tap, playful in the way only she would recognise. When she glances over, Vesper lets the shadowy hold of his Grey Road magic peel back from him like a curtain drawing aside, revealing his shape fully at last.
He stands with one hand casually hooked chambray pocket, weight settled into one hip, the desert sun catching the faint shimmer along his constellation freckles. He tilts his head in a silent come on, the gesture small but unmistakable, an invitation meant only for her. Then, without waiting to see if she argues or barrels into him or both, he turns and begins to stroll away from the thick of the crowd. His pace is unhurried, deceptively lazy, like he has nowhere particular to be, when in truth he is choosing very carefully where not to be.
And I'm going down, where the waves will surround
to the roar and the pound, Of the wild wild sea
Talking sweet to me
to the roar and the pound, Of the wild wild sea
Talking sweet to me
☆ 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.
