VESPER
If the nickname registers at all, it does so only as background noise, filed away beneath warmer, more immediate concerns. Vesper shifts his weight with deliberate care, settling more fully into Niki’s lap as though testing the balance of it, then deciding it is acceptable. His body relaxes by degrees, spine easing, tail loosening its careful coil, the heat from the fire and the steady rise and fall beneath him combining into something dangerously comfortable.
He pointedly ignores the conversation, eyes half-lidded even as Niki speaks on metallurgy and forges and hypothetical futures, because this body has decided that words are optional and touch is not. The moment fingers find the sensitive places beneath his chin and behind his ears, the last of his composure slips quietly away and his eyes close entirely.
The sound surprises him at first—a low, rhythmic vibration that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere—rumbling through his chest before he quite realises it is him. Purring. The absurdity of it barely has time to register before instinct claims the moment, the sound deepening, steady and unselfconscious, rising and falling in time with the gentle scritching that draws it out of him again and again. He leans into the touch without thinking, chin tipping up to grant better access, paws tucking closer beneath himself as if to anchor the sensation. Whatever sharp edges exist between them in other shapes and other moments have no foothold here; there is only warmth, and pressure, and the treacherous ease of being touched in a way that feels free of strings.
If he stays very still, if he keeps his eyes closed and lets the purr continue unabated, perhaps this version of him can pretend—just for a little while longer—that all of this is fine, and that this is not escapism at its finest.
He pointedly ignores the conversation, eyes half-lidded even as Niki speaks on metallurgy and forges and hypothetical futures, because this body has decided that words are optional and touch is not. The moment fingers find the sensitive places beneath his chin and behind his ears, the last of his composure slips quietly away and his eyes close entirely.
The sound surprises him at first—a low, rhythmic vibration that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere—rumbling through his chest before he quite realises it is him. Purring. The absurdity of it barely has time to register before instinct claims the moment, the sound deepening, steady and unselfconscious, rising and falling in time with the gentle scritching that draws it out of him again and again. He leans into the touch without thinking, chin tipping up to grant better access, paws tucking closer beneath himself as if to anchor the sensation. Whatever sharp edges exist between them in other shapes and other moments have no foothold here; there is only warmth, and pressure, and the treacherous ease of being touched in a way that feels free of strings.
If he stays very still, if he keeps his eyes closed and lets the purr continue unabated, perhaps this version of him can pretend—just for a little while longer—that all of this is fine, and that this is not escapism at its finest.
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.
