when rome's in ruins, we are the lions
For a handful of seconds Colt's thoughts loosen their grip on him, the distance enough that the brittle cold and sharp-edged hope no longer scrape along his awareness. In that narrow pocket of quiet his shoulders sag, just slightly, the tension bleeding out in a shaky exhale that leaves him light and unsteady rather than relieved. Adrenaline lingers, bright and sour, threaded through with a catalogue of what-ifs he has been refusing to open, and his hand lifts to his mouth on instinct, teeth worrying the place he bit raw only moments ago.
The pressure returns before the sound does, familiar as a knife laid flat against his ribs—ice cracking, hope splintering, determination pulled tight enough to snap—and Vesper straightens in the same instant Colt's voice carries down through stone and water-dark air. He stills in the shadows, heart ticking faster than he would like, eyes flicking once along the shelves and rock walls as he weighs the exits. A cat’s body could slip away easily. A single step through shadow could remove him from the library altogether. Both options present themselves cleanly, temptingly, and he considers them with the cold efficiency of someone very good at leaving.
Avoidance would only defer the collision, he knows that as surely as he knows the shape of her mind when it reaches for him like this. If she is to have any closure at all—any chance of moving forward without ghosts snapping at her heels—then disappearing again would only prolong what surely is inevitable. So, Vesper exhales, slow and deliberate, forcing the breath to settle where his pulse refuses to, and steps out from the cover of shadow into the faint, reflected light. He lifts his gaze to where she stands above him on the stairs, head tilting a fraction to one side, blue eyes distant rather than hard, the angle of his posture guarded but not retreating. "What, Colt," he says flatly.
The pressure returns before the sound does, familiar as a knife laid flat against his ribs—ice cracking, hope splintering, determination pulled tight enough to snap—and Vesper straightens in the same instant Colt's voice carries down through stone and water-dark air. He stills in the shadows, heart ticking faster than he would like, eyes flicking once along the shelves and rock walls as he weighs the exits. A cat’s body could slip away easily. A single step through shadow could remove him from the library altogether. Both options present themselves cleanly, temptingly, and he considers them with the cold efficiency of someone very good at leaving.
Avoidance would only defer the collision, he knows that as surely as he knows the shape of her mind when it reaches for him like this. If she is to have any closure at all—any chance of moving forward without ghosts snapping at her heels—then disappearing again would only prolong what surely is inevitable. So, Vesper exhales, slow and deliberate, forcing the breath to settle where his pulse refuses to, and steps out from the cover of shadow into the faint, reflected light. He lifts his gaze to where she stands above him on the stairs, head tilting a fraction to one side, blue eyes distant rather than hard, the angle of his posture guarded but not retreating. "What, Colt," he says flatly.
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.
