VESPER
Vesper feels the way her brightness comes a shade too sharp, the smile stretched just far enough to cast a glare, and beneath it the weather turns restless. Her thoughts gust and tumble like a summer storm rolling in off warm water; flashes of Calypso’s laugh, their mother’s impossible radiance, the hollow spaces left when not everyone occupies the same sky. It is never only joy with Nova; it is joy braided tight around longing, spun so quickly the threads blur together. The sigh that leaves him is quiet, almost lost to the reeds shifting in the brackish tide. He lets it dissolve before it can sound like worry.
"'Course you do," he murmurs, watching her spin on that stone as if the world might rearrange itself to keep her balanced. His gaze tracks the edge of her footing without making a show of it. The estuary is forgiving until it isn’t.
When she throws him that grin—hands tucked behind her back, expectation shining bright as noon—something in his chest tightens with an affection he will never articulate plainly. Her excitement spills toward him, hopeful and certain, already picturing shared dinners and long stretches of conversation, as though proximity alone might stitch the family map back together. He drags a hand through the air as if brushing away smoke, buying himself a heartbeat. "I ain’t exactly found a place of my own yet," he says at last, tone easy, almost offhand. It is not untrue. The Greatwood has offered him canopy and shadow, but he's been moving through it like mist—present, then not—refusing to let roots catch.
His shoulders lift in a small shrug, the motion more elegant than dismissive, not wanting to linger on what might be thought of as a lie. "Been stayin’ with a friend this whole time." The word settles somewhere between confession and deflection, though he doesn't examine it too closely. He rolls his eyes, letting a low, sardonic chuckle thread through his next breath. "All the fae houses have ceilings that're too fuckin’ short," he drawls, glancing up through the canopy as if measuring it on instinct, as if that's the reason he hasn't left his friend and now because of a clawing loneliness and bitterness he can't accurately name.
"'Course you do," he murmurs, watching her spin on that stone as if the world might rearrange itself to keep her balanced. His gaze tracks the edge of her footing without making a show of it. The estuary is forgiving until it isn’t.
When she throws him that grin—hands tucked behind her back, expectation shining bright as noon—something in his chest tightens with an affection he will never articulate plainly. Her excitement spills toward him, hopeful and certain, already picturing shared dinners and long stretches of conversation, as though proximity alone might stitch the family map back together. He drags a hand through the air as if brushing away smoke, buying himself a heartbeat. "I ain’t exactly found a place of my own yet," he says at last, tone easy, almost offhand. It is not untrue. The Greatwood has offered him canopy and shadow, but he's been moving through it like mist—present, then not—refusing to let roots catch.
His shoulders lift in a small shrug, the motion more elegant than dismissive, not wanting to linger on what might be thought of as a lie. "Been stayin’ with a friend this whole time." The word settles somewhere between confession and deflection, though he doesn't examine it too closely. He rolls his eyes, letting a low, sardonic chuckle thread through his next breath. "All the fae houses have ceilings that're too fuckin’ short," he drawls, glancing up through the canopy as if measuring it on instinct, as if that's the reason he hasn't left his friend and now because of a clawing loneliness and bitterness he can't accurately name.
Will I ever quit playing with matches?
Why am I making angels in the ashes?
Why am I making angels in the ashes?
☆ 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.
