VESPER
Something in the kitchen goes over with a sharp, deliberate crash, the sound of ceramic shattering loud enough to split clean through the quiet of the house, and it isn’t an accident, not remotely, not with the way Vesper has already stepped back from the edge of the table, tail held high and still, blue eyes fixed on the spreading ruin as though assessing the effectiveness of the statement he’s just made. The pieces lie scattered across the floor in a pale, jagged spill, whatever had once been contained now bleeding outward in a slow, creeping mess, and he watches it for only a moment longer before his attention flicks instead toward the hallway, toward the shift of movement that means Niki has heard, because of course he has, because that was rather the point.
He doesn’t wait to be discovered; the moment the necromancer’s presence begins to press closer, Vesper slips from the kitchen in a streak of black, silent and precise, already pivoting toward the bedroom with something far sharper than idle curiosity guiding him now. He has seen the bags, the careful folding, the quiet dismantling of a space that had, for a time, settled into something dangerously close to routine, and if the house has begun to feel different, thinner somehow, then he will answer that in kind. The mouse is carried with the same exacting neatness he applies to everything else, its body limp but not lifeless, a small, deliberate cruelty held gently between his teeth until he reaches the centre of Niki’s careful arrangement and lets it drop there, right where it cannot be missed, right where it will interrupt and stain and refuse to be ignored. Blood marks the fabric in slow, dark blooms, bright against the order, and Vesper steps back just enough to observe it, ears forward, posture composed, as though he has simply corrected something that had been placed incorrectly.
By the time Niki reaches the doorway, Vesper has already settled himself back on Niki's pillow, tail curled neatly around his paws as if this. There is no apology in the set of him, no trace of guilt or even mischief, only a quiet, simmering displeasure sharpened into action, the feline stillness wrapped tight around something far less patient beneath it, because if the house is going to change, if this small, contained arrangement is going to be packed away and carried somewhere else, then he will make certain it does not happen cleanly.
He doesn’t wait to be discovered; the moment the necromancer’s presence begins to press closer, Vesper slips from the kitchen in a streak of black, silent and precise, already pivoting toward the bedroom with something far sharper than idle curiosity guiding him now. He has seen the bags, the careful folding, the quiet dismantling of a space that had, for a time, settled into something dangerously close to routine, and if the house has begun to feel different, thinner somehow, then he will answer that in kind. The mouse is carried with the same exacting neatness he applies to everything else, its body limp but not lifeless, a small, deliberate cruelty held gently between his teeth until he reaches the centre of Niki’s careful arrangement and lets it drop there, right where it cannot be missed, right where it will interrupt and stain and refuse to be ignored. Blood marks the fabric in slow, dark blooms, bright against the order, and Vesper steps back just enough to observe it, ears forward, posture composed, as though he has simply corrected something that had been placed incorrectly.
By the time Niki reaches the doorway, Vesper has already settled himself back on Niki's pillow, tail curled neatly around his paws as if this. There is no apology in the set of him, no trace of guilt or even mischief, only a quiet, simmering displeasure sharpened into action, the feline stillness wrapped tight around something far less patient beneath it, because if the house is going to change, if this small, contained arrangement is going to be packed away and carried somewhere else, then he will make certain it does not happen cleanly.
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.
