VESPER
Above them, the Cloud Manta drifts its slow, pale path across the sky, all quiet grace and translucent breadth, but Vesper has already stepped beneath the city by then, and so the creature passes unseen over the hidden mouth of Rae’s Fingers while the tunnels close around him and Finch instead.
The thief’s suspicion moves almost as clearly as the sound of water somewhere ahead, shaping itself into cages, graves, and the unpleasant possibility of being disposed of somewhere damp and difficult to find. Vesper does not comment on any of it, of course. The edge of his mouth threatens amusement, but he turns it away from Finch, drawing a sliver of peppermint bark from his pocket and setting it between his teeth as though the gesture has merely occupied his expression by chance.
At Finch’s first answer, Vesper glances back over one shoulder, pale eyes dry in the half-light, before the explanation earns a small nod. The thieves’ cant along the wall are not obvious unless one knows how to look, and even then they are less directions than whispers someone has left behind in scratches, chips, and careful little lies. Vesper’s fingers brush them when needed, though his gaze does not linger long enough to seem dependent on them, and he continues deeper into the Fingers with the same unhurried certainty.
"That the same brother who immediately rolled on you?" he wonders, one brow lifting as he looks briefly back to Finch. There is no real bite to it, not quite, though neither is there much sympathy. If anything, the question is too mild, set down in the dark like something Vesper has been curious about rather than something meant to wound, if only because the bond between Vesper and his sisters is nigh unbreakable. He lets it sit there for Finch to do with what he likes, while the tunnel slopes subtly beneath their feet and the air grows cooler around the mineral-slick walls.
As Finch’s tone shades itself toward something more personal, Vesper does not have to turn to catch it. The colour of it reaches him without permission, bright enough against the thief’s unease that the corner of his mouth lifts around the peppermint bark. "All well and good until you get caught," he says, rolling one shoulder in a lazy shrug as he keeps walking. "Then there ain’t anywhere to run to." Hard to claim any sort of deniability when caught with a hand in someone else's pocket, after all. Only then does he glance back over his shoulder, pale eyes finding Finch in the enclosed dark with a precision that makes the look feel less accidental than the timing suggests. "Besides," he adds, voice mild, "if you ain’t good at it, you’re just a man with clumsy fingers."
The thief’s suspicion moves almost as clearly as the sound of water somewhere ahead, shaping itself into cages, graves, and the unpleasant possibility of being disposed of somewhere damp and difficult to find. Vesper does not comment on any of it, of course. The edge of his mouth threatens amusement, but he turns it away from Finch, drawing a sliver of peppermint bark from his pocket and setting it between his teeth as though the gesture has merely occupied his expression by chance.
At Finch’s first answer, Vesper glances back over one shoulder, pale eyes dry in the half-light, before the explanation earns a small nod. The thieves’ cant along the wall are not obvious unless one knows how to look, and even then they are less directions than whispers someone has left behind in scratches, chips, and careful little lies. Vesper’s fingers brush them when needed, though his gaze does not linger long enough to seem dependent on them, and he continues deeper into the Fingers with the same unhurried certainty.
"That the same brother who immediately rolled on you?" he wonders, one brow lifting as he looks briefly back to Finch. There is no real bite to it, not quite, though neither is there much sympathy. If anything, the question is too mild, set down in the dark like something Vesper has been curious about rather than something meant to wound, if only because the bond between Vesper and his sisters is nigh unbreakable. He lets it sit there for Finch to do with what he likes, while the tunnel slopes subtly beneath their feet and the air grows cooler around the mineral-slick walls.
As Finch’s tone shades itself toward something more personal, Vesper does not have to turn to catch it. The colour of it reaches him without permission, bright enough against the thief’s unease that the corner of his mouth lifts around the peppermint bark. "All well and good until you get caught," he says, rolling one shoulder in a lazy shrug as he keeps walking. "Then there ain’t anywhere to run to." Hard to claim any sort of deniability when caught with a hand in someone else's pocket, after all. Only then does he glance back over his shoulder, pale eyes finding Finch in the enclosed dark with a precision that makes the look feel less accidental than the timing suggests. "Besides," he adds, voice mild, "if you ain’t good at it, you’re just a man with clumsy fingers."
wake me when it's over
like a bad dream
like a bad dream
☆ 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.
