VESPER
As Safrin bids him stay, Vesper’s pale eyes lift from the armour, the silvered candlelight catching in them as neatly as if they had been made to hold it. He does not interrupt as she speaks of Flora, though something in his expression shifts by a measure too small to be called surprise and too dry to be called amusement. Of course he has heard; there are very few things involving his father, Torchline, Safrin, and a fresh tangle of old resentments that remain quiet for long, no matter how prettily everyone involved might pretend otherwise.
Still, he only exhales through his nose, the sound soft enough to vanish into the frost. "I ain’t the one you probably got to worry about," he says, with a faint lift of one shoulder. If Safrin expects him to work with Flora when necessary, then he will.
The mention of the Oerwoud draws a more serious stillness from him. His eyes narrow slightly, not in suspicion of his mother’s warning, but in the quick, internal adjustment of someone placing a new piece onto a board already crowded with moving parts. "The Feast of Bells is meant to be there this year," he says after a moment, gaze shifting briefly toward the dark paths beyond the barrows. "I’ll take a look around." Only then does he reach for the armour, careful with it despite its new strength, his ringed fingers brushing over the luminous scale.
Looking back to his mother, Vesper’s expression softens in a way that strips years and sharpness from him all at once, leaving something warmer and more boyish beneath the composed lines of his face. "Thanks, Ma," he says, and this time there is no dry edge to it, no careful deflection, only gratitude offered plainly beneath the stars. With a final nod, he gathers the armour close, turns from the altar, and starts down from the barrow into the frost-bright dark.
~FIN
Still, he only exhales through his nose, the sound soft enough to vanish into the frost. "I ain’t the one you probably got to worry about," he says, with a faint lift of one shoulder. If Safrin expects him to work with Flora when necessary, then he will.
The mention of the Oerwoud draws a more serious stillness from him. His eyes narrow slightly, not in suspicion of his mother’s warning, but in the quick, internal adjustment of someone placing a new piece onto a board already crowded with moving parts. "The Feast of Bells is meant to be there this year," he says after a moment, gaze shifting briefly toward the dark paths beyond the barrows. "I’ll take a look around." Only then does he reach for the armour, careful with it despite its new strength, his ringed fingers brushing over the luminous scale.
Looking back to his mother, Vesper’s expression softens in a way that strips years and sharpness from him all at once, leaving something warmer and more boyish beneath the composed lines of his face. "Thanks, Ma," he says, and this time there is no dry edge to it, no careful deflection, only gratitude offered plainly beneath the stars. With a final nod, he gathers the armour close, turns from the altar, and starts down from the barrow into the frost-bright dark.
~FIN
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.
