if you try and chase the sun you're never gonna catch it
Vesper remains a horse for as long as he can justify it. The work gives him an excuse, and the shape gives him quiet, so he lets the long hours pull through muscle and breath rather than thought. By the time the sun begins to lower, there is dust dried along his legs and a damp line of sweat beneath the fall of his black mane, while the faint stars along his flank catch what remains of the light whenever he turns. He is tired in a clean, animal way that feels almost merciful; there is no reason yet to become himself again, and every reason not to. In this form Colt is only a body in the distance, a familiar shape moving among horses and hands, and not the weather of her mind pressing against the back of his teeth. It is easier to let the evening decide he is just another dark flank among many.
Only when the camp tasks begin to divide themselves does he finally run out of excuses.
The shift draws him back into his own skin with the cold air immediately finding the damp places at his collar and hairline. Vesper rolls one shoulder as he straightens, his jaw already set against the returning openness of his senses. He keeps his gaze low and his thoughts lower, bracing for the shape of other minds at the edge of his own, and for a moment he intends to take the simplest task available. Cooking would keep his hands busy, keep his body near the fire, and, most importantly, keep him apart from the rest of the necessary coordination.
He looks toward the supplies just as Niki claims the work for himself. Vesper’s pale eyes lift to the necromancer, and for a second he does nothing to soften the glare that settles there. Across the camp, Colt has already gone toward the fencing, gathering stakes and lines with the automatic confidence of someone who has done such a task before, and thus Vesper turns in the opposite direction.
The tents wait in the wagon, bundled canvas and poles and rope made ordinary by the fading light, and Vesper crosses to them without asking where he is needed. He takes up the first roll he can get his hands on and carries it away from the fencing, from Colt, and from the easy, dangerous path of looking too long. If the day has taught him anything, it is that distance can still be useful when there is nowhere left to run.
Vesper does the opposite of what Colt does, aka make camp
Only when the camp tasks begin to divide themselves does he finally run out of excuses.
The shift draws him back into his own skin with the cold air immediately finding the damp places at his collar and hairline. Vesper rolls one shoulder as he straightens, his jaw already set against the returning openness of his senses. He keeps his gaze low and his thoughts lower, bracing for the shape of other minds at the edge of his own, and for a moment he intends to take the simplest task available. Cooking would keep his hands busy, keep his body near the fire, and, most importantly, keep him apart from the rest of the necessary coordination.
He looks toward the supplies just as Niki claims the work for himself. Vesper’s pale eyes lift to the necromancer, and for a second he does nothing to soften the glare that settles there. Across the camp, Colt has already gone toward the fencing, gathering stakes and lines with the automatic confidence of someone who has done such a task before, and thus Vesper turns in the opposite direction.
The tents wait in the wagon, bundled canvas and poles and rope made ordinary by the fading light, and Vesper crosses to them without asking where he is needed. He takes up the first roll he can get his hands on and carries it away from the fencing, from Colt, and from the easy, dangerous path of looking too long. If the day has taught him anything, it is that distance can still be useful when there is nowhere left to run.
Vesper does the opposite of what Colt does, aka make camp
And now it's turning out to be the worst of my bad habits
☆ 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.
