I need your hand but I don't want to burn it
Not for the first time, the weight of everything Colt refuses to say comes down between Vesper’s shoulder blades like a pair of knives, finding the same old seams and opening them with an accuracy she’s never known she possesses. He keeps his shoulders square beneath it and his spine straight, carrying on through the grass as though there’s no blood warming the back of his shirt.
The first demand thrown after him doesn’t slow his stride. An answer rises anyway, crowding close enough to touch his tongue before he thinks better of letting it out. Her anger is still there, hot and bright around the edges, but beneath it stands the thing she’s built from his absence, patched together from every silence and sharpened memory until it bears his face without resembling him at all. She’s made him cruel enough to survive losing, and Vesper doubts there’s much he could say now that would strip the costume from him. Nothing except the bare truth, perhaps, and even that would probably look like another trick in his mouth.
Her next question catches him differently; his long steps lose their rhythm, then slow to a stop, and for a moment he remains facing the darkness ahead while the shape of what she’s asking spreads through her mind behind him: wings opening beneath her, wind tearing clean through months of grief, the world dropping away until nothing could reach her. Warmth breaks unexpectedly through his chest at the knowledge of it, quick and treacherous, and he turns his head just far enough to catch her outline over one shoulder. " 'Cause I heard about what happened to your ranch."
The words come low, without any of the edge he’d been carrying a moment before. He swallows against the warmth before it can reach his face and fixes his gaze somewhere beyond her instead. "Thought it’d be useful for what you were doin’ up north." His jaw shifts, restraint pulling tight again, though not quickly enough to stop the rest. "And I thought it’d be somethin’ nice," he adds, softly. And it had been, he can feel that much in the bright contour the memory leaves inside her, and perhaps later, when there’s enough distance between them to make it safe, he’ll allow himself the small satisfaction of knowing he’d given her one good day.
For now, another image catches in her thoughts, softer and smaller than the pegasus but carrying its own ache: feathers, a message sent into silence, and the certainty that he’d chosen not to answer. Vesper turns a little more, though he still offers her only his profile. His brows draw together as he gives his head a slow, genuine shake, blue eyes stealing one cautious glance in her direction before dropping back to the darkened meadow. "What reply?"
The first demand thrown after him doesn’t slow his stride. An answer rises anyway, crowding close enough to touch his tongue before he thinks better of letting it out. Her anger is still there, hot and bright around the edges, but beneath it stands the thing she’s built from his absence, patched together from every silence and sharpened memory until it bears his face without resembling him at all. She’s made him cruel enough to survive losing, and Vesper doubts there’s much he could say now that would strip the costume from him. Nothing except the bare truth, perhaps, and even that would probably look like another trick in his mouth.
Her next question catches him differently; his long steps lose their rhythm, then slow to a stop, and for a moment he remains facing the darkness ahead while the shape of what she’s asking spreads through her mind behind him: wings opening beneath her, wind tearing clean through months of grief, the world dropping away until nothing could reach her. Warmth breaks unexpectedly through his chest at the knowledge of it, quick and treacherous, and he turns his head just far enough to catch her outline over one shoulder. " 'Cause I heard about what happened to your ranch."
The words come low, without any of the edge he’d been carrying a moment before. He swallows against the warmth before it can reach his face and fixes his gaze somewhere beyond her instead. "Thought it’d be useful for what you were doin’ up north." His jaw shifts, restraint pulling tight again, though not quickly enough to stop the rest. "And I thought it’d be somethin’ nice," he adds, softly. And it had been, he can feel that much in the bright contour the memory leaves inside her, and perhaps later, when there’s enough distance between them to make it safe, he’ll allow himself the small satisfaction of knowing he’d given her one good day.
For now, another image catches in her thoughts, softer and smaller than the pegasus but carrying its own ache: feathers, a message sent into silence, and the certainty that he’d chosen not to answer. Vesper turns a little more, though he still offers her only his profile. His brows draw together as he gives his head a slow, genuine shake, blue eyes stealing one cautious glance in her direction before dropping back to the darkened meadow. "What reply?"
No I don't deserve it, I don't deserve it
☆ 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.
