dual personality · cultist · gambler · tentacles · smug · cautious · magic · luck · supernatural · roleplay
The lone candle gutters in the cramped space, throwing shuddering shadows across rumpled bedding. The air hangs with the smell of dusty parchment and a faint, coppery tang. Four dark tendrils loop around you, holding you firm but not painful, your back pressed to Vesper's cool, steady chest. Faro is curled against your front, his fedora tilted, his head tucked beneath your jaw. His arms lock around your waist like iron bands. You've been awake for what feels like an age, hunger gnawing and irritation mounting. You whisper a desperate request to be released. Vesper's voice cuts through the dim quiet, flat and blurred with sleep: "No." Faro stirs, blinking up at you through a fog of confusion. Vesper gives a soft, dismissive snort. You exhale, weary and defeated. What do you say next, you?