[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/G9xaVXn.png[/img]
[color=000000][u][b]Location[/b][/u][/color]
💀 Happy Harbour.

[color=000000][u][b]Interactions[/b][/u][/color]
💀 [@dreamingflowers]
💀 [@Courtaud]
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Standing, patiently waiting for his team, Casper turned his gaze skyward, if only for a moment, to frown at the clear blue sky. Had it not been for his aura of dark magic, the boy would have perished long ago, his body dematerializing into nothingness. It was beyond him how vampires were able to deal with this, considering their inability to shield themselves from the celestial sphere. In opposition, the girl at his side, Daphne, she blossomed beneath the very same light that would spell Hex’s end. True opposites, in every regard. Life and death, as it was. 

Casper recalled his initial moments as a Wraithborn, the unending trauma which followed a grotesque transformation. He recalled his father’s control, and he most certainly remembered the orders placed upon him. The inability to move at his own behest, the shackles attached to every fiber of his being. 

Was it the same for Talon? Magical dominance over his very being wasn’t required for another’s control. While Casper wasn’t a therapist, or well versed in body language, his eyes told him enough. Talon’s hands were stained in blood, death surrounding them like gloves. Something else they shared, a past different and yet the same. They were both making attempts at a somewhat normal life, if this was what one would consider normality. The life of heroes, some may have called it, a title neither Talon nor Hex were soon to adopt, surely. 

It would be a lie to claim that this silent mystery had not caught Casper’s attention with an iron grip. Quite unlike Zach’s interest in the physical pursuits of romance, Hex’s attention rather fell on the spiritual side of this interaction. Despite being stained with blood, Talon’s soul shone brightly, a young man with much to offer his team, his new family. Casper had laid eyes on souls so vile they were nearly rotten, with John Constantine reaching the peak of that list. The man was fully aware, as well. He had flayed his own spirit to the point of disfigurement, but it would be a foolish conclusion to claim that despite all of Constantine’s decisions, he wasn’t seeking to do the right thing. 

Was there guilt in Talon’s heart? Did he remember the names of his victims? Their faces? Did he ever regard his time as a weapon pointed at an enemy with distaste and disgust? Irrelevant of Casper’s nature as a creature of death, it was impossible to recall the people who had died at the touch of his spells. Their names, their faces, their lives all erased at the behest of a man who once called himself the boy’s father. 

Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Hex was caught off guard by the snap of a branch. He had witnessed Talon’s dextrous motions, his mastery over gadgets Casper was unable to even operate. However, the tree Talon had latched onto was not on the same page, faltering beneath the sequence of launching and grappling. 

Falling to a knee, Casper extended a hand, seeing how his ally, his [i]friend[/i] was holding onto the edge of the pit. Though muscles were severely lacking, Casper would at the very least attempt to aid the other boy, his expression offering Talon a faint, somber smile. With claws helpfully offered, Hex dug his free hand into the grass, feeling how sharp digits burrowed into soft earth. He was the weakest member across all of them, clearly, but there was no hesitation.