[attr="class","apptraitscont"]

You take a look at Hesperaloe, and you notice there is something... off about him. Perhaps it was the light playing tricks on you, but the countenance of which he holds so delicately — no, something isn't right here. The man himself is an enigma, but there is something in the way the light catches his face, the playful lilt of his voice, his cheeky attitude, and the twinkling in his eyes that both allures and repels you; yes, there's something wrong here, but you want to find out what. You can't help it, not really. So despite this — the blaring alarm bells ringing in your head all the while — you move to talk to him.[break][break]

Hesperaloe's tap-tap-tapping away on the mahogany of the bar table, his head propped on one hand while seemingly waiting for his drink of the evening to be made. You notice the tattoos on his fingers, though the one on his throat captures your attention more easily. As you settle into the seat beside him, he pauses, and you spy him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, but doesn't turn completely toward you.[break][break]

"Staring is rude, y'know?"[break][break]

The flow of his voice, and the barest hint of an amused smile on his face, tells you he isn't at all miffed with your apparent staring. He seems to delight in the attention you give him, actually. You comment on the rune-like tattoos inscribed on along his digits, and the red "v" shaped marking on his neck. His lightly colored brows raise, hinting more-so toward surprise than anything else, and his smile grows as he turns in his seat, now facing properly toward you; you seem to have successfully caught his interest, at least. Whether this was for better or worse, you've yet to figure that out.[break][break]

"I'm not mad at you," He assuages any doubt you might have had, "I like talking about them. Say, I'll tell you what each of them mean and more if you keep me company for the evening. It's a lil' boring drinking out here by oneself, right?" The bartender places a carbonated drink beside the holder of your interest. He pulls it closer to him and leans forward, an easy smile that makes your stomach churn flicker effortlessly across his face.[break][break]

"Call me Hesper, m'kay?"

Hesperaloe casually sips on his little fizzy drink — was it even alcoholic? — its electric blue appearance making you wonder what it was exactly that he ordered. You've been invited to ask him anything under the sun, but you have a serious doubt lingering in the corners of your mind that he'd be wholly truthful. Nevertheless, in your quest to learn more about this interesting white-haired man, you readily propose the first thing that comes to mind. "Where are you from?"[break][break]

"Hm, I wonder this myself sometimes." What? He doesn't know where he was born? He touches a finger to the tip of his chin as he swirls his drink around absentmindedly, before setting it down. He seemed to sense your disbelief and confusion, so he quickly clarifies, "My family moved around a lot in my youth, but I suppose wherever we settled would be where I've come from. Hrm, yes." Hesper nodded slightly, taking another sip from his drink. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "In that case, I'm from the Vale." Your next question, probably obvious to Hesper, is posed soon after: "What's your line of work?"[break][break]

"I own a botanical shop called the Garden of Eden. There, I sell a veritable amount of herbs and flowers alike, all cultivated by my own hand, of course." As he says the latter, he makes an outward gesture with his hand, exposing the palm of his hand. You note the tone in his voice: he sounds proud of his business. Who wouldn't be? You can tell Hesper genuinely loves what he does, but you cannot help but feel there is something more. You can't put your finger on it, but your brows furrow in trying to figure it out for the briefest of moments. Hesper seems to pick up on your suspicion with a playful cant of his head.[break][break]

"You think there is more to it, don't you? Awh, I can't hide it from you, dear." You're surprised as the space between you seems to narrow somewhat, though from your knowledge, Hesper hadn't even moved. Then, what is this pressure you feel on your body? The intonation of "dear" makes your blood turn cold, as if you'd just been dumped into an ice-bath. "You should visit my shop yourself if you're so curious. Too many prying ears about, as it were." The invitation is extended, and although you say nothing to confirm you'll be visiting any time soon, you don't deny it either. Hesper seems pleased, and the pressure eases. You continue your queries, however, ( and perhaps against your better judgment ) this time asking, "Did you have anyone in your life that you've looked up to?"[break][break]

Hesperaloe barks out a laugh. It's so loud and unexpected that you even flinch, but it melts so easily into the dulcet sounds of the bar. "I used to," he says, but despite the smile that persistently exists, there is a sadness that encroaches at the edges of his eyes. "My husband... After everyone that was part of my life disappointed me, he was the only one I'd ever deign to look to in the rare moments I've felt lost. He's gone, though, never comin' back." His final words seem more like an attempt to convince himself of something, but of what, you wonder? Hesper's fingers curl on the table into a small fist. A rare moment of vulnerability shows itself to you, and you feel a thread of sympathy begin thread itself. However, Hesperaloe fixes you with a stare that burns, and burns behind his eyes. Though, you had a sneaking suspicion that the flare of anguish in his gaze wasn't meant for you, specifically.[break][break]

"Can we move on, please? Oh - I'm afraid my drink's empty, too. Could you buy me the next one?"

The impromptu interview you give Hesperaloe has dragged on. In spite of the answers he's given you so far, there were many things you wished to know about this man cloaked in mysterium. You notice he's omitted many names from his testimonies, and even with your attempted prying, he's successfully redirected you each time. But you learn he is a witch. He is one with the earth, enjoys the feeling of soil against his bare feet and in between his fingers, his favorite scent is petrichor, the smell after it rains; and he's an accomplished medical researcher and has apparently published many papers, but offered none of the titles of his works.[break][break]

Mysterious indeed.[break][break]

Your curiosity buzzes still. You don't know when to stop. Hesperaloe is preparing to leave, having gathered what items he'd brought along with him in his arms. Your fingers brush against the skin of his arm as he begins to turn away, and Hesperaloe releases a quiet sigh. He gazes upon you, and you're not able to discern the stare he gives you. If you had to guess, it was the look of someone who'd exhausted their fun. He was bored, he was done. Still, he's nice enough to give you the chance to ask your last question for the night.[break][break]

"What coven are you part of?"[break][break]

Hesperaloe's smile returns. He leans over you ( you failed to notice how tall he was before ) his hand has firmly grasped the one you'd dared to touch him with. A gentle touch, but tight. "Haven't you heard of the saying, 'Curiosity killed the cat?' You must be careful, dear." With those gentle parting words, he stands up. His gaze lingers on yours for a touch longer, before he drifts out the bar. The smell of petrichor follows him.

[attr="class","appplayedby"]played by [attr="class","appooc"][attr="id","hydracol"]kintsugi