It’s OK To Be A Little Weird. You’re An Artist And People Expect That. Don’t Let Them Down. Now,

franciscoamore‌:

It was a busy time of year when there was any type of festival happening. Francisco had been to his fair share of them in his centuries of living and it was always the best time for him to work his magic. Unfortunately, it was not the same for Silas. The two of them were very different in how they went about surviving and Fran was never one to judge the people he cared about most. Silas had been and still was one of his closest friends. That also meant that he was going to have a very special mask waiting for him. And he was certainly right when the other cubi pulled a neatly wrapped around package out from behind the desk he was at. A slow smile lifted onto his face. “Silas, have I ever told you that I love you? If not, I certainly need to say it more.” He would wait until he got home to open it. Anything from a friend was something he was bound to like. Especially if it was hand-crafted. “What’s your plans for the festival? Got a hot date?”

A gentle scoff came from Silas at the question, trying to remember the last time he even went on a date that didn’t end with him feeding off them after. He wasn’t sure that was even considered a date to anyone but the other party, not giving them any indication that he was interested in them after it was all said and done. Even before the curse, Silas was not known to be the dating type. He was quiet, didn’t flaunt who he was and often didn’t stand out to those who didn’t know him best. Slow kindling was more in the cubi’s wheelhouse and actually finding anything that resembled a relationship had long slipped into the back of his mind. “My plan was to drink casually and watch the chaos,” a tired grin emerged onto his lips as he spoke, taking the compliments tossed his way and trying to hid the flush of his cheeks, “You know by now that hot date and Silas don’t usually find themselves in the same sentence.”

ikarosxtheoinos​:

@silaskyun​

The club was alive and Ikaros felt as if he was having an out of body experience, he’d locked eyes with just about everyone on the dance floor. Slowly, the writhing bodies pressed in the club were turning ugly, a fight broke out after a couple of guys started getting into it. Each side imagined slights from the other as Ikaros toyed with the a few auditory and visual hallucinations. A bartender felt someone’s drink hit their face and with a practiced ease, Ikaros triggered a tactile illusion to simulate the cold sting of the ice and whatever else was in the glass. A girl slapped some guy and called over her boyfriend after she swore he’d grabbed her from the back, there was a heated dispute between a group of guys, another individual crying in the corner as everyone teamed up against them. 

Ikaros was having fun. Whatever enjoyable and predictable scene might have typically transpired on a Saturday night was something else entirely. Anarchy. Someone jumped over the bar and started throwing bottles across the room before security was lifting them back over, bodies were hitting the ground, people were weeping and running and laughing and fornicating. It hadn’t taken much, not really. People see what they needed to see and madness could follow. 

The kobalos sat at the bar, inconspicuous and barely noticeable, except perhaps that he was the only person who appeared even remotely sane. He met eyes with some good looking guy who looked terrified, Ikaros hadn’t afflicted him with any illusions but - was he casting some of his own? Ikaros was old, he remembered when the cubi were much more numerous than what numbers remained now. Still handsome, but maybe not as striking as Ikaros had initially thought. “Afraid you’re probably going to have to make your own drink,” the bartender hit the floor and Ikaros tilted his glass towards Silas, “don’t think you’re getting served tonight.”

The only time the incubus really found himself inside a club was when he had pushed himself to the limits of his hunger— starving and looking for easy prey. Random strangers off the street seemed to always lead him into tricky situations and the inebriated ones hardly knew their soul had been tainted. They blamed it on the liquor or whatever drug they had ingested, leaving Silas in the clear. That’s why he hung onto the sidelines more often than not, playing mysterious, just to see if he could lure any of them in without having to try for it. This allowed him to keep an eye on his surroundings, watch the crowd and how they moved. Most importantly, if any of them were actually just wolves in sheep’s clothing.

But this was a whole different sequence entirely. Disorder and havoc had seemed to take over every inch, making it burdensome to pick out his dinner. He watched as an argument over a woman ensued, her drink hitting the floor while the man Silas assumed she was supposedly there with planted a beer bottle on the others head. Next sight was the bartender who seemed to be wrestling with some of his own issues, droplets of liquid still making their way down his face before he suddenly hit the floor.

A petrified look crept onto the cubi’s face before he noticed a man clearly sizing him up. Silas wondered how long he had actually been watching him, realizing then that the stranger was really the only one that appeared to act, well, normal. That sure added to his curiosity, though the scene around him was just as curious. Even the recent festival now seemed utterly tame, along with his years of watching war and rebellion, and his charcoal irises did their best to capture as much as they could. “I’d say,” rapid head nods, followed by him unhesitatingly reaching for the closest bottle of clear liquor to refresh his drink and placing a few dollars in the bartender's tip jar, “Never seen it like this before.” ‘Never seen this ever,’ he thought as he looked back down at the bartender that was now unconscious, “Think he’s alright?”

✧

SEND ME A ✧ AND I’LL BOLD ALL THAT APPLY TO YOUR MUSE.

I would kill you. ✧ I would physically hurt you. ✧ I would attack you unprovoked. ✧ I would manipulate you. ✧ I dislike you. ✧ You annoy me. ✧ You scare me. ✧ You intimidate me. ✧ I hope I intimidate you. ✧ I pity you. ✧ You disgust me. ✧ I hate you. ✧ I’m indifferent toward you. ✧ I’d like to get to know you better. ✧   I’d like to spend more time with you. ✧ I’d like to be friends with you. ✧  I’m unsure what to think of you. ✧ I’m unsure how I feel about you. ✧ You are my friend. ✧ You are my best friend. ✧ You are my mentor. ✧ I look up to you. ✧ I respect you. ✧ You are my hero. ✧ You inspire me. ✧ You are my enemy. ✧ You make me happy. ✧ I want to protect you. ✧ I would fight by your side. ✧ I consider you an equal. ✧ I think you are beneath me. ✧ I think you are above me. ✧ I would lie for you. ✧ I would lie to you. ✧ I would sleep with you. ✧ I would sleep by your side. ✧ I would hug you. ✧ I would kiss you. ✧ You are family to me. ✧ I would die for you. ✧ I would kill for you. ✧ I would trust you with my life. ✧ I would trust you with my most precious belonging. ✧ I would trust you with a secret. ✧ I would trust you with my biggest / darkest secret. ✧ I love you (platonically). ✧ I love you (romantically).

noraxzhao‌:

“Silas?”

Nora stepped into the silent, warm interior of Knick Knack, and though the bell on the door announced her arrival, she called for him for good measure, just to be sure. She stepped around the shop, bag over her shoulder and a small stack of business cards in her hand, finally halting at a dining set she’d made a month ago. Much to her delight, a neat handwritten card sat atop it with the single word sold written across it. She’d done matching scrolling carving on the legs of each of the chairs as well as the table, and the table itself could expand to fit more people than just four. About then she heard soft footsteps heading towards her from elsewhere in the shop, and she turned to grin at whom she assumed was Silas himself.

“It sold!” she chirped happily. “That’s wonderful!” Momentarily, the few smaller objects to hand over to him and the additional business cards were forgotten in favor of celebrating the sale of something she’d spent absolute ages on–it was nice to know someone else liked her work as much as she enjoyed making it. @silaskyun​

Ding, ding.

The cubi’s heart leapt at the sound of the chime, hyper focused on the object glistening in his hand and notes strewn about. Ever since he had woken up with the scale and no memory of the day before, everything about him didn’t make sense. It was as if the core of his personality shifted slightly and he couldn’t keep his hands off the scale. Currently it was snug inside his pocket, the same one his hand gently slid into as he made his way to the front of his store. Silas’ saving grace was the familiarity of the voice, but it could also be a downfall. Ones that knew him best might notice the behavior shift and his need to understand why he had the scale in the first place, but he hoped Nora would be a good escape. He left his notebook open, still on the day that he had written the events that he no longer could bring back to the forefront.

“To a lovely couple that just moved in together,” a broad smile on his face, welcoming the wolf’s excitement and leaned casually on his front counter, “Asked if you could also do a few other personal pieces to match, if you are up for it.” Which he had assumed Nora would be, already giving the couple reassurance that it could be done. “A lot of people had been eyeing it, but these two seem as though they will cherish it. They both seemed tired of the same old Ikea look and your work is one of a kind, truly meant to be heirloom pieces.”

lenavidalis​:

Though she only knew Silas for a brief amount of time in a customer-business owner type relationship, the witch was immediately drawn to him upon their first meeting and as time progressed, she found herself more and more attached. Something about him was endearing, and admittedly he was one of the most gentle people she knew. At his placations, the witch smiled sympathetically and nodded a little, content to drop the subject at his insistence despite her worry. “Okay, well… um, if you need anything, you can always call me, okay? I can bring you food or something if you don’t want to go out or you want some quiet company,” she offered.

“Anyway… um, I’ve got these. I tried not to bring too much because I didn’t know how much space you had available and I wasn’t sure how fast these would sell,” she explained as she turned the metal crane in her hand. The flat surfaces were unnaturally perfect, which was a hallmark of her ability as a metal manipulator. Where other metalworkers needed to polish their work, Lena could simply will it into existence, in a manner of speaking. It required years of practice, of course, but now metal bent to her will so easily that she hardly required thought to do more simplistic things. “I don’t have like… business cards or anything. Do I need those?” she asked.

That was one of the things he treasured about Lena, among the slew of other qualities about her that he held dear, she had a way of displaying unwavering compassion towards all things. A way of finding the light in all and giving even when she didn’t have to. “I’ll keep that in mind next time,” a warmth flooding his cheeks and holding onto his usual gentle grin, “Would beat the usual delivery services. A man can only eat so many takeaway gyros before he actually becomes one.” Though the incubus couldn’t exactly admit that after sleeping for twelve hours straight for five days in a row, what he starved for wasn’t anything that he wanted her to provide. Silas tried to snack on strangers, people that he didn’t know in his day to day life and could sever his empathy towards. But the quiet companionship would be more than delightful.

“No, not unless you would like to gain clients looking for commissions,” he stated, welcoming the change in topics and getting right back down to business, “If you are looking more to sell because you are inspired— I would say just leaving a trademark etching on your work is more than enough information for those who purchase them.” Simple advice, it wasn’t his place to tell someone how they should make their money or operate their trade. He could provide the platform for spreading the word about local artists that sought it out, maybe suggest things here and there, but anything more felt overbearing, “I think we have plenty of space for all you brought and I have plenty of items in the store that you can use as props to display them. Showcase them in an interesting way.”

kieratandanu‌:

      “Hand wrapped? What a service.” Kiera smiled as she leaned over the boxes, considering her choice for a moment. Her aunt was an affectionate woman though, and so she quickly made her decision and pointed towards the box with the words on them. “I think I’ll take that one. I think she’ll love it.” She also liked reusing boxes such as this one, so Kiera was happy with her choice as she leaned against the counter. “Do you hand wrap everything you sell?”, she asked curiously, always interested in how other people handled their shops, whether they involved food or not.

“Yes, especially when I know it's a gift,” he replied as his hands fiddled with paper and bubble wrap. The sound made it a bit hard for the cubi’s softer voice to talk over, but managed to get the message across regardless. It was nice to get questioned on his work, even for something as simple as hand wrapping. It meant that someone was interested in more than what they wanted, curious about the workings of others. “You see what I do daily, how about yourself?” charcoal hues were still fixed on the task at hand, but was always interested in how his customer’s lived and their day to day life.

Months had gone by without a single trace, causing Silas to wonder if the object existed in the first place. Rumors and hanging onto belief that his client was right in her pursuit grew difficult, but Safiye insisted on his continued search. The cubi listened without attaching too much thought. It was never any of his business why certain items needed to be obtained and simply accepted that if it wasn’t him, it would be someone else. Which led him down a path that he hadn’t quite expected this time and talking to individuals from many different walks of life. Originally the necklace was traced back to Gascony, a region in France that was ruled by the English Crown during the 14th century. Once the witch trials had started, however, many of the possessions in the area were lost or obliterated. Finding anything during that period of destruction was next to impossible, but not completely. “Hey, it’s Silas at Knick Knack. I think I found it,” he stated calmly on her voicemail as charcoal hues continued to examine the detail of the brass and condition of its embedded stones. It was as if it was brand new, glass still in perfect condition and hung by the original chain. Though the cubi knew after over fifty years of experience that items like this are not always what they seem.

@safiyebasak​

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