Kieratandanu‌:

“Wasn’t no harm in him. You’d give him a flower, he’d keep it forever.”

— Linda from Terrence Malick’s “Days of Heaven”

antoinagrcgor‌:

Antonia was holding a collection of prints in her grasp. She heard the shop owner walk over by of his footsteps in the creak in the old cypress floors. She smiled + looked over her shoulder to meet his eye-line. “Actually, I found a few of your prints that I enjoyed.” Her German accent flowed from her red lips like honey. “Do you have anything printed from any local parks?”

There was nothing like seeing a familiar face when living nomadic for years, bringing a smile out of Silas that was more reserved for them. Antonia was one of those familiar faces and someone that he never regretted meeting. She had always amazed him with her spirit, conviction of always wanting to be the best she can for those around her, and hardly thought of herself before others. Those spirits could be rare not just in the human world, but the supernatural too. “I think I still have a few from my travels to Samariá Gorge, but that isn’t exactly local. Maybe something from Kolokotronis or Loutraki is more what you mean?”

“If a man treats a life artistically, his brain is his heart.”

— Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray (via wordsnquotes)

to love and lose and still be kind.

Warsan Shire (via wordsnquotes)

opheliancano​:

@silaskyun​

An incubus is capable of recognizing furies. Ophelia knows this, and dislikes it heavily. So why is she hanging around one of their kind, again? The thought is slightly perplexing, and one she does not readily have an answer to. Perhaps it’s because she finds him interesting — of that she has no problem admitting. And incubuses were created to sow chaos and harm, and she hasn’t quite decided on how much of a threat he poses to the good people of the city yet, so maybe that’s it too. He visits the tea shop, she visits his knick knack store; it feels like a delicate game being played, each side sizing the other up and taking notes. Yet for all her reasons and excuses, the one she least of all wants to acknowledge is the simple fact that… well, she wanted to. And here they are now, standing in front of what appears to be a dart throwing competition, at a celebration she never would have dreamed about in her lifetime. Ophelia smiles and turns to her companion. “Well Silas, how’s your aim?” 

So he was more than just a little curious about the tea shop waitress, the incubus was allowed the right. It wasn’t just that his senses would buzz the moment Ophelia would find her way around him, holding onto much of the same interest as himself, but the intrigue of who she was and what made her tick. They shared similar qualities and maybe that was part of it. Both quiet, but much like an iceberg— the two of them held many layers of depth underneath. “Rusty,” he replied honestly, grabbing for one of the darts and shifting his body for a good aim. Years had gone by since the last time the incubus had actually attempted a game such as this, but he tried anyway and watched as his dart missed the desired target. A defeated smile emerged as he turned to look at Ophelia, wondering if she was choking back a giggle and moved to let her continue the game. “Definitely much better at being moral support than playing the game, it seems,” Silas wasn’t all that upset about it, spending much of his life being on the outskirts looking in and finding comfort in the position.

gabrielxnikephoros‌:

Gabriel had made his way around the store to stand by Silas finally, tilting his head a little bit more at the snark that exited his friend’s mouth. The other incubus was soft; a kinder spirit than Gabriel had ever met in his entire existence. And that existence was being reminded to him, again. “Oh, so he’s got jokes.” Gabriel huffed out a laugh, shoving Silas lightly, “Unbelievable. I offer you my friendship, my wisdom with all my age, and you just – throw it back at me. Forget it. I’m going to steal the tea recipes and then I’m going to blame you.”

“Alright, see you in about thirty minutes,” the fellow cubi kept the smirk firmly planted on his face as Gabriel attempted to psych him out. Silas wasn’t exactly sure if he really needed another with him in order to do the deed, but assumed another set of hands was probably necessary. Either that or another set of eyes. Regardless, he was involved now for better or worse. “Maybe you can support the bookstore across the street while you wait. I’m sure there is something you haven’t seen yet.”

maddcxaquinc‌:

The days had seemed to blend together, Maddox only ever sure of the time, but not which day of the week it was. His head was haunted with the memories of the eidolons, the spirits that had seemed to life like, that had possessed faces of those they are not belonged to. Family members, friends, loved ones, enemies; they came flooding back to the streets of Corinth Bay, and left chaos in their wake. And he had seen them all. He had seen the anger in their eyes, the horror on their faces, and the cause of many of their deaths before him. It had left him shaken, weary and drained of the energy he had used in order to banish some of them back to the ethereal plane, to free those that had been tormented, even if for only a few minutes. He hadn’t even realized when the spell had been cast, banishing the eidolons back through the rift from which they came.

It was for this precise reason, that when he saw a man sitting on a bench, with spirits seemingly entirely too interested in him, Maddox approached quickly. His intention was to use what energy he still had to banish them, to send them away for a moment of reprieve — but the sight of the green scale, seemingly the object of the spirits’ attention, had him stopping short. A shiver ran the curve of his spine, his eyes transfixed on the item as it caught the light in an unique way. “What is that?” The question slipped from his tongue too quickly, his voice soft in the open air. There was something magical about it, but it felt — different, ancient.

“Nothing really, I don’t know,” quickly flew from the cubi’s lips as he closed his hand over the object of interest. Panic hung in his voice and in his expression, not understanding why he felt the sudden need protect it from anyone else's view. Even his dreams managed to consist of the item in some fashion, what little sleep he did get, and the bags under Silas’ eyes was evidence of both. He truly didn’t want to discuss it at all, especially with someone that just randomly found him on the street. Eidolon crowding them both as the energy fluxed.

Rapidly he realized this wasn’t the situation he wanted, not the position he wanted to be in, and continued to grip the scale. Though he couldn’t seem to bring himself to lie about it even when the feeling inside him screamed at him to do so. Assessing the situation, a darkness coming from the stranger that Silas hadn’t noticed before, he spoke, “I found it in my pocket, that happens at times in my line of work.” Well, that wasn’t completely true. Often he knew what was inside his pockets because he had purchased it, but the scale was different. It had shown up as if it was magnetized to the cubi and was unexplainable. Similar feelings vibrated inside his being and was reminded of a time when he was still human, picking up random objects of magical value to sell in his father’s shop. The same person floated around them currently and he forced himself to keep his charcoal hues away.

anaxcavallero‌:

“Impressive. Any I’d know? Oh, don’t tell me: you’re actually Bill Watterson.” As if Silas were the founder and creator of Calvin and Hobbes, but it was entertaining to tease someone whose only source of threat rendered useless against a vampire. “You should illustrate the people in this town. They’re a colorful bunch. Werewolves, vampires, witches, shifters, cubi…” The list droned on as she held a particular crystal between manicured fingers, observing it with mild boredom in the light. “This is tumbled glass.” And then she’s placed it between them once more. “You leave this place, right? You get out? Please tell me you’re not one of those brooding saps who holes away in their house for all eternity because immortality is a curse.”

A wanderer was deep in the cubi’s bones, though many assumed the opposite with his disposition and occupation. Many thought that owning a shop with such a large array of objects would mean constantly being stationary while Silas often found excuses to leave town for a weekend or more. Brick and mortar didn’t mean having a chain attached, running off at any excuse just to see something new for a little while. It kept him from completely losing his mind, sketching and journaling all along the way. “Don’t tell me you are actually concerned for me,” the cubi stated as his charcoal hues met Ana. Had to be a fluke, Silas was sure of it. Possibly even a chance for her to add another mocking remark about his chosen profession. Nevertheless, he would let it slide off his back like all the rest of her comments that never managed to affect him.

atlasxrose‌:

@silaskyun​

Atlas sat pondering the vision he’d had the night of the murder, the woman with dark hair and dark eyes, the green scales that had trailed up and down her arms. The onslaught of spirits that had besieged the town, if there was no way of saving her that night, then why had the Gods sent him a vision of her entering the Temple? He wondered what use it all was, questioning things that he could quite clearly not control. The witch had wandered into a shop, doing what he could to distract himself when he saw the man standing not far from him now. 

Atlas wasn’t sure why his intuition had brought him here, but Scylla had been at the forefront of his thoughts so the witch just spat the question out. “Hey, this might seem like a weird question but you haven’t seen a woman come in here in the last few days have you? - Uh, dark hair, dark eyes?” This was Corinth, Atlas had just described probably the majority of the female population. “I don’t know… She was a bit unique.” Scaled, for instance. “You’d remember her.”

A single eyebrow arose on Silas’s face at the question. It wasn’t as if there were a lot of people that came into his shop, but the list had already risen up to at least a dozen and the cubi wasn’t sure how to respond. The man before him looked flustered, words sounding a bit desperate and all Silas could do was give him a shrug. “Yeah, I mean—” the right words needed to be chosen in order to get more information from the stranger, “A few, but maybe you can give me a little more detail? Was she wearing something specific?”

Though through all the chatting, he couldn’t keep his mind off the scale in his pocket as if it was burning a hole. The cubi wanted to touch it, place his calloused hands upon the smooth emerald finish just to ensure it was still resting there. But if he went for it now, there was no way he wouldn’t seem suspicious and he begged his mind to stop thinking about it. “Maybe even a specific piece of jewelry?” which would have been something Silas had actually noticed given his line of work. Unique pieces to the mass-market objects, he enjoyed seeing what was on trend and being purchased.

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​