Anaxcavallero‌:

Over time, Silas had gotten used to forgetting a day or two from the past. Memory had this oddness about it that could be fleeting or become twisted and he had noticed this gradually as the years passed on. That’s what his journaling had been for, a habit that started during the war and only continued as things worsened in his home country. But this was and felt so different. Sure a day would go by that might be less than eventful, causing the cubi to pause at the memory of the day or two before— but the day was gone. Not just little cracks of what happened, completely wiped from existence. All he had was the various notes he had written later that night about the oddity and curiosity of what he had seen that night. However, none of it made sense and Silas couldn’t even draw out the connection. When his mind would try to dig it out, it was as though a dark blank was placed there instead.

Tapping lightly on the end of his pen, Silas sat puzzled on a bench outside his shop. The sign currently read closed as he grappled with the situation. As if the memory wasn’t hard enough for him, the damn Eidolon’s wouldn’t let him be. They were trying their hardest to chip away at him, but his attentions had been in so many different places that seeing his dead relatives had been the last of his concerns. The scale and the journal entry was driving the cubi madder than any Eidolon could. Even the fact that his sister wasn’t present in his hauntings didn’t phase him, a detail that wouldn’t have usually gone past the young cubi and instead the emerald shimmer flooded his thoughts. He shuffled it through his fingers tips, eyes locked and entranced while the world around him seemed to keep beating. How could he have possibly noticed the shadow of a man coming towards his direction?

@maddcxaquinc​

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.”

leightonhaywood‌:

It must have been interesting. Showing up at old estates, going through storage bins, just collecting old relics. You could learn a lot about a person by their belongings, interior decorating, that kind of thing. Despite his often nomadic nature, Leighton often wanted a house just to fill it with things. An old Victorian kind of place full of furniture and knick knacks from his travels. Make it like a museum of his life, of his travels. Collecting such artifacts kind of made Silas a tourist in these people’s lives. Someone who shows up and buys great grandmother’s ottoman. “If only these things could talk, right?” Leighton turned his head to offer Silas a small smile before picking up what looked like a wooden jewelry box off a shelf. Simple, but the craftsmanship was beautiful. Something for Lia maybe, but he didn’t know if she’d appreciate it. “Ever run into anything…” He wasn’t quite sure how to phrase it out in the open. “Suspicious?” Cursed, enchanted, that kind of thing. Items that should probably be passed off to the witches, maybe even a genasi.

Hadn’t that been the whole reason for Silas’ current existence? Suspicious artifacts, cursed objects, enchanted things that gave the allure of normalcy and tricked the unsuspecting. Not in the sense that the cubi did this for a living wage, that his whole life was altered by what Leighton called suspicious. Silas would be lying if he said that wasn’t a major part of why he went heavier into that side of the business. The more he was in contact with supernatural objects, the more he could learn from them and how they all functioned. He couldn’t afford to be ignorant to their existence and instead had to embrace it, find out more. “Absolutely,” was the cubi gut response given his close ties and personal feelings. Many of his clients were part of the community and wanted to remain confidential, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t speak on his other lines of work. Even his own connection continued to be a mystery for most, which he didn’t mind keeping that way, “It’s rather interesting that over the years I’ve become well-known for that— able to dig out what others are seeking so eagerly. And enchanted artifacts are a hot ticket item depending on the need or purpose.”

💐 from @franciscoamore​ give a gift During the days that the cubi was still living in Korea, every inch of his human-ness still intact, Silas had grown used to getting various gifts from friends to help supply the family shop. Not all was a gift. Some being a this for that, but often they would find something that caught their eye and reminded them of the Kyun’s. That dwindled down over the years as close ties became more rare and interactions depended on the type of supernatural being. It felt more dangerous than ever to have too many connections, especially with what he was and always did his best to keep his personal life to himself. Not that Silas was anti-social by any means, just able to carry on conversations without letting too much slip out. “How did you manage to snag this?” the cubi stated, excitement fluttering in the shadows of his voice. For most it was just a decorated tea bowl, but for Silas this was a connection to his home and the dynasty that his family used to serve. Fingers grazed the rim before picking it up completely, flipping it over to reveal the signature of his great-grandfather, “Thank you again, this is really special.”

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.

Because the world is so full of death and horror, I try again and again to console my heart and pick the flowers that grow in the midst of hell.

Hermann Hesse, Narcissus and Goldmund (via wordsnquotes)

kaanerdcgan​:

Trust was not something that Kaan gave away easily. When it came to the cubi, he liked to think he could trust them the most. None of them wanted to die and, as far as he was aware, they were some of the only people that knew what their weakness was. If anyone else did, it was probably because one of them said something. However, it was always best to take that secret with them to the grave. Whatever shapeshifter were in town needed to be gotten rid of as soon as possible. He wished it was that easy. “Hm…” He thought about it for a second as he looked at the flowers Silas pointed out. “I guess those will do. I trust your opinion on this kind of thing.”

A gentle shrug, fingertips moving to brush loose strands of hair from his face as his onyx irises looked over the flower choices again. Silas didn’t exactly know if it was the right choice, though it was nice to know that someone such as Kaan would easily listen to him like that. “This is your realm, not mine,” the incubus quickly retorted, not wanting the full weight of a children’s funeral flower decision on his hands, “Just suggestions— And you are the one that’s going to have to deal with the mother if she thinks she’s not getting her way.” He supposed it could always go the other direction, finding an appreciation for changing the smallest details, but the way the fellow incubus was sounding? Not a chance.

safiyebasak‌:

Most of the time, Safiye procured objects others required. In her time in Corinth Bay, she’d built a network of smugglers and fences and information gatherers–plus one idiot vampire–sand it allowed her to move things in and out of the area with relative ease so long as she knew the channels to get there. This item, however, was a bit more difficult. Most witches didn’t attempt to make them anymore because of the hazard in keeping them stable. It looked to be a simple magnifying glass, but it acted as a focus for spellwork that allowed the caster to amplify their spell without the use of another witch. It was risky and the object itself could potentially backfire, but if used properly and carefully, the results were magnificent. They were rare and expensive, and witches in possession of one were loathe to part with it for obvious reasons. Safiye needed one, which meant she needed to find a witch to relieve of it.

When she saw Silas called, she ignored the voicemail in favor of some bookkeeping, and only later in the evening did she remember to actually check it. Once she heard it, she immediately gathered her purse and a few other items and shot off a few texts to let him know she was on her way. She had to see it to make sure it was real, but Silas was almost never wrong about these things.

The walk to Knick Knack was a quick one, spurred by equal parts of excitement and curiosity. Sure the door was locked considering the early evening hour, Safiye rapped on it and then peered through the window as she tried to catch a glimpse of the man, hoping she hadn’t missed him.

There was always plenty to do at the shop. Custom orders to finish, various research to do, and even items to clean up in the back that would soon find their place on the shelves. That’s why when he hadn’t heard back from the gensai, Silas wasn’t all that concerned. She had work to do just like himself, although he was aware that this item was of extreme importance or it wouldn’t have been such an eager hunt. His hours were never really set in stone given his line of work, so the texts from Safiye were no real surprise. A small light was lit in the front of the store to indicate that someone was still around, but the closed sign remained in place. Once he heard the gentle tapping, feet swiftly moved to the door as he checked to make sure it was the proper client. Unlatching the locks, a heavy security system he had put into place after dealings with unhappy supernatural lead him to a trashed shop, Silas let her in.

“Let’s go to the back,” he stated before the brunette could say anything, locking back up and directing her towards his back room. This was an area that not many actually got to see. Half finished projects littered the room, along with various tools and a cot set up in the corner for when the longer hours left him unable to walk home. He walked up to a desk that was strewn with papers and artists pens, placing his rough hands on the knob of a drawer before sliding it open. The object was wrapped in loose newspaper, removing each layer before handing the magnifying glass to Safiye with a hopeful expression. “Looks to be the real deal. I found a few copy cats, but it was easy to tell by the makers mark that it wasn’t right. What do you think?”

💐 from @gabrielxnikephoros​ give a gift

Objects, at times, belonged with certain people. Even those who claimed to not understand Silas’ line of work, artifacts and items had always been important in some degree or fashion. Family heirlooms, precious gems — no one could deny that they had at least one thing they cherished most and wanted to protect. He hadn’t grown to discover what side of the fence his fellow cubi was on, but the shine of the coins and the engravings meant they were from nowhere other than the Byzantine Empire. Years had passed, Silas knew, since those days that he wondered if Gabriel just wanted to forget. He supposed this was a way to test the waters and discover more about his friend. “Found something interesting,” the cubi stated as he pulled the gold coinage from a cloth just behind his shop desk. They had been there for almost a week at this point, Silas stewing on the idea of forcing the interaction, but decided on the more organic approach, “Picked them off another collector at an estate sale.” Which really meant he forced the man’s hand and got a little snack in the process, cheeks taking on a strawberry hue at the thought, “Thought maybe they deserved to be in your hands instead.”