kasandrarosales:
A wallflower. Not the first and certainly not the last of that particular personality breed. Were she more favorable towards potential prey, perhaps Kasandra might even take an opportunity to understand them on a deeper level. As it were, she felt a bit more consistent with the current monotony of her life: seduce, feed, release into the wild once more. Avoid names, avoid faces, and above all, avoid connection. Most deserved the unbearable ache of emptiness which followed them afterwards, but whether this patron also earned a hellish remainder to his mortality had yet to be determined.
“My club seems to draw those types in like moths to a flame.” The most recent conversation with Leighton quickly surfacing within her mind. Even as she spoke, Kasandra began pouring herself a similar glass to match his and although she preferred wine above all else, mimicry of another tended to lend itself to favorability. People search for a familiar habit, any thread of affinity worth latching onto when in the midst of a natural allure. “I would have noticed you. In here, at the very least.” Bringing the glass to parted lips, she pulls it away just before speaking. “Are you waiting on someone?”
Yet the cubi knew he had flown under her radar, though his presence within the club was not frequent or long lasting when it occurred. Regardless of the perception, Silas’s main and usually only reason for coming into a place like this was his cursed hunger. There was, however, a detail of her comment that he couldn’t fully ignore. My club. Which explained why she would notice individuals, they were all her paying customers and patrons. It was still odd that she hadn’t noticed him, though this just went to show how skilled the cubi’s irish goodbye had really become. Come inside the club, find the easiest human to feed off of, leave without a trace of his existence within. Not such a bad thing in his mind.
After a gentle head shake, his charcoal hues locked into her own and gave a smile, “No.” Not as if Silas really needed to lie about that fact. He was with no one and no one would be coming up to him stating otherwise, “Just needed to get out. I run a shop on my own and while the silence is nice for a while, social interaction — I’ve heard — is essential for humans.” A chuckle and another sip before he attempted to turn the attention towards herself, “I couldn’t help but notice you say this was your club, how long have you owned it?”
beau-zale:
“A real professional, huh?” A smirk graced his lips but Beau didn’t take his eyes off the mentioned jewel in the case. He didn’t care so much for authenticity aside from it being something that would last long. Even in his old age he’d never thought to particularly go for something pricey, it was all about the aesthetic. And frankly, he was a sucker for garnets to begin with. Anything deep in color, rubies, moonstone, that kind of thing had always attracted him. The mentioned piece was definitely ticking all of his boxes, there wasn’t much need for this guy to talk it up, he had eyes. But still, he could appreciate an artisan, somebody who knew what they were talking about. Straightening, he crossed his arms over his chest and just looked at the tired looking man. That festival must have really done a number on him, he wasn’t surprised. Everyone seemed a little worse for wear. Which was truly a pity, he was being robbed of so many attractive faces due to lack of sleep.
Not like that ever really deterred him.
But still.
Supposed he was, though the incubus wasn’t sure if that’s what he would actually call himself. Skilled, maybe. Trained enough to know the difference between a fake and an item that was actually real, letting the word professional hang in the air. Silas almost liked it, only having heard his father’s clients say those kinds of words but never to him. He had always been the apprentice or looked at as a rookie, someone that tried to sell clutter instead of genuine products and worked hard to drive a wedge between that outlook. Instead of boasting, Silas simply shrugged and continued to unlock the case. A click reverberated as the lock came loose and Silas pulled the ring out of the man to examine. It felt as though the two were meant for each other, the same kind of appeal and charm that complimented without seeming gaudy. “Suits you well,” he stated as a fact, a dreamy grin embellishing the dark circles that hung below his charcoal irises as fingertips passed the item over. Noticing the way the man’s eyes lit up as the ring was gently placed onto his finger, the incubus assumed there was no reason to place it back and started to lock up the cabinet again, “As if it was meant to be, so to speak.”
opheliancano:
This is new ground Ophelia finds herself on. She knows more of cubi by reputation and what the furies taught her than personal history, and Silas is nothing like she had been expecting. Perhaps that is why she finds him so fascinating. Green eyes watch for him, from behind the counter of the tea shop, where he had been a frequent patron before the pride festival. Perhaps she’s scared him off? Regrettable, to be sure, though she suspects not many of his species would willingly choose to spend time around her; that had been another point of her curiosity, how he never seemed to be particularly afraid, or even worried in her presence. Ophelia has just about written him off as a willing participant to their game, much to her disappointment, when she finally spies him reenter AnxieTea — and the smile that graces her face is not false, for once. Their song and dance is not quite finished. Good. Once she is certain to not leave her coworker swamped with customers, she steps out to take her break, making a beeline for Silas. “Rather well, I think. So many interesting things to see, and people to meet. I don’t think I’ll be bored.” The double entendre is there, clear as day for anyone who has the appropriate context. And then, because Ophelia has always been bold, she adds, “you were gone for quite awhile. I wondered if I’d seen the last of you.”
A hardened swallow after a long drink from his tea, processing her words as they lingered in the space surrounding them and made a point to not allow his feelings to surface. The feelings of intrigue and wonderment on how she could have plucked the question from his brain— how she might have actually been concerned for him in some way. Not that an individual being endearing towards the incubus was foreign, his natural magnetism making it fairly simple in most settings, but that was obsolete here. With Ophelia, it was all genuine and that in itself was enough to shake up his perspective. “Hardly,” he finally mustered up in response, a light grin emerging as the tea cup found its place on the coaster in front of them, “Best tea blends in town, if you ask me.” Though they both knew that wasn’t the only reason Silas found himself roaming to its doors, even if his guts refused for him to admit that detail out-loud and tried to keep the subject on her versus himself, “I’m sure not. There always seems to be something exhilarating happening, especially in this town. I’m sure it will be quite effortless for you to find and keep your foothold.” Which was true, her aura calling attention to its daring and valorous nature.
leightonhaywood:
“Interesting line of work.” Useful, probably lucrative considering how full of supernaturals the bay was. Leighton took another sip of his tea as he thought back to his London flat. He really didn’t have anything “magical” aside from maybe a few books about healing magic. Which were kind of pointless, but he liked them anyways. It’s not like he had anything against magic, he was sure if he found something that interested him enough, he’d get it. He’d just never bothered searching for anything.
“What do you find around here usually?” There were a lot of historical sites, local artisans and such, but he was curious. Corinth was a hub for the supernatural for a reason, surely it was brimming with magical things all over the place. Maybe that was something he should be looking into. “Solely speaking as someone with not much interest in such things.”
“A lot of jewelry,” the cubi started, placing his mind on several gold and copper pieces that had been enchanted for different purposes. As he had learned more about the supernatural world after his transition, Silas realized how much power was in the objects that dangled around everyone’s necks. Charm spells, anointed in magical oils, various stones that could even make a mere human more fortunate and those were the hot ticket items. The only thing that was truly different was the details or the style, which varied from different regions and forged with a contrast of items. “Masks, coins— bronze trinkets. Some of them just seem like completely ordinary things sitting on your grandmother’s hearth, but actually help find magical ingredients. Kind of like a metal detector,” a smile holding, clearly speaking from experience and still enjoyed talking with the client that took it in. An older gentleman whose eyes were not as good as his younger years and paid Silas a little extra just for being polite. “Though the objects I find are just as interesting as the people that seek them, in my experience,” his usual tone, but with a sour punch at the end that the cubi couldn’t quite control. He saw many different types, not just the good side where people cherished the object and it sat on a shelf. No, some lusted for darkness in a way that Silas had never seen— even at war.
kieratandanu:
“Okay.” Her eyes looked down at the blue tinted one once more, and when he posed his question, she realized that he was right. It was the one her aunt would probably never pick for herself, and therefore the perfect gift. “You’re right, she wouldn’t. That’s a great idea. I’ll take the blue one then. Do you possibly have a box it can fit in as well?”
Gentle head nods fell from the cubi as he pulled the mask towards himself. Silas was sure he had the right gift wrap for this particular style, getting out two sleek black boxes. One had a gold tint in the writing, embossed with the words ‘with love’ in the center. The other was similar with silver instead of the gold, but held no words and displayed an abstract geometric pattern. “Take your pick and I’ll hand wrap it for you,” warm words fell from his lips, happy that the mask was going to go into a wonderful home.
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.
kieratandanu:
Kiera was proud of what she had achieved with KiKi’s. She often wished her father was still alive to see her open her own restaurant and succeed with it, but it wasn’t a possibility anymore, so she kept to just being proud on her own. “Yeah,” she confirmed, nodding a little. “It’s a small restaurant. I prepare all kinds of foods and change the menu every day. From Greek to Chinese you can get pretty much everything at my place. You should stop by some time.”
“I will,” he stated firmly, making a note mentally that it was important. Supporting locals was a quality instilled in the cubi long before he had to call himself one, the Kyun family always doing their part however they could. Dining at small businesses that started from the ground, purchasing directly from artists instead of big chains, sticking with artisans had always led to a better community all around. “What’s on the menu tomorrow?” a genuine grin and interest in his tone.
gabrielxnikephoros:
“I heard…that Tranquilitea is under the ownership of a shapeshifter who just really fucking likes tea. Then you have the witch at Anxietea who loves the magical brews that do a little more for the person that drinks it. Neither is really better in my opinion, but I’ve also had way too much fucking tea in my life time.” It took Gabriel a few more moments, but he placed his hand against Silas’s chest, “What’s wrong?” He noted the exhaustion that seemed to creep in from the other’s soul – the way he looked far more tired, almost like Kasandra had.
Waving a hand, Silas tried his best to ignore the topic of his own personal health. He had been on the brink of exhaustion all week and each moment the cubi finally made it into deep sleep, the usual nightmare routine would creep in. There was no way he wanted to talk about it fully, even with the look of pure concern hanging on Gabriel’s face and filling Silas with guilt. “Haven’t fully recovered from the Eidolon’s,” a white lie that he hoped didn’t show through given his current state and tried to change the subject back, “I like Anxietea’s Secret Tea Party blend with the rooibos. You can’t tell me you don’t have a favorite.”