Latest Posts by silaskyun - Page 6

The artist must create a spark before he can make a fire and before art is born, the artist must be ready to be consumed by the fire of his own creation.

Auguste Rodin (via wordsnquotes)

Drunk humans were always effortless. Especially late in a town with tourists around every corner, unfamiliar with their surroundings and all too trusting. And Silas was starving. After almost a week of not feeding, the cubi would have tried for just about anyone but this at least took less energy. Which, if he was being honest, didn’t have much to spare. The trek just to get to Styx felt like decades and each group of foreigners had him salivating. With a quick slip, Silas could cause one of them to stagger far away enough from their friends that they wouldn’t have noticed for blocks. That could give him plenty of time, but his feet kept hitting the pavement forward.

A small line still hung outside of the club, one of which Silas knew he would never have to wait in and couldn’t help a snicker. He gave the bouncer a gentle nod before bypassing the threshold into the booming melodies. A regular at his shop, his wife had requested a custom bookshelf not even a year back and the access had helped Silas immensely. Strokes of red and purple added an aura to the cubi that in daylight, he frankly didn’t possess. Maybe it also had something to do with the hunger and he quickly found himself perched at the bar top, scanning the crowd before requesting a cocktail. It was a simple cover, but that was all it took for most humans to think he was simply one of them.

@kasandrarosales​

“What caught your eye?” a silky voice echoed from behind what used to be a perfectly fine desk. Now, just a few years after being taken in by its new owner, it has been littered with paint that managed to miss the objects it was meant for. Various papers, works in progress, and tools littered any other free space much like the shop itself. Brightly colored masks hung above him, furniture with large yellow price tags that seconded as shelving for other pieces— unique objects with every turn that many came to gawk as if it were a museum. Silas had only owned the shop for a few years, but business was starting to get pretty regular through word of mouth. Advertising by featuring local artists and that in turn had really boosted his foot traffic. A broad smile followed with surprisingly warm eyes, hardly the look of someone blemished for eternity. He set down his pen and moved closer to the entrance.

@corinthbaystarters​

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

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