At times, Silas found himself seaside listening to the waves crashing right below his feet. Sketchbook in hand with a large bag of different artists’ tools depending on his mood, drawing anything that interested him or came into his mind. Sometimes it was the water itself, other times it was the various faces that could be found making their way across the gulf’s drift wood and pieces of shells. It was a chance to get away from his shop and find new inspiration in the people that called Corinth their home, along with the many visitors that appreciated its allure. That was when he appeared— hair catching light giving it hints of crimson and gold within its darkness. The cubi began to sketch, entranced by his presence as charcoal hues glanced up and back down to keep capturing him naturally. A tool he often used when evading the North Korean army during the war, attempting to draw without the individual even realizing that Silas was just feet away the entire time. Though he supposed those within the army were simply humans, not full of glistening magic like the man whose eyes zeroed in on him.
u know what makes me cry….. that one van gogh quote about life changing for the better….. “many people seem to think it foolish, even superstitious, to believe that the world could still change for the better. and it is true that in winter it is sometimes so bitingly cold that one is tempted to say, ‘what do i care if there is a summer; its warmth is no help to me now.’ yes, evil often seems to surpass good. but then, in spite of us, and without our permission, there comes at last an end to the bitter frosts. one morning the wind turns, and there is a thaw. and so i must still have hope.” yeah….. Crying….
Hadn’t Silas felt that before? That encroaching, hair-raising feeling that had once started in a tiny shop in Andong. One that the incubus had not recognized then, but oh he’d wished he would have realized was the start of this long, immortal journey. Pandemonium. Why Seokga’s grasp was so firm on Korea during those days of tyranny and war, what all of this had done to his family and friends who would never understand that they had never done anything wrong besides exist. So as the sensation grew stronger— bell chiming at the door of Knick Knack, surpassing the portions in Silas that still felt agony about those days began to bubble up. “How-” even if he knew exactly what to say, the words hardly wanted to leave his throat anyway and only moved his onyx hues to capture the moment. The individual that stood before him held different features, sun-kissed skin that didn’t quite match his tempestuous gaze, though the incubus knew deep down was connected to him.
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.
“Gabriel believes that it’s suicide. He made that rather clear in… not so many words.” He had apologized in his own way, yet the harshness of her closest confidante’s words still rang true within the succubus’ mind. Not due to the vitriol, but rather because they weren’t unfounded in their assertion. “I know him well enough that he will always be overly protective, it’s a two way street as they say. Which is why I would rather ask you.” Kasandra and Silas were decent friends, yet they did not keep one another in metaphorical bubbles like she did with the ancient incubus. “As an outside, third party friend, what would you give as advice to me about this shifter situation?” @silaskyun
Advice. It had been awhile since someone had actually come to him for that and it was hard not to look at Kasandra with a bit of surprise, onyx hues looking over her features for a read on her mood. “Are you sure you want to ask me?” the fellow cubi held a curious expression, along with all the classic signs of disbelief, “I mean, I think it’s been well over two decades since the embers of my love life officially went out.” But that wasn’t the only factor throwing a wrench in the state of affairs that led to Gabriel’s reaction— the fact that it was a shifter had. Aphrodite could be so cruel, testing us to see how far one might go for a chance at love and be loved in return.
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.
