Sanemvidalis​:

leightonhaywood‌:

Every so often he found himself in the small shop surrounded by things he definitely should not fill his London flat with at the expense of looking like a tourist. Shelves were already lined with trinkets from here or there. Sometimes it a souvenir wasn’t something that he could buy, a rock off the ground from a particularly beautiful mountain, a flower from the edge of a lush forest. Hell, Leighton had leaves pressed between pages with their name, location, and the date he’d found them, meticulously scrawled beside them. Everything was an attempt to capture the feeling of a moment in a place as he desperately sought to document the abundance of time on his hands. 

Silas had made this more than just a place for tourists though. Local art pieces hung among the knick knacks, pieces of furniture finely crafted, a couple of oddities from the beaches here and there. “I’m trying to decide if I do indeed need another teapot or if I should just surrender and buy a proper cabinet to display them all in.” He took a sip of the tea in the thermos in his hand and nodded to the shelf. “The kittens might be too whimsical to pass up.” 

Leighton had become something of a regular at Knick Knack and the pattern seemed to form in the blink of an eye. Sometimes the vampire would mosey in with general conviction, knowing exactly what he wanted as if the moment depended on it. Other times his shoulders looked slunk and caused Silas to wonder if the shop was just another way to pass the time. Not as if that was a horrible thing in the young cubi’s mind, the gods knew that was why he continued to do it. Trinkets, the little things, and all those varying purchases could be used as a way to connect and remember when time was the enemy. His own studio could be found with different objects littered about that helped keep his mind sharp and attached to the memories most important to Silas.

“You could finally accept my offer to build you one,” the cubi joked, but half hoped Leighton would actually say the word. He had several different concepts that he kept on the side, unable to control himself after the vampire had first mentioned it. Cabinets was almost a specialty at this point, having designed many during his time in Korea and felt a bit eager to craft another. Especially for someone like Leighton and the unique way he decorated his loft back home, “And take the whimsical kittens.”

Life with the jade and emerald tinted object had been torturous, yet Silas couldn’t manage to let it go. A week had gone by with him knowing there was something wrong with it, some curse that had been placed, and the cubi still couldn’t manage to keep his fingers from glazing over its sheen. Studying its ridges as it played with the dim lights inside the back of his shop. Even started carrying it around, terrified that someone else might take it. He continually told himself that if it wasn’t him taking the burden on, that it would be someone else but Silas knew it was just an act to keep it close to himself. Anyone that caught eye of the scale immediately induced panic within his being, so his pant pocket was the only logical place for it to stay until he understood more. It wasn’t as if he knew its origins completely, just some various lore from the library and anything Kasandra could explain given her similar condition. Sleep had been replaced with nightmares and late-night walks, muse for anything artistic all but lost when the hour was so late that he felt his shop walls closing in on him. That’s precisely where the cubi was now, feet patting up and down the sidewalks of town with eye bags that could be seen from at least a block away. ‘This cannot last,’ bubbled in his thoughts as the silhouette of a public bench came near and he instinctively headed towards it, ‘Go-saeng kkeut-e nag-i on-da*.’

@leightonhaywood​

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

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

“You wore your gentleness so well.”

— six word story // hobnobbingwithhedgehogs (via just-six)

hcdsn‌:

Keeping up the facade that he was little more than passionate about history and all that it offered up within it’s grasp had always been far too easy for Hudson. He had the ability to retain far more information than most and whatever necessary education he might have needed to pass it off as simply a hobby to those who knew no better. Those that didn’t see his interest in the old and lackluster as the vying grasp for a power he didn’t have yet. “Nothing yet,” He remarked, meandering his way to the desk Silas sat behind, just as he had time and time again. “Anything caught yours?” Or, more to the point, had any thought been considered to Hudson when he’d seen something that might likely belong in a museum rather than his store. “Just wondering if you’ve seen anything come through.. maybe heard about something you don’t have, that I might be a interested in?” Far too often, people held onto things far more valuable than they ever considered them to be; merely for the fact they’d looked so dull, shattered and broken.

This question was typical, even if that exact phrase hadn’t always left Hudson’s mouth. Customers often came in looking for any kind of connection, especially rare pieces. Estate sales of wealthy philanthropists whose kids had no love for the antique style and would rather see money in their pockets were prime locations. Luckier even if the family didn’t realize they have items of magical value. That’s where Silas came in. He would try to bid for objects before the public eye got the chance and in turn, sell them or upscale them for his shop. The real issue was pinning down what his customer was looking for and with the current being so vague, it was hard for Silas to understand what exact direction he should take this. “A few things have,” he started, leaning lightly on his chevron wood counter top, “Three estate sales up north and one in Bulgaria. All seem to be promising depending on what you might be looking for.” He reached for his phone, placing it on the counter to ready himself for examples.

ikarosxtheoinos​:

Ikaros sipped his drink idly as the man reached across the bar and left a tip, generous, considering that it was absolute free fall everywhere else. It would have been easy to drench the other man in a similar scene, see what was necessary to push him towards similar fits of madness but decided instead that he appreciated the man’s candor. He’d looked terrified but that was the only real sane reaction to the display that Ikaros was putting on, the kobalos had wanted his arrival in town to be defined. This worked well for that. Somehow he doubted that those who attended the bar on this particular Saturday night would ever forget the fit of madness that had overtaken them. 

“Do you want to check?” Ikaros quirked a brow at Silas and canted his head in the direction of the bartender. He wasn’t about to go check himself, he also didn’t really know, if Ikaros had to guess, he’d say maybe a concussion. Someone fell from the second floor and crashed through a table not far behind Ikaros, as if to punctuate some bizarre display of scenic madness. Ikaros shook his head, as if in some display of disbelief, “This is a mad house, I’d be careful, there might be something in the water.” 

A daunting smirk had crept onto Ikaros’ features as he turned to examine the display around him, the police would be here soon, the man would slip away quite soon after their arrival. Still, it was fun, and most of what these people had experienced was pleasurable. Though there was also pain, Ikaros always had to mix both. “You live in town?” Ikaros asked easily before he peppered in some easy lies, “I just got here, this isn’t what I was expecting.”

He immediately began to shake his head in disagreement. There wasn’t much the incubus really wanted to know beyond the necessary to get through the rest of this night without incident. Checking on the bartender, talking to a complete stranger— probably not the wisest choices in his lifetime. The more Silas knew of the whole situation, the more likely he would guilt himself into honesty if any questions arose on what he might have seen and he was close to his limit. But there was something magnetic about Ikaros that kept him still in his seat and wondering how this man seemed so untouched. Onyx hues darted towards the chaos that started to unfold behind Ikaros, a tightness forming in his chest, and turned his gaze back to the man’s haunting cerulean stare.

“Guess it's a good thing that this isn’t water,” he quipped, shaking his glass and trying his best to casually smirk back. Senses tingling more with each moment of being surrounded by all the manic energies. The bay had proven itself to be more than interesting when it came to the supernatural hub and that was hardly without notice from Silas, but everything felt so electrified. Sure, strange things were bound to happen when aligning with who sought legends and myths, though this was out of his realm. Each experience such as this only went to reminding him that he had yet to see and learn everything.

Bits of tension clung onto Silas shoulders and the question only added to his anxieties regarding the individual in the seat beside him. “Yeah, a few years now,” integrity, despite the burning in his gut that screamed at him to stay cautious and tread on the waters lightly, “I presume you are new in town then?”

rpmememaker‌:

Send “✆” for a MORNING text. Send “✉” for a text that WASN’T SENT. Send “☎” for a RUSHED text. Send “⁇” for a DRUNK text. Send “✿” for a SUGGESTIVE text. Send “ø” for a LATE NIGHT text. Send “✘” for a HATEFUL text. Send “#” for a RANDOM text. Send “@” for a SCARED text. Send “&” for a LOVING text. Send “%” for a CURIOUS text. Send “ツ” for an EXCITED text. Send “$” for an ACCIDENTAL text. Send “♀” for a HEARTBREAKING text. 

giovannixrusso​:

Humanity came with a variety of weaknesses that supernatural beings intended to exploit, but it also provided what might be considered the greatest weapon of all: being mistakenly underestimated. What he lacked in witchy voodoo powers, he made up in precise intelligence, meticulous plotting, and his own brand of charm. “It most certainly has been. Hope you weren’t avoiding me after our little chat.” He did like the other man, for what it was worth. Call it an indescribable magnetism which drew Giovanni in, but he also had a job to be done. “I’m actually still curious about something. Has anyone come to show or sell you a candle lately? It wouldn’t be a mundane thing; kind of old and ostentatious.” 

“I’m too much a creature of habit to avoid anyone,” which was mostly true when in places that felt comfortable enough to not consistently be ready to run. That was a quality that Corinth had provided, even with the recent displays of unrest and painful occurrences, Silas had yet to think that he was time to move. On top of it all, he had worked diligently to get the brick and mortar operation functioning in the bay. “A candle—” eyebrows furrowing slightly. It wasn’t often that anyone actually sold him a candle on purpose. Typically they were found in old dresser drawers that hadn’t been cleaned up, locked wooden boxes that hadn’t been touched in years, and the incubus’s onyx irises locked onto Giovanni, “Got a little more detail than that? Maybe color, even what it could have been accompanied with?”

Pandora

Pandora: What is the worst gift you’ve ever received?-chuckles lightly- Oh gosh, I remember my brother’s first attempt at crafting this keepsake box for one of my birthdays and it was— it was truly hideous but he made it from his heart. The color was this puke green and I believe it also had some touches of cherry red. Even the latch didn’t work right, but I smiled anyway.

ikarosxtheoinos​:

@silaskyun​

The club was alive and Ikaros felt as if he was having an out of body experience, he’d locked eyes with just about everyone on the dance floor. Slowly, the writhing bodies pressed in the club were turning ugly, a fight broke out after a couple of guys started getting into it. Each side imagined slights from the other as Ikaros toyed with the a few auditory and visual hallucinations. A bartender felt someone’s drink hit their face and with a practiced ease, Ikaros triggered a tactile illusion to simulate the cold sting of the ice and whatever else was in the glass. A girl slapped some guy and called over her boyfriend after she swore he’d grabbed her from the back, there was a heated dispute between a group of guys, another individual crying in the corner as everyone teamed up against them. 

Ikaros was having fun. Whatever enjoyable and predictable scene might have typically transpired on a Saturday night was something else entirely. Anarchy. Someone jumped over the bar and started throwing bottles across the room before security was lifting them back over, bodies were hitting the ground, people were weeping and running and laughing and fornicating. It hadn’t taken much, not really. People see what they needed to see and madness could follow. 

The kobalos sat at the bar, inconspicuous and barely noticeable, except perhaps that he was the only person who appeared even remotely sane. He met eyes with some good looking guy who looked terrified, Ikaros hadn’t afflicted him with any illusions but - was he casting some of his own? Ikaros was old, he remembered when the cubi were much more numerous than what numbers remained now. Still handsome, but maybe not as striking as Ikaros had initially thought. “Afraid you’re probably going to have to make your own drink,” the bartender hit the floor and Ikaros tilted his glass towards Silas, “don’t think you’re getting served tonight.”

The only time the incubus really found himself inside a club was when he had pushed himself to the limits of his hunger— starving and looking for easy prey. Random strangers off the street seemed to always lead him into tricky situations and the inebriated ones hardly knew their soul had been tainted. They blamed it on the liquor or whatever drug they had ingested, leaving Silas in the clear. That’s why he hung onto the sidelines more often than not, playing mysterious, just to see if he could lure any of them in without having to try for it. This allowed him to keep an eye on his surroundings, watch the crowd and how they moved. Most importantly, if any of them were actually just wolves in sheep’s clothing.

But this was a whole different sequence entirely. Disorder and havoc had seemed to take over every inch, making it burdensome to pick out his dinner. He watched as an argument over a woman ensued, her drink hitting the floor while the man Silas assumed she was supposedly there with planted a beer bottle on the others head. Next sight was the bartender who seemed to be wrestling with some of his own issues, droplets of liquid still making their way down his face before he suddenly hit the floor.

A petrified look crept onto the cubi’s face before he noticed a man clearly sizing him up. Silas wondered how long he had actually been watching him, realizing then that the stranger was really the only one that appeared to act, well, normal. That sure added to his curiosity, though the scene around him was just as curious. Even the recent festival now seemed utterly tame, along with his years of watching war and rebellion, and his charcoal irises did their best to capture as much as they could. “I’d say,” rapid head nods, followed by him unhesitatingly reaching for the closest bottle of clear liquor to refresh his drink and placing a few dollars in the bartender's tip jar, “Never seen it like this before.” ‘Never seen this ever,’ he thought as he looked back down at the bartender that was now unconscious, “Think he’s alright?”