Reapersoriano​:

In the end, always laugh. And do not lose this strange habit of having faith in life.

Daniel C. L.  (via convertions)

ianthe-moreau‌:

WHO - OPEN

WHERE - Any local bar/club

WHEN - 2/28/2020

@corinthbaystarters​

Holding her fingers up towards the sky, Ianthe appeared to be attempting to push the moon closer to Venus, squinting her eyes. Ianthe tilted her head back, blowing a billowy halo of smoke above head, “Venus and the moon are kissing.” Ianthe spoke to the space around her, to the walls with ears and the shadows who took solace in the dimly glowing ally that she had. “Smoke?” She asked before her death Ianthe would have never picked up a cigarette, but now- it seemed trivial- it wouldn’t be what killed her anyway.

“Aphrodite and Selene, correct?” Silas asked, only having come more into contact with the Greek gods as he had moved closer to the Mediterranean area. Some of it was still new to him and he hid that fact, only what he actually was. He nodded at the offer, “Yes, thank you.” His voice soft— warm even as he took the cigarette from her hand and lit it. Silence settling over them as they each looked up at the night sky, both clearly in their own mindscape.

opheliancano​:

@silaskyun​

An incubus is capable of recognizing furies. Ophelia knows this, and dislikes it heavily. So why is she hanging around one of their kind, again? The thought is slightly perplexing, and one she does not readily have an answer to. Perhaps it’s because she finds him interesting — of that she has no problem admitting. And incubuses were created to sow chaos and harm, and she hasn’t quite decided on how much of a threat he poses to the good people of the city yet, so maybe that’s it too. He visits the tea shop, she visits his knick knack store; it feels like a delicate game being played, each side sizing the other up and taking notes. Yet for all her reasons and excuses, the one she least of all wants to acknowledge is the simple fact that… well, she wanted to. And here they are now, standing in front of what appears to be a dart throwing competition, at a celebration she never would have dreamed about in her lifetime. Ophelia smiles and turns to her companion. “Well Silas, how’s your aim?” 

So he was more than just a little curious about the tea shop waitress, the incubus was allowed the right. It wasn’t just that his senses would buzz the moment Ophelia would find her way around him, holding onto much of the same interest as himself, but the intrigue of who she was and what made her tick. They shared similar qualities and maybe that was part of it. Both quiet, but much like an iceberg— the two of them held many layers of depth underneath. “Rusty,” he replied honestly, grabbing for one of the darts and shifting his body for a good aim. Years had gone by since the last time the incubus had actually attempted a game such as this, but he tried anyway and watched as his dart missed the desired target. A defeated smile emerged as he turned to look at Ophelia, wondering if she was choking back a giggle and moved to let her continue the game. “Definitely much better at being moral support than playing the game, it seems,” Silas wasn’t all that upset about it, spending much of his life being on the outskirts looking in and finding comfort in the position.

Steven Yeun photographed by Matteo Mobilio for GQ Magazine (2018)

☎

NAME: Nia 📚

RINGTONE: mädchen

PICTURE: battle buddy.

LAST TEXT RECEIVED: I need to see you. Something happened…

LAST TEXT SENT: I’ll meet you anywhere. Just tell me where you are.

❛  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.

@silaskyun​ happy birthday loveeeeee 

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?”

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.

giovannixrusso‌:

A festival. Perhaps Gio might have deemed it quaint or even a bit droll were the streets not positively littered with half-naked citizens. A tribute to Dionysus indeed. Unfortunately, he hadn’t come to partake in the exuberant festivities so much as he had to undertake some recon whilst senses fell prey to inebriation. “Silas, isn’t it? The owner of Knick Knack? Don’t worry, I’m not here to sell you something. Quite the opposite.” @silaskyun

Gently moving his mask upon his forehead, Silas gave the man a quizzical look as stated his name and purpose. It wasn’t odd that he had at least heard of him or the shop, but the lead into the conversation had the incubus put on edge. Though, he had to admit that the last few weeks had already placed him there— “Yeah? Then what exactly can I help you with?”