Up&up // Coldplay

ancient greek word of the day: ἀθάνατος (athanatos), deathless, immortal

@ and %

@ — noraSilas: WOOO. Not sure how I did it, but just about cut my finger off with the jigsaw on that custom wall art. Silas: This is probably the last time I do something as intricate as a paisley design.

% — noraSilas: Think you could come by the shop today? I have a few commissions that have been requested for you and a few of your rings sold over the weekend. I’ll be in the shop until 8pm or later, so anytime works for me.Silas: Oh, and feel free to bring in more products to replace those that were sold. Everyone is loving your work.

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.

Over time, Silas had gotten used to forgetting a day or two from the past. Memory had this oddness about it that could be fleeting or become twisted and he had noticed this gradually as the years passed on. That’s what his journaling had been for, a habit that started during the war and only continued as things worsened in his home country. But this was and felt so different. Sure a day would go by that might be less than eventful, causing the cubi to pause at the memory of the day or two before— but the day was gone. Not just little cracks of what happened, completely wiped from existence. All he had was the various notes he had written later that night about the oddity and curiosity of what he had seen that night. However, none of it made sense and Silas couldn’t even draw out the connection. When his mind would try to dig it out, it was as though a dark blank was placed there instead.

Tapping lightly on the end of his pen, Silas sat puzzled on a bench outside his shop. The sign currently read closed as he grappled with the situation. As if the memory wasn’t hard enough for him, the damn Eidolon’s wouldn’t let him be. They were trying their hardest to chip away at him, but his attentions had been in so many different places that seeing his dead relatives had been the last of his concerns. The scale and the journal entry was driving the cubi madder than any Eidolon could. Even the fact that his sister wasn’t present in his hauntings didn’t phase him, a detail that wouldn’t have usually gone past the young cubi and instead the emerald shimmer flooded his thoughts. He shuffled it through his fingers tips, eyes locked and entranced while the world around him seemed to keep beating. How could he have possibly noticed the shadow of a man coming towards his direction?

@maddcxaquinc​

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.

Do you like what you are?

Silas: Like is a very strong word. Accepted is probably the more accurate way of saying it and I don’t think I would go as far as saying I hate what I am either. I have become something for a reason, even if it was completely out of ignorance and eventually I will understand the depth of it all. 

Several days had gone by with the curse lifted, but Silas was still showing hints of fatigue. Nightmares had dissipated into solid REM sleep, though the incubus’s body had yet to fully recover. He kept the shop closed for those days, placing a sign for anyone that came by that read “temporarily closed due to illness”, and stayed huddled up in his loft just above. Guilt swiftly crawled into the sheets as he slumbered. The scale had plagued him, changed his core moral compass to something the cubi had never expected nor fully realized. Not until Safiye had ripped it from his grasp to pulverize it, bits of jade and emerald dust fading into nothingness. When he woke, all Silas could think about was his fellow incubus and the way he had treated someone he considered a close friend. Lies and for what reason? An object and a false sense of doing a good deed? Hardly the path the Kyun was known to walk and it showed in the way Gabriel believed him.

The smell of books permeated his nose as the cubi slunk into the library, peeking around each corner in hopes to find the fellow cubi working his usual shift. A text was too impersonal for an apology, charcoal hues bouncing around the room until chocolate locks were seen and Silas made his way over. “Hey—” his usual warm grin and eyes that actually looked as though there was life behind them, “Got a break soon?”

@gabrielxnikephoros​

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.

antoinagrcgor‌:

Antonia was holding a collection of prints in her grasp. She heard the shop owner walk over by of his footsteps in the creak in the old cypress floors. She smiled + looked over her shoulder to meet his eye-line. “Actually, I found a few of your prints that I enjoyed.” Her German accent flowed from her red lips like honey. “Do you have anything printed from any local parks?”

There was nothing like seeing a familiar face when living nomadic for years, bringing a smile out of Silas that was more reserved for them. Antonia was one of those familiar faces and someone that he never regretted meeting. She had always amazed him with her spirit, conviction of always wanting to be the best she can for those around her, and hardly thought of herself before others. Those spirits could be rare not just in the human world, but the supernatural too. “I think I still have a few from my travels to Samariá Gorge, but that isn’t exactly local. Maybe something from Kolokotronis or Loutraki is more what you mean?”

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.