Lily of the Valley (CA - Silas)
Quote from Adriana on September 10, 2020, 10:27 pmOh.
A dietitian and physical therapist. I tried not to look too relieved, but arched my eyebrows up a little and attempted to look pleased as I stepped further into the room and adjusted my collar.
“Ophelia, Phormis.” I nodded to each in turn, then looked over to what could only be Acanthus’ hulking shoulders behind a newspaper. “Acanthus.”
There was one missing or someone wasn’t being honest-Cilix-who I would have assumed was Phormis. I tucked it away for now as I paced over to the bar and looked warily at the brown concotion.
“Sooo.. what eh.. exactly is that?” I tried not to wrinkle my nose. “I’m vegetarian, by the by.. not that I’m certain that’s made out of anything even organic, but for future reference.”
With that I looked over to Ophelia.
“What is the physical therapy for?”
Oh.
A dietitian and physical therapist. I tried not to look too relieved, but arched my eyebrows up a little and attempted to look pleased as I stepped further into the room and adjusted my collar.
“Ophelia, Phormis.” I nodded to each in turn, then looked over to what could only be Acanthus’ hulking shoulders behind a newspaper. “Acanthus.”
There was one missing or someone wasn’t being honest-Cilix-who I would have assumed was Phormis. I tucked it away for now as I paced over to the bar and looked warily at the brown concotion.
“Sooo.. what eh.. exactly is that?” I tried not to wrinkle my nose. “I’m vegetarian, by the by.. not that I’m certain that’s made out of anything even organic, but for future reference.”
With that I looked over to Ophelia.
“What is the physical therapy for?”
Quote from Adriana on October 9, 2020, 10:46 am------
Physically-the seven days did well by me... I had forgotten the natural complexion of my skin wasn't a sickly shade of gray. The Italian-Greek had come back and I was back to an olive shade. The warmer tone and the bags receding under my eyes made me look almost decent.
They took away my cigarettes and caffeine, and by the third day the migraines were so miserable I wanted to cry like a three year old who'd had his favorite blanket ripped out of his vulnerable little hands. I lashed out at everyone with fervor that might make the Hulk tremble. By the fourth day I was feeling better and apologizing for third day Silas' behavior.
By the fifth day I'd relearned what hunger was. I tend to get hyper focused on things and eating-or even remembering to feel hungry-would fall somewhere in about twentieth place on my list of priorities.. the best remedy for this is apparently to eat three square meals a day until your body realizes it likes food. I put on some healthy weight I didn't realize I'd lost.
By the sixth day, I'd regained strength in my arm, the shoulder of which had previously taken a bullet during the exchange with the Hunters on Phantom Mountain. I didn't realize how much it had been damaged. Turns out you're not supposed to "walk off" gunshot wounds, who'da thunk it.
And by the last day, I'd graduated my sabbatical. I was more than ready to leave. I'd even managed to send someone on an errand to pick me out new clothes to replace the ones that were abandoned in the mine. I had a fancy new three piece blue suit and new black Oxfords ordered in, along with a couple of more casual slacks and button ups. I elected to wear the three piece to my meeting with Baltronan over lunch that afternoon..
------
Physically-the seven days did well by me... I had forgotten the natural complexion of my skin wasn't a sickly shade of gray. The Italian-Greek had come back and I was back to an olive shade. The warmer tone and the bags receding under my eyes made me look almost decent.
They took away my cigarettes and caffeine, and by the third day the migraines were so miserable I wanted to cry like a three year old who'd had his favorite blanket ripped out of his vulnerable little hands. I lashed out at everyone with fervor that might make the Hulk tremble. By the fourth day I was feeling better and apologizing for third day Silas' behavior.
By the fifth day I'd relearned what hunger was. I tend to get hyper focused on things and eating-or even remembering to feel hungry-would fall somewhere in about twentieth place on my list of priorities.. the best remedy for this is apparently to eat three square meals a day until your body realizes it likes food. I put on some healthy weight I didn't realize I'd lost.
By the sixth day, I'd regained strength in my arm, the shoulder of which had previously taken a bullet during the exchange with the Hunters on Phantom Mountain. I didn't realize how much it had been damaged. Turns out you're not supposed to "walk off" gunshot wounds, who'da thunk it.
And by the last day, I'd graduated my sabbatical. I was more than ready to leave. I'd even managed to send someone on an errand to pick me out new clothes to replace the ones that were abandoned in the mine. I had a fancy new three piece blue suit and new black Oxfords ordered in, along with a couple of more casual slacks and button ups. I elected to wear the three piece to my meeting with Baltronan over lunch that afternoon..
Quote from Mae on November 28, 2020, 9:49 pmThere was a well known gentleman's club on the ninth floor of the Curtain Building at the corner of Cedar and Longview. It was a prestigious place which boasted of an elaborate interior, though few people claimed to see it. In all probability, the reason was that the building itself and nearly every aspect of the club was in one way or another regulated and governed by the well-to-do Betine family. Being an old family, dating back to the establishment of the city in the early 1870s, it was believed that the clubhouse and its residents owed a great deal to the Betine's forefather Thomas Ball. As history described him, Thomas Ball was a charismatic gentleman with a penchant for gaining all men's favor and the fondness of women. Many of his descendants were credited for the advancements of the city on the world page, from the city's first sewer system to it's scientific advancements. Even in modern times, to know one of that family was an honor, and to be recommended to the club was a privilege no regular man ever attained.
Such was the import of an invitation which found the elevator to the ninth floor rising. Ophelia and Phormis - or Cilix - whichever one it was - had said their goodbye at the door. Their companionship had been nearly constant throughout the week, during which time they had proved themselves a cunning nuisance, if not comedic custodians. Acanthus' presence had been less noticeable, and at times he simply disappeared, but always was he sitting guard in the night or somewhere around the corner. He spoke little, but he seemed a sympathetic creature in the little he ever conveyed of his nature. He did not accompany the trio to the Curtain Building, but on that last day seemed to put himself away in the little room apartment as if it had become a home to him, and all must assume that it was, for that is where they left him. As for the doctors mentioned only in passing, they never manifested themselves, and save for a few discreet calls answered by Ophelia or Phormis their existence was left entirely to imagination. Today, the other two rode in the same taxi, arrived at the same building, and said "Good day, Uncle Caddy!" Before they turned away from the elevator and ended their association with Silas forever. So it was that Silas was again on his own for the first time in seven days - seven days that felt like ten months for more than one person involved.
There was a well known gentleman's club on the ninth floor of the Curtain Building at the corner of Cedar and Longview. It was a prestigious place which boasted of an elaborate interior, though few people claimed to see it. In all probability, the reason was that the building itself and nearly every aspect of the club was in one way or another regulated and governed by the well-to-do Betine family. Being an old family, dating back to the establishment of the city in the early 1870s, it was believed that the clubhouse and its residents owed a great deal to the Betine's forefather Thomas Ball. As history described him, Thomas Ball was a charismatic gentleman with a penchant for gaining all men's favor and the fondness of women. Many of his descendants were credited for the advancements of the city on the world page, from the city's first sewer system to it's scientific advancements. Even in modern times, to know one of that family was an honor, and to be recommended to the club was a privilege no regular man ever attained.
Such was the import of an invitation which found the elevator to the ninth floor rising. Ophelia and Phormis - or Cilix - whichever one it was - had said their goodbye at the door. Their companionship had been nearly constant throughout the week, during which time they had proved themselves a cunning nuisance, if not comedic custodians. Acanthus' presence had been less noticeable, and at times he simply disappeared, but always was he sitting guard in the night or somewhere around the corner. He spoke little, but he seemed a sympathetic creature in the little he ever conveyed of his nature. He did not accompany the trio to the Curtain Building, but on that last day seemed to put himself away in the little room apartment as if it had become a home to him, and all must assume that it was, for that is where they left him. As for the doctors mentioned only in passing, they never manifested themselves, and save for a few discreet calls answered by Ophelia or Phormis their existence was left entirely to imagination. Today, the other two rode in the same taxi, arrived at the same building, and said "Good day, Uncle Caddy!" Before they turned away from the elevator and ended their association with Silas forever. So it was that Silas was again on his own for the first time in seven days - seven days that felt like ten months for more than one person involved.
Quote from Adriana on November 29, 2020, 4:46 pmA suit might not make a man, but at least it makes him appear one.
Underneath the Armani suit, rich cologne and sleeked back hair - I know, too much - I felt hollow. I looked more put together than I had in, well, I can't remember the last time I was put together. I was Rockafeller in appearances and Quasimodo in spirit. All I needed was a cane, a monocle and a belltower in a church and I could be living epitome of contradiction. And don't give me this sentimental, oh, Quasimodo had virtue, that's enough. No, he had nothing-no house, no girl; he was a sad, sad, little man. Anyway, I can't think of a better analogy at this time.
All joking and analogies aside.. my stomach was sick. While I spent the last week recovering, there were at least two women and a child who were left behind on the mountain. There was nothing I could do the last few days - and dwelling on their situation would only prevent me from recovering, thus hinder me from ever leaving therapy, so by neccessity I had no choice but to put the situation out of my mind.
Stepping out of the apartment where I'd been detained, however, brought it back like a two by four to the gut. It was all I could do to swallow the bile that rose up with the elevator.
I watched the light tick between floors, and as it opened, I felt the vertigo kick in. Then I stepped forward, with no time to take everything in before a well dressed concierge-waiter-greeter (whatever he's called) greeted me.
"Silas Thaddeus," I told him evenly, and he smiled knowingly, responding with a "right this way, sir". Now I had a chance to take it in as I was led to where Mr. Betine was present..
A suit might not make a man, but at least it makes him appear one.
Underneath the Armani suit, rich cologne and sleeked back hair - I know, too much - I felt hollow. I looked more put together than I had in, well, I can't remember the last time I was put together. I was Rockafeller in appearances and Quasimodo in spirit. All I needed was a cane, a monocle and a belltower in a church and I could be living epitome of contradiction. And don't give me this sentimental, oh, Quasimodo had virtue, that's enough. No, he had nothing-no house, no girl; he was a sad, sad, little man. Anyway, I can't think of a better analogy at this time.
All joking and analogies aside.. my stomach was sick. While I spent the last week recovering, there were at least two women and a child who were left behind on the mountain. There was nothing I could do the last few days - and dwelling on their situation would only prevent me from recovering, thus hinder me from ever leaving therapy, so by neccessity I had no choice but to put the situation out of my mind.
Stepping out of the apartment where I'd been detained, however, brought it back like a two by four to the gut. It was all I could do to swallow the bile that rose up with the elevator.
I watched the light tick between floors, and as it opened, I felt the vertigo kick in. Then I stepped forward, with no time to take everything in before a well dressed concierge-waiter-greeter (whatever he's called) greeted me.
"Silas Thaddeus," I told him evenly, and he smiled knowingly, responding with a "right this way, sir". Now I had a chance to take it in as I was led to where Mr. Betine was present..
Quote from Mae on December 11, 2020, 10:22 pmIn the main room of the handsome gentleman's club where Greek pillars held up the ceiling and intricate art decorated the walls, many well dressed men were seated or standing in various attitudes of calm conversation. Silas' escort led him up out of the room and up an elegant staircase to a bright dining room where all the walls were made of glass.
In the corner of the room, seated at a table and looking down through the glass on Pinerich City, was the gentleman in the dark blue suit. When Beta Baltronan's icy blue eyes laid on Silas it was with a sense of perception that was more felt than seen. He stood when Silas was brought over.
"Sit down," he said to Silas. The escort dismissed himself without a word.The Beta likewise seated himself again and poured Silas a glass of wine.
"You look better." He said simply. "How are you feeling?"
In the main room of the handsome gentleman's club where Greek pillars held up the ceiling and intricate art decorated the walls, many well dressed men were seated or standing in various attitudes of calm conversation. Silas' escort led him up out of the room and up an elegant staircase to a bright dining room where all the walls were made of glass.
In the corner of the room, seated at a table and looking down through the glass on Pinerich City, was the gentleman in the dark blue suit. When Beta Baltronan's icy blue eyes laid on Silas it was with a sense of perception that was more felt than seen. He stood when Silas was brought over.
"Sit down," he said to Silas. The escort dismissed himself without a word.
The Beta likewise seated himself again and poured Silas a glass of wine.
"You look better." He said simply. "How are you feeling?"
Quote from Adriana on December 12, 2020, 6:04 pmI sat promptly when asked, and stared long at the wine glass. I didn’t have the heart-or rather guts-to tell the Beta I didn’t drink, that my other vices were plenty. Anyway, I guess I’m not technically smoking at the current point in time, so it’s really a trade. I picked up the stem of the crystal glass-and it was then realized I didnt know how to hold a wine glass-was there a way to hold one?! Which ones the salad fork and which ones the soup spoon? Were my elbows on the table? I took ettiquet lessons growing up.. exhale. Breathing is good. My collar felt tight and I opted to smell the wine and give it a swish, maybe that’d save face and I could pick up the glass again different next time. Whew. Close call. Is this shirt collar too tight? It feels tight.
I felt just as transparent as the walls around me. “How are you feeling,” is a simple enouh question. Somehow the answer, “I’m in a constant state of existential crisis” was never the appropriate response. Probably less so when dealing with powerful men. I doubted “well, I may have inadvertendy sacrificed a member of the pack to murderers” would go over any better. I opted for the predictable, “I’m well, thank you.” and added, fixing my tie, “The sabbitical did my body good. I appreciate that.” then was silent.. “And-how are you and yours?”
Somehow, my question felt out of place. I could see it there, floating in mid air, as tangible and erroneous as a pink flamingo ornament on the perfectly manicured lawn of the White House.
I sat promptly when asked, and stared long at the wine glass. I didn’t have the heart-or rather guts-to tell the Beta I didn’t drink, that my other vices were plenty. Anyway, I guess I’m not technically smoking at the current point in time, so it’s really a trade. I picked up the stem of the crystal glass-and it was then realized I didnt know how to hold a wine glass-was there a way to hold one?! Which ones the salad fork and which ones the soup spoon? Were my elbows on the table? I took ettiquet lessons growing up.. exhale. Breathing is good. My collar felt tight and I opted to smell the wine and give it a swish, maybe that’d save face and I could pick up the glass again different next time. Whew. Close call. Is this shirt collar too tight? It feels tight.
I felt just as transparent as the walls around me. “How are you feeling,” is a simple enouh question. Somehow the answer, “I’m in a constant state of existential crisis” was never the appropriate response. Probably less so when dealing with powerful men. I doubted “well, I may have inadvertendy sacrificed a member of the pack to murderers” would go over any better. I opted for the predictable, “I’m well, thank you.” and added, fixing my tie, “The sabbitical did my body good. I appreciate that.” then was silent.. “And-how are you and yours?”
Somehow, my question felt out of place. I could see it there, floating in mid air, as tangible and erroneous as a pink flamingo ornament on the perfectly manicured lawn of the White House.
Quote from Mae on December 24, 2020, 9:06 pmMr. Betine smiled and looked out the window with a solemnity in his eyes, eyes that glinted brightly as they caught the light. He lifted his glass gently to press his lips, a tiny sip he sipped and placed the glass down.
The room was mostly silent, save for the tinkling and quiet chatter of some men at back in the room.
"I am pleased to hear your time away has revitalized you to some degree." Mr. Betine said, looking across the table. "But I see the man's spirit still lacks. Please, have a drink."
The Beta motioned with his hand to Silas' glass of wine presently.
Mr. Betine smiled and looked out the window with a solemnity in his eyes, eyes that glinted brightly as they caught the light. He lifted his glass gently to press his lips, a tiny sip he sipped and placed the glass down.
The room was mostly silent, save for the tinkling and quiet chatter of some men at back in the room.
"I am pleased to hear your time away has revitalized you to some degree." Mr. Betine said, looking across the table. "But I see the man's spirit still lacks. Please, have a drink."
The Beta motioned with his hand to Silas' glass of wine presently.
Quote from Adriana on January 21, 2021, 2:10 pmI looked down at the rotton purple concotion. It looked back up at me. I wanted to know who the first idiot was who shoved a rancid grape in their mouth and called it a beverage.
“Sir... if it’s all the same to you, I don’t personally drink alcohol. Angry drunks, in my family, I swore it off as a boy.”
I looked down at the rotton purple concotion. It looked back up at me. I wanted to know who the first idiot was who shoved a rancid grape in their mouth and called it a beverage.
“Sir... if it’s all the same to you, I don’t personally drink alcohol. Angry drunks, in my family, I swore it off as a boy.”
Quote from Mae on January 26, 2021, 12:46 amMr. Betine gave a nod of his head, a slow one, and his eyes fell in a slow blink in the same motion. He consented to Silas' wishes, with purpose. Then he interlocked his fingers and set his hands together on the table.
"I mean to put you at ease, Mister Thaddeous," the beta said, leveling his eyes with Silas. "Our meeting today is not to intimidate you. So please, ask for what you will, make yourself comfortable."
The beta turned comfortably in his seat so his gaze could rest out the window once more, looking north.
"We spoke the other day about names," he said, "There is more.""When you joined us," Balthazar looked at Silas again as he spoke. "You were given the privilege of choosing your clan name; a privilege given to a select few. Your choice was appropriate, given your history, but also for reasons which were discussed amongst us the evening of the occasion. At that time, the council approved the mark which you would bear for the rest of your life; the mark all Svalnaglas shall know you by; the mark of bond and blood by Fangs under Earth's Moon. As fang and moon are both white, so too is the mark, as was explained to you the night you received it."
"In the stone ages, man fought with wood and stone - earth's simple tools; with arrows and bows he earned his daily meat. The wood composed the shaft, and the stone composed the arrowhead. The arrowhead you wear on your brow is the crescent moon; a symbol associated with the Baltronan family since this pack was founded. The direction of the arrow is also relevant, it aims inward, not outward. It is from the nose to the mind; from learning to cunning; from an outsider to a brother."
"As you see, the mark of the Svalnaglas is a story as well as a marking, when understood properly. It was intended that we should know our own even should we be separated for years or having been proved and never introduced; for the Svalnaglas are both many and one. 'By a mark of order, there shall never be chaos. In my need, you shall help me.' So said Thomas Ballantine in the conception of it."
Mr. Betine gave a nod of his head, a slow one, and his eyes fell in a slow blink in the same motion. He consented to Silas' wishes, with purpose. Then he interlocked his fingers and set his hands together on the table.
"I mean to put you at ease, Mister Thaddeous," the beta said, leveling his eyes with Silas. "Our meeting today is not to intimidate you. So please, ask for what you will, make yourself comfortable."
The beta turned comfortably in his seat so his gaze could rest out the window once more, looking north.
"We spoke the other day about names," he said, "There is more."
"When you joined us," Balthazar looked at Silas again as he spoke. "You were given the privilege of choosing your clan name; a privilege given to a select few. Your choice was appropriate, given your history, but also for reasons which were discussed amongst us the evening of the occasion. At that time, the council approved the mark which you would bear for the rest of your life; the mark all Svalnaglas shall know you by; the mark of bond and blood by Fangs under Earth's Moon. As fang and moon are both white, so too is the mark, as was explained to you the night you received it."
"In the stone ages, man fought with wood and stone - earth's simple tools; with arrows and bows he earned his daily meat. The wood composed the shaft, and the stone composed the arrowhead. The arrowhead you wear on your brow is the crescent moon; a symbol associated with the Baltronan family since this pack was founded. The direction of the arrow is also relevant, it aims inward, not outward. It is from the nose to the mind; from learning to cunning; from an outsider to a brother."
"As you see, the mark of the Svalnaglas is a story as well as a marking, when understood properly. It was intended that we should know our own even should we be separated for years or having been proved and never introduced; for the Svalnaglas are both many and one. 'By a mark of order, there shall never be chaos. In my need, you shall help me.' So said Thomas Ballantine in the conception of it."
Quote from Adriana on January 27, 2021, 8:33 pmI felt myself relax a little, tension in my shoulders and jaw releasing like a taught bowstring being loosed. Looking over my shoulder, I flagged down a waiter with a wave of my hand and ordered a cup of tea and a crueller.
I listened to Mr. Betine and felt the uneasiness settle back in as he spoke. Finally when he finished, I rested my elbow on the table and leaned my head into my forefinger and thumb, pressing them between my eyebrows. I could feel where the skin was pinched up and it was abudandly clear how obvious my discomfort had been-I must have looked constipated.
Looking up long enough to thank the waiter, I cleared my throat and took a sip of the hot tea.
“What would you like to dicscuss?”
I felt myself relax a little, tension in my shoulders and jaw releasing like a taught bowstring being loosed. Looking over my shoulder, I flagged down a waiter with a wave of my hand and ordered a cup of tea and a crueller.
I listened to Mr. Betine and felt the uneasiness settle back in as he spoke. Finally when he finished, I rested my elbow on the table and leaned my head into my forefinger and thumb, pressing them between my eyebrows. I could feel where the skin was pinched up and it was abudandly clear how obvious my discomfort had been-I must have looked constipated.
Looking up long enough to thank the waiter, I cleared my throat and took a sip of the hot tea.
“What would you like to dicscuss?”
