Silco (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
conflictresolution) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
expiationlogs2024-06-29 12:02 pm
conflictresolution) wrote in expiationlogs2024-06-29 12:02 pm
All my reasons cut like knives (Open)
Who: Silco
Where: Multiple Locations around Aldrip
What: A nightmare-induced jaunt through the streets of Aldrip thanks to recent events from the Tower.
Warnings: PTSD, anxiety, mention of strangulation
i. On the run
It was the same reoccurring nightmare which stole any restfulness away from him. Even as he sat bolt upright, the images clouded his vision and his breath caught in this throat without anywhere to go but choke him. Suddenly, his silk tie was too tight, feeling like the slow pressure of fingers closing around his throat, and his fingers tore at the material in an uncharacteristic panic.
His vest felt too constricting, hugging his chest so that his ribs couldn’t expand. The illusion sensation of knees on his chest holding him down drew him from his seat and had him frantically removing the vest to fall on the floor next to white tie.
Logic had been overridden by a sense of internal alarm and panic, and Silco was opening a window to the office of the Last Drop. Within seconds of the cold night hair hitting him, he was out the window and scrambling down the two storeys to the ground; physicality was never his strong suit but he was a born and raised fissure folk and moving around – including up and down – was not actually difficult for him and the Lanes buildings were built with outcroppings.
He took off running the moment his socked feet touch the ground, sliding through the narrow alley and out on the streets. Chased by the nightmare, of the frantic old pain to just survive, he sprinted away with no mindful thoughts to combat the adrenaline as he tore through the streets and heading towards the edge of town.
He slipped across streets, jammed himself through almost impossibly narrow alleys and hopped fences. He was barefoot and disheveled within a few blocks, and his gaze was unfocused with a panicked need to flee as if he were being chased.
ii. Drop in the bucket
The salt in the air hung thick, and it was the only thing that stopped his careening mad panicked run but not until he felt the water roll over his bare cut up feet. He took a moment to draw a long shaky breath into his lungs, and almost mindlessly, Silco walked into the gently rolling waves while silhouetted by the moon hanging in the sky.
To his knees then his waist and out further until he was chest deep in the ocean, which took him quite far out given the gentle decline of the portion of beach he had ended up in. His fingers traced over the surface of the water as he bobbed before he simply sank under the surface and stayed there.
There was a comfort in the reminder of a place similar to this was where he had once let his weakness die, where he had stepped out from the shadow of someone he had once trusted. It was time to do that again, just basking in the embrace of the water even as his lungs began to burn from being submerged for minutes.
Have you had enough?
iii. Beach contemplations
He found himself sitting on the beach staring out at the waves gently lapping at the shore. Even with his legs drawn up towards his chest, the water still rolled over his feet. His forearms rested on his raised knees, fingers entwined together to keep them from potentially falling into motion. His soaked clothing clung to his frame, though it was starting to dry stiff from the salt of the water.
The moon hung low on the horizon, providing an indication of time having passed. It would be dawn within a few hours, and the reasonable part of his brain knew that he couldn’t be out here on the beach when the town began to come awake. This was not a scene he wanted to be caught staring at, not when there was the safety of any one of his businesses or the empty home waiting for him.
Slowly, he reached up and pushed drying stiff hair from falling his face then drew his fingers down over the yellowed bruises on his throat where he had been throttled. Like father, like daughter… it was a legacy he doubted Vander would want to be known for. The girl? He expected such a situation to go down as a point of pride; that was the differences of a generation.
And what would be his legacy? Zaun would survive, and that was enough. As for Aldrip? He was still building his legacy, but to what point and purpose? He knew why; his reasons had been lined up since he had arrived, and he knew they hadn’t changed. The question still lingered like a bitter pill to be swallowed.
He bowed his head towards his knees and sighed, lingering in the moment alone on the beach.
iv. Walk of shame
Well, now that that shameful incident was over, it was time to walk back home like some self-aware drunk knowing they had made a fool of themselves in public. As he had come with nothing more than his shirt and pants, Silco simply dusted off sand from his clothing and began to trek along the streets of Aldrip.
It was early enough in the morning that he knew few would be awake. So he took the most direct route towards his house. Within the first block, he began to leave faint bloodied footprints and his head was bowed down in an effort to ignore anyone who might actually be heading to their destination that may notice him in his current disheveled state.
"I’m not interested in escort."
Where: Multiple Locations around Aldrip
What: A nightmare-induced jaunt through the streets of Aldrip thanks to recent events from the Tower.
Warnings: PTSD, anxiety, mention of strangulation
i. On the run
It was the same reoccurring nightmare which stole any restfulness away from him. Even as he sat bolt upright, the images clouded his vision and his breath caught in this throat without anywhere to go but choke him. Suddenly, his silk tie was too tight, feeling like the slow pressure of fingers closing around his throat, and his fingers tore at the material in an uncharacteristic panic.
His vest felt too constricting, hugging his chest so that his ribs couldn’t expand. The illusion sensation of knees on his chest holding him down drew him from his seat and had him frantically removing the vest to fall on the floor next to white tie.
Logic had been overridden by a sense of internal alarm and panic, and Silco was opening a window to the office of the Last Drop. Within seconds of the cold night hair hitting him, he was out the window and scrambling down the two storeys to the ground; physicality was never his strong suit but he was a born and raised fissure folk and moving around – including up and down – was not actually difficult for him and the Lanes buildings were built with outcroppings.
He took off running the moment his socked feet touch the ground, sliding through the narrow alley and out on the streets. Chased by the nightmare, of the frantic old pain to just survive, he sprinted away with no mindful thoughts to combat the adrenaline as he tore through the streets and heading towards the edge of town.
He slipped across streets, jammed himself through almost impossibly narrow alleys and hopped fences. He was barefoot and disheveled within a few blocks, and his gaze was unfocused with a panicked need to flee as if he were being chased.
ii. Drop in the bucket
The salt in the air hung thick, and it was the only thing that stopped his careening mad panicked run but not until he felt the water roll over his bare cut up feet. He took a moment to draw a long shaky breath into his lungs, and almost mindlessly, Silco walked into the gently rolling waves while silhouetted by the moon hanging in the sky.
To his knees then his waist and out further until he was chest deep in the ocean, which took him quite far out given the gentle decline of the portion of beach he had ended up in. His fingers traced over the surface of the water as he bobbed before he simply sank under the surface and stayed there.
There was a comfort in the reminder of a place similar to this was where he had once let his weakness die, where he had stepped out from the shadow of someone he had once trusted. It was time to do that again, just basking in the embrace of the water even as his lungs began to burn from being submerged for minutes.
Have you had enough?
iii. Beach contemplations
He found himself sitting on the beach staring out at the waves gently lapping at the shore. Even with his legs drawn up towards his chest, the water still rolled over his feet. His forearms rested on his raised knees, fingers entwined together to keep them from potentially falling into motion. His soaked clothing clung to his frame, though it was starting to dry stiff from the salt of the water.
The moon hung low on the horizon, providing an indication of time having passed. It would be dawn within a few hours, and the reasonable part of his brain knew that he couldn’t be out here on the beach when the town began to come awake. This was not a scene he wanted to be caught staring at, not when there was the safety of any one of his businesses or the empty home waiting for him.
Slowly, he reached up and pushed drying stiff hair from falling his face then drew his fingers down over the yellowed bruises on his throat where he had been throttled. Like father, like daughter… it was a legacy he doubted Vander would want to be known for. The girl? He expected such a situation to go down as a point of pride; that was the differences of a generation.
And what would be his legacy? Zaun would survive, and that was enough. As for Aldrip? He was still building his legacy, but to what point and purpose? He knew why; his reasons had been lined up since he had arrived, and he knew they hadn’t changed. The question still lingered like a bitter pill to be swallowed.
He bowed his head towards his knees and sighed, lingering in the moment alone on the beach.
iv. Walk of shame
Well, now that that shameful incident was over, it was time to walk back home like some self-aware drunk knowing they had made a fool of themselves in public. As he had come with nothing more than his shirt and pants, Silco simply dusted off sand from his clothing and began to trek along the streets of Aldrip.
It was early enough in the morning that he knew few would be awake. So he took the most direct route towards his house. Within the first block, he began to leave faint bloodied footprints and his head was bowed down in an effort to ignore anyone who might actually be heading to their destination that may notice him in his current disheveled state.
"I’m not interested in escort."
no subject
Aldrip was no England. He had no lands, no name, no wealth, no allies. He was utterly alone in this strange world, fumbling around like a blind bird trying to flying on his own. He knew better than to show his true colors, keeping his pride and ambition hidden along with his true colors.
But the harshness does not have enough time to settle on his face before it melts away in face of yet another surprise rush of new, confusion emotions spark as he feels the weight shift on him once again. This time pressing closer with a intimacy that wasn't there before. He blinks twice, strange anticipation growing inside him and throat growing tight.]
Sil-- [He begins to ask, voice low and hushed. But then the rest follows and Silco reveals his deductions of the night. His eyes widens and the color on his face drains, the previous flush disappearing in a blink of an eye. The cold fear strikes down on his body, but not like needles prickling on his skin. No, this time it's like a sharp blade of sword cutting him apart. The breath gets stuck on his throat as the wines coil around him, choking him.
And ah. There it is again. The dark forest with its taunting whispers are back.
Richard pulls back, withdrawing away from the source of heat and from Silco. Both of his arms cross over his chest protectively.]
What--- What did you say? [He croaks, his own voice echoing in his own ears.]
no subject
His passive expression changed to mild confusion before he shifted to neutrality as he watched the emotions flit across the younger man's face. That was the expression of fear, and the stiffness of the body caused him to still in return as a just in case.
He let Richard go, sitting up as he watched the younger man and waited to see if Richard would get up and flee. Suddenly he was far more awake now than he had been since arriving, and he eased closer again once it seemed that the younger man would stay on the pelt. He made a point to not touch Richard but brought himself in close proximity.]
I said you bind your chest. It's okay. It's perfectly natural to do so for some. If this frightens you, your secret will remain with me. I meant to harm by pointing it out, but... your story and now the binding...
no subject
'Hey, this kid is a girl..' The face of a bandit had transformed in a blink of an eye from a man to a beast, looking down at piece of meat before him with hungry eyes. All until the truth was revealed and the beast shook in horror and disbelief.
'Stay away from me, demon!' Henry covering in fear on floor, crying for him not to come any closer and begging help from the God.
'Did you think I would despair?' Or Buckingham's controlled words, traveling over his body along with those strong hands that would bring warmth so intense that Richard thought he was burning alive. Eyes seeing and understanding.
Richard's quickly extends out his hand to grasp on Silco's shoulder, fingers curling tightly around the clavicle. It's not to push him away or pull him closer, but to keep him still as he ties to make sense of the moment that is so quickly slipping out of his control. Richard briefly casts his eyes up to the ceiling to try find the source for the choir of voices, whispering to him. But as expected, he sees nothing. Just the shadows of tree branches reaching out to swallow the light of the fireplace.
His pulse quickens as the voices keep encouraging him, sneering and laughing him to go for it. God is not here so what does a demon have to fear? When the man is already there and showing interest despite knowing.
Then, fighting against the fear that would keep him frozen like a deer in headlights, Richard swiftly pushes forward. He adds strength to the push, hoping to shove Silco back enough that he can crawl to straddle the man.]
If you truly wish to know. [He says, bringing his free arm to grip on the man's jaw and force it up to meet his eyes.] If you wish to witness it all.. Then, show me a proof. [The words feel heavy as they slip past his tongue, full of command and still wavering in desperation. Desperate to see a proof of loyalty, that he will not be rejected no matter what.]
cw: nudity & ...groping?
There was something in Richard's minds eye he knew, but whether it was Joan or some other haunted imagery he dared not ask at a time like this. His gaze flicked to the ceiling but aside from the shadows moving because of the flames in the hearth there was nothing to look at except bare ceiling.
And like so many times before, Silco did not resist being shoved backwards. He sprawled backwards on the pelt, the blanket trapped under him so he lay in the vulnerable position of nudity. Richard covered the distance quickly, and suddenly, he found himself looking up at the younger man - woman? - over him, felt the weight of that frame on his own.]
It's okay. [He repeated the words like a promise but carefully. He understood the desperation for acceptance well, and he knew what had to be done.] I'm going to touch you, Richard. [It was a warning against that command, to give Richard time to move away from him from his hands as he lifted them. He kept them in plain view as he reached out to grasp Richard's shoulders first then slid his hands down over that flattened chest with no revulsion, only curiosity.
At the bottom of the slide of Richard's torso, his hands slipped up under the loosen linen to slide back up the same way.] I accept you as you are, Richard, demon or human or whatever you wish to be referred to. I will not reject any part of you.