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
Ange may not have the most clear image of the place Silco comes from, but it wouldn't surprise her if things were usually fought out on at least a slightly more even level there. It would explain why he'd immediately try to find fault within the situation with himself like that.
Unlike her. With the world she comes from, Ange is fully well aware sometimes you're horribly outmatched. Even when you try, there are things you just can't fight back against, since the difference between you and that thing is just too big.
"Whether it was something spawned by this place or someone else here trapped with us.. It's all just cheating. We're not fighting on an even level." She huffs, clearly displeased. Not with Silco, but with this world. Her words make that pretty clear, anyway. "Though I'm sure this situation would love for us to blame ourselves for it all the same, despite them refusing to put us on a fair battleground."
no subject
And yet, if the situation had been similar, he knew the result would have been the same. The sister was someone who he needed certain advantages to overcome her physically or at least he needed to take the initiative and catch her by surprise. She had come for him before, several times in the Lanes and even here. It was a matter of time.
He had assumed the unspoken truce would hold. He was a fool.
"We aren't fighting at all," he said simply, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. "We toil and play their games and it will all not matter one way or another in this place. We are here to the amusement of our overlords," he said with a shake of his head. "Truth is little more than a survivor's story."
no subject
Then she makes a slight gesture with her hand, and the golden butterfly flies up from the sand, instead landing on top of Silco's leg.
"Take that one with you when you leave the beach. They're not all that smart, but it should at least be able to alert you when there's some sort of danger." Not that it always helps in this place. Sometimes the danger is so sudden that one can't be alerted to it. Sometimes the danger is so big that you can't do a thing about it, even when you know it's coming.
But it feels better than doing nothing, especially when she's sitting right here with someone who's obviously struggling in some way. And Silco is-- He hasn't been that bad to her, right? He's taken her seriously, which is more than Ange can say of most adults in her life - or maybe most people in her life, period.
"It should at least give you a head start."
no subject
He reached out with a hand to nudge the little magical creature onto his finger so that he could observe it closer to his face. Why Ange would give him such a thing was beyond him; he preferred such matters to be transactional to know where he stood. Yet, he found himself reminded of the gaping silence where Jinx would normally fill it with some noise and then simply accepted the butterfly. "How will it alert me to danger, and how long will it last in such a state?"
He turned his head to observe Ange next to him. She had never disrespected him, and for that, he had considered her someone worth keeping on his contact list. They had interesting discussions where others simply grew angry with their situation.
"Do you wish payment for my little companion?"
no subject
It used to be tied a little bit more to her concentration, but shifting it to her magical energy in general makes it a little easier to not have to pay attention to these little ones all the time. It makes gifting one of them away to him not feel like all that big of a deal to her.
Hence why the teenager shrugs a little, before adding, a beat later: "See it as a gift. I don't like seeing you like this."
Because it makes her feel bad. Because it makes her worry.
Ange would never say any of these things out loud if she can help it, so rather than going for that explanation, instead--
"It doesn't suit you."
no subject
It gave a few experimental flaps of its golden wings before it took flight with little, if any effort at all. He watched it, folding his arm over the other across his knees. It moved like a real or mechanical butterfly, seemingly innocent on its business. It was rather a marvel and certainly worth some compensation if it actually alerted him to danger.
He turned his eyes from the butterfly to Ange next to him in the sand. He made a soft 'hmm' sound as he was left contemplating her comment. "It won't happen again," he agreed softly. He preferred to keep such humiliations behind closed doors if they were to occur at all.
"And what, pray tell, does suit me in your opinion?" Since they were apparently being honest.
no subject
".. Usually you're all business."
It doesn't sound like a bad thing, judging by the way Ange says it. She thinks all business is a good thing. A perfectly fine thing. Usually it's easier when you don't have to talk about feelings, and when the person on the other end of the conversation actually seems to respect your time and information, rather than rambling on about inane things like parties.
"I guess.." Her voice trails off. It'd be easy to say something a little less personal here. It's what Ange would usually go for.
On the other hand, he still seems a little weirdly vulnerable, and maybe he'll feel less bad about being the only one with a part of his soul bare for anyone to see if she admits to something too, even if it's relatively small.
"It kind of made you seem unflappable. Relying on adults always seems like a bad idea to me, but I guess you seemed like someone just a little bit dependable." Ange does her best to say it nonchalantly, like the way she says anything, but the content of her words makes it clear that it's definitely at least a bit more than just regular nonchalance buried underneath those words.
no subject
He did appreciate Ange's candor and also her restraint. She was a young woman who reminded him of a few subordinates loyal to his cause. They had restraint and needed action as well as intelligent conversation to remain on board; they wanted results and were not unwilling to debate how to achieve it either.
He ran his hand through his mused hair again, pushing it back from continually trying to fall into his face. He hadn't been impressed with her when they had first met, but he considered her one of the few smart people worth actually talking to in this place.
"A little bit dependable? My, just throwing out all the personal compliments tonight," he remarked with just a hint of sarcasm. He would admit that he knew very little, if anything, personal about her. He'd never asked, just as she had not replied in kind to him. It was rather refreshing. "I assume there have been many adults who have failed you in the past with a remark like that?"
no subject
Her answer is less sarcastic now, though. More genuine, though--
"All of them either tried to kill me or sell me out to people who'd kill me."
--she says it weirdly nonchalantly. Or at least, with a fairly successful attempt at nonchalance in her tone. It'd be complete if it wasn't for the weird, far-off look in her eyes.
"That doesn't exactly make for a great basis of trust, does it."
no subject
This was entering the realm of personal information, but there was also an opportunity to know more about her. She was currently seeing him at his worst, so what did he have to lose in asking? Ange had given him the impression of someone that kept other's at arms length as much as possible, but perhaps the constant suspicion of capture or murder had allowed her to build some sense of loyalty with adults here.
"Why would you be so eager to go home to that as well?"
cw: talk of (passive) suicidal ideation
It's partially simple because it always feels easier to talk about things this way - without thinking about them too hard, without giving them the time or space to hurt her if she'd consider it for a moment longer - but also because she's pretty sure Silco will understand, even with just that little to go off. He's business-minded, after all.
"My family has a ridiculous amount of money, but they all died. Except for me. So it's easy for other people to see me as nothing more than a walking bag of money, ready for them to grasp the moment they put a bullet in my head." It's definitely not the sort of thing a teenager should be talking about so casually, especially when she's the subject of this story - but Ange's voice stays surprisingly even, though she doesn't look at Silco as she talks.
"I have to go back because there's one thing I still have to do, no matter what. If they kill me after that, then.." She pauses, then pulls her shoulders up into a shrug. "Whatever."
cw: thoughts of child abduction
"Greed is a powerful motivator for some; it stinks of desperation that twists to brutality." So yes, he understood. He was not above punishing children for the mistakes of their wayward parents, though family was actually rather more of a loose association in Zaun. "Though, it seems to me that it would be easier to capture you and force you to give over your wealth would be more effective."
He didn't know how Last Will and Testaments worked where she was from. He knew Piltover used them to keep old money with old families. There were also worse fates than death, especially for a woman.
"And that event happens to be?"
no subject
Besides - Silco is asking her a question, so she might as well elaborate on that instead, since she minds talking about that part even less. She's been really open about it even back home, after all.
"I need to find out who killed my family and make them pay for it."
There's something harder about her tone. Not too much harder than the usual, but-- considering how flat Ange's tone can be sometimes, the difference is still audible. Like there's a weird kind of determination within her when it comes to this.
"All I need is that truth. Finding that is the one last thing I want to do."
no subject
"Hmm. What is truth but a survivor's story? Your truth is different those those that took your family, but it seems to me that won't matter. Revenge is a cruel necessity." He was fully behind the idea of revenge. He had spent a decade trying to achieve his after all, and it had been extremely sweet when he finally obtained it.
He turned his head to locate the golden butterfly that she had set up as his guardian, and it was off fluttering behind them. He sighed and rubbed his face with the heel of a hand before forcing himself to shift his weight so that he could begin the process of standing again.
"I understand why you need to leave. If we ever discover a way out, I hope you find this revenge you so seek. Until then, I think it time for me to make my way home."
Hobble home. It was fine. He had humiliated himself for the last hour or so anyway.
no subject
Ange herself doesn't get up though. It seems like the girl has decided to stay here and sit in the sand for a little while longer. It's not like she can go back home and go back to sleep anyway.
"Sure," she therefore simply says. With someone she was closer to, she'd say get home safe, but-- even aside from the question of being close to someone, she knows her butterfly will help make sure of that.
So rather than adding that, she instead says: "I'll see you around."
Hard not to, when Silco is one of the few people actually willing to engage this place, rather than passively throw parties in it. Not to mention that he did just listen to her, even if Ange didn't say all that much.
It's still winning him some points in her book though.
no subject
He looked around to find the butterfly that she had given him, and it was fluttering nearby. It was strange to consider the gift of a warning, but it would come in handy. He cast one last look to her and then the scenery beyond and sighed.
"Indeed. I'm not planning on leaving this place willfully." There was still much to do to secure and establish this place in his mind. Not tonight though. Probably not even tomorrow.
He turned and began to hobble off the beach, tucking his hands into his damp pockets so that he could begin the walk of shame back to the bar.