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[mortalitycoils-blog]

whentaidan‌:

Aidan flinched slightly, unaccustomed as he was to others speaking to him still, yet mentally rewarded himself when he didn’t initially hiss at the stranger. “I had… plans on buying them. Most of them.” He had enough wealth accumulated to do just that, after all, and a very empty den– house to fill up. Of course, maybe most people would prefer sticking to a preferred genre or another rather than touching all of the shiniest of book covers, but a dragon’s primal instincts could only be contained for so long, if one was unwilling to work on them. “I… I would like more books on modern medicine? Maybe?”

The flinching didn’t go unnoticed by Silas. He watched the man with a curious gaze, before an empty smile formed on his lips. “Well, that’s fine then.” He nodded to the other, closing his book and moving around the counter. “Modern medicine? Planning on curing cancer?” He half-joked, though his tone was dead flat. He moved around the man, along the stacks of books lining the shelves. Down in the very back corner, he turned around. “These are all the books we have on modern medicine, everything from textbooks to just general biology books. If there’s something particular you’re looking for and we don’t have it, well, I can’t really order it in for you right now.” His expression was dry, the smile unmoved but insincere. “I may be able to find you an electronic copy of it, though.”

[mortalitycoils-blog]

trashpanda-kade‌:

“I —-” A hand lifted the book she was hold, a grimace crossing her features as she attempted to put it back kinda close to where she pulled it from. But honestly, she hadn’t been paying that much attention where it can come from. “Here?” She guessed, looking hopefully at the guy, but already figuring that she was wrong. Whatever. Close enough. “One of these books smells funky!” And she needed to know which one it was. It was driving her nuts. Yes, she was letting her raccoon instincts take over, but occasionally it was too hard to battle with them. ( @mortalitycoils​ )

“Close enough.” Silas was a little bit particular about where the books were, but he would fix it after she left. He was sure he’d have something else to fix, too, and based on the words that followed, he was definitely going to have a mess to clean up. If he’d known just how weird the inhabitants of this place were, he probably would have done his best to get out of here before that stupid dome went up. “Smells... funky?” He questioned, eyeing her.

[mortalitycoils-blog]

carson-ophelan‌:

“Oh, I’m sorry about him.” Carson spoke as he approached the scene, giving the teenage wolf that tagged along a sideways look. Almost immediately, he began to gather the books he had scatter about, not wanting to face the scolding from the Original. “I’ll pay for anything he messed up, he tends not to think of the consequences following his actions.” He flashed an apologetic smile. 

“That’s all right. At least he has adult supervision.” Clay’s words were in jest, but the tone of his voice fell flat. “After anything in particular today or just keeping busy?” He asked, setting his bookmark into the pages of his book before he settled them on the counter.

[mortalitycoils-blog]

“I highly doubt that.” Clay answered with a sigh. Something told him this wasn’t to be taken at face value, and perhaps he needed more caffeine before he was to interact with this man. He took a long drink from his cup, eyeing the other man.

Caine looked out to the crowd, the coffee shop bustling with people. Someone got a little close and Caine spoke out to them, after taking a long drag from his coffee. “Did you know deer can jump higher than the average house?” He asked the question as if it was a matter of fact (which it was), his expression neutral.

@veilsstarters​

[mortalitycoils-blog]

“If you’re going to pull all the books off the shelves, at least put them back where you found them.” Clay looked over the book in his hand unkindly at the customer. Working in a bookstore wasn’t necessarily fun, but it kept him busy. Especially when it plagued him with idiots like this particular one. “If you’re looking for something specific, perhaps I can help you and keep the destruction to a minimum?” 

@veilsstarters​

[mortalitycoils-blog]

(ZACHARY QUINTO, 38, HE/HIM) We have been waiting for a while, but SILAS HOLMGREN was finally spotted in the village today. People heard whispers that they are a HUMAN that is hellbent on [ staying away from ] the veils. Will they succeed? Only time can tell. Until then we will keep a close eye on them as they listen to DEMONS BY HAYLEY KIYOKO. 

• Silas is a published author. He writes mainly horror and murder mystery.  • Generally disassociated from his surroundings, Silas is known to be generally detached and a little humorless.  • Silas has some daddy issues, and notably has a fascination of stereotypically "good" parents. If they try or they show concern, then he is drawn to them like a moth to a flame. 

Without any other siblings to take any sort of shared load of the pain he endured, Silas was the sole receiver of his parents' neglect and abuse. His mother, though beautiful and brilliant, was both uninterested and detached from her son. She had tried to drown him as a baby in a fit of un-treated post-partum depression. Though she was treated and Silas was returned to his parents from protective custody eventually, Silas found that even as he grew up his mother seemed to lack that taste for motherhood some women had. Where a mother might offer a crying child a hug and a kiss on the cheek, she would simply say, "You're fine, Silas." And flip her hand at him to shoo him.  His father, though, was an entirely different monster to slay. While his mother left him lacking in emotion and with a hole the shape of love in his heart, his father left him with skin tough as nails from scar tissue. His knife-like tongue was the least of young Silas’ worries, and as he grew in age, the knife-like tongue was replaced by sharper edges. Silas left home at fourteen, driven away by the incessant desire to be anywhere else. He had nowhere to go, home-schooled and kept from society, Silas didn't know any family members or have any friends. He went to a police station, remembering the television shows that his father would watch between bouts of rage and knowing that they would help him much like the victims in those shows.  Silas had never been so wrong. Thrown into the foster system, Silas didn't have the luck of finding a caring family. Instead, he found people tempered of the same steel as his parents. Cold, uncaring eyes that looked upon him as a means of supporting their income. Hard words and harder hands, looking for someone to unleash the cruelties of their world upon. He did not find anything or anyone to plug up his empty hole, but he found a thicker skin and a knack for self-defense in these homes.  One of the solace's that Silas had always found from his mother was her library, and though he had not been allowed to touch the many stacked books with their cracked spines at a young age, he had still snuck glances to their pages when he was alone. What more harm could become of him? There he learned of lands where the good triumphed, where the princess was saved, and where the evil step mother was sent away for her transgressions. This world did not appeal to Silas, still. It was false. A promise of something that was too good to be true. It was not what he knew.  Still, Silas found that the words enticed him, and as he grew older he would spend what he could earn and spare on books. He read, consuming words like they were love, and learned. In time, Silas found it cathartic to write down his stories, but that could only go so far with healing the wounds that his upbringing had brought him. Soon, he wrote other stories. Ones that found their basis of murder and abuse in something just as real, just as deeply buried, as Silas’ childhood. These financed his living, but no one truly knew that the stories were still real. They were still Silas’ stories, not merely crafted in his own mind. No one needed to know that, though.  For a time after his third book sold, something urged Silas to do better. To stay away from the situations that made him snap. But all too soon was he left aching to find a way to soothe the rough edges of the love-shaped hole inside of him. He snapped, again, messily this time, not as pre-meditated as the others. The carelessness drove Silas from his home, fleeing to Wildemount.  Silas had no idea that the very things he feared most - and those that he strongly disbelieved in - would become a part of his reality in Wildemount.