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Post by Silas Rosier on Dec 23, 2010 7:56:31 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_bg.png,true][atrb=valign,top] | [rs=2][bg=ffffff][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_mainbg.png][atrb=style,background-position:top;background-repeat:no-repeat;]============================================= Scores had settled in well after the renovation. The re-opening gala had been a sterling success and Silas was now onto the ‘Aggressive Marketing’ phase of his business plan. It wasn’t cheap, but the amount of customers it was yanking through the door was more than making up the difference. Early figures looked promising and their luck seemed to be holding. If this kept up, they’d be back in the black faster than they first expected. He swore he could accurately guess how Scores’ margins were doing for the day just by gauging Jac’s mood. After all, her fortune was tied into the casino just as much as his. Once or twice he’d humored the idea of promoting her to a position to give her more official control over the business. Hell, she was already doing most of his work without being paid for it. Trouble was, something always held him back. Call it paranoia if you will, but Silas wasn’t a complete idiot; he’d met Jac’s type before and he was willing to bet it wasn't his boyish good looks and charming personality that had gotten her attention in the first place. He didn’t want to think she’d actually go so far as to completely lose interest in him once he was of no use to her, but, well... he couldn’t quite bring himself to risk it. Last he’d checked, the time was something close to two o’clock in the morning. On an ordinary day this wouldn't concern Silas in the slightest. What with the strip club, the casino, business appointments and nightly vampire hunting escapades, his sleeping patterns were more fucked over than a red-light district prostitute. Unfortunately, tomorrow morning he was supposed to be meeting with his adverting agency, meaning he had to be up at a decent hour, and, go figure, he couldn’t sleep. Always the way, huh? In times like this Silas usually resorted to his tried and true method of downing enough sleeping potion to put out an elephant, combined with enough alcohol to supply a small Shire. Except there was a problem with that too. He hadn’t bought any of his usual potion stocks because this week - for the first time in 20 years - he’d actually stopped having trouble sleeping. Aside from, you know, tonight of all fucking nights. So, rather than lie in bed like a normal person and wait to nod off, Silas had started pacing. There wasn’t any point in going to bed and he knew it- it’d take something like another four hours before he finally fell asleep, giving him only two hours before he was expected to be out and about. And so, lost his thought, he was starting to formulate a theory. He wasn’t sure he liked the implications of it either. But still, it was either keep pacing for the rest of the night until the sun came up or... Fuck it. Nothing to lose, right? Almost as an afterthought, Silas snatched a small, rectangular velvet box from the bedside table and slipped it into his pocket before focusing on his destination and vanishing with the sound of a popping cork bottle. Once the unpleasant crushing sensation of Apparation vanished, Silas was hit with a blast of cold air, the cool light of the street-lamps illuminating the surrounding street. The weather was typical for England: cold, dark, and utterly miserable. Suddenly the idea of standing in the street outside Jac’s house - barefoot, tousle-haired and and in an old shirt and pair of trousers reserved for cold nights - was a staring to seem like a bad idea What about this was a good idea? Hell, he didn’t even know if it was going to work. Jac’s place was quaint, in the nicest sense of the word. You’d think she’d choose to live in some expensive high-rise in the middle of the hustle and bustle of the city, but no, here she was in a quiet suburban cottage, complete with red brick walls and climbing plants meandering tastefully up to the second-story windows. And in it’s own way, it suited her perfectly. It wasn’t exactly Silas’s style, but he couldn’t bring himself to hate the place even if he wanted to. The asphalt was freezing. He really needed to stop Apparating from home without thinking of shoes. He put his hand in his pocket, running his thumb over a small velvet box again before finally kicking himself into approaching the front door. The gravel pathway was rough under his feet, the chilly air making the hair on his arms stand on end. Okay. Shoes, and jacket. The old-fashioned doorbell rang loudly in the dead silence. He had some idea of exactly how bizarre this was going to look, but he was hoping Jac wasn’t going to just groan and stick her head under her pillow; partially because he estimated he had about four minutes before he lost his fingers to frostbite. | [atrb=valign,top] | [atrb=valign,bottom] | [atrb=valign,bottom] |
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on Dec 24, 2010 9:24:05 GMT 1
It’s never a good thing when someone rings the doorbell at – she checked her bedside clock – at nearly 2am. Life teaches you that. Unless it’s the drunken idiot who mistook your house for next doors. Again. Still, Jac couldn’t shake the nervous feeling as she clambered out of bed, fighting to extract herself from the covers.
She reached for a candleholder, lighting the wick with a little flick of her wand. Lumos would have sufficed, but she didn’t feel like burning her retinas and if it was the muggle drunk at the door... Well, she had enough time explaining her ‘pencil torch’ last time. The candle flame didn't shed much light, but it was more a formality than a necessity. She could have walked her house blindfolded.
Jac set the candle on the dresser and wrapped herself up in the silk robe hanging on the back of the bedroom door. The ivory material was far too revealing (not to mention it was cold in the house without the hearth lit, which made more than make her legs shiver), so she made a mental note to get a warmer and more modest robe for when the village drunk came calling. She really didn’t want to encourage him to come back.
The doorbell rung again, impatient. Jac muttered under her breath and made her way down the stairs. Thankfully the stairs were carpeted, but her feet made her regret not laying some in the hall as she stepped down onto the old oak planks. She hopped onto the hallway rug and used her tiptoes to try not to chill her soles completely. The doorbell rang again as she passed it and she picked her wand out of the robe’s pocket and hushed it.
All she could see through the frosted glass of the front door was a tall silhouette, and she kept a hold of her wand. Just in case. She set the candle on a side table and unlatched the doors, physically an magically. She opened it a crack, her lip curling in a slight smile. She stepped back and opened the door wide. “Silas?” Her expression sobered and she gestured him in. His strange state of dress and apparent urgency made her stomach twinge nervously. “Is everything alright?”
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Post by Silas Rosier on Dec 29, 2010 22:48:09 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_bg.png,true][atrb=valign,top] | [rs=2][bg=ffffff][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_mainbg.png][atrb=style,background-position:top;background-repeat:no-repeat;] Mind changed. Coming here? Brilliant idea. Trust Jac to look devilishly sexy even when she’d just rolled out of bed. If he didn’t know any better he’d say she picked that dressing gown just for the occasion.
“Silas?” She sounded confused, but not entirely displeased to see him. Perhaps a bit caught off guard, but who wouldn’t be at this hour?
“Hi,” he answered instinctively, uncertainly clearing his throat. “Um... look, it’s freezing out here, and...”
Jac waved him inside and Silas gratefully got out of the cold. The temperature in the house wasn’t a vast improvement, but for some reason the chill indoors was indefinitely more preferable to the outside air. Or maybe that had more to do with whose house it was. The fact Jac made him feel better just by being around was another oddity he’d started to adjust to over the last few weeks. Perhaps he needed to stop questioning good things when they happened. Except that good things didn’t happen to him. At least... not like this.
She was bound to ask if everything was--
“Is everything alright?”
There it was.
“Erm.” Silas glanced away, rubbing his fingers through his hair as he tried to work out the best way to argue his case. “Look, bear with me here, because this is going to sound really, really stupid.”
He took a breath, already having an idea of how this was bound to sound. “I haven’t slept for the last few days, and I think I just figured out why. It’s you. I can’t sleep because you’re not there, and—” Silas cut himself off and glanced away again. What the hell was he doing? “Look. I have a peace-offering for waking you up so late.”
A bit of an unsubtle subject change, but it got the job done. Jac always managed to make him feel like he was ten years old again; never being sure what he was supposed to do or how he was supposed to act. When he was ten he’d learned people responded well when you gave them stuff, so here he was, resorting to a tactic he hadn’t used since he was a child. When in doubt, peace offerings? | [atrb=valign,top] | [atrb=valign,bottom] | [atrb=valign,bottom] |
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on Dec 29, 2010 23:59:21 GMT 1
Jac had discovered many facets of Silas’ personality over the last few weeks that she doubted many had been privy to in the past. But the expression on his face now, it was almost... vulnerable. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and hurried to shut and bolt the door behind him. Was this scratching the surface of an inner core he kept buried deep? She had the overwhelming feeling that this was a turning point; he trusted her.
She came around to stand in front of him, casually touching her fingers to his forearm as she met his eyes. The temperature difference between her skin and his made her hair stand on end out of sympathy. He must be frozen, but he seemed more concerned about explaining himself.
Jac couldn’t help but smile at his truncated explanation. It was – for lack of a better word – sweet. She was already liking this vulnerable Silas. She let him distract from the topic, knowing neither of them were really ready to carry on the previous conversation. She had assumed for now it was an unspoken fact: they enjoyed each other’s company, more than if were just any casual relationship. But perhaps the time for speaking that truth was not far in the future.
At the mention of gifts, Jac flashed him a knowing smile. He knew very well how to appease her. Like all women, a gift went a long way to forgiving sins such as waking her up in the dead of night. “Good. I was just thinking you owed me something for getting me out of bed so late. It’s a good thing my boss will understand if I come in knackered.” She ran her fingers down his forearm and caught his hand in hers.
“First we’ll get you warmed up. You’re freezing. And you don’t even have any shoes on!” She sighed and led him through a low doorway into the small lounge with comfortable furnishings and a fireplace that had only a hint of embers glowing in its pit. She pushed the door closed behind them with a gentle spell, and brought the flames back to life with another. The light instantly flooded the room with a flickering golden glow, and began to take the cold edge off the air.
The carpet and plush rugs were soft underfoot, and she left Silas at the fireside while she fixed drinks at a cabinet in the corner. With a twinge of guilt, she slipped an extra ingredient into Silas’ before she returned to him. She pressed the glass into his hand, fingers lingering against his. She just had to tell herself it was necessary, and that soon it wouldn’t be. She couldn’t dwell on it, but the guilt was always there on the fringes of thought, threatening to ruin the moment.
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Post by Silas Rosier on Mar 27, 2011 13:44:57 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_bg.png,true][atrb=valign,top] | [rs=2][bg=ffffff][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_mainbg.png][atrb=style,background-position:top;background-repeat:no-repeat;] Silas looked down when Jac pointed out the state of his feet. “... Wasn’t really thinking, was I?” he said amusedly, flexing his toes. Hell, ‘wasn’t really thinking’ didn’t even start to cover it. “Trust me, I don’t plan to make this a habit.”
The heat of the the fire in the living-room was a welcome reprieve. Silas glanced around at the familiar surroundings, a ghost of a smile tugging at a corner of his mouth before he busied himself defrosting at the hearth.
Jac set about making some drinks to warm up (which was always appreciated) while Silas threw the odd glance in her direction, wondering if he should be over there instead. The fact she was around was already helping him feel less tense. When she came back around he accepted the drink with a wordless thanks, cupping the back of her head to steal a quick kiss which lingered just long enough to say he’d missed her.
“Here.” When they broke apart he took a mouthful of liquor and rested the tumbler on the fireplace to put it out of the way. ”I was going to give this to you somewhere a little nicer, but I’d feel better if you had it now.” From his pocket, Silas withdrew a black velvet box emblazoned with a silver crest. He looked up at her with a smile. “This is for you.” | [atrb=valign,top] | [atrb=valign,bottom] | [atrb=valign,bottom] |
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on Apr 6, 2011 8:00:51 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_bg.jpg,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_foot.jpg][atrb=style,background-position: bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 2px 30px 88px 150px; text-align: justify;]She had to admit though, Silas had an uncanny knack of distracting her from that inner turmoil. Jac traded the drink for the lingering kiss, her smile afterward was warm and languid. Another pro of Silas coming over, kisses. The sex was all very well and good, but kisses were underrated, she felt. You felt a lot more affection from a kiss than an under-the-duvet session. When he’d said ‘peace offering’, she had been expecting a snippet of good news or maybe a bottle of his finest wine. So the box was a welcome surprise when he presented it and she met his eyes with an expression of anticipation. Jewellery? Something expensive at least from the quality of the case. Jac’s smile broadened shamelessly and she took the box from him eagerly. The intricate silver crest gave her pause for thought, and she ran her fingers over it, looking at Silas questioningly. It wasn’t his own family crest, or even hers, but there was something about it that held some sort of importance, she just couldn’t place what. It wasn’t exceptionally elegant, it reminded her of certain medieval runes but for Silas to deem it important enough to gift to her, it had to mean something. He gave her an encouraging nod and she opened the case slowly, building the anticipation. Inside was a medallion of silver, with three distinct spokes. Intricately engraved writings decorated each of the three spokes and where they met the other ring and joined at the middle. Jac squinted and turned the disc toward the firelight. She thought she could make out some Latin, but it was hard to tell. The piece wasn’t all that unattractive, but it was a strange thing for her to spontaneously give her. She kept a smile in place, and looked to Silas again. The thought was appreciated, but it appeared picking out jewellery was not Silas’s forte. |
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