Post by Silence Ezekiel-Silvanus on Apr 14, 2018 20:55:30 GMT -5
It was a chilly night during the early spring approaching. A time when life was just starting to wake from their long slumber from the blistering New York winter weather. It was a time when rain showered from above, casting overcast over the city, and still working through 40 degree weather. Regardless, Silas still liked this time of the season before humidity stormed in with this over dramatic greeting of 90 degree Hello.
Silence Layton Ezekiel lost track again as he sat at his small love seat in his bedroom located nearest to the window staring high at the waning gibbous high in the dark night sky. Tonight, he turned off his A/C to invite the chill from outside into his room taking in the fresh air one breath at a time. Taking a soft breath, his dark blue eyes managed to look down at the source of his well deserved distraction he needed. He had several open books stretched out on the empty seat beside him, his well hidden journal opened to one of his past entries on his lap, and a few book stacked on his coffee table in front of him along side a few knives he was procrastinating in sharpening and asking Dare to refill the magic embedded in the blades.
Silas could recall having a two nights a week in this position pouring over books about night terrors, dreams, mythologies and lores trying to work through this little personal project he vowed to try and uncover even if it'd break him. Of course, he never told his golden haired companion this project or the days that plagued him when he endured restless unsettling sleep states. During the day, Silas clocked 4 hours this time, and ended up in this position through the wee hours of the night. Yet, he was too restless to hunt, and far to distracted to tend to his night duties around the Core. These images, words, and voices haunting him in his skull never away, and it seemed it was just getting more frequent than his usual passing whispers he heard while he took to the streets of New York City. Silas couldn't even recall if he ever told Darion any of this, not unless he wanted to sound like a madman trapped in his head....while living in a former sanitarium now run by Wicked End naming the building The Core.
Taking another deep breath, Silas glanced down at the page he was on in his journal of an incredible yet morbid sketch of one of the vampires he ran into earlier in the week being yanked, pulled and tormented by what looked like creepy little demons that were no bigger than a gnome. Silas couldn't remember drawing this sketch as with all the sketches in his journal, but he could recall seeing the image like revisiting a memory. Shaking his head, Silas journal closed with a thud, and ended up collecting all of his books to place them back in their usual hidden spots in between other books of Astronomy, Astrology, Bram Stoker, mythologies, and the like. Somewhere through his book shelf held a translated copy of Malleus Maleficarum (Hammer of Witches) that Silas used to tease and pester Darion with. Truth be told, the book was horrible in it's own account by a 15th century book about witch hunting and couldn't even see himself of a cold blooded killer vs. hunting what needed to be hunted down. Lastly, His journal was shoved back into it's usual drawer for whatever purpose it had for later when he'd subconsciously draw a new entry or repeat latin words with no understanding.
Before leaving his quarter's, Silas took a few quick glances at himself, never staring too long at the mirror. His 6'3” frame stood tall, and his body tone was muscular in it's own account by alas he was still a little smaller in frame than Darion. Silas wasn't super dedicated to keeping himself top notch muscle man but he was still muscular in his own account to pass him by. He lacked carbs, living off of fruit and protein but it was enough to keep him moving. One thing he checked the most was his eyes which were their usual intense blue color, however when he thought he'd see a flicker somewhere, that was when he stopped gazing at his own reflection. Never look to long, just enough to groom, make and appearance and move on.
Silas grabbed his shoulder bag careful not to bang up his forearm that was wrapped in an ace bandage, deciding there wouldn't be any concentration left for his secret project to continue nor continue Dare and his current tasks without food to calm the grumbling stomach. As Silence left his room, he strolled past his brother's door without stopping to make his way to the dining hall. Literally like Day and Night, Silas tended to tasks during the night, and did his portion of hunting at dusk vs. Darion tending to daytime duties and usually hunted at dawn if he couldn't take doing a restoration spell to get him through the night with Silas.
As usual during the nights before a new moon, Silas found himself more distracted in his head, calmer, moody and at times depressed vs. the waxing gibbous when he was full of energy, ready to rock, and hyped for anything. Silas joked it was a Jekyll and Hyde syndrome he carried throughout his entire life nor did he ever question his bipolar attitude as others seemed to do. There was one thing on his mind though, and that was food. Correction: Tomatoes and bananas sounded splendid right now.
Walking into the Dining Hall, Silas knew this was a time when it was most crowded with other hunter's seeing that 70% of them hunted during the night as he did. As Silas approached the tables of hot and cold food, he vaguely felt a second bandage wrapped around his foot and ankle. These accidents had to stop, and no...he couldn't bear to crawl into the Infirmary with a banged up ankle, and flesh marks down his forearm-or too him they were flesh wounds. He'd live.
After gathering his usual ideal breakfast, Silas cracked open his notebook with notes of all sorts from other Hunting groups he contacts a week prior to track down several disruptive vampires around the City, Jermic being one on the hit list. Around his tray, Silas grabbed his usual chocolate protein boost shake, his tomatoes and bananas lovely Sheila, the head middle age cook chopped up for him for a change, various eggs and toast scattered about and today a single pancake because why not. From staying into his staring at his books to now staring at notes didn't subside the distractions running in Silas's mind but yet at least he felt a wee more motivated to get something out of the way with food in his presence. God, he really needed to get out more often...and no...hunting not counting on “getting out”....Silence sighed at the last thought.
Silence Layton Ezekiel lost track again as he sat at his small love seat in his bedroom located nearest to the window staring high at the waning gibbous high in the dark night sky. Tonight, he turned off his A/C to invite the chill from outside into his room taking in the fresh air one breath at a time. Taking a soft breath, his dark blue eyes managed to look down at the source of his well deserved distraction he needed. He had several open books stretched out on the empty seat beside him, his well hidden journal opened to one of his past entries on his lap, and a few book stacked on his coffee table in front of him along side a few knives he was procrastinating in sharpening and asking Dare to refill the magic embedded in the blades.
Silas could recall having a two nights a week in this position pouring over books about night terrors, dreams, mythologies and lores trying to work through this little personal project he vowed to try and uncover even if it'd break him. Of course, he never told his golden haired companion this project or the days that plagued him when he endured restless unsettling sleep states. During the day, Silas clocked 4 hours this time, and ended up in this position through the wee hours of the night. Yet, he was too restless to hunt, and far to distracted to tend to his night duties around the Core. These images, words, and voices haunting him in his skull never away, and it seemed it was just getting more frequent than his usual passing whispers he heard while he took to the streets of New York City. Silas couldn't even recall if he ever told Darion any of this, not unless he wanted to sound like a madman trapped in his head....while living in a former sanitarium now run by Wicked End naming the building The Core.
Taking another deep breath, Silas glanced down at the page he was on in his journal of an incredible yet morbid sketch of one of the vampires he ran into earlier in the week being yanked, pulled and tormented by what looked like creepy little demons that were no bigger than a gnome. Silas couldn't remember drawing this sketch as with all the sketches in his journal, but he could recall seeing the image like revisiting a memory. Shaking his head, Silas journal closed with a thud, and ended up collecting all of his books to place them back in their usual hidden spots in between other books of Astronomy, Astrology, Bram Stoker, mythologies, and the like. Somewhere through his book shelf held a translated copy of Malleus Maleficarum (Hammer of Witches) that Silas used to tease and pester Darion with. Truth be told, the book was horrible in it's own account by a 15th century book about witch hunting and couldn't even see himself of a cold blooded killer vs. hunting what needed to be hunted down. Lastly, His journal was shoved back into it's usual drawer for whatever purpose it had for later when he'd subconsciously draw a new entry or repeat latin words with no understanding.
Before leaving his quarter's, Silas took a few quick glances at himself, never staring too long at the mirror. His 6'3” frame stood tall, and his body tone was muscular in it's own account by alas he was still a little smaller in frame than Darion. Silas wasn't super dedicated to keeping himself top notch muscle man but he was still muscular in his own account to pass him by. He lacked carbs, living off of fruit and protein but it was enough to keep him moving. One thing he checked the most was his eyes which were their usual intense blue color, however when he thought he'd see a flicker somewhere, that was when he stopped gazing at his own reflection. Never look to long, just enough to groom, make and appearance and move on.
Silas grabbed his shoulder bag careful not to bang up his forearm that was wrapped in an ace bandage, deciding there wouldn't be any concentration left for his secret project to continue nor continue Dare and his current tasks without food to calm the grumbling stomach. As Silence left his room, he strolled past his brother's door without stopping to make his way to the dining hall. Literally like Day and Night, Silas tended to tasks during the night, and did his portion of hunting at dusk vs. Darion tending to daytime duties and usually hunted at dawn if he couldn't take doing a restoration spell to get him through the night with Silas.
As usual during the nights before a new moon, Silas found himself more distracted in his head, calmer, moody and at times depressed vs. the waxing gibbous when he was full of energy, ready to rock, and hyped for anything. Silas joked it was a Jekyll and Hyde syndrome he carried throughout his entire life nor did he ever question his bipolar attitude as others seemed to do. There was one thing on his mind though, and that was food. Correction: Tomatoes and bananas sounded splendid right now.
Walking into the Dining Hall, Silas knew this was a time when it was most crowded with other hunter's seeing that 70% of them hunted during the night as he did. As Silas approached the tables of hot and cold food, he vaguely felt a second bandage wrapped around his foot and ankle. These accidents had to stop, and no...he couldn't bear to crawl into the Infirmary with a banged up ankle, and flesh marks down his forearm-or too him they were flesh wounds. He'd live.
After gathering his usual ideal breakfast, Silas cracked open his notebook with notes of all sorts from other Hunting groups he contacts a week prior to track down several disruptive vampires around the City, Jermic being one on the hit list. Around his tray, Silas grabbed his usual chocolate protein boost shake, his tomatoes and bananas lovely Sheila, the head middle age cook chopped up for him for a change, various eggs and toast scattered about and today a single pancake because why not. From staying into his staring at his books to now staring at notes didn't subside the distractions running in Silas's mind but yet at least he felt a wee more motivated to get something out of the way with food in his presence. God, he really needed to get out more often...and no...hunting not counting on “getting out”....Silence sighed at the last thought.
