silkear3d

[silkear3d]

eye  contact  was  often  near  impossible  for  jasper.  it  had  held  them  back  throughout  life,  the  almost  instinctive  darting  away  whenever  anyone  looked  at  them  straight,  a  coping  mechanism  that  made  them  seem  untrustworthy  or  shifty  or  as  though  they  were  hiding  something.  with  aurelia,  though,  it  wasn’t  so  hard.  it  didn’t  ache  in  the  back  of  his  eyes  as  though  staring  at  a  bright  light.  with  his  roommate,  he  felt  comfortable  …  safe. but  life  hadn’t  always  been  like  that.  the  first  half  of  jasper’s  existence  had  felt  impossible,  like  he  was  fighting  to  keep  his  head  above  water  with  the  tide  continuing  to  rise.  moments  like  those,  reading  a  book  in  the  lowlight,  were  little  solaces  that  the  bookseller  had  never  thought  possible.  as  much  as  he  missed  manchester  —  red  brick,  strong  accents,  music  seeping  into  every  cobble  —  chicago  had  given  him  the  space  to  grow  wings.  “lots  of  things,”  they  stood  silently  from  their  nest  and  shuffled  through  the  apartment.  for  a  moment  they  clinked  about  in  the  kitchen,  before  returning  with  an  almost  exact  replica  of  his  own  hot  chocolate.  it  was  lowered  delicately  on  one  of  their  perfectly  placed  coasters  before  the  youngest  finch  curled  back  up  under  their  blanket.  there  were  no  secrets  between  them  —  he  had  never  been  very  good  at  lying  or  withholding  the  truth  —  and  so  with  a  deep  sigh  they  admitted,   “i  can’t  stop  thinking  about  how  much  i  love  my  boyfriend.  how  much  i  want  to  tell  him.” 

Aurelia lingered in the doorway for a moment, the dim glow from Jasper’s reading lamp casting long shadows across the room. Their haven, their little curated museum of oddities, felt warmer than the silence of her own room, and for that, she was grateful.

With a sigh, she padded forward, dropping onto the couch with none of Jasper’s grace, letting her head tip back against the cushions. “Yeah,” she murmured, rubbing a hand over her face. “Thinking’s dangerous like that.”

Her eyes flickered toward the book in their hands, the swirl of steam still curling from their hot chocolate. There was something comforting about it, about them—their presence, their rituals, the way they made space for sleeplessness like it was just another part of the night instead of something to fight against.

She hesitated, then turned her head to look at them fully. “What’s keeping you up this time?” Her voice was quieter now, something softer threading through it. “Existential dread? New story idea? Or just the usual overclocked brain refusing to shut down?”

[silkear3d]

「  ✷  」  STATUS  ﹕  closed  .  「  ✷  」  LOCATION  ﹕  literaria  .  「  ✷  」  WITH  ﹕  jasper  &  amara  (  @amarnoban )

it  was  a  quiet  day  at  the  bookstore,  with  only  the  sighs  of  worn  pages  to  keep  jasper  company,  and  so  he  softly  hummed  to  himself  as  he  sorted  through  the  new  arrivals.  romance,  mythological  retellings,  dusty  vintage  classics.  piles  towered  over  the  slight  boy  that  cast  wobbling  shadows  over  his  features.  the  shuffle  of  company  brought  him  from  his  trance.  an  elbow  nudged  the  leaning  tower  of  thrillers,  and  in  a  moment  jasper’s  arms  were  filled  with  cascading  novellas  threatening  to  spill. “hey !  sorry,  one  second … ”  paperbacks  were  shrugged  onto  the  counter  with  a  limp plop.  breathless,  they  attempted  to  fix  a  strand  of  unruly  brunette  which  promptly  pinged  back  into  its  clumsy  position.  the  ends  of  their  fingers  were  inky  from  refilling  the  receipt  printer  and  they  smeared  a  long  black  mark  across  his  forehead. “are  you  looking  for  something  particular  today ?  we  have  the right book  for  everybody.”

[silkear3d]

「  ✷  」  STATUS  ﹕  closed  .  「  ✷  」  LOCATION  ﹕  stormy monday  .  「  ✷  」  WITH  ﹕  edwin  &  goldie  (  @chsogolden )

long  days,  even  longer  nights.  eddie  often  found  himself  in  places  like  stormy  monday,  where  the  music  was  more  tolerable  and  the  drinks  weren’t  too  overpriced.  not  that  it  mattered.  his  father’s  inheritance  was  a  heavy  weight  on  his  shoulders,  an  immeasurable  burden  that  kept  him  hunched,  kept  him  desperate  to  drown  whatever  thoughts  had  managed  to  worm  their  way  into  his  mind.  the  money  from  eugene rietveld  was  tainted,  sat  in  a  bank  account  somewhere,  untouched  ;  it  was  why  he  was  thumbing  through  his  wallet  and  counting  enough  coins  to  pay  for  his  tall  glass  of  whisky.  the  bartender  had  insisted  that  they  only  took  card.  drunk  as  he  was,  and  insistent,  eddie  had  waved  his  hand  and  started  separating  his  dollars  from  his  dimes.  once  the  bartender  had  finally  taken  his  perfectly  legal  tender,  the  archaeologist  sighed  and  ran  a  hand  over  the  front  of  his  hair  —  still  perfect,  still  gelled  down  to  the  point  where  not  even  a  hurricane  could  shift  it.  “and  to  think,  the  world  used  to  operate  on  bartering  alone,”  he  sighed  to  the  body  beside  him,  taking  a  long  awaited  sip  of  his  tipple,  “seems  like  a  foreign  thought  these  days.  imagine  if  caesar  himself  was  trying  to  pay  for  limestone  and  they  asked  for  his  pin  number.” 

[silkear3d]

a  missing  penny  here  and  there  wouldn’t  do  much  to  damage  the  rietveld  fortune.  eddie  felt  almost  dirty  using  it  ;  handing  over  coins  and  buttons  and  pieces  of  pocket  lint  made  him  feel  like  less  of  a  phony.  his  eyes,  somewhere  between  pale  blue  and  grey,  caught  the  stranger’s  little  disappearing  act,  but  it  was  easier  not  to  speak  up.  enjoy  it,  he  thought.  put  it  towards  something  nice.  he  gratefully  took  his  own  and  slipped  in  into  his  wallet,  tucking  it  into  the  back  pocket  of  his  pants. “get  this  girl  all  the  cherries.”  eddie  smiled  at  the  bartender  and  knocked  his  fist  against  the  wood,  as  if  his  display  would  convince  the  worker  to  hand  over  all  their  little  red  fruits  —  some  sort  of  fresh  produce  hostage  situation.  he  fixed  his  glasses  with  one  finger,  nodding  at  the  rockstar,  waving  his  hand  dismissively.  “it’s  just  a  drink.  you  can  pay  me  back  with  a  signed  album  so  i  can  keep  it  close  and  sell  it  for  ten  times  the  price  in  a  year  or  two.” whisky  clinked  against  the  bright  red  fruit  punch.  eddie  grabbed  his  carton  of  cigarettes  from  the  pocket  in  his  shirt  and  asked,  as  he  stepped  away  from  the  bar,  “you  smoke ? ”  whether  she  did  or  didn’t,  he  moved  towards  the  smoking  area  as  if  walking  on  air.  the  conversation  had  sobered  him  up  enough  that  he  no  longer  tripped  over  his  toes  with  every  step,  although  he  struggled  to  maintain  a  straight  line  as  he  weaved  through  patrons,  excusing  himself  whenever  he  came  too  close  to  knocking  into  anyone.  with  the  cold  night  air  on  their  faces,  he  hung  a  smoke  between  his  lips  and  illuminated  the  darkness  with  flame.  eddie  took  a  drag,  holding  the  cigarette  in  his  first  and  second  fingers,  clutching  his  glass  with  the  others. “an  archaeologist,  yes.  you  can  ask  me  whatever  questions  you  like.  it’s  sort  of  my  job,  actually.  i’m  less  into  fieldwork  now,  so  i’m  based  up  at  the  museum,”  his  spare  hand  gestured  indeterminately  in  the  general  direction  of  the  institution.  “less  bones  and  pottery  and  more  dusting  and  teaching,  but  it  pays  the  bills  and  keeps  me  busy.  it’s  the  family  business.  if  you  get  a  chance  to  look  on  the  ol'  google,  search  for  eugene  rietveld  and  see  if  you  see  the  resemblance.”  eddie  breathed  through  his  teeth  and  tapped  the  growing  tower  of  ash  away  onto  the  ground.  “the  name’s  edwin,  not  milo.  but  eddie’ll  do  just  fine.  colby  sounds  like  a  second  name  to  me.  you  could  just  go  by  that,  you  know  —  like  prince.” he  would  stick  with  rockstar.  easier  that  way.  another  tendril  of  smoke  twirled  from  his  lips  like  a  hand  flexing  its  fingers.  “i  keep  busy  with  mostly  research  these  days.  curation,  conservation,  the  occasional  appraisal.  those  sorts  of  things.”

She followed him and watched as the seas parted as he walked. He had such a commanding presence for a nerdy little guy. When he spilled some pennies - who still used cash? - Colby dipped down to pick two of them up. She pocketed one, and held one out to Milo Thatch. "It's good luck even if you drop them yourself, right?" she smiled.

He asked what she wanted to drink, and, like everything else in her life, Colby decided to get a bit ridiculous with it. "A Shirley Temple, please," she said, batting her lashes at the bartender, "with extra cherries. Truly too many cherries. All the cherries you have, really. Thank you." She turned to Milo Thatch, then, and her smile got more genuine, as did her second "Thank you."

She laughed as he understood the name, and listened with genuine interest as he explained what Atlantis really was. She'd never been too concerned with whether anything was real or just a story, as long as it was interesting. But the reality of things seemed important to Milo Thatch, so she listened. And whispered "of doom" after he did, her eyes sparkling.

He handed over her ridiculous-looking drink, and she smiled, holding up the glass to clink with his. "An archaeologist! For real? Never met an archaeologist in my life, I need to ask you twelve thousand questions, actually..." she laughed. "But for now maybe I will start with your name. Mine's Colby. But you can keep calling me Rockstar, I'm kind of into that."

"I'm not a real rockstar... yet," she said. "For now, I'm just working at Soundscape Vinyl and trying to get my life back together. Please tell me more about your life, though. What do you actually do? Because I know you're not digging up any ruins in Chicago... right?"

[silkear3d]

it  wasn’t  the  kind  of  archaeology  he  had  wanted,  staring  at  cabinets  and  brushing  away  dust.  but  it  was  the  archaeology  he  had  been  left  with.  fieldwork  had  lost  his  magic,  and  although  there  was  wealth  behind  them  —  left  behind  by  their  father,  a  fortune  split  between  two  —  eddie  needed  something  to  get  him  out  the  house.  otherwise  his  twenties  would  be  drowned  in  drink,  alone  and  miserable,  wasting  the  life  that  his  father  had  lost. the  night  before  had  been  heavy  —  arriving  home  in  the  early  hours,  waking  with  a  pounding  headache  that  was  staved  off  by  hourly  painkillers.  the  low  light  in  the  egypt  exhibit  was  perfect  for  a  hangover  ;  a  warm  glow,  soft  illuminations.  his  gloved  hands  meticulously  straightened  a  display  of  tiny  stone  scarab  beetles.  stealite  and  limestone,  carnelian  and  lapis  lazuli.  he  was  polishing  a  settled  line  of  dust  out  of  the  groove  of  a  glass  carving,  a  shimmering  little  bug  that  glittered  whenever  it  moved. “hm ? ”  eddie’s  head  lifted.  his  glasses  reflected  in  the  same  way  the  beetle  did,  catching  in  the  light  for  a  moment  before  settling  and  revealing  eyes  of  steely  blue.  the  scarab  was  gently  placed  back  onto  its  space  on  the  shelf,�� and  eddie  gently  shut  the  cabinet  before  picking  the  tiny  key  from  the  ring  on  his  belt  loop.  “no,”  he  finally  smiled  with  a  crooked  smile,  one  that  dipped  his  cheek  in  a  dimple,  “i  just  come  here  in  the  evenings  and  break  into  the  cabinets  to  polish  the  stone  carvings.  gives  me  a  buzz.” 

who: simon & @silkear3d (Edwin) when: monday, almost 5pm where: field museum , 'inside ancient egypt' exhibition

Simon had never been particularly into books. It felt stupid to think, but that didn't make it less true. Some people thrived on the physical objects -- the musty smell of old canvas covers, the indescribable texture of older paper contained within. Some thrived on the actual words, archaic words laced through something more familiar, descriptions, memories or fever dreams from past times.

He wasn't part of either club.

Instead, he thrived on the stories. The intersection where the words on the page and the people they described came together. It was an elusive thing, and he was never quite sure he would find it. He wasn't too upset about trying to, though, spending at least an afternoon at the Field Museum regularly. He almost always started in the library, the Rare Book Room if he could come up with something he wanted to look at and reserve the space. Then he would move out into one of the other exhibits, lingering until close, looking for something he never located.

Today, he'd wandered in the Ancient Egypt area, not for the first time. But, unusually, he wasn't alone. Usually this late in the afternoon, it was a dusty kind of peace among all the old, even ancient, artifacts. There was a different energy today. It wasn't completely clear who his counterpart was, but it appeared he was working, tweaking something with a clear competence which had Simon openly staring.

He finally had to ask, and it felt wrong to do so in a loud voice in the otherwise quiet room, so he stepped a little closer and started, but he was unable to project any kind of sound until he cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, do you work here?"

[silkear3d]

「  ✷  」  STATUS  ﹕  closed  .  「  ✷  」  LOCATION  ﹕  bellisimo  .  「  ✷  」  WITH  ﹕  edwin  &  cherry  (  @ofelation )

they  had  taken  a  seat  outside  so  that  eddie  could  keep  smoking.  his  father  had  been  the  same,  alway  with  a  cigar  hanging  out  of  the  corner  of  his  mouth.  he  supposed  the  apple  didn’t  fall  far  from  the  tree.  smoke  twirled  from  the  end  of  his  smoke  as  he  eyed  over  the  menu,  his  lip  curling  in  a  slight  sneer.  “authentic  italian  …  ”  tutted  the  archaeologist,  laying  the  sheet  flat  on  the  table,  settling  back  in  his  seat.  “how  much  would  you  bet  that  half  of  this  is  pulled  out  the  back  of  the  freezer  and  microwaved  on  ordering ?  you  haven’t  had  real  italian  food  until  you’ve  been  to  naples.  the  pizzas  are  bigger  than  car  tyres.”  not  that  he  would  eat  all  of  that.  edwin’s  diet  consisted  of  whiskey,  nicotine,  and  the  rare  pre - packaged  and  overpriced  sandwich  from  the  museum  café.  “but  i  don’t  need  to  tell  you  that.  remember  those  hors  d'oeuvres  they  used  to  serve ?  at  dad’s  parties ? ”  tiny  crackers  with  caviar  that  they  would  stuff  up  their  sleeves  and  squirrel away,  cowering  in  stairwells  to  gorge  on  the  fancy  treats  without  the  prying  eyes  of  investors  and  millionaires.

[silkear3d]

「  ✷  」  STATUS  ﹕  closed  .  「  ✷  」  LOCATION  ﹕  literaria  .  「  ✷  」  WITH  ﹕  jasper  &  simon  (  @simonbloom )

when  jasper  had  been  given  the  chance  to  prove  themself,  he  had  thought  it  had  been  some  sort  of  trick.  when  they  took  the  leap  to  move  out  of  their  family  home,  find  an  apartment  independent  from  their  parents  and  siblings,  and  bravely  try  and  find  a  job,  the  statistics  felt  suffocating.  eighty - five  percent  of  his  peers  were  unemployed.  after  countless  rejection  emails,  phone  calls,  or  some  businesses  that  didn’t  even  have  the  decency  to  reply  to  jasper’s  resume  through  their  mailbox,  they  had  almost  given  up  hope  …  until  simon,  until  literaria.  until  the  moment  their  love  for  the  written  word  had  convinced  one  person  to  take  a  risk  on  the  nervous  boy  from  manchester. it  was  why,  without  fail,  jasper  was  always  on  time  —  to  the  minute.  they  were  always  positioned  behind  the  counter  when  their  shift  started,  and  didn’t  leave  their  post  until  the  moment  their  shift  ended.  unpacking  new  arrivals,  returning  books  that  had  been  discarded  by  distracted  buyers,  showering  interesting  patrons  in  more  recommendations  than  they  could  ever  truly  read.  that  morning  he  had  arrived  early  and  was  halfway  through  categorising  a  new  box  of  stock  into  genre.  he  raised  his  head  and  smiled,  offering  simon  a  brief  wave  before  returning  to  their  essential  business.  “lots  of  mystery today ! ”  they  called,  “i  think  there’s  going  to  be  a  surge  in  sales.”

[silkear3d]

「  ✷  」  STATUS  ﹕  closed  .  「  ✷  」  LOCATION  ﹕  elmwood flats unit #2  .  「  ✷  」  WITH  ﹕  jasper  &  maren  (  @ofelation )

they  were  twenty - six  now,  but  they  had  once  been  eleven  years  old  playing  in  the  backyard  of  their  manchester  home  —  a  council  house  that  their  parents  had  bought  to  give  themselves  some  semblance  of  achievement.  otherwise, what had all those nights away from home been for ? they  were  used  to  growing  up  with  little,  playing  with  the  toys  their  older  siblings  no  longer  wanted,  but  they  had  never  asked  for  much  more  than  that.  for  jasper,  at  least,  spending  time  with  their  other  half  was  good  enough  for  him.  they  stood  a  little  off  to  the  side,  observing  maren's  actions  with  wide,  shimmering,  dark  eyes  ;  the  exact  same  set  the  two  of  them  shared.  “is  baking  always  this  …  messy ? ”  they  asked  with  a  slight  cock  of  their  head,  “i'm  not  saying  i  won't  do  it,  but  …  there  has  to  be  another  way.”

[silkear3d]

“psssh.  hey,  if  it’s  good  enough  for  the  greeks,  it’s  good  enough  for  me ! ”  there  were  plenty  of  ancient  civilisations  that  based  their  entire  way  of  being  around  alcohol.  eddie  used  it  as  an  excuse,  as  justification  for  sinking  his  generational  wealth  into  bottles  of  vodka  detailed  with  flecks  of  real  gold,  bottles  of  wine  older  than  his  grandfather.  he  steeled  himself  and  attempted  to  look  a  little  more  sober  than  he  was,  righting  his  crooked  glasses  and  smoothing  down  the  one  strand  of  usually  gelled  hair  that  had  wriggled  free.  dismissively,  he  added,  “long  day  at  work.” wasn’t  it  always  a  long  day ?  edwin  had  loved  the  chase,  the  risk,  the  adventure  of  archaeology  when  he  was  a  boy,  sat  beside  dig  sites  with  his  own  miniature  trowel  and  brush.  even  in  his  adolescence,  he  adored  chasing  his  father  around  into  the  deepest  depths  of  hidden  empires  and  cultures  he  had  only  ever  read  about.  they  weren’t  the  types  to  steal  artefacts  for  curious  eyes  and  grubby  fingers,  but  field  work  seemed  like  a  distant  dream  with  the  little  …  substance  problem  the  eldest  rietveld  had  developed  since  his  father’s  passing.  instead,  his  job  was  made  up  of  wiping  down  display  cabinets  and  assembling  broken  pottery.  so  much  for  being  a  young  indiana  jones. “it’s  just  a  bunch  of  rocks  and  stones,”  eddie  shrugged,  running  his  tongue  against  his  teeth  with  a  crooked  smirk,  “but  you  said  they  like  that  shit,  right ?  you  would  be  keeping  me  company  too.  the  days  can  get  real  long  if  nobody  is  there  to  drag  me  away  from  my  old  bones  and  twigs.”  he  pulled  out  his  card  and  gestured  for  ruairi  to  make  his  order.  it  didn’t  matter  what  it  was,  or  how  much  it  cost  ;  eddie  was  generous  at  the  best  of  times,  even  more  so  when  he  was  drunk.

Ruairi couldn’t quite seem to help the way his eyebrows rose towards his hairline as he listened to Edwin speak, nor could he help the smile that curved along his mouth as he followed the archaeologist obediently towards the bar. He’d seen Edwin in much more dire straits, of course— they’d become friends entirely through the course of running into each other at a fair few parties with enough frequency that Ruairi memorized his face around the third encounter or so. It was a comfortable friendship— even if Ruairi wished he could wrangle the archaeologist into hanging out away from a party once in a while— something he was determined to do someday soon if he could help it. “I reckon I can’t be doin’ better than you,” he teased, waving a hand to indicate Edwin’s clearly tipsy state. Considering Ruairi was stone cold sober at the moment, he had to concede that Edwin was having a better time of things— not that Ruairi had any intention of not being right behind the other man. “I’m great, though, thanks. You hangin’ in there? You smell like a distillery, Eds.”  There was no judgement in the comment— only an amused, matter-of-fact tone offered by the writer. He couldn’t imagine he’d catch up to Edwin quickly where a lack of sobriety was concerned but he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to try— it’d be fun, at the very least. The mention of his boyfriend was enough to make his smile widen and he tilted his head to one side in a familiarly puppy-like gesture before he nodded emphatically. “That right? I’ll have to let ‘em know when I get outta here, then. Is it some sorta natural history exhibit? I can’t imagine what else it’d be, mind ya, but there’s always a chance it’s somethin’ wild.”

[silkear3d]

“well,”  jasper  beamed,  curling  the  oversized  sleeve  over  his  free  hand  and  squeezing  the  soft,  slightly  bobbly  fabric  in  his  fist,  “i  want  it  for  a  long  time.”  the  younger  of  the  pair  found  love  in  the  little  things.  they  were  always  looking  for  the  magic  in  the  ordinary,  and  had  an  eye  for  beauty  in  details  that  would  fly  under  the  radar  for  most.  on  those  long  nights  where  they  weren’t  able  to  spend  time  at  each  other’s  homes  he  could  curl  up  in  the  huge  hoodie,  inhale  the  scent  of  his  partner  that  was  slowly  fading,  and  imagine  they  weren’t  so  far  away.  they  had  been  dating  for  a  few  months,  and  although  their  relationship  was  still  quite  fresh  there  was  no  doubt  that  jasper’s  heart  swelled  three  times  the  size  whenever  they  were  in  each  other’s  company.  in  a  silent  display  of  affection,  an  affirmation  of  their  feelings  for  each  other  without  the  need  for  words,  he  nudged  his  forehead  against  ruairi’s  arm.  it  was  similar  to  the  way  a  cat  would  gently  show  love.  something  understated,  something  gentle  that  ultimately  meant  the  world.  “i’ll  have  to  see  how  i  rate  them,”  they  responded,  peeling  away  and  setting  their  gaze  on  the  array  of  set - ups.  “sometimes  the  powder  can  get  all  clumpy,  or  be  too  thick  and  get  caught  in  your  throat.  they  might  use  those  marshmallows  that  are  like  plastic.  or  what  if  they  don’t  have  chocolate  to  dust  on  the  top  …  ”  for  a  moment,  their  expression  was  cast  with  a  shadow  of  stress.  it  all  seemed  to  melt  away  when  they  reached  the  queue  and  he  squeezed  ruairi’s  hand,  half  for  reassurance  and  half  to  balance  jasper’s  attempt  at  hiking  up  on  tiptoes  to  see  the  arrangement.  “what  do  they  have ? ”  they  asked,  turning  back  to  ruairi  with  wide  and  glittering  eyes ;  brown  and  green  like  a  forest  pool. 

“I’ve had it for absolute ages so I reckon that helps with the comfy bit,” Ruairi mused, glancing towards Jasper and resisting the urge to coo again about how adorable they looked. It was criminal and though Ruairi wasn’t and had never been shy about offering his affection to his boyfriend he was usually a bit more mindful about it when they were in public, not quite being able to bear the thought of making Jasper uncomfortable or overwhelmed in any way if he could help it. He seemed to have a knack for doing the opposite in a way he was quite thankful for and the last thing he wanted was to ruin that particular track record. “It’s yours as long as you want it, darlin’,” he added, perhaps unnecessarily. 

He left out the fact that he’d let Jasper keep the bloody thing forever if they wanted because that was quite a big thought and he hadn’t even had the stones quite yet to tell them he loved them but that was neither here nor there. It was certainly not something to be stewed upon when they were on a date and, thankfully, it was easy for him to redirect his thoughts towards the moment at hand. 

“I’d imagine it makes a killing considerin’ it’s so bloody cold and if they offer other things aside from hot chocolate then it makes sense they’d be here. I wonder if it’s from a shop nearby,” He said, a curious expression on his face. “We should check the place out if it is, hey? I know you’ve got preferences an’ all but if you like what they’ve got out right now then it couldn’t hurt, right?” He had no issue with how set his boyfriend was in their specific routines��� Ruairi had enough of them himself to make a pages long list but he’d enjoyed the moments they’d shared together that allowed both of them to branch even the slightest bit afield of their usual haunts.

[silkear3d]

Perhaps my destiny is to remain forever a bookkeeper, with poetry or literature as a butterfly that alights on my head, making me look ridiculous to the extent it looks beautiful.

— Excerpt from: The Book of Disquiet by Fernando Pessoa

[silkear3d]

ATLANTIS: THE LOST EMPIRE (2001) - Directed by Gary Trousdale & Kirk Wise

[silkear3d]

“eh,  we  can’t  have  it  all,  can  we?”  there  was  a  childlike  smile  on  eddie’s  face,  probably  something  to  do  with  the  alcohol  that  had  been  flowing  freely,  bought  for  him  by  strangers  and  friends  alike.  “the  decent  drinks  make  the  music  more  bearable.  drowns  it  out.  you  can  still  have  a  little  fun,”  he  wiggled  tunelessly,  raising  and  dropping  his  shoulders  slightly  off - beat.  he  could  appreciate  that,  to  those  that  didn’t  know  him,  edwin  looked  as  though  he  was  caught  in  limbo  ;  somewhere  between  the  past  and  the  present,  all  greys  and  browns  and  crisp  pleats.  “i  guess  you  could  say  that.  somewhere  between  the  eighties  and  the  eighth  century  bc.  i’m  an  archaeologist.  we  all  dress  as  though  we’re  aging  backwards.”  he  waved  a  beckoning  finger  in  the  stranger’s  direction,  guiding  her  to  the  bar,  knocking  his  knuckles  against  the  wooden  top,  “what’s  your  order?  i’m  buying.”

Music had never held a special spot in Estelle’s heart. Sure, she had songs she liked to sing along to; had a setlist for her performances at both the Chicago and New York clubs, had an ear for what would fill the dancefloors, but her opinions on it were limited. People followed it like a religion, and though she supported the efforts, all it mattered to her were that the DJ’s she had on her payroll didn’t drive out her customers, the same way she vetted vendors and bar staff for cocktails she herself didn’t drink. “I have to say, I respect a place that doesn’t upcharge for their drink, even if they’re screwing us with the entertainment. So, stuck in the eighties then? You seem a little young to be…retro.”

[silkear3d]

he  wasn’t  sure  he  would  ever  get  used  to  the  cold.  manchester  had  been  bitter,  the  cold  wind  rolling  over  the  moors  on  those  early  february  mornings,  but  this  was  almost  painful  —  whipping  their  cheeks  and  freezing  the  ends  of  their  hair.  ruairi  had  coaxed  jasper  out  of  their  bookish  sanctuary  for  the  evening  with  the  promise  of  hot  chocolate,  and  so  for  the  last  hour  or  so  he  hadn’t  strayed  far  from  the  cocoa  station.  he  was  like  a  child  at  a  playground,  taking  his  turn  on  the  slide  and  then  immediately  queueing  up  again  afterwards  ;  jasper  had  long  since  lost  count  of  how  many  polystyrene  cups  of  liquid  chocolate  he  had  consumed,  but  at  the  very  least  it  was  keeping  them  warm  through  the  late  winter  evening.  acting  almost  instinctively,  they  reached  for  the  whipped  cream,  but  instead  of  a  cold  can  he  collided  with  unfamiliar  flesh  and  immediately  snatched  his  hand  back  as  though  he  had  been  burned.  “i  won’t  use  it  all  up,”  matter  of  fact,  literal  as  always.  “too  much  cream  ruins  things.  it’s  all  about  balance.  you  can’t  have  too  much  of  any  of  the  components.  too  many  marshmallows  makes  it  gluey,  too  much  chocolate  powder  takes  away  from  the  cream,  too  much  cream  melts  off  and  makes  your  hands  all  sticky.  it’s  a  system.”  a  measured  squirt  topped  jasper’s  drink  before  he  offered  the  can  back  to  the  other.  “are  you  hiding  out  back  here  too?  it’s  all  …  it’s  a  bit  much,  isn’t  it?”

⇢ 📱 STATUS ﹕ open. ⇢ 📱 DETAILS ﹕ snow frolic event, later in the evening

The   crowds   around   the   park   were   beginning   to   thin,   the   night   slipping   into   something   quieter,   more   intimate   as   families   with   their   young   children   started   making   their   way   home.   Elliot   had   taken   Sawyer   back   home   for   the   night,   so   Naomi   found   herself   roaming   the   winding   walkways   lined   with   twinkling   lights.   The   festivities   weren’t   over   yet,   but   the   energy   had   definitely   shifted.   The   winter   air   bit   at   her   cheeks,   the   chill   chasing   away   the   warmth   from   the   mulled   wine   she’d   been   sipping   earlier.   She   cupped   her   hands   together   and   blew   warm   air   into   them   before   deciding   it   was   time   for   a   pit   stop   at   the   hot   chocolate   bar.   The   line   wasn’t   as   intense   as   it   had   been   earlier   in   the   night ( thankfully   ) so   after   a   minute   or   two,   she   had   her   cup   and   was   piling   on   just   the   right   amount   of   toppings.   Naomi   reached   forward   for   the   can   of   whipped   cream   at   the   same   time   as   the   person   in   front   of   her   in   line. “Oh !   Sorry,” Naomi   offered   the   other   an   apologetic   smile.   She   gestured   for   them   to   use   the   can   first. “Please,   you   first.   Just   don’t   use   it   all   up,”   she   joked.

[silkear3d]

eddie  puffed  a  breath  of  air,  making  a  ‘pssh’  sound  and  waving  his  hand  dismissively.  “of  course  you  will.  you’re  always  elegant.”  compliments  came  naturally  ;  it  wasn’t  difficult  to  find  nice  things  to  say  about  the  woman  before  him,  and  his  words  came  out  of  his  mouth  as  though  they  were  coated  in  velvet.  his  index  finger  hiked  the  bridge  of  his  glasses  up  his  nose.  “where’s  home  for  you?”  he  asked,  “there  can  be  beauty  in  cold  places,  but  only  when  they’re  equipped  for  it.  it  doesn’t  matter  how  many  harsh  winters  we  get  hit  with,  the  gritters  and  snow  plows  are  always  sent  out  just  a  little  too  late  over  here.”  it  made  him  nostalgic,  too,  but  not  for  home  —  home  had  long  been  stolen  from  edwin.  instead,  he  thought  for  a  moment  about  all  the  places  his  father  had  taken  the  two  young  boys  ;  the  world  had  become  his  home,  and  he  had  been  welcomed  into  cultures  and  practices  he  had  only  read  in  storybooks.  now  that  eddie  was  grounded,  stagnant,  still,  he  ached  to  be  whisked  away  to  someplace  new,  someplace  exciting.  someplace  that  wasn’t  willow  peak.  he  straightened  his  back  and  moved  his  free  hand  to  his  pocket,  moving  to  stub  his  smoke  out  and  flick  it  into  a  nearby  trashcan  once  the  embers  had  died  away.  “that  sounds  like  a  good  plan.  i  need  somebody  to  tell  me  i  don’t  look  like  a  secretary,  or  to  let  me  know  if  the  lenses  make  me  look  like  some  sort  of  ginormous  bug.”  it  wasn’t  hard  to  make  himself  look  insect - like.  he  was  already  all  legs  and  arms.  “i’ll  get  a  black  coffee.  thank   you.”

Amara grinned at his compliment, her fingers adjusting the pink scarf across her shoulder as he did the same. "Thanks," she said with a genuine smile. "Though I can’t promise I’ll wear it as elegantly as you make it sound —no promises on that front." She sighed dramatically, her breath puffing in the chilly air. "This weather is killing me. After all these years, I still can’t get used to the brutal winters here. It’s that time of year again, and honestly, it’s starting to make me a little homesick."

When he mentioned haggling, Amara couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. "I’m definitely not cut out for negotiating in markets. I’m pretty sure any attempt at bargaining would end with me apologizing and paying full price." She flashed him a playful grin. "But, hey, I’ll just take your advice and go with a souvenir from here instead, no haggling required." When he mentioned needing glasses, her eyebrow arched. "Are you sure about that? At this rate, you’re practically tempting fate with your luck!" she teased, before adding with a smile, "But hey, if you’re serious, I’ll help you find a pair. Maybe we’ll both walk away with something useful today." The cold bit at her cheeks, and she gestured toward the nearby hot drink stands. "But first, I’ll grab something warm for myself, but how about I get you a drink, too? Any preferences? We both deserve a break from this cold, after all."

[silkear3d]

sometimes,  there  were  nights  where  jasper  couldn’t  sleep.  it  was  a  rarity  —  they  usually  had  a  system  —  but  when  sleep  didn’t  seem  to  come  and  they  had  been  tossing  in  their  bed  for  a  few  hours,  the  mousy - looking  boy  would  do  what  he  did  best  ;  read.  with  a  blanket  over  his  shoulders,  he  had  dragged  himself  out  of  the  comfort  of  his  nest  and  lovingly  pulled  together  the  perfect  hot  chocolate.  cream,  marshmallows,  a  little  dusting  of  chocolate  on  the  top. they  settled  in  the  armchair  in  the  corner  of  their  living  room.  it  was  a  shared  space,  him  and  aurelia  displaying  each  and  every  one  of  their  trinkets  on  whatever  exposed  shelves  they  could  find.  cool  shaped  rocks  and  crystals,  old  books  from  the  marketplace,  postcards  and  souvenirs  tacked  to  walls  or  balanced  precariously  on  whatever  surface  could  squeeze  them  in.  it  was  a  cozy  haven,  almost  like  a  museum  …   …  the  best  place  to  devour  a  chapter  or  two  of  the  novel  he  was  reading,  night  flight  by  antoine  de  saint-exupéry.  but  a  movement  disrupted  jasper’s  peace,  and  inquisitively  they  leaned  forward  to  stare  into  the  darkness  until  the  familiar  face  of  their  roommate  came  into  view.  the  bookseller  was  clearly  exhausted  —  prematurely  greying  hair  a  mess  and  sticking  up  at  crazy  angles,  dark  circles  around  their  eyes  —  but  that  didn’t  mean  the  smile  that  came  across  their  features  was  any  less  genuine.  “still  awake!”  he  chirped,  “i’ve  been  doing  too  much  thinking.”

who: aurelia torres + jasper finch ( @silkear3d ) where: their shared apartment when: sunday, february 2nd, 2025 ( late evening )

The streetlights outside flicker faintly as Aurelia makes her way down the quiet sidewalk, her steps echoing softly in the stillness of the night. She pulls her jacket tighter around her shoulders, the cold air biting at her skin after hours of heat and movement inside Peek. The hum of the city feels muted at this hour, and she welcomes the relative silence that surrounds her as she reaches the entrance to her apartment building.

She lets herself inside, the familiar scent of jasmine from the air freshener mixing with the faint remnants of stale coffee and something warm she can’t quite place. Her shoes come off quietly, and she tiptoes down the narrow hallway toward the apartment door she shares with Jasper, expecting him to be fast asleep by now.

The door creaks as she opens it, and she pauses for a moment in the doorway, taking in the darkened room. The soft glow from the streetlights outside casts shadows across the space, and she’s ready to slip into bed without disturbing him.

But then, a light flickers on from the living room.

Aurelia blinks in surprise, her heart giving a small flutter. She hadn’t expected Jasper to still be up, not with the late hour. She steps into the room, her voice quiet but warm. “You’re still awake?” She smiles softly, a little amused. “I figured you’d be out like a light by now.”

[silkear3d]

“i  am  right,”  but  jasper  didn’t  say  it  to  be  pedantic  or  rude,  he  said  it  because  he  was  right.  there  was  a  sweet  smile  on  their  chocolatey  lips,  a  fleeting  glance  to  their  newfound  company.  “there’s  …  there’s  this  musical  i  like.  hadestown.  it  tells  all  about  how  persephone  comes  up  from  the  underworld  for  six  months  of  the  year  and  brings  the  spring.  spring  will  come  again.  it  always  comes  again,  even  when  the  wind  is  mean  and  scary  and  the  cold  tries  to  take  everything  away.”  they  had  needed  to  develop  a  way  to  cope  in  a  world  that  wasn’t  built  for  them.  jasper  had  their  sister,  they  supposed  —  their  other  half,  their  twin  —  but  solitude  was  inevitable,  and  so  he  had  been  forced  to  adapt.  musicals  were  a  way  into  conversation,  something  he  could  always  rely  on  —  even  if  others  weren’t  so  sure.  their  cheeks  bloomed  a  light  pink,  and  jasper  shook  his  head  and  mumbled,  “me  and  …  me  and  my  sister  went  and  saw  it  once.”  wide  eyed,  fascinated  like  a  new  puppy,  jasper  watched  the  other  test  the  wine.  he  couldn’t  think  of  anything  worse,  a  concoction  of  spice  that  was  always  different,  that  nearly  burned  on  the  way  down.  “i  wouldn’t  like  it,”  they  confirmed,  before  doing  the  same  with  their  hot  chocolate  —  taking  a  mouthful,  swilling  the  drink  around  in  their  mouth,  swallowing  it  down.  jasper  was  silent  for  a  moment  before  replying,  “a  solid  six.  no  powder,  but  it’s  a  still  a  little  gritty.  it’s  a  bit  too  sweet,  and  i  would  prefer  some  chocolate  to  dust  on  top  …  but  i  suppose  it’s  okay  for  hot  chocolate  they’re  giving  away.”

Perhaps she should have vetted her choice in conversation partner a bit better - this kid seemed like they wanted to talk to strangers even less than Valley did, and she felt like she'd intruded on their thoughts a little bit by speaking. She wanted to apologize, but the way they held the little cup in both hands, to warm and comfort themselves, was so endearing, she regretted nothing.

This thought was affirmed by the optimistic reminder of the inevitability of spring - something Valletta had almost stopped believing in at this point in the winter. "I guess you're right," she said, unconsciously adjusting her voice to be calmer and quieter, like he were a little bird she was afraid of scaring off. "It's just hard to remember that when everything's so... grey, isn't it?"

They asked if the mulled wine tasted nice, in a way that sounded like they couldn't imagine it possibly would, and Valley smiled. "You know, I'm not sure, this is my first cup. Hold please," she said, lifting a finger as she took her first sip. She smiled and closed her eyes almost instinctively as she tasted it, and opened her eyes to inform him of what she'd learned. "It's sweet, but not too sweet. A bit of cinnamon and nutmeg, a bit of citrus and ginger. A splash of what I'm pretty sure is Grand Marnier. But if you don't like red wine, you might not like it. How's the hot chocolate?"