#silvercrest

[vadapega]

This LIDL brand drawing tablet sucks, it wiggles all over, can't do a straight line without smoothening being up to 80% at least and it gives up being usable after a minute of of drawing, absolute scam thing I had to put up with 10 years ago.

[recetaspanificadoralidl]

¡Disfruta de un bizcocho casero y delicioso con nuestra receta de bizcocho de manzana en la panificadora Lidl! Fácil de hacer y lleno de sabor. 🍏🍰

[mister-rings]

volantino Lidl da giovedì 27 marzo 2025 in cucina #silvercrest #lidl #vo...

[starstablegeek]

Name: Blake Silvercrest

Gender: Trans man

Pronouns: he/him

Age: 22

Height: 5’10”

Place of Birth: West Jorvik

Home: Apartment above New Hillcrest Stables

Occupation: Groom/trainer/shepherd for New Hillcrest Stables and The Bulldogz

Soul Horse: DesertKing

Other Horses: WinterBird, FireChaser, RedShadow, SunTea

Pets/Companions: Rosie, Pumpkin, Captain, Raven

Personality: Awkward and antisocial, he also has selective mutism, but luckily his boss and clients don’t mind (in fact many seem to appreciate a trainer who won't yell at them!). He is happiest just caring for his little flock on Sunset Island with all his creatures. The only people he hangs out with outside of work or Soul Rider missions are Professor Hayden, Madison (who he babysits), and occasionally Anne. His pockets are always filled with random things, though he always has his trusty notebook.

Backstory: Born into a noble family in Jorvik, he grew up around horses and frankly spent more time with King than he ever did his family. When he was 15, he realized he’s trans, but when he came out to his family he was kicked out and disowned, leaving with only a backpack and King. He eventually got a job working near Fort Pinta, and worked there for several years before moving to New Hillcrest. He is a talented rider though, and has competed all over Jorvik in dressage and livestock events. 

[ladylvndr]

Elder Scrolls Online: Isolde Silvercrest

Snow Elf | Ebonheart Pact | Magicka Warden

Isolde’s lineage traces back to a group of proud Snow Elves, who rejected the Dwemer’s offer of asylum, opting for seclusion in a region of Tamriel’s unforgiving wilderness known as the Reach. Generations endured solitude and hardship, hidden from history’s gaze until Isolde’s parents were pursued by the savagery of the Reachmen’s hostility. Desperately wanting their daughter to survive, they entrusted Isolde to the sheltering embrace of a secluded cavern, concealing her amidst the shadows as they departed. Miraculously spared by the whims of chance, Isolde was found and adopted by a young Nord couple who had been sneaking through Reachman territory.

Raised in the warm embrace of her adoptive kin, Isolde discovered they were harboring a dark secret. Generations ago, Isolde’s adoptive family was disgraced by the actions of their ancestor, a once-prominent figure whose heroic deeds had earned them praise and admiration. This ancestor, who had fallen far from grace, grappled with feelings of shame and desperation, yearning to reclaim the fame and glory that had been lost. For this reason, the ancestor sought solace and redemption through the most unlikely of avenues: the Dark Brotherhood. Sworn to shadowy contracts and steeped in the art of assassination, the Dark Brotherhood offered the disgraced hero a chance to find praise and glory in the shadows, away from the judgmental eyes of society.

As the years passed, the stain of disgrace continued to haunt Isolde’s family, shaping their identity and destiny. Raised within the shadowy halls of the Dark Brotherhood, each successive generation came to know only the ways of the assassin, their upbringing steeped in secrecy, violence, and intrigue. Despite their longing for redemption and a return to glory, Isolde’s parents found themselves unable to escape the shadow of their tarnished name.

For Isolde, growing up within the embrace of the Dark Brotherhood was all she knew. Raised amidst whispers of contracts and shadows, she learned to navigate the treacherous world of assassination with a skill and precision beyond her years. Yet, deep within her heart, she harbored a longing for something more.

As Isolde embarks on her own journey, she carries with her the weight of her family's legacy and the echoes of their disgraced past. Driven by a desire to reclaim her family's honor and restore their tarnished name to glory, she sets out to forge her own path, determined to carve a new legacy for herself and her family... no matter the cost.

[bloodsalted]

@silvercrested || inbox goodness! || oh hi there!

i ran out of options.

"glad i'm the last resort," dean grins and finishes his beer before he stands up from the barstool and fishes a worn, leather wallet out of his back pocket. a twenty's placed on the bar. enough to cover the few beers he's had and give the bartender a fair share of his spoils from a game of pool. one that went very, very wrong for an underestimating opponent who thought he was the shit by the time dean bellied up for a challenge. turns out! that guy had a hard lesson to learn. underestimation can get your ass kicked!

green eyes meet hers. a quizzical positioning of his brow later--the hunter gives her an encouraging tick of his chin. "what's going on?"

[deathcrime]

@silvercrested ' we all pay for our choices. '

"Yeah, I don't expect to see any pearly gates when my time finally comes." Frank grunts, loading a gun with his hands. "But I doubt it'll be because of this." He gestured towards the dead werewolf at his feet. "Ironic, right? I kill hundreds of scumbags, some of the worst people to walk this earth, and a few of the capes give me crap about it. But this?" He taps the carcass with his boot. "It's all fine to them. I don't hear a damn peep about it. Suddenly, they turn the other way. They pick and choose who they care about, fucking hypocrites. This guy might've had a family, a few kids. Who knows? But he won't see them in the morning and no one will give us shit about it. Why? 'Cuz he's a werewolf."

[01army]

“so what the hell are ya , exactly ?” ( for bucky ! )

“    i'm not one of those... — dogs you hang out with, i can tell you that.     ” he comments, the words lingering in the air like a faint warning. the strength, the metal arm — that’s a different story, there's no time to explain any of it right now. “    i'm not after you, if that's what you're wondering. you're safe @silvercrested.     ” or as safe as she can be, considering what he's capable of.

[sidecrime]

[ ELM ] sender lends receiver aid in a time of urgent need. / for rina ⤿ @silvercrested

rina’s breath came out in ragged gasps,   &  her hand clutched at the fresh wound on her side,  trying to stem the bleeding as she slumped against the cold brick wall.  the pain was unbearable,  but it was the panic that she hated most.  she wasn’t the type to show weakness,  never had been,  but right now,  it felt impossible to keep the edge at bay.  her mind raced through every possible escape plan,  every possible way to fix this without anyone finding out just how much danger she was in.  that’s when she felt the steadying grip on her arm,  the familiar presence of someone who wasn’t going to let her slip through the cracks.  allison was here,   &  for all her efforts to shut it out,  rina couldn’t stop the brief wave of relief that washed over her. 

❝should’ve known i couldn’t do this alone,❞  rina muttered,  voice rough but steady as she met allison’s eyes for a moment.  ❝i got sloppy,  real sloppy.  thought i could handle it,   &  now i’m the one bleeding out like some damn amateur.❞  she let out a breath,  her chest tightening in frustration as she tried to stay on her feet.  ❝i’ve been the one taking care of everyone else for too long,  guess i forgot what it feels like to actually need someone. ❞ she wasn’t looking for pity — rina never did — but there was something in her tone that said she wasn’t used to being vulnerable.  her jaw clenched as she steadied herself against allison,  though she kept her pride intact.  ❝just don’t make me owe you,  alright?❞ the words were tough,  but the underlying care in them was there,  buried beneath the weight of everything.  it wasn’t easy for rina to admit,  but she couldn’t deny it.  not now. 

[starstablegeek]

This is Blake and he lives in the stables at New Hillcrest

You remember this thing?

Im thinking of updating it.

Incase people have moved or more people want to add their ocs here.

I dont have time to do anything untill a month from now so do share a photo of your characters, their name and where they live.

You can also add a comment about how they live or with who.

Edit: I would need new photos. I dont think I can get access to the old file again so will have to start from the beginning with the map. So even if your ocs are already on here, please send new photos.

[recetaspanificadoralidl]

🎄✨ La Navidad sabe mejor con un panettone casero 🍞. Esponjoso, lleno de frutas confitadas, pepitas de chocolate o lo que más te guste, y con ese toque tradicional que a todos encanta.

Prepara el tuyo fácilmente con una panificadora y sorprende a tus seres queridos estas fiestas. 🎁❤️

[mister-rings]

volantino Lidl da lunedì 20 gennaio 2025 Parkside #parkside #lidl #volan...

[greetingfromthedead]

20. S.O.S.

Series: Apple Blossoms Pairing: Knives x GN!Reader Word count: 3k This chapter has been beta-read by kn1vesm

Author's Note: Once again I am sad to announce that Apple Blossoms will be on a break until further notice, and this time it will actually be a longer one since there are other things requiring my full attention. But don't worry, I will absolutely return to this story! In the meantime, feel free to join our little Discord community where I might drop some breadcrumbs and maybe even an exclusive look at the scrapped enemies-to-lovers story? :O Be sure to follow me to never miss an update!

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High-pitched barks start as soon as you step off the stairs, like a security alarm. The tiny fluffy dog hurries over across the faded carpet but calms down immediately as you come into view. It wags its tail happily and turns around to return to Lucille, who waits by the reception in her voluptuous nightgown. She yawns as she picks up the dog, who seems to vibrate with excitement.

"You really had to leave this early?" Lucille asks with disappointment as she strokes the dog's soft fur.

"Sorry, but this way we have the most daylight for travel. Days are short enough as is." You smile apologetically. "And you didn't need to send us off; I could have just put the keys back myself like usual."

"Nonsense. I had to see you two before you disappear for another year," she says while shuffling closer. "And it might be my last chance to lay my eyes on that handsome fellow whom you've been hiding from me! It is very unfair of you!"

"You're imagining things!" You reply with mock outrage, even though you know that she is right; you have been avoiding her.

"After I provided you two with the best room in the house as well!" she shakes her head with disappointment.

"You could have warned us about the shared bathroom," you mumble.

"Did I not?" She feigns ignorance. "Oops!"

You notice the tiredness leave her body as mischief takes over.

"Are you sure we can't pay for the rooms?" You prod again.

"I absolutely am!" Lucille puffs out her chest, "So if you insist on leaving, then we are done here. You owe me nothing! And I do expect to see you again! I will always find room for you here, even if I have to personally kick someone else out. And don't wait so long to return next time. Or at least write me a letter and let me know how you're doing. I worry about you!"

Lucille's demeanor softens, and she walks over to you, taking your hand and squeezing it to drive her point across. It is obvious from the lines on her face that she does care. She is sad to see you go, and you feel a bit guilty for avoiding her while you've stayed in town. You should come back once you get things sorted with your supplies, Knives, and Silvercrest.

"And you!" Lucille turns to Knives, who stands a step behind you. "Take care of my savior! You hear me? There are too many people who would be distraught if something bad were to happen to this angel! And while you're at it… don't wait too long to make up your mind. Someone else might snatch up what you want while you're sitting on a fence. No matter how handsome you are."

"Lucille!" you squeeze her hand, a frown creating a crease between your brows.

"What? I didn't say anything that wasn't true!" she makes herself sound as innocent as possible before laughing and letting go of you. "Take care! I hope to see you soon!"

It is bittersweet to leave this town in the early hours of the morning. The sky is still dark and the streets are quiet as you make your way to the gate. You're let through without issue, and together with the howling winds, the suns appear too—slowly creeping over the horizon, casting a warm glow over the land. Each step forward makes your stomach feel heavier. After all, you are heading towards Octovern.

Knives is plagued by a sense of… something. He expected relief, as he is finally out of that room. He has some freedom back; he is in the open desert, just like he had wanted with all his being just a few days ago. But now that there is nothing but dunes in front of him as far as the eye can see, he does not feel relief. He doesn't know what this feeling is or why it has settled in his gut that is already overcrowded with butterflies and black holes. All he knows is that it's not going away. He shifts his gaze to you. He looks at the back of your head as the strong winds whip your cloak around you. At least this time you are alone on your tomas, no more unwanted guests to make Knives's blood boil. He doubts he would be able to just stand by and watch this time.

There is also Lucille's request that got stuck in his head. He was asked to take care of you. What does it even mean? Does she expect him to protect you? It seems like a fool's errand. You are always way too eager to dive in headfirst. Do you even want to live with an attitude like that? And how ironic for anyone to ask for him to protect a human. If anything, he is a bigger threat to you than any man. Or so it used to be. Something has changed. Actually, a lot has changed. Knives's hands seem incapable of hurting you at this point. There is no distaste left in him towards you. His body is drawn to you, not at all repulsed by a human being. It is as if Knives has gotten stuck in your orbit, unclear if the trajectory will pull him closer or eventually push him away again. To his terror, it appears that he doesn't mind this.

Knives pushes for his tomas to move a bit quicker until he catches up to you, his ride falling in line with your bird. Knives sees you turn your head toward him with a slight smile, and his heart does a little leap in his chest—his heart skipped a beat. Just like described in those grandiose poems in the book. Knives tries to ignore it.

"How did you save Lucille's life?" he asks, raising his voice to shout over the wind.

"Huh?" you ask in return, not able to pick out what he said over the roaring gale.

Knives takes a deep breath, ready to shout even louder to be heard, but catches himself before he can do that, holding on to his dignity. He gives a little wave with his hand, letting you know it is not important, and then turns his gaze back to the horizon, where the suns are climbing their way up. He is disappointed, cursing the strong winds for making it nearly impossible to talk to you. He wants to hear your voice; strangely, he wants it to fill the air like it did when he first woke up in your house.

Your gaze lingers on him a while longer. He tried to tell you something, or maybe he asked something? You aren't sure, but it made you happy regardless. He spoke to you. Voluntarily. On his own accord. It makes you nearly as happy as when he first talked to you. It brings a smile to your face. You will definitely return to this potential conversation once it is possible to hear the other and the wind doesn't kick up sand into your mouths.

The next settlement should come soon enough; depending on how the toma hold up, it might even come too soon, and you would waste a lot of daylight if you spent the night there. But then again, it would be better to stay in a settlement; it would be safer in every way. You ponder about it, weighing your options while turning your eyes forward. There probably wouldn't be any big worms to worry about. Less likely to encounter bandits who would take you as easy targets. You could purchase food and water, saving your rations. If you get lucky, Knives can sleep in a clean bed, reducing the risk of infection. But on the other hand, there are people, and they could recognize him. You are too close to Octovern, things are riskier; the military police and Earth's forces can catch up to you in a blink of an eye in their cars. You don't stand a chance. You also don't come to these parts too often; you don't have much of a reputation to fall back on. You doubt you could talk your way out if something were to go south.

Knives keeps glancing over while you are deep in thought. He can tell from the furrow of your brow that you are wrestling with something. He wants to ask, but you wouldn't hear him anyway, so he keeps his mouth shut. He guesses it is about Octovern. You are heading straight for it now, as far as he can tell. There was a time when that would make him cautious, perhaps even worried, but at this point, he feels at ease with you. The nagging thought of you handing him over has disappeared. You would have done so already if it were your plan. You wouldn't look so nervous if that were the case.

For the first time in a while, Knives starts to wonder about the future. What it might hold for him. And you. He finds himself rooting for you, hoping that you will succeed in finding a supplier so you can keep doing what you have been for a long time. He wonders when his wound will heal and what comes after. Will you push him to go and find his own way? It would make sense, yet Knives can't begin to guess what he would do. He has been relying on you to guide him in this world that has come after his failure. He can't even imagine going off on his own. Somehow, you are always there in the future that conjures itself in his brain. Perhaps the strangest part about this train of thought is that for once, Knives doesn't mind the way you invade his brain.

Knives takes care of the toma while you prepare to make dinner. He strokes their long, feathered necks as they drink the water he offers and let out cooing sounds of contentment. Knives has his back towards you, allowing you to watch him in peaceful admiration. His demeanor has changed. He did show some affection towards the birds even before, but right now he seems more open, genuine. It's as if he has finally let down his guard, even just a little bit.

"What did you say earlier, after we left Fairvale?" you ask him now that you have left the merciless winds behind.

"Nothing important," he replies, not turning towards you, instead feeding the birds some grain from his palm.

"You can tell me anyway," you say softly and click on the little gas burner.

"I was just wondering how you saved Lucille's life." The words slip from his mouth before he can catch them by the tail. He should watch what he says; he should keep his walls up, but it has become so hard with you. He wants to hear your voice; he wants to feel your brave gaze that doesn't look at him like he is insane, like he is a villain. It is an impossible thing to admit to himself, so he remains in denial, even though, deep down, he already knows it is the truth. But he can't bring himself to accept it.

"By pure luck, to be fair." You smile softly, glad he decided to let his curiosity win. "Fairvale has its own clinic, so I don't go there too often. At least not like I do with the little towns and villages closer to home. But I did go to the Solstice festival some years ago and just happened to be right there when I heard a woman complain about chest pain. The moment I managed to pick her out from the crowd, she nearly collapsed. I rushed over and helped her. Apparently this wasn't the first time, but it was the worst. I get more credit for that whole ordeal than I deserve. Everything about that encounter was lucky. That I was in town, that I was almost next to her when she started to complain, that I had almost all of my supplies on me… the list goes on. But most of all, everything that happened happened on time. In a matter of 10 minutes, I don't know if there would have been anything I could have done."

"Lucky Bug," Knives mutters under his breath, not loud enough for you to hear.

"I stayed in town a bit longer after that. I watched over Lucille and consulted with the local doctor. I helped out while I was there, got to meet many interesting people, and Lucille wouldn't stop talking to anybody who would listen about how I apparently saved her life. That got me quite a lot of job offers, both from the clinic and the mayor himself. It was bizarre."

Knives hangs on to every word you say; he listens to your voice as it entangles into his mind. He still has his back to you because he knows that if he meets your gaze, that would be all he could focus on. As soon as you fall silent, he starts to crave more. He waits for a moment longer, hoping you would continue to speak, but then turns around. He sees you staring off into the distance, your brows furrowed in concentration. Knives notes the soft glow of the gas burner on your profile, barely noticeable since it hasn't gotten completely dark yet, a soft twilight. You look concerned, and it makes his stomach feel uncomfortable. He wonders what could be troubling you. He follows your gaze into the distance. Somewhere far, close to the horizon, there is a barely noticeable light. It is hard to spot it on the backdrop of the fading sunset colors, but it is there, and it is flashing. Three short, three long, three short. Pause. Repeat.

"What do you think this could be?" Knives asks as he turns to look at you again.

"That's a distress signal. S.O.S." you reply, gaze still nailed to the light. "Someone is in trouble."

"Don't you think it could be a trap? Just drawing people in." Knives suggests, reminded of human cruelty and trickery.

"They are signaling to us. They saw the light of our gas burner; it would be bright enough for them to see. They know we are here; if it were a trap, they would sneak up on us," you explain. "We have to help."

Knives can't get another word out before you are already on your feet, packing up and preparing to head out. You leave the light burning as you hurry around him, rolling up your bed and going to saddle the toma. Knives isn't convinced by your explanation. As you pass him, he grabs hold of your wrist to make you stop for a second.

"What if it is a trap after all?" he asks, his voice stern as he looks at you.

"What if it isn't?" you reply, looking him in the eye with resolution he cannot deny.

He lets go of you and wordlessly starts to help you to get ready. He helps you saddle the birds and attaches the gear while you pick up the last of your supplies. After everything else is sorted, you pick up the still lit burner and wave it over your head before extinguishing the flame and putting it safely away.

A million worrisome thoughts cross your mind about what this could be. There shouldn't be a settlement there, and they probably wouldn't flash for help like this. They could, but it isn't likely in your mind. This flashing light isn't a fire; it has to be some sort of lamp. Something bright. Car headlights or a large torch. Someone must be stranded in the desert. They could be victims of bandits. They are likely hungry and dehydrated. Hopefully they aren't hurt. Whatever the case, you have already mounted your ride and push forward with a brisk pace, Knives shortly behind you.

The distance seems endless; the light comes only slightly closer as you hurry over the dunes. It settles a heavy weight deep in your stomach, each bounce of the toma conjuring up a new thought about the trouble the light might be signaling. It still flashes the same pattern of distress. Three short, three long, three short. Pause. Repeat. You take mental note of your diminished supplies: with what you have, there is only so much you can do. You only have enough for a few more wounds. There is only so much pain you can take away, only so much fever you can banish. And everything else… is almost hopeless.

With your mind firmly focused on doom, the stretch of sand finally starts to close. The flashing lights are two separate sources—car headlights, just like you had guessed. But there is more, a glow of softer lights moving about in the distance. There are at least a few people. New thoughts of worry begin to creep in. What about Knives? What if he is recognized? You can't outrun cars on your toma. It makes you stop on top of a ridge that overlooks the boundless desert.

"Pull up your hood," you instruct Knives, "I don't think they will have any ill intent towards us, but just in case… Be careful."

"What is that?" he asks, looking towards the lights as he covers his hair and part of his face with the hood. "Is that a car pulling something?"

It makes you look again, this time a little more carefully. It is hard in the darkness that has settled over the whole area. You narrow your eyes, straining to see what he does, and indeed you begin to make out a silhouette in the glow of the dimmer lights. A very familiar sight that makes your heart jump with glee.

"That's a caravan! Those are traders!" you exclaim, not even noticing how you push yourself up from your saddle, leaning forward.

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You can check out the Apple Blossoms Masterlist for more info.

Did you like this? Go check out my MASTERLIST and drop a follow for any and all future projects!

[perpetuallylocked]

For those of you who are excited for the upcoming non-Nancy Drew games like Penelope Pendrick and the Art of Deceit, What Was Found at Ravenhill, Alex Hill: Whispers at White Oak Inn and Amelia Darnell: Secrets of Silvercrest Village, enjoy the developers of those games playing Sea of Darkness!

[septima-severa]

Eli Vanto... actually cares?

I'm at chapter six. Stuck at the beginning, really.

I had so many plans for Eli Vanto, like the ones hinting at Thranto for example. But now? It's been living its own life within my head, although I must admit... If he really adored Thrawn so much, it wouldn't be that off-character when he starts physically guarding what is his partner's, right?

Right???

Well, let's go with it.

For now.

---------

“What the fuck did Admiral Ma’kro do to you?” he momentarily forgot himself, asking you in Basic just as you were about to collapse onto a medical bed. From up close, you had to look even more wrecked, and Vanto’s nose wrinkled in poorly disguised disgust. He hadn’t imagined that the journey from one ship to another could be so… draining, although the Silvercrest had carried you only so far before loading you and Vah’nya into that flying coffin and yeeting you into the vast nothingness in a blind belief that you would somehow make it the rest of the way to the Springhawk.

And you had done it – eventually.

It had taken its toll on you, though, and the male medic standing beside your bed was tutting disapprovingly at you while taking your vitals. “Your blood pressure is very low, and the oxygen levels are dropping. You should take it easy,” he said in a deep, calm voice, making you flinch.

“I’m not a fucking soldier,” you snapped, hoping to hide it. Whether you were trembling from exhaustion or with rage, you couldn’t say. However, when you tried to sit up, a hand was pressing you back down – the very human hand. You threw daggers at Vanto for that, but were glad, because your head started spinning, the images swimming in front of your eyes. Closing them didn’t really help.

The medic didn’t pay it any heed. “I recommend plenty of hydration, and you will spend the night on observation,” he tapped on his questis before leaving. “I will have something sent up for you to change in a moment.”

Ah, your unpleasant body odour – sweat and stale breast milk. It made you cringe. And the nausea. You gulped, keeping your eyes closed – just in case. “I need to shower.”

“You need to rest,” Ivant’s voice was a bit harsher than he intended, and so his next words came out rather as a whisper: “What did Admiral Ma’kro do to you?”

“I’m not talking about it,” you dismissed his question.

But that didn’t stop his imagination to run wild. He had heard stories. Keeping his mouth shut back then, Vanto had ignored the gossip… Until he had heard it again in the buzzing mess hall, and more recently to add. I would like to try some human female someday; I've heard it can be fun. Images he would rather forget forever began running in front of his eyes like some stupid holo. “Did he –“

“No.”

[sidecrime]

[ MAGNOLIA ] sender, believed to be dead, arrives at receiver's door. / for elias ⤿ @silvercrested

elias stood in the doorway,  his hand still gripping the handle as if to reassure himself that he wasn’t imagining the figure standing before him.  his mind struggled to process the sight — allison argent,  standing in the doorway as though nothing had changed,  as if she hadn’t been gone for years.  her presence sent a shockwave through his chest,  a mixture of disbelief,  relief,   &  something raw he hadn’t expected.  he'd mourned her.  he'd buried that part of himself,  the part that once held hope that maybe,  just maybe,  she could return.  but that hope had been long gone,  eclipsed by the harsh reality of gotham.  he had seen death before,  witnessed too much of it,   &  he’d never once thought it would be this way.  her death had been final — he’d buried her with his own hands,  with a quiet grief that gnawed at him every damn day.  yet,  here she was,  the woman who had once meant everything to him,  standing there,  alive.  but nothing made sense. 

his breath hitched,   &  he forced himself to speak,  trying to keep the words from spilling out too quickly,  trying to control the barrage of emotions threatening to overtake him.  ❝i — i thought you were dead, ❞ elias muttered,  the roughness in his voice betraying the steadiness he’d cultivated over the years.  ❝i never thought i’d see you again.  never thought i’d —❞ he broke off,  pressing his lips together,  his thoughts fighting each other as his gaze remained fixed on her,  drinking in every detail of the person he once knew.  his mind raced,  struggling to reconcile the reality before him with the version of allison he had long since let go of.  a thousand questions ran through his head,  but all he could do was stare,  waiting for her to say something,  anything to make sense of it all.  the silence stretched on,  thick  &  unyielding.  he wasn’t sure what he was expecting — some explanation,  an apology,  a word of reassurance — but the woman before him remained quiet,  just watching him with eyes that were still so familiar,  yet painfully foreign.