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Except... this wasn't really how I'd seen things panning out. Normal guy, normal family, normal life. Zero complication factor, just one big peachy average newlywed party train.
You know, up until that train derailed in a fiery blaze of death - literally - and things went sideways.
All couples have secrets, sure... but you never thought to tell me you were a [i fucking WARLOCK]?
Essentially, we have one character (deceased) who was a warlock and actually married a half-blood. He did so with the promise of turning this half-blood into a full-blood on the basis of [i love], and under these terms, the coven's high council agreed.
The only problem is that this half-blood doesn't even know he's a half blood, and his husband is kind of dead. Which introduces us to our new guy - our resident problem solver and seasoned warlock who serves as a mentor for this unguided soul.
Question is, how exactly are things going to turn out when all of these secrets come out and our half-blood realises he was actually marrying into a coven that expect his commitment.
It's only that or, you know... [i death.]
This all falls within the landscape of a larger magical conflict and a hellish clash of covens. There will be secrets, death, and most certainly a lot of witching. Plus, who could pass up the comedy of a new fish trying to complete rituals?
↟ Please send me a skeleton titled [i Ashes] if interested. ↟
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Oh, it was fancy. Silveus leaned in, admiring the gorgeous book. It didn't look any newer than two centuries old, and likely older than that. Silveus watched as Faustus held his hand over the book, and the book moved according to his will, opening to a page. [i Now that's magic,] he thought to himself. None of this salt stuff, just honest magic.
He tried to read the page over Faustus' shoulder, but it was in a language he'd never seen before. Still, the pages were lovely, capitals done in big block letters with pretty engravings all around them. Pictures adorned the pages here and there, depictions, he had to assume, of whatever spells were on the page. This one had a transparent man hovering over a corpse with its throat slit. [i A ghost? ] Silveus wondered, and a second later, Faustus'confirmed it.
"Aren't ghosts evil?" Bell asked. Why summon one? It seemed counterproductive.
He took the list. There was no eye of frog or leg of newt on it, but there were plenty of words he simply didn't recognize. At the end, there were more reasonable things, things he could buy at the corner market: kosher salt, rosemary, sage, chalk. No bones, though, luckily. [i At least I don't have to go gravedigging,] he supposed, given they were summoning a ghost and all.
He looked up at Faustus' offer. "Aww, you care," he joked, stepping into the circle. The sigil was pretty easy, a kind of swirl in a hexagon. He did his best to memorize it, then pulled out a scrap of paper and scribbled it down. Always nice to have some paper on hand for a random sketch. "I can use it?" Wasn't his magic sealed? Maybe this spell was so simple even someone like him could make it work. He shrugged and waited a few seconds, then stepped out of the circle.
"Alright, I'll go find... Whatever this stuff is," he said, holding up the list. Hopefully some of the stuff was labeled.
[center Of course he did, because it was Faustus, but saying anymore than that for the time being wouldn’t have served either of them well. He was all for a little soul-crushing, but this was still technically his brother’s widow. He had to be gentle. Sort of. Well, as gentle as it got with him, anyway.
“It [i is] sealed.” [i Jackass.] “If you try entering without someone else who is privy, it’ll knock you back into your next life and take a good pound of flesh, too. Hence why I left my arm in the doorway—as entertaining as that may have been.” No need to pretend he particularly enjoyed his company. It was all for mother’s benefit anyway.
“Come this way.” He waved Silveus toward a grand grimoire, mounted on an alter. It was a huge, magnificent tome—all thick carved leather, embellished metal corners and a reinforced spine—gemstones tucked here and there to add not only to its beauty, but to guard it from those not privileged or of ill intent.
“If you claim to have mortal parentage, it could well have been an ancestor’s doing. Or perhaps something in your lineage that causes it to skip. Typically there is a reason behind that, but it’s fairly odd for it to have skipped your mother if it was her line. If it was your father’s, it’s a little more believable. Magick moving along male bloodlines can get messy. Honestly, anything patrilineal is messy.” He sighed.
The pages of the grimoire came to life, turning and turning until they came to the desired page. “Hm, that’s not a terrible idea... summoning the last to posses the magick before you to sever the bonds that hold it. If our grimmie is suggesting that, then it likely means it’d be rather dangerous or just ineffective to try to unbind it a different manner before this. So I guess we need a ghost.”
Faustus took up a small pad and quill pen. “Here, see if you can find these items. They’re pretty simple to acquire, if you’re careful about it. Consider this your very first task. It’ll feel more rewarding I’m sure, to contribute to what unbinds your magick. I will take care of the less easily acquired components, like faerie boots. Some of these things on your list,” He began, handing it over. “You’ll be able to find in here, it just may take a bit of searching.
“And before we get started on that, I’ll cast on you a protection spell.” Faustus steppes from behind the alter and took up a piece of chalk, drawing out the precise lines for a circle, then for a sigil in the centre. “Take a good look at this sigil... they’re easier for younger warlocks to memorise because older mages are the ones who have to actually forge them. This one will keep you safe,” he explained, taking a small pin and flicking a few drops of blood over the circle. “Please, step in. I’ll write it down for you to take with you for future use, since it’s not one that demands much draw to be effective.”
Wow, he actually gave a shit about what happened to him. Not the sentiments he was expecting to have.
He glanced at the other man. Logan's death... didn't count? Why not? His eyebrows furrowed. Did Faustus know something about Logan's death that he didn't?
Every other word out of this man's mouth was offering to take his powers away. He snorted to himself. Faustus's true desires were coming out, whether he wanted them to or not. At least one person wasn't going to happily welcome him to this family, huh? Not that he wanted to be happily welcomed in. He still couldn't get over how creepy it felt. How cult-like.
"The reliquary," he repeated. He looked all around as he walked. No matter how long he spent in this house, it felt like he never learned any of the layout at all. Last night, he'd gone to the bathroom at midnight, and on the way back, it'd felt like there was an extra turn in the route. Was that magic? [i Maybe that's just me getting lost,] he allowed. The house was cavernous.
"What--I thought you said it was sealed," he said. Was Faustus just throwing up random words? He distinctly remembered Faustus saying it was sealed. Or... wait, was Faustus actually dumb? Just pulling it all out of his ass as he went? He snickered at that thought. And here he'd thought Faustus was a genius. Guess he shouldn't judge a book by its cover.
"Alright, alright. What are we going to do? Do I touch something fancy?" He stepped through the door, glancing back at Faustus. Holding the door? It was a little late to be a gentleman.
He looked around the area. It was a huge room. A library, almost, except that strange objects were held on the shelves instead of books. Nestled each into their own respective slots, the objects ranged from the mundane to the uncomprehendable. Next to an ordinary walking stick was a carved golden eagle that seemed to move on its own. Beyond that was a glowing orb that swirled with colors he'd never seen before, and opposite it all was a globe, an ordinary mounted globe except that the whole thing was carved from shiny obsidian. Silveus raised his eyebrows and smiled. Well! Now [i this] was some magic.
[center Faustus sighed, as though he were suddenly very tired. “Logan’s death, actually, does not count.” He did mean prior to that, though for a moment of contemplation, he appeared to be considering his brother’s death quite carefully. He had expected no less. They’d both known the day would come, but when the signs had begun to show, the stress had really picked up. They’d been ill-prepared for that sort of departure, but what did you expect? You couldn’t outwit fate.
Balancing the equation, the ever pressing necessity of it.
“It can be, if misused. I think the key thing to take from that is that if we didn’t have a disproportionate amount of entities that misused it, it would be used for it’s true purpose and not warrant so much struggle. But this isn’t exactly an ideal world, so it is what it is. Mind you, you’re free to strip your powers and live as a full mortal. No one is stopping you. Then, at least, you’d be free of the consequence of having what others want.”
Shifting back a couple of steps, Faustus gestured vaguely for Silveus to follow. “Let’s go to the reliquary. It’s a more appropriate setting for this kind of discussion, anyway.”
He wondered suddenly if the truth of Logan’s death was meant to always remain a secret? Knowledge was something that could not always be contained. And more importantly, the only motivation for keeping it mum was to spare Silveus’ feelings, which judging by his disposition—he would likely fail to appreciate.
Drawing in a long breath, the blond led the way through a door, through a second parlour on the upper floor, down a set of curved stairs, and into a second parlour, through which they would have to walk to reach the french doors that housed the reliquary. It was like the house itself had endless rooms... endless secret places. One wouldn’t necessarily suspect as much from the outside, but if you lived there long enough you began to realise it contained all sorts of secrets.
“I’m going to see if there’s anything currently binding your magick or if it’s just a lack of know-how that makes you unable to wield it. In which case, I’ll reach you something simple and we see if it works—sound good?”
One of the doors opened to grant them access, but Faustus paused to allow Silveus to take the lead. “It’ll close after me otherwise.” He explained, one forearm cast through the threshold to indicate their path. Partially so he didn’t get knocked on his ass, though. As funny as it might’ve been to see, he wasn’t feeling particularly cruel that day. ]
[i If there's danger either way, what's the point of asking me about it?] he thought, then shook his head at himself. No point nitpicking everything Faustus did. He'd only frustrate himself. Maybe Faustus really was trying to patch things up. He ought to give the man a chance, anyways.
He glanced at Faustus. Bad luck? "My husband died in a freak train crash, does that count?" he asked dryly. If that didn't count as bad luck, he didn't know what did. After a few beats, he nodded. He'd had his fair share of bad luck. Cars breaking down, apartments that sprung mystery leaks, sudden falls and mysterious accidents. Was that magic?
"So far, magic sounds like a shitshow," he commented dryly. It had ruined his house, given him bad luck his whole life, maybe even killed Logan. What did magic do right? So far, all he'd heard was everything it did wrong. All the things that it broke and destroyed.
He looked at Faustus, meeting his eyes. "Is magic worth all this?" he asked. "What does it do in return for everything it ruins?" Levitating a few dishes at dinner wasn't worth his husband's life or the house they'd built together. Making a little ball of fire wasn't worth a lifetime of bad luck.
It was possible that his parents had never manifested their powers. He pursed his lips. That seemed... unlikely. They were so bland. So close-minded. They had never had particularly bad luck. Never seen anything flickering in the shadows. Never... done anything. Disowning him was the most unusual thing they'd ever done, and even that was done so they could stay normal.
"So what's up first for learning magic?" he asked. There had to be a lesson of some sort at the end of this, right? Though, then again, it'd be spot-on with what he'd seen of Faustus so far if the man had come only to complain to him and then leave him on his own.
[center “Well, of course. We’re not savages.” Silveus hadn’t been born into it like the rest of them. It was a lot to expect of someone—for them to just trade up for a new life of magick and danger. Faustus had no such expectations if it wasn’t what this man actually wanted.
“I’m just forewarning you that there is a dangerous aspect to all of this. Unfortunately, when you’re a solitary, you’re more vulnerable. And that’s regardless of whether or not you follow the path of magick. Just possessing magick and not being part of some sort of system is risky. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen and that it’s impossible to live your life, but it also means mischief will follow you around a lot. Did you have a lot of misfortune or bad luck in the past?”
He was seriously asking, trying to gauge how Silveus must have been doing before he met Logan. The house situation wasn’t a good measure because grief played a role. Couldn’t exactly expect anything less.
“Also, is definitely say it’s possible your parents had magick that never manifested. Or... potentially had bound beyond their knowledge. In which case, they’d be in the same boat as you—living their lives entirely in the mortal vein.” Not that there was anything wrong with that.
They would just have to figure things out. He had a lot of digging to do, but today at least he could show him some of the texts, teach him some of the history and give Silveus an idea of what they really got up to.
Truthfully, their lifestyle remained invisible for a reason. Didn’t need anyone nosing about in their affairs, for one, but beyond that, magickal beings considering with mortals could get very messy very quickly.
Especially when they failed to comprehend the whole ‘magick comes with a price’ part. You had to give something to get something. Wasn’t that what it was all about? Keeping the universal equation balanced?]
He shook his head. No, no intention on joining the family. It didn't feel right. These people came out of nowhere with intentions for him that he didn't know or understand, and immediately demanded he join them? No matter how nice they were, he couldn't accept that. It felt like a cult. Like a lie.
He glanced at Faustus. He didn't know. How was he supposed to know how much magic he wanted to use when he'd never used any in his whole life? Even around this family, he barely got a feel for the purpose of magic, of what it could do.
Logan hadn't let on. It stung a little, that he'd felt the need to keep his family a secret. At the same time, he couldn't help but wonder if he should respect Logan's wishes. Logan clearly had a reason for keeping him separate from all of this. He trusted Logan. Should he trust in him and retreat? Go back to normalcy?
[i Sure, you don't want to see me fail,] he thought sarcastically. [i Say it again, maybe I'll believe you next time.] Faustus was a sadist, he swore.
"Don't we encounter the magical every day?" he said. A lovely sunset, a tree in the breeze, a sudden gust of warm wind on a chilly day. It was what had inspired him to become an artist. But that wasn't what Faustus meant. "No. I would see... [i things] from the corners of my eyes, sometimes. But that was the extent of it."
"If it wasn't for that circle, I still wouldn't be convinced," he said. "It's inherited, right, magic? My parents... they couldn't get more mundane if they tried. It must have skipped a generation."
[i Or someone lied about her fidelity, or I was adopted, or...] he shook his head. It was unlikely. There was nothing to suggest any of those possibilities.
"I don't know enough about magic to know if I want to make it my whole life," he said. "I don't want to make the decision rashly. Could we do a trial period or something? A test drive? I'll leave afterwards if I decide I don't like it, or continue if I do." He glanced at Faustus. He wouldn't put it past the man to reject his decision and force him to decide on the spot. It seemed like him.
[center “You know, you have a penchant for making a lot of assumptions without actually stating them, but thank you for answering my question. Relax, no one is kicking you out. You’ve just made it abundantly clear you have very little interest in the prospect of being a part of our family—which, based upon what you just said, is confirmed. I just wanted to get the answer from you directly.”
Weight shifting, Faustus cleared his throat. “Regardless, I also wanted to ask you about your interest in magick. Logan had pretty explicit wishes when it came to you, because he clearly knew what the deal was, despite your ignorance. Ignorance, that is, as in never knowing. That wasn’t meant as an offence. I just want to make it clear that this can only really go a couple of ways.”
“If you’re looking to actually learn more about magick, sincerely incorporate it into your life, then you definitely belong her. But if you’re interest is only superficial, then I can show you some basics to keep you out of trouble if something should happen and you’d be welcome to stay until you decided to leave with no obligation to this family.”
Admittedly, it would have been a serious fucking shame. “And this is something I’ve been meaning to say since dinner a few nights ago, but... it’s very apparent Logan never let on to you that we, as in he and all of us, kept contact regularly. He offered me some very basic reasons for keeping you away from all of this— something about wanting you to be able to live your mortal life as you had been. Which makes complete sense. For the record, I agreed to a point, but it was my opinion that you should be given the choice in the event of his absence. Especially considering what would’ve happened afterward—which I knew only from experience. I don’t want you to be mistaken about my intentions here. I don’t hate you, and I don’t wish to see you fail.”
Okay, so watching him fail had been a little entertaining. But he was clearly hard-headed so making a point was necessary.
“I’ve been meaning to look into your heritage and figure out where this line of magick might lead. Especially because, no offence, my younger brother typically didn’t do anything for such simple reasons. I get him wanting you to continue to live your life as usual, but something about it strikes me odd. Before you met him, you really had no encounters with magick? No... inkling you were different at all?”
Faustus narrowed his eyes, clearly finding it hard to believe. “I mean, you can put a cap on it, tie it up and mask it however you like, but you can’t control it entirely. Not infallibly.”
He looked up at Faustus. Why didn't he just spit it out? He'd asked three times if he could ask a question, but hadn't asked anything yet.
In any case, it seemed he wanted a longer conversation. He couldn't fathom what had prompted the man to come here to him, since Faustus clearly didn't want to have anything to do with him. [i Someone else's influence?] he wondered. Who could possibly intimidate Faustus into doing something he didn't want? [i Must be a truly horrifying person,] he decided.
Silveus shut the door and stepped into the hallway. "So what do you want to talk about?" he asked, hoping the man would get it over with. Was it offensive? He hadn't hesitated to offend Silveus up til now, so it seemed unlikely he'd suddenly grow hesitant.
Oh. He bit his lip to prevent himself from snapping at the man. His husband died, he was yanked out of his house and hours away from everything he'd ever known, and this pretentious fool who'd been born with a silver spoon in his mouth wanted to know why he wasn't out on his own already? If Faustus didn't already know, he'd never be able to convince him.
No, he should try. At least give Faustus a realistic look at his life. "I'm going to be honest with you, so please try to understand," he started. "I know you're very well off, but--I'm not. I'm an artist. I work--until recently, I had two jobs to try and get by. Throughout our marriage, Logan and I kept separate bank accounts. It was my idea. I knew he made much more than me and didn't want our relationship to be based on his money, or lopsided because of it. So I supported myself, and he supported himself, with the exception of a few mutual purchases."
He glanced around the hallway. He hadn't known just [i how] different their finances were. Had Logan even worked? He clearly wouldn't have had to if he hadn't wanted to.
Silveus shook his head and continued. "In his will, he explicitly left all his money to his family--to you and your parents and siblings. We were only married a few years, so I guess he forgot to get it changed." It was a very Logan thing, forgetting the essentials until the last second. How many times had he had to remind the man to buy groceries when they had an empty fridge or put gas in the car when it was running on empty? [i Maybe it's because he was used to using magic for everything,] he realized. He'd always thought it was just a quirk of Logan's, but now that he knew about magic, it certainly made more sense.
"So I only have what I had saved, which isn't much. On top of that, my house isn't fit to live in, you said so yourself. And I don't know if you've noticed, but we're a several hour drive from where I lived. By the time I made the commute back to my jobs, I'd be losing money on the day with the price of gas like it is."
He gestured, an ironic smirk on his face. Left him between a rock and a hard place. "Jobless, homeless, hours from my friends and connections. What do you propose I do? I've been searching for a job, but the market's not great. If I got an apartment, assuming I'd get approved with no job, I'd run out of my savings in a matter of months. I'm trying to sell my art, but that's not going any faster than it ever has." With a shrug, he glanced up at Faustus. "But if I'm a burden, I'll go. I can figure something else out. Find someone else's couch to crash on. I never intended to stay here forever, just until I got back on my feet."
Silveus pushed his hair back. Which was probably all Faustus was asking about from the start, but it'd felt good to rant to him about it. He was tired of Faustus expecting him to be able to just--do whatever he wanted. The real world didn't work like that. Or at least, it never had for him.
[center He was ever the ray of sunshine, wasn’t he? Faustus had to find the will to actually smile at this man. “Well, I’m actually here to clarify a few things. Now that there have been a few days to cool off, I thought we might actually have a civil conversation.” Without all of the micro expressions.
Then again, perhaps he had been a bit harsh with him. It wasn’t fair to put all of this on someone who didn’t even know the role he had played. Logan held full responsibility for that one.
“I also had some questions for you, that I hope you’ll answer honestly.” Especially considering it meant Logan had really never let on that he was still in regular contact with them. And what could possibly have been his goal in doing that?
“I was wondering if you would be able to come with me for a bit? I want to get a better idea of how you really feel about all of this and hopefully fill in the blanks in attempts to at least—well, I’ll save that for later, I suppose.”
Faustus peered down at Silveus with a rather neutral expression. If there was any trace of hostility here beyond some reluctance to be there, it was absent now. Perhaps this had been his mother’s intention. She was hoping they would hug and make up.
Clearly she couldn’t tell how stubborn this one could be, but what could be done. She had a tendency to see things in a more positive light, and in her mind, she couldn’t imagine why Silveus might hate them.
Well, so he could guess, anyway. Faustus hoped he was wrong about that, but even hope couldn’t shake his suspicions about why he might’ve actually chosen to stay here.
“Plus... I am wondering what prompted you to stick around. You seemed awfully adamant about leaving a few days ago.” There was no hostility in his question, just pure curiosity.
Maybe there was another way to approach this... without unnecessary exposure. ]
It was five AM when he came to terms with the fact that he wasn't going to fall back asleep. Silveus got dressed, got ready for the day, and still had a few hours before anything was supposed to happen. He wandered his room. What was he supposed to do?
When Logan was alive, they would've cuddled until he fell back asleep. Afterwards, at least he had the whole house to wander. He could go to his studio and paint, or go for a walk, or go make himself an early breakfast. Here, he felt so trapped. If he left his room, he was subjected to the expectations of Logan's family.
They were kind, and they tried to be accommodating, but he felt the pressures on his shoulders every time they looked at him. He was only wanted if he came into his powers and decided to have magic like them. But he hadn't hardly seen them use magic, and all he knew of it aside from that was that because of magic, his house was uninhabitable. It didn't exactly make magic sound great to him.
Besides, it wasn't like they owed him anything. It made him uncomfortable to receive their charity, that was the long and short of it.
He'd had to quit all his jobs. He couldn't afford to make the hours-long commute. At some point, they'd brought his car over, and he'd started looking for new jobs, but honestly? It was effort he didn't feel like making, most days. He felt stuck between his lack of motivation and his desire to support himself, and it left him feeling useless.
[i Maybe I can do that,] he decided. He had a few hours, why not?
Mid-search, someone knocked at his door. He glanced over. Faustus. His least favorite. He had half a mind to stay silent and let the man keep knocking. Silveus stared at the door, summoning the desire to face Faustus, then, with a deep sigh, strode over and pulled it open. "Can I help you?" he asked. He couldn't hide the tired note in his voice. He was running on empty, and Faustus took more effort to deal with than most people. If the man didn't need him, he'd rather be left alone.
[center It certainly was. Gorgeous. The picture of perfection. Made you wonder how someone could leave such an ideal life behind, didn’t it? But then, that would have been assuming so much about Logan that wasn’t true. He had never been the superficial sort. He was 99% heart, 1% trickers. Well, okay, those figures were off, but the simple truth had been that he’d chosen his life with Silveus happily.
For that, certain... things... had followed. Unavoidable, regrettable things. Something Faustus wouldn’t bring up for fear of destroying lives, no matter how severely the truth burned in his mind.
Silveus’ art had been transported somewhere safe and the seal had been broken on the house. Unfortunately, that meant the house had begun to rot, but what could be done about that? The seal couldn’t remain, and without the seal, any old thing could wander in. Talk about a haunted house. These creatures just loved to leech off of magick.
Arrangements had been made for Silveus to meet officially with the coven, but before then, Faustus was expected to debrief him. Ever so much the pleasure for him, of course. He just loved pursuing little, angry men who clearly cling to resentment for him.
But he was an adult. This was simply duty. There would be nothing to worry about. After all, it wasn’t as though he’d really done anything to him.
...okay, so he’d let him get fucked up a little by a trapping circle, big deal. He was fine, he’d been healed, and if he really clung to any resentment regarding that, then that was his problem.
Inhaling deeply, he raised his knuckles to knock thrice at his door, already dressed and fully prepared for the day. Well, prepared depending upon how this conversation went. If things went south, then this was pretty much over. Which, he guessed wouldn’t be so bad.
Silveus seemed adamant from the moment he’d arrived to get away from them. Despite how well received he had been by the family, and despite how little there would be to go back to in that house where Logan no longer dwelled.
“Silveus—you’re not still asleep, are you?” Even if he had been, it wouldn’t be for long. They had a long day ahead of them, potentially, and he wasn’t about to waste a second. Besides, he was eager to learn this man’s true intentions. If he did stay, to what end? Did he even care for Logan’s family? Did he even care to be one of them?]
Faustus, huh? He repressed the urge to grimace. Now was not the time. His resentment towards Faustus was something they could work out another day. If they could. Though the thought of having Faustus as his main source of information was worrying. His eyes flicked to the side, to the gormless, clueless Bastion. He could always ask him afterwards. Faustus liked to laugh at his suffering, but Bastion was much less of a sadist.
He looked up when the matriarch pressed him for more information. He'd rather fade into the background and vanish, but it seemed like he wouldn't be given the chance. "It's coming along fine," he lied. Since Logan's death, he hadn't been able to paint the way he used to. There was no joy in the task, just catharsis, anger, resentment, and when he came out on the other side, he couldn't recognize it as his own work. The series he'd been working on before Logan's death, the landscapes and portraits, was unfinished, and would remain unfinished, maybe forever. There was no more sunshine in his soul to share with the canvas. Instead, everything came out dark and twisted.
"This house is gorgeous, I must say," he returned, deflecting the conversation. It was always polite to compliment the host, but this time, it was easy. Her house really was quite beautiful. "I've never seen anything like it. Are these all antiques?" he asked, gesturing at the decor. She had an eye for quality, if so. They were incredible pieces, from the solid wood dining table to the chandelier overhead. And they went together so beautifully. It looked as though she'd purchased them all together.
[center It was so tiring. He could sense the bitterness rolling off of this guy. If he resented them so much, why eat with them? It seemed as though there was no pleasing him. What had Logan ever seen in him, exactly? Faustus found himself hoping this was him in mourning, because if this was his true nature, then perhaps his brother had been blind all along. That thought was something that did not settle well with him, given that Logan wasn't a fool.
However, he [i was] a bleeding heart. Honest to a fault. Kind beyond his means sometimes. That was the sort of man he'd always been. To think that his judgment could have been so skewed... that hurt.
Which made him wonder what this man had against them all. It was all too evident he despised being here already. They would have to explain to him, still, the real reason for his being brought here, but Faustus wondered if that wouldn't be better done tomorrow when they all got some proper rest.
Their mother, ever wearing a fond smile, as an image as she took in Silveus' words. Her fiery waves cascaded like silk, pinned up on just the one side. She looked like what every femme fatale might-- resplendent, youthful, probably bathed in the tears of men. Except, she was actually rather kind.
"Well, it's certainly a comfort to have you here. You're much safer with us. Faustus will further explain why soon enough."
Thanks, Mum. Just what he needed. More time spent with the half-blood. The ungrateful half-blood, at that. Okay, okay, no. He couldn't be biased. It wasn't his fault. Maybe they could find a solution to all of this that would make them all happy.
Like... well, he didn't exactly have any ideas yet, but he would... soon. He hoped. It was that or they'd simply have no choice but to return Silveus to his life...or what was left of it. What was to happen would have happened regardless of their interference. Except... he'd probably be dead or something.
Definitely not an acceptable outcome, he mused.
"How has your art been coming along?" She queried, eyes alight with interest.
Silveus narrowed his eyes half an inch at Faustus. [i Good to know it's not just his personality,] he thought, mildly annoyed. Nope, he actively hated Silveus, huh? Nothing he could do about that.
Food platters drifted before his face, threatening to spill gravy or sauce on him and the table alike. He leaned back in his chair. His clothes were already wrinkled, they didn't need food stains on them, too. "Yes, please, a little of everything," he said quietly. It all looked delicious, from the gleaming duck to the platters piled with vegetables. His thoughts flicked to the leftovers rotting away in the fridge. Was he taking Logan's place at the table, eating his share?
"Or, no, I'll just take--that's enough," he said. There wasn't much on his plate, but he didn't have an appetite anymore. "Thank you, Bastion."
[i Like he would let me bring a cat,] he thought angrily, shooting the cat a short glare. Only the essentials for him, but Faustus could casually pick up a new pet, huh? It still stung, that one.
He turned at the mother's greeting. It was hard to think of her as a mother, let alone his mother-in-law. She was gorgeous, young, and barely a day over Logan's age, let alone Faustus'. [i Magic, I suppose?] he wondered. [i How old is she really?] It would be rude to ask. Maybe he'd bring it up with Bastion at some point.
"The traffic was clear, so the drive itself wasn't bad," he said demurely. "I'm used to traveling, it doesn't bother me."
If traveling bothered him, he'd never be able to exhibit his art. Not in the tiny town he and Logan had settled in. He didn't mind it--hadn't minded it.
"Thank you for having me," he added after a beat, nodding in her direction. He still wasn't sure he wanted to stay. Apparently the whole family lived in this mansion, if they could all have dinner together; well, it certainly was large enough. He was an outsider, an unattractive little smudge among all these lively, beautiful faces. He didn't belong. Neither did he want to belong. He'd gone his whole life supporting himself, so why stop now? If he stayed, it would be temporary. Long enough to get this magic stuff figured out, and no longer.
Silveus picked at his food and tried to fade out of the picture. He was so terribly inadequate compared to all these supermodels. Why had Logan picked him in the first place, if all the other magic-users were so gorgeous? He didn't understand. He hadn't understood in the first place, with Logan being so terribly out of his league, but it had been a little easier to swallow before he'd known that Logan apparently had lived his whole life within arms' reach of a dozen beauties. Sure, most of them were related to him, but if all mages were like this, why bother with a scrummy little mortal like him?
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