Thanks for looking me up Silas. I apologize for not getting down to Fort Frolic lately. Work before pleasure after all.
How is the record store nowadays? You know how I feel about cat hair mixing with the discs.
By the way, remember the other branch on High Street? Somebody dropped off this audiolog that was apparently recording when his back-room was broken into. You may want to speak with the proprietor and get him off his high horse.
Couldn’t even get your name right.
“Hardy-har, sugar. The store’s fine, thank you very much. Ya’ll know I run a tight ship, even if I’ve been spendin’ a lil’ less time at the helm. See, you an’ me think a lil’ differently. Frankly, I’m plum sick a work, an’ starved fer pleasure. It’s called fer some new prioritizin’.”
"As fer our ol’ pal down on High Street, I s’pose I could drop in fer a quick word. Seems we need tuh’ get reacquainted anyhow.”
Who's someone you met recently who you're hoping to be friends with? //meme
Silas paused and narrowed his brow pensively, his lips rolled into a thin half-frown. Nobody came to mind right away. Cobb wasn’t really the the type to seek out friendships anyway, unless he got something tangible out of the deal. It wasn’t even conscious; just a mechanism that’d kicked in a few years into his partnership with Cohen.
Even still, the southerner was notorious for othering himself from his peers—something Cohen hadn’t taught him. In fact, it was foible the artist often berated him for, however tepidly. It wasn’t as if Silas was somehow incapable of comradery, and the few friends he did have held a place close to his heart. It just wasn’t the easiest title to earn. His impatience and distrust ensured that.
The disciple thought on it a while before ultimately offering an indifferent shrug.
"I ain’t so concerned about ‘friends’. But, so long as mah business stays mine, then there ain’t nobody goin’ on mah shit list either.”
…Too good to be true? Maybe, but Walter immediately obliged the handsome musician.
"Oh, I can do more’n that, babydoll," he grinned. Whipping his shirt off over his head, Morley immediately rounded on Silas.
Silas bit down on a cheeky grin as he laid back against the floor, knees bent and hands laced together behind his head in prep for a set of sit-ups. When Walter came back into his line of sight, the disciple snickered in delight.
"Givin’ me a view, I see.”
» OOC- FC Change
So it’s finally happened. After two years, I finally found a suitable replacement for Silas’ too-hunky fc that I’m actually happy with.
This fine gentleman is named Josh Stewart, and he will be Silas’ fc from here on out. It’ll be the same character, just a different face. I hope you guys dig him.
» OOC- Replies & Activity (Please read if we’re interacting)
Hey guys. I’m not gonna drag this out with a long explanation. I’m depressed, end of story. It’s half real life circumstance, half brain chemistry. The fact of the matter is, I don’t want to write. Well, I do, but I’m just incapable right now outside of short one-liners and asks. This is particularly troublesome because of the sheer amount of replies/starters/drabbles I owe across all of my accounts. So, I’m posting my entire owe list under the cut to at least assure my partners that I haven’t forgotten about anything. If you think you belong on there and you’re not, then let me know immediately. I promise it’ll all get done. I just don’t know when.
Thanks for all your patience in the meantime. And a big hello to all my new followers. Despite this funk I’m in, I’d love RP with you guys soon.
Judy Garland & Fred Astaire
Easter Parade from “Easter Parade” (1948)
sung by Judy Garland and Fred Astaire
Who do you love? //meme
The southerner gave a light scoff as he rolled his eyes.
"Now there’s a loaded question.”
Truthfully, Silas wasn’t sure. He’d been in love before—there was no questioning that—but it wasn’t something he tended to reflect on fondly. Not as of late, anyway. There were also certain men who’d touched his life, leaving behind their respective scars on his ever suffering heart. Sander had done the greatest damage, most of which Cobb had quit bothering to try and repair. Sebastian picked at him every now and again, too, whenever it served convenient . And Billy? Christ, it didn’t matter how much time passed. Billy would always sting in the worst possible way.
So who did that leave? Walter? The mere thought sent Silas’ gut into a flutter. There was something so pure about Walter—something refreshing in its innocence. Honestly, Cobb had expected it to grate his nerves, and quickly. But it hadn’t. Not yet anyway.
That had to mean something.
"I s’pose we’ll find out, won’t we?"
» Ask my muse questions about their relationship with another character.
November 21st, 1946
To: William Thatcher Jr., 35.9292 N, 86.8575 W
From: Silas Cobb, 63.2 N, 29.55 W
I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write. It’s been a busy couple a’ weeks settling in down here. The ride over with HELL, least for me. I never did get a chance to earn my sea legs, I suppose. I still managed to make it one piece, somehow. Though, I could could go without another boat ride in this lifetime.
I really wish you could see the place, Billy. It’s indescribable. You’d think it’d be easy to picture a city under the sea, but it ain’t nothing like what I came up with in my head. I’ll try to send some pictures with my next letter. I’m not even sure you want me writing, but like hell I’m gonna break THAT promise again.
For what it’s worth, I miss you.
your amazing <3
(D’awwwwWWW thank you! Right back atcha.)