Steven Yeun In Burning (2018) Dir. Lee Chang-dong

lenavidalis​:

Though she only knew Silas for a brief amount of time in a customer-business owner type relationship, the witch was immediately drawn to him upon their first meeting and as time progressed, she found herself more and more attached. Something about him was endearing, and admittedly he was one of the most gentle people she knew. At his placations, the witch smiled sympathetically and nodded a little, content to drop the subject at his insistence despite her worry. “Okay, well… um, if you need anything, you can always call me, okay? I can bring you food or something if you don’t want to go out or you want some quiet company,” she offered.

“Anyway… um, I’ve got these. I tried not to bring too much because I didn’t know how much space you had available and I wasn’t sure how fast these would sell,” she explained as she turned the metal crane in her hand. The flat surfaces were unnaturally perfect, which was a hallmark of her ability as a metal manipulator. Where other metalworkers needed to polish their work, Lena could simply will it into existence, in a manner of speaking. It required years of practice, of course, but now metal bent to her will so easily that she hardly required thought to do more simplistic things. “I don’t have like… business cards or anything. Do I need those?” she asked.

That was one of the things he treasured about Lena, among the slew of other qualities about her that he held dear, she had a way of displaying unwavering compassion towards all things. A way of finding the light in all and giving even when she didn’t have to. “I’ll keep that in mind next time,” a warmth flooding his cheeks and holding onto his usual gentle grin, “Would beat the usual delivery services. A man can only eat so many takeaway gyros before he actually becomes one.” Though the incubus couldn’t exactly admit that after sleeping for twelve hours straight for five days in a row, what he starved for wasn’t anything that he wanted her to provide. Silas tried to snack on strangers, people that he didn’t know in his day to day life and could sever his empathy towards. But the quiet companionship would be more than delightful.

“No, not unless you would like to gain clients looking for commissions,” he stated, welcoming the change in topics and getting right back down to business, “If you are looking more to sell because you are inspired— I would say just leaving a trademark etching on your work is more than enough information for those who purchase them.” Simple advice, it wasn’t his place to tell someone how they should make their money or operate their trade. He could provide the platform for spreading the word about local artists that sought it out, maybe suggest things here and there, but anything more felt overbearing, “I think we have plenty of space for all you brought and I have plenty of items in the store that you can use as props to display them. Showcase them in an interesting way.”

leightonhaywood‌:

“Interesting line of work.” Useful, probably lucrative considering how full of supernaturals the bay was. Leighton took another sip of his tea as he thought back to his London flat. He really didn’t have anything “magical” aside from maybe a few books about healing magic. Which were kind of pointless, but he liked them anyways. It’s not like he had anything against magic, he was sure if he found something that interested him enough, he’d get it. He’d just never bothered searching for anything. 

“What do you find around here usually?” There were a lot of historical sites, local artisans and such, but he was curious. Corinth was a hub for the supernatural for a reason, surely it was brimming with magical things all over the place. Maybe that was something he should be looking into. “Solely speaking as someone with not much interest in such things.”

“A lot of jewelry,” the cubi started, placing his mind on several gold and copper pieces that had been enchanted for different purposes. As he had learned more about the supernatural world after his transition, Silas realized how much power was in the objects that dangled around everyone’s necks. Charm spells, anointed in magical oils, various stones that could even make a mere human more fortunate and those were the hot ticket items. The only thing that was truly different was the details or the style, which varied from different regions and forged with a contrast of items. “Masks, coins— bronze trinkets. Some of them just seem like completely ordinary things sitting on your grandmother’s hearth, but actually help find magical ingredients. Kind of like a metal detector,” a smile holding, clearly speaking from experience and still enjoyed talking with the client that took it in. An older gentleman whose eyes were not as good as his younger years and paid Silas a little extra just for being polite. “Though the objects I find are just as interesting as the people that seek them, in my experience,” his usual tone, but with a sour punch at the end that the cubi couldn’t quite control. He saw many different types, not just the good side where people cherished the object and it sat on a shelf. No, some lusted for darkness in a way that Silas had never seen— even at war.

opheliancano​:

This is new ground Ophelia finds herself on. She knows more of cubi by reputation and what the furies taught her than personal history, and Silas is nothing like she had been expecting. Perhaps that is why she finds him so fascinating. Green eyes watch for him, from behind the counter of the tea shop, where he had been a frequent patron before the pride festival. Perhaps she’s scared him off? Regrettable, to be sure, though she suspects not many of his species would willingly choose to spend time around her; that had been another point of her curiosity, how he never seemed to be particularly afraid, or even worried in her presence. Ophelia has just about written him off as a willing participant to their game, much to her disappointment, when she finally spies him reenter AnxieTea — and the smile that graces her face is not false, for once. Their song and dance is not quite finished. Good. Once she is certain to not leave her coworker swamped with customers, she steps out to take her break, making a beeline for Silas. “Rather well, I think. So many interesting things to see, and people to meet. I don’t think I’ll be bored.” The double entendre is there, clear as day for anyone who has the appropriate context. And then, because Ophelia has always been bold, she adds, “you were gone for quite awhile. I wondered if I’d seen the last of you.” 

A hardened swallow after a long drink from his tea, processing her words as they lingered in the space surrounding them and made a point to not allow his feelings to surface. The feelings of intrigue and wonderment on how she could have plucked the question from his brain— how she might have actually been concerned for him in some way. Not that an individual being endearing towards the incubus was foreign, his natural magnetism making it fairly simple in most settings, but that was obsolete here. With Ophelia, it was all genuine and that in itself was enough to shake up his perspective. “Hardly,” he finally mustered up in response, a light grin emerging as the tea cup found its place on the coaster in front of them, “Best tea blends in town, if you ask me.” Though they both knew that wasn’t the only reason Silas found himself roaming to its doors, even if his guts refused for him to admit that detail out-loud and tried to keep the subject on her versus himself, “I’m sure not. There always seems to be something exhilarating happening, especially in this town. I’m sure it will be quite effortless for you to find and keep your foothold.” Which was true, her aura calling attention to its daring and valorous nature.

hcdsn‌:

Keeping up the facade that he was little more than passionate about history and all that it offered up within it’s grasp had always been far too easy for Hudson. He had the ability to retain far more information than most and whatever necessary education he might have needed to pass it off as simply a hobby to those who knew no better. Those that didn’t see his interest in the old and lackluster as the vying grasp for a power he didn’t have yet. “Nothing yet,” He remarked, meandering his way to the desk Silas sat behind, just as he had time and time again. “Anything caught yours?” Or, more to the point, had any thought been considered to Hudson when he’d seen something that might likely belong in a museum rather than his store. “Just wondering if you’ve seen anything come through.. maybe heard about something you don’t have, that I might be a interested in?” Far too often, people held onto things far more valuable than they ever considered them to be; merely for the fact they’d looked so dull, shattered and broken.

This question was typical, even if that exact phrase hadn’t always left Hudson’s mouth. Customers often came in looking for any kind of connection, especially rare pieces. Estate sales of wealthy philanthropists whose kids had no love for the antique style and would rather see money in their pockets were prime locations. Luckier even if the family didn’t realize they have items of magical value. That’s where Silas came in. He would try to bid for objects before the public eye got the chance and in turn, sell them or upscale them for his shop. The real issue was pinning down what his customer was looking for and with the current being so vague, it was hard for Silas to understand what exact direction he should take this. “A few things have,” he started, leaning lightly on his chevron wood counter top, “Three estate sales up north and one in Bulgaria. All seem to be promising depending on what you might be looking for.” He reached for his phone, placing it on the counter to ready himself for examples.

aramayer‌:

The shop had always been on the street, a beacon of chaos and intrigue for any passer by. Ara would often pass it on his way home, it’s niche allure was a temptress and yet Ara always managed to continue on his way with little thought to what lay behind the old doors. On this day however, Ara hadn’t been able to shake its spell. Taking a detour and stepping through the threshold, he was bewitched by the amount of stand out items that seemed to litter the entirety of the shop. The smooth voice drifting from further within the knick knack shop tore him from his enchanted trance, “I – uh. Honestly everything,” his gaze fell from the different antiques and odd ends to meet the eyes of the shop keeper, “you probably get that a lot,” he flashed a smile, “Just thought I’d stop in. It’s a lot bigger than I thought it would be.” 

A chuckle fell from the shop owners lips and Silas felt humbled once again. He loved watching eyes light up, followed by ‘oo’ and ‘awe’. That was part of the reason he stayed in this line of work, second to the burning passion he had felt from a young age. “Probably not as often as you would think,” his Greek was noticeably choppy, but far enough along that his accent didn’t disrupt the understanding, “Some are afraid to walk-in without a purpose, not wanting to leave without at least a purchase. Others have a need or desire that they are looking for.” His smile continued, charcoal hues falling on the stranger as they took in every inch of the space, “I appreciate the compliments none-the-less. An artist always strives for that and I know the others whose work is displayed would agree.”

leightonhaywood‌:

“The roommate would be the one to ask. She still won’t answer my texts after I last asked her about displaying everything. The moment she breaks, I’ll call you.” He was still being playful, but he was honest about it. He’d seen Silas’ craft, knew the man had an eye for detail. In a strange way, it was something he was almost jealous of. Studying, memorization, that kind of thing came easier to him than any kind of art. With all the time in the world, he’d tried putting his hands to good use to create something, but it was never anything particularly special. Mimicking a tutorial wasn’t really the same as designing and crafting something completely. Tilting his head slightly and leaning forward just enough to squint at some small figure on a shelf, he looked back to Silas. “Where do you find all of this anyways?” Every so often there was something that looked vaguely familiar, like something he’d seen in passing in a far off place that he couldn’t quite…Place for himself.

Silas allowed the topic to die, knowing the complications that came with being plunged into the supernatural world. Instead he focused on the following question— picking and choosing all the items featured in his shop. “Here and there,” the cubi started, looking around the shop a little just to re-familiarize himself with their found locations. Since the transition, Silas had little fear of what he might find behind closed doors and hidden crannies. This often meant rummaging in locations that were breaking down or sheds that hadn’t been cleaned in over a decade. His travels over the years had also helped. Each piece within the shop was not just from the Mediterranean area, but from areas in Germany, France, and some from back home in Korea. Though it did get a bit ridiculous at times when he would have to suddenly move, having to find storage for many of his pieces. “Estates, attics, large shops that are filled to the brim with antiques,” he continued with an air of wonder in his voice, “Some on the side of roads that I re-purposed for a better life. All have probably lived a really unique life that began long before I set eyes on it.”

beau-zale‌:

“A real professional, huh?” A smirk graced his lips but Beau didn’t take his eyes off the mentioned jewel in the case. He didn’t care so much for authenticity aside from it being something that would last long. Even in his old age he’d never thought to particularly go for something pricey, it was all about the aesthetic. And frankly, he was a sucker for garnets to begin with. Anything deep in color, rubies, moonstone, that kind of thing had always attracted him. The mentioned piece was definitely ticking all of his boxes, there wasn’t much need for this guy to talk it up, he had eyes. But still, he could appreciate an artisan, somebody who knew what they were talking about. Straightening, he crossed his arms over his chest and just looked at the tired looking man. That festival must have really done a number on him, he wasn’t surprised. Everyone seemed a little worse for wear. Which was truly a pity, he was being robbed of so many attractive faces due to lack of sleep.

 Not like that ever really deterred him.

But still.

Supposed he was, though the incubus wasn’t sure if that’s what he would actually call himself. Skilled, maybe. Trained enough to know the difference between a fake and an item that was actually real, letting the word professional hang in the air. Silas almost liked it, only having heard his father’s clients say those kinds of words but never to him. He had always been the apprentice or looked at as a rookie, someone that tried to sell clutter instead of genuine products and worked hard to drive a wedge between that outlook. Instead of boasting, Silas simply shrugged and continued to unlock the case. A click reverberated as the lock came loose and Silas pulled the ring out of the man to examine. It felt as though the two were meant for each other, the same kind of appeal and charm that complimented without seeming gaudy. “Suits you well,” he stated as a fact, a dreamy grin embellishing the dark circles that hung below his charcoal irises as fingertips passed the item over. Noticing the way the man’s eyes lit up as the ring was gently placed onto his finger, the incubus assumed there was no reason to place it back and started to lock up the cabinet again, “As if it was meant to be, so to speak.”

Over time, Silas had gotten used to forgetting a day or two from the past. Memory had this oddness about it that could be fleeting or become twisted and he had noticed this gradually as the years passed on. That’s what his journaling had been for, a habit that started during the war and only continued as things worsened in his home country. But this was and felt so different. Sure a day would go by that might be less than eventful, causing the cubi to pause at the memory of the day or two before— but the day was gone. Not just little cracks of what happened, completely wiped from existence. All he had was the various notes he had written later that night about the oddity and curiosity of what he had seen that night. However, none of it made sense and Silas couldn’t even draw out the connection. When his mind would try to dig it out, it was as though a dark blank was placed there instead.

Tapping lightly on the end of his pen, Silas sat puzzled on a bench outside his shop. The sign currently read closed as he grappled with the situation. As if the memory wasn’t hard enough for him, the damn Eidolon’s wouldn’t let him be. They were trying their hardest to chip away at him, but his attentions had been in so many different places that seeing his dead relatives had been the last of his concerns. The scale and the journal entry was driving the cubi madder than any Eidolon could. Even the fact that his sister wasn’t present in his hauntings didn’t phase him, a detail that wouldn’t have usually gone past the young cubi and instead the emerald shimmer flooded his thoughts. He shuffled it through his fingers tips, eyes locked and entranced while the world around him seemed to keep beating. How could he have possibly noticed the shadow of a man coming towards his direction?

@maddcxaquinc​

Do you like what you are?

Silas: Like is a very strong word. Accepted is probably the more accurate way of saying it and I don’t think I would go as far as saying I hate what I am either. I have become something for a reason, even if it was completely out of ignorance and eventually I will understand the depth of it all. 

leightonhaywood‌:

It must have been interesting. Showing up at old estates, going through storage bins, just collecting old relics. You could learn a lot about a person by their belongings, interior decorating, that kind of thing. Despite his often nomadic nature, Leighton often wanted a house just to fill it with things. An old Victorian kind of place full of furniture and knick knacks from his travels. Make it like a museum of his life, of his travels. Collecting such artifacts kind of made Silas a tourist in these people’s lives. Someone who shows up and buys great grandmother’s ottoman. “If only these things could talk, right?” Leighton turned his head to offer Silas a small smile before picking up what looked like a wooden jewelry box off a shelf. Simple, but the craftsmanship was beautiful. Something for Lia maybe, but he didn’t know if she’d appreciate it. “Ever run into anything…” He wasn’t quite sure how to phrase it out in the open. “Suspicious?” Cursed, enchanted, that kind of thing. Items that should probably be passed off to the witches, maybe even a genasi.

Hadn’t that been the whole reason for Silas’ current existence? Suspicious artifacts, cursed objects, enchanted things that gave the allure of normalcy and tricked the unsuspecting. Not in the sense that the cubi did this for a living wage, that his whole life was altered by what Leighton called suspicious. Silas would be lying if he said that wasn’t a major part of why he went heavier into that side of the business. The more he was in contact with supernatural objects, the more he could learn from them and how they all functioned. He couldn’t afford to be ignorant to their existence and instead had to embrace it, find out more. “Absolutely,” was the cubi gut response given his close ties and personal feelings. Many of his clients were part of the community and wanted to remain confidential, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t speak on his other lines of work. Even his own connection continued to be a mystery for most, which he didn’t mind keeping that way, “It’s rather interesting that over the years I’ve become well-known for that— able to dig out what others are seeking so eagerly. And enchanted artifacts are a hot ticket item depending on the need or purpose.”