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@silasgraves
#SILASGRAVES. an affiliated original character written by ash / they them / twentyfive plus. affiliated to @diggsgraves, @buriedgraves, @sloanegraves, @herencias, @witcheri, and @ephemaera. a study in: the middle child but the eldest son, blaming others instead of looking inward, drowning your sorrows, writing like you're running out of time, and putting family first. INFO.
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ftwillz
damage vs protection
BUT A ROOM IS NOT A HOUSE ; AND A HOUSE IS NOT A HOME . . . silas's cabin in killford, virgina.
MY HEAD IS A VERY DARK PLACE. silas's pinboard.
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Susan Sontag, from “Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1963″
simon’s glory days are behind him––– that much is terribly, abundantly clear. his career, his body, his marriage aren’t what they used to be. but he has his kids. he’s got his pride and the comforts of the life he’s built to fall back on. he won’t suffer any grand delusions that he isn’t incredibly privileged, incredibly lucky–– he is, and he knows he is. but there is something about the life he’s expected to lead now that hurts. long gone are the days when what he could do mattered. now all that’s expected of him is to shake hands, to talk and talk and talk and talk about the thing he’d loved so much but will never be strong enough, well enough, young enough to do again. sure, football had been something of an anchor to cling to in a stormy sea, but he’d also grown to really and truly love it. he dearly misses the camaraderie, the adrenaline... shit, he even misses the burn of turf, the way the impact of bodies would thrum straight to his bones and remind him that he was alive.
so yeah, he drinks every now and then. maybe a little too much or a little too often, but never the two together. simon is far from an alcoholic; far from anything like his father. he'd do just about anything to prove that. so when he wakes up to the sound of quiet footsteps and sees his son holding a beer, he thinks about what his father would have done if he'd caught simon with a bud light in his hand at the tender age of eleven.
simon does the opposite.
' that's okay, bud, ' he replies, voice quiet like his son's because he sure as hell doesn't want to wake anyone, but a little louder, not so afraid of the conversation itself. ' i shouldn't be sleeping down here anyway. got distracted by the game and then i conked out before i could turn the tv off. ' simon offers a crooked smile. ' i gotta tell you though, if you're thirsty, that might not be your best bet. ' he tries to make everything about his posture, his face unintimidating. ' do you know what you picked out, honey? '
his father had never been an angry man. the only time he ever yelled at the graves kids was when they were close to hurting themselves, doing something that would hurt each other, or when he was really stressed out. pushed to his limits. which are the times he was quickest to apologize, and genuinely so. silas had never been afraid of his father, like some of the other kids at his school. where they might cower when their dads looked down upon them, silas always found himself looking up to simon. he wasn't perfect ( no father could ever be ), but silas was aware him and his sisters had gotten lucky. at least one of their parents was present enough to take care of them.
he waits for a scold, and when one doesn't come, silas allows the air to escape from his lungs. shoulders sag a bit, mostly in embarrassment, a sheepish expression washing over his features as he glances back towards the door of the fridge that was now closed. he contemplates lying, for a moment ; something he's almost never done, especially not to his dad. minor fibs here and there, things that wouldn't matter, but never an outright lie. when simon asked silas something, he always asked in a way that insured they could work it out together. even when silas got in trouble, it always seemed fair. he's struggling to meet his father's eyes as he stands in the dark kitchen. 'yeah, i... i wanted to be like you. when you drink that stuff,' chin falls, eyes landing on his bare feet, feeling his dad's stare like a ten ton weight on him. hand reaches up to wipe along his nose. silas doesn't remember when he started to cry, but now tries to get rid of the tears. 'you seemed... better. like it was medicine, or something,' when he gets the courage to glance up, his eyes are red from crying. 'are you mad at me?'
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞.
scarlet didn't remember it being this cold. she had turned the thermostat up one degree, and then two. another and then another. she stopped at seventy two because anything higher than that seemed excessive. at the restaurant, she always wore short sleeved blouses because she spent so much of her time cooking on the stovetop or pulling things out of the ovens. she was used to that kind of heat in the kitchen. she was cooking now, but the heat did nothing to warm the ice in her veins. she pulled the oven door open and a chill ran down her spine. rolling her shoulders, she pulled the fresh baked loaf of bread out of the oven and slid the pan on top of the stove. she hung the oven mitt ( the same one her mother had always used ) up on it's hook and turned the oven off, even though she didn't really want to. she felt like turning it off was removing the only source of heat in the whole house. it was july in virginia, there was no reason for it to be that cold outside or inside the house.
a shadowy figure in the threshold caught her attention and she turned to see her baby brother standing there. ( technically they were born minutes apart, but he would always be scarlet's baby brother. ) "i think the thermostat's broken," was the only thing she said. no formal acknowledgement or greeting, but that was just the way scarlet was. she reached for the bread knife and turned to look at @silasgraves over her shoulder, pointing the knife in his direction as she spoke. "—or maybe the it's the air-conditioner. do you think it's on? is that why it's so cold?" she asked, turning back around to cut two slices of warm bread : one for herself, and one for him. he looked like he needed it more than she did.
the cold never seemed to bother him. even as a kid, he could spend nights induring chill in the old treehouse outback, deciding that he needed to get out of the house he now stood in once again. what did bother him was the feeling his childhood home gave him. the lack of warmth in its walls - and not because of a broken thermostat. it had always been that way, even when both of their parents were around ( but not present ; here, but not actually ). if silas had it his way, he'd never set foot in here, again. the only reason he ventured back to this place was to check on his mother, and now she was missing. not dead, just gone - at least, that was the consensus, for now. and having all of the siblings back in once place... it didn't feel right. tension lingered in the air, electric and icy. when silas entered the kitchen, he did it silently, watching his sister for a moment before she noticed he was there at all.
'it feels fine in here to me,' silas lies, crossing his arms over his chest. the scent of fresh bread hits his nose, but is almost soured by the air inside of the home. like the warmth has been sucked from it, too. 'but i can take a look at it, if you want. check the air conditioner - maybe mom left it on,' bringing up their mother felt like a secret none of them wanted to talk about. an elephant in this haunted room. silas tries to count his breathing and not think about the bourbon he knows is in one of the kitchen cupboards, left exactly where their father had put it. 'are you stress baking, scar?'
𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠? 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝?
the treehouse was old, and was in a state of disrepair like the rest of the house. the wood was old, nails missing. there was no way it was safe to climb that board ladder and honestly, sevyn wondered if it ever was. she never knew her grandfather, so there were a lot of unanswered questions. was he a handyman? did he build it himself, or did he hire someone? did silas help? or her mom? her aunts? whenever she asked about simon, they always got that haunted look in their eyes. she stopped asking a long time ago. she hoped that whoever built the treehouse knew what they were doing.
the first board creaked, and the second and third broke right off the tree when she started the ascent. she cut her hand on the way down. it wasn't a far drop, two feet max, but she scraped her hand on a piece of bark. it was bleeding, but she would be okay. she decided to try one more time, even though that meant she had to get creative about how she reached the fourth board. she made it to the top, pushed the door up, and almost fell down again when she saw someone already there. catching herself on the edge, she hoisted herself up and fell to a sitting position. she couldn't stand if she wanted to, and he was even taller than she was. "whatcha doing up here?" she questioned @silasgraves with raised brows before lowering her gaze to examine the cut on her hand.
silas had some of the best days of his life, up here in this tree house. with his sisters, laughing, maybe even arguing, but being together, the nonetheless. it was a sanctuary, a lot of the time ; a place the graves siblings could go when their mother floated like a ghost around their home. huddling up in the tiny treehouse, reading stories to each other, playing cards, even just quietly sitting next to each other as the wind blew the unstable structure back and forth. even with the threat of the whole thing falling out of the tree with them in it, he had preferred to be here because at least they were all together. it was like a second home for the boy, and even though their time here didn't last forever, silas still had that feeling of warmth whenever he decided to climb the rickety ladder up into the treehouse.
he hears the struggle outside, waiting and watching to see who might be brave enough to climb the tree, only to show surprise and a bit of amusement when sevyn crawls into the space. 'i could ask you the same thing,' grin lifts the corners of his mouth, though features grow concerned as soon as he sees the blood on sevyn's palm. without much thought, silas reaches for his handkerchief, ushering for his niece to come closer to he could get a better look at the cut. 'i figured since i was visiting, it'd spend some time in my favorite childhood place,' silas gently wipes away the blood, relieved that the wound wasn't that deep. 'i'm sure the first aid kit we left up here is very much expired, so you'll have to just use this, for now,'
head tilted — no , that wasn't the right way to describe the movement. it was more like an involuntary twitch of his neck , so he lifted a hand to rub at it. the aches and pains were neverending. it was like his entire body missed his husband . . . ex husband. fuck. lips parted , but seconds ( or minutes , or hours , or days ) passed before he got a word out. "that's not what i meant," he lied , and silas would see right through it. "it's just– it's cold." —and he didn't mean the temperature , but now that he mentioned it . . . would he? prefer it if jasper left? would jasper prefer it? it was probably better if he did leave , he never should have gone to that cabin. it wasn't his home. the problem was that the man standing in front of him was. no , silas wasn't his home anymore — he was a ghost story. all skin and bones and memories of the man jasper fell in love with. he missed him , that's why he was there , but he couldn't say that. "i ran into your sister at the grocery," he answered , deciding half truths were better than lies. "she said she hadn't seen or heard from you in a while," he guessed.
there was only so much one could do with a broken heart. it's true that artists turn their lost love into poetry, but all of silas's work was made of horror, and so the aches he felt have been twisted into a bitterness he couldn't let go of. standing in front of jasper, all the man wanted to do was reach out and hold him, but there was no room for that, now. the space between them stretched on for miles, like a gaping maw, an endless abyss, and all silas could do was watch it grow wider. he had made it that way. he had put that distance between them. that much, at least, he had to admit. 'it's warmer in my office. that's where i spend most of my time. no need to heat an entire house when i use one room of it,' it sounded sad, perhaps even pathetic, but all of silas's shame had left him when jasper did. listening to his ex husband speak, silas can't tell if what he said was true, or if he was simply guessing correctly. he rarely sees any of his sisters, these days. he hadn't wanted jasper to know that fact. 'so you decided to come and check on me. interesting conclusion to come to,' his tone is sour, words practically chastizing. 'i'm fine, if you were going to ask. you can tell my sisters the same, the next time you run into them,'
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Mads Mikkelsen by Charlie Gray - The Rake (June 2021)
we are all haunted houses.
( SABINE GRAVES ): WHY ARE YOU TALKING LIKE WE'LL NEVER SEE EACH OTHER AGAIN? ' i'm not, ' or rather, he's not trying to. his tone of voice, unsure and wavering, comes from the sudden realization that he is pulling rapidly away from his family, and he doesn't know how to stop it. doesn't know if he wants to stop it. in silas's mind, they'd be better off without him - the constant disappointment he seems to bring, the reminder of his failures. the divorce had nearly sent silas into a spiral, but he's holding it together. would continue to do so until he was settled into his new cabin, and decided to drink himself to death. ' i'm just taking some time for myself. i'll... come and visit, after i'm settled in, ' a well told lie, if there ever was one, said with a small smile, hands landing on his sister's shoulders and gently squeezing. ' some seclusion will do me good. i'm just asking for some time alone, that's all, ' @herencias.
( SLOANE GRAVES ): I LOVED YOU MY WHOLE LIFE. the way she says it causes silas to question whether or not that's changed, now that they're older, and he has become something of a family disappointment. he wouldn't blame her, if her love for him had dwindled over the years, but he imagined hearing her say so would cause what was left of his heart to break into small pieces. there were no chosen favorites, but sloane was often kept in the spaces between his ribs, the protective nature of an older brother coming out, most times, when sloane needed help. maybe it wasn't a enough ; maybe it never had been, and maybe it never would be. ' you know i love you, sloane. i'd do anything for you, ' except quit drinking, quit isolating, quit self destructing - as these were the only things a man like him had to cling to, these days. ' why do i feel a but coming on? ' @sloanegraves.
( JASPER DIGGS-GRAVES ): SHOWS HOW LONELY THIS PLACE IS. ' if you're going to insult my house the entire time you're here, i'd prefer it if you left right now, ' it's enough that jasper had showed up unannounced to the cabin silas had procured off the market. but for him to step inside and read it like he does... it's not as if he's wrong. everything is untouched, from the furnishings, to the frames on the wall ; the main fireplace unused, cold and dark. the only place inside of the so called home that has any sort of character is the writer's study, and no one was allowed in there but him. he couldn't allow his family to see the state of disarray, or smell the scent of liquor that always lingered behind its door. shame and guilt are at silas's back as he stares at his ex husband. seeing jasper makes the divorce feel fresh again, like a reopened wound. he doesn't say so, but silas does keep his distance. ' why're you here? ' he might as well be direct ; he'd rather this encounter be over as soon as possible. being close to jasper made him ache. @witcheri.
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yelling at god
🐝 * ― 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻𝒀 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺.
❛ are we actually doing the right thing? ❜ ❛ are you bleeding? ❜ ❛ are you even sorry? ❜ ❛ are you still mad at me? ❜ ❛ are you sure you’re gonna be okay on your own? ❜ ❛ can’t we just be friends again? ❜ ❛ can we pretend this never happened? ❜ ❛ can you help me with this? ❜ ❛ didn’t you listen to what i just said? ❜ ❛ did you ever even love me? ❜ ❛ don’t you believe me? ❜ ❛ do you trust me? ❜ ❛ do you understand what that means? ❜ ❛ do you want to talk about it? ❜ ❛ haven’t you heard the news? ❜ ❛ have you ever cared about anyone other than yourself? ❜ ❛ how did you do that? ❜ ❛ how will i ever be able to repay you? ❜ ❛ is it my fault? ❜ ❛ is there anything i can do for you? ❜ ❛ was all of this just a lie? ❜ ❛ we’re gonna survive this, right? ❜ ❛ what are you doing here? ❜ ❛ what do you want from me? ❜ ❛ what have you done to them? ❜ ❛ what makes you think i’m going to help you? ❜ ❛ when was the last time you ate something? ❜ ❛ when will it stop? ❜ ❛ when will you ever grow up? ❜ ❛ where were you last night? ❜ ❛ who did this to you? ❜ ❛ who the hell are you? ❜ ❛ why can’t you just let it go? ❜ ❛ why didn’t you tell me sooner? ❜ ❛ why did you leave me? ❜ ❛ why don’t you come home with me? ❜ ❛ why would you do something like that? ❜ ❛ will you call me when you got there safely? ❜ ❛ will you please tell me what happened? ❜ ❛ will you stop doing that? ❜
