the shores of russia

Silas Agata · 04-19-2011, 06:00 PM

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Date: 19 April

Setting: Hade's Beach

Time: Late afternoon

Character Form: Optime

Word Count → 520 :: Sorry if this is weird to reply to. :3 Also, let me know if that date does't work for you! <3

It wasn’t entirely picturesque, but it reminded the Russian of home. As a child, Silas had been taught many things in the ways of the Russos. The large complex life was centered around fishing, and life on the seas easily became just as natural as life on the shore. All of the Russo boys had large builds, despite their mottled blood. Their work on their families’ ships and fishing yielded sturdy frames, and Silas had not been spared this. He had grown into his frame now, no longer awkwardly lengthy. Though he did not spend much time on the water as he had when he was younger, the same pirate build of his father was still apparent in him – the smooth curve of muscle clearly visible amongst the lithe frame. A tan hand reached for his neckline, clutching the golden anchor that constantly hung from the golden chain. So even though the sand was grainy and littered with many larger-sized pebbles, Silas was able to close both pale icy eyes and imagine the complex of Sobirat'sya.

He wondered how Rurik and Liliya were doing back home in Russia, and whether or not they had successfully reunited with Verusha. Silas had always felt guilty for leaving his mother alone in Russia, and that guilt only intensified when it was revealed that Anatoliy had left her too and wound up in Nova Scotia. He wondered what his life would be like now if he had gone back with them. He longed for his roots – to be surrounded by those who shared the thick accent he did, to speak in his native tongue, to return to the water and continue learning the crafts of his family. He was a pirate’s son, and yet the only thing Silas really had to show for it lately was his drinking habits.

There was not much Russian vodka left, but Silas had managed to forget about one when he had decided to keep it stored under his bed for quite some time. Now he carried it with him, lifting the bottle to his muzzle every so often so that his buzz would not vanish completely. His thoughts lately had been focused completely around Halo, and what he could do to become a better man for her. Silas should have been content with himself, for she showed interest, but their awkward encounter in the mansion had told him otherwise. If Silas was really everything that Halo wanted, that situation would have ended differently. But as it was, it seemed as if Halo just didn’t really want Silas. At least, not entirely. Not in the way he wanted her. But maybe, just maybe, if he could be the man she wanted, then she would return his affections. He knew his thinking was off, but he couldn’t help it. He had decided to stay back in Nova Scotia for her, and now he wanted to make sure his decision counted for something.

The sun would be setting in a few hours, but for once Silas did not want to return to the mansion. He couldn’t face her. Not now. Not yet, at least.

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