Bill SkarsgĂĄrd | Roman Godfrey
   hemlock.grove (1x03) the.order.of.the.dragon
h
Today's Document
todays bird

Discoholic 🪩

JBB: An Artblog!

Love Begins
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

oozey mess
No title available

izzy's playlists!

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

if i look back, i am lost

Kaledo Art
No title available
hello vonnie
Three Goblin Art

Origami Around
Claire Keane
KIROKAZE
AnasAbdin
seen from Germany

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Philippines
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Brazil

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States
seen from TĂĽrkiye

seen from Italy

seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
@detectivesilasking
Bill SkarsgĂĄrd | Roman Godfrey
   hemlock.grove (1x03) the.order.of.the.dragon
natalia-venturi‌:
Natalia remained weary of those in attendance; she was certain there were many that were not a part of the mob that had slid their way in. However in this case, she didn’t have much to hide. Her tears were genuine, and she offered the man a grateful nod as she accepted the tissue. “Thank you,” she sniffled, dabbing at her eyes as she managed a tiny smile back. His question provoked a shake of her head. Some of them she knew simply by connection, but none had she actually ever met. “No, I didn’t. I just think it’s so sad to see anyone so young lose their life. I’m a nurse– you’d think it would get easier. But it doesn’t.” Natalia paused for a moment and composed herself, slightly. “Did you?”
Silas looked over at the blonde, an ode of sympathy passing his expression. Even if he suspected everyone, sympathies passed were there because there was some human emotion. “I didn’t—“ He explained. He held out his badge, fished out from the lining of inside of his jacket. “But I am investigating them. Hoping to bring some peace to the families who experienced this.”
lorelei-reynard‌:
Lorelei wasn’t there to cry, she was there to make sure no freaked out relative messed up with the flowers or worse, like throwing themselves on top of the cofin and ask them to take them to the next left. It was understandable, of course, and she had seen her fair share of crying relatives, pale and skipped meals to the point of passing out, but this was a job for her, a lucrative job, but a job all the same. She had been there before when her mother died, she had been the one to hold her little brother before he collapsed to the floor for being in so much physical pain. Maybe she did not share the same feelings with the people in this place, but she knew the feeling. “Reynard,” she said to the stranger. “Lorelei Reynard, at your service, if you require funeral arrangements.” Lorelei smiled at him. “And what is your name, Mr. Slenderman?”Â
“Take no offense, Ms. Reynard—“ Silas begun, extending his hand to hers to shake it, before pocketing the limb once more. “But I hope that the only time I require any sort of funeral arrangements won’t be for a very long time.” He looked around the room. “Slenderman?” Silas repeated with a small chuckle, a nod of his head as he remained amused by the brunette next to him. “I suppose I’ve heard something along those lines once or twice, of course. My name is Detective Silas King,” He pulled back on the blazer to bestow his badge. “Just here to make sure there are no disruptions to come to those grieving the loss of family members today.”
Bill SkarsgĂĄrd | Roman Godfrey
   hemlock.grove (1x02) the.angel
naomixstone‌:
“I’m here to support my family.” What a garbage word, family. Truly it was supporting her dead one, with Gio removed all that was left was Gwyn and her father. “My dear deceased cousin, tragically taken too soon from this world, and…and in such a horrid way. I’m wrecked to pieces.” Her derby hat shielded misty crystal orbs, each movement deliberate and purposeful, Academy Award winning. “And your friend from high school? How was he taken?”
Watching people was like studying painting. You wanted to find flaws in the masterpieces, point out everything that was wrong about them. Bestow yourself a curator and mantle against the wall your prizes. Wasn’t his own wall filled with pieces? People against a wall that he would show how he solved the age-old question natives in Atlanta couldn’t seem to answer: when will all of it stop? “He was killed.” Silas lied smoothly, sunken and sorrow expression, as though there was nothing to do about it. “That’s the unfortunate thing about life; we never know when it will just end. I am very sorry for your loss. I’m sure this is a deep wound you and your family will feel for some time.”
leylaxdiaz‌:
There was resistance in wanting to reveal what she’d said to a complete stranger, to expose that vulnerability to others that didn’t know her aside from being a friend of the family and couldn’t know just how close she’d become with both Bianchi children. So close in fact that she considered both to be sister and brother, and now she’d lost another family member. “I said it’s unforgivable what happened to them. I mean…is fate always this cruel?” She hadn’t meant for such honesty to be asked, but given the circumstances, the way people around her were acting, Leyla had been told all of it was a freak accident, but was Death truly so heartless to take out four people at once? Shouldn’t she have been used to Death by now, given that she’d lost already? “Lo siento…I haven’t slept, I don’t mean to ask you such a question.”
“Yes it is,” Silas answered, opened with his curt truth. Perhaps she didn’t want to hear it, that It was unimaginable to be so forward-thinking about the situation, but that was the gruff truth of it. That Life was cruel. That we all didn’t always get what we wanted in life, taken what was handed. Whether or not it was covered in blood. “I think you were forgiven without asking for it. Situations like these are always dreadful. I’m Silas King—“ He extended his hand to her for her to shake. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Miss—?“
gendubois‌:
Besides not really having a choice, intrigue is what had Genevieve lingering at the wake way past saying a few hello’s and I’m sorry for your loss to people. It seemed as if all of Atlanta showed up to pay their respects, mourn or, if you were like Gen, get a front row seat to what would surely be a spectacle. With no real connection to any of the deceased, she figured hanging in the back to observe would be the best place for her to be. And, for the most part, she went unnoticed until she heard the person beside her break the silence. “Oh, of course.” Gen stated, mustering up some sort of sadness. “The loss of anyone is awful but it’s even more so tragic when it’s the youth. Are you connected to any of the deceased?”
He studied the woman. Beautiful, surely. But that wasn’t the notion of the game, his job was to study them all. The government worked on a theory of innocent until proven guilty. But Silas had seen the underbelly of Atlanta, the gargantuan beast that became those who undermined the law to make their own. It was abhors of an action, but one the faceless took. Bestowing a smile, and his own theory of guilty until proven innocent, he extended a polite hand to the brunette to shake hers. “Silas King—“ He begun, pocketing his hand afterword’s and lifting the glass of scotch to his lips. “’Fraid I didn’t, I stick out like a sore thumb like that.” He smiled. “Thought it was best to come down, show my respect for victims of a heinous crime.” He paused, continuing.  “And you—did you know any of them?” As he asked, pointing to the four photos that stood on stands before them.
pixtro‌:
“Beyond jealous— nothing I hate more than those who get the easy way out. We gotta suffer on the planet for a little while longer,” he huffed. He often thought of death as insignificant as gum on the sidewalk but he’d never been open to doing something about it himself. “Here against my will to support my girlfriend.”
Silas was curious—those who spoke so candidly of death were—well, they were golden fucking tickets on the in. “Interesting,” He noted to begin, a small nod of his head. Silas cleared his throat. “You, uh, you think that about people who were murdered? Doesn’t seem like they had a bit of a choice in the situation.” And a lull broke before he continued. “Who’s the girlfriend? Better not let her hear you makin’ it like a chore to be here…”
johnny-legend‌:
Always keeping his guard, Johnny responded back to his co-worker’s acknowledgement with a slight nod. The tone of his fellow officer told him all he needed to know though, Silas clearly there to do some digging. “Not officially, but it never hurts to keep your ear to the ground. I’m here of my own volition, but always watching. The family really seems to be hurting here today though.” He’d have to remember to keep an extra close watch on Silas as well, as so not to arouse any suspicion of himself. “Sussed anything out yet?”
Silas was smart enough to know many things. That people within the room were easily culprits until someone said otherwise. That there was no sense in pretending innocence belongs with children and animals. And that at some point, he would need to announce who he was. But to Johnny, it was alright. Legend was one, like him. Breaking that code was unforgivable. A man with Silas history made it clear on the force: you were a friend until you chose to no longer be. “Bianchi maybe in pain, but it’s his son who suffered, that’s the only person I plan on defending in the grand scheme of things.” Of course a bid had been started—suspicion on the man, but never anything concrete. “Not yet—but that’s why I’m here. Bianchi’s a businessman with too many hands in the cookie jar and not enough to cover his ass completely. His son may’ve died—but it doesn’t make him any less of a criminal.” He paused. “I’m waiting to see if someone slips up today. What about you—heard anything yet?”
Bill SkarsgĂĄrd | Roman Godfrey
   hemlock.grove (1x02) the.angel
“You can't justify murder by masking it with a cause.”
― Steve Rogers
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true, and unafraid of toil
natalia-venturi‌:
Natalia wasn’t surprised to see a few unfamiliar faces at the wake. Her position as a messenger usually limited those she interacted with, and she had always tried her best to keep from falling too deep into the mob. After all, it hadn’t been her decision to be a part of it in the first place. Grabbing a cup of coffee to try and perk up a little, the question earned a nod from the nurse. She had just come off a twelve hour shift and wasn’t blooming with her usual burst of energy. Death, however, she didn’t do well with. No one did, of course, but especially not a person that made it her goal to save lives on a daily basis. She felt like such a fraud.
“It really is,” she agreed softly as she choked down a swallow of the warm liquid. Nat didn’t even care that it scalded her throat on the way down. Tears pricked her blue eyes, but she quickly wiped at them. “It’s awful. I hope they catch whomever played a part in it. They barely even started their lives.”
Silas perked up, like a child offered a sugary treat, exterior remaining as calm, cool and collected as he positioned himself to be throughout his career—he pulled out a small tissue, passing it to the blonde as he caught the quick tears. “Here—“ He offered in soft tones, lips curved into a gentle smile. He knew how to play the sympathetic mourner, someone who cared about the outcome: his own outcome, of course, was discovering who was who within the room. “Did you know any of them?” He asked softly.
johnny-legend‌:
A service like this would bring out all types, Johnny was sure of that. It wasn’t his first, and surely wouldn’t be his last with the way these things usually played out. And that included more than just the mob, but also his colleagues from the police department; noticing Silas King from across the room dressed in a suit and surveying things. He couldn’t be sure if he was really just there to pay respects or if this was in any way a professional call. He had to admit, it was a smart play at any rate for the detective a couple of years older than himself. Slowly King moved over towards him and the coffee station, Johnny remained impassive as Silas broke the silence first. “Very sad. Even more sad this city seems to be used to it far too often.” Only now did Johnny turn to look in his direction now. “Surprised to see you here, Silas. Did you know any of them?”
Silas had to ask himself—at what point did someone break and slide to the other side? At what point did protocol become nothing more but words, and an oath made to uphold the law became the same promise to break it? Pinpointing who, and when—that was a work in progress. But lines to either side were drawn. Watching Jonathan’s approach, he nodded. “Hey Johnny—“ He nodded as he spoke. “Sad for the victims. But no—“ he turned his head to continue. “I’m not here for them. You and I both know Bianchi has ties to the American Mob—I’m trying to figure out how embedded those ties are—and who else here is wound up in is web.” A lull. “Were you sent in to do the same?”
pixtro‌:
“Nothing new,” he noted with a lulled expression, almost dazed. He hadn’t planned on sticking around, but he still hadn’t seen the body in question. He needed to. It was a gut-instinct. “Life is such a pain, anyway. Good they got out while they could.”
“If I didn’t know any better—“ Silas spoke, a low chuckle omitted within his slight pause. “I’d say you’re almost jealous they got out—“ He looked over to the man with a knowing grin. “Who’re you here for?”
naomixstone‌:
It was difficult concealing the satisfied smirk that wanted to appear, concealed crystal orbs raking over the distraught looks of the Bianchi family behind her black funeral Kentucky Derby inspired hat. Only a matter of time. Slowly they were beginning to understand how she’d felt when her own family had been taken from her. A careless mistake that hadn’t been corrected in time, all because of the family she was surrounded by.Â
The male’s voice drew her gaze slowly toward him, feigning the look of mourning with expertise, chalked up from emotional recall. “Tragic.” She murmured, trying to place name to the unknown face. “You knew them?”Â
He was in work mode, memorizing faces and overhearing names, a recorder device lingering in the inner lining of his jacket pocket passed as a pen—but was meant for otherwise. He wanted to hear everything, remember it all for later when he made his most recent report. Infiltrating the group before him could’ve been an option—but he was never one to shy away, hide from the issues before him. In the wake of his thoughts, a blur of blonde passed his vision, hues focused and settled on the sound of her voice as she spoke. “Me?” He gestured to himself, an almost-innocence about his actions to off-set any suspicion. Not that there was need for it. “I knew one of the men that died—we went to high school together.” He lied, feigning a sorrowful look. “And you?”
leylaxdiaz‌:
The coffee in Leyla’s hand was more of a prop–warming cold hands that clutched the surface, heat radiating into her palms but not enough to distract her from the constant question that bounced back and forth like a tennis match. All she could do was simply be there for Gwyn and the rest of the Bianchi family–and she hated it. Surely there was something else she could do…but at the same time she too had been in the exact same position they were in the past. And she’d reacted the same as her best friend. Sadly, from experience, she knew not to push too much but just enough, there to be a pillar and a shoulder to cry on.Â
A voice broke through her thoughts, corners of her lips flicked downward briefly as her gaze dropped to the coffee. “It is…” She swallowed back the swelled lump in her throat. “Es imperdonable lo que les pasó…” Said under her breath, as she attempted a timid sip of coffee. Â
Perhaps there was something within Silas that should’ve felt remorse for his actions, when he looked over to the brunette, that saddened stare echoed in her eyes. But he didn’t. He didn’t care, it was less a family and more a job to be done. A cockroach infestation to be stamped out. He thought irritably. Though while his mind darkened with ideas of finally riding the gangs from the city—he remained focused. Posing a gentle smile, his hand too cupped the small to-go cup of coffee, as he lingered near the refreshment table. “Hmm?” He asked, raising his brows. “You’ll have to say that a little bit slowly, my grade school Spanish is pretty poor at best—“ He turned to face her.