(ZACHARY QUINTO, 38, HE/HIM) We have been waiting for a while, but SILAS HOLMGREN was finally spotted in the village today. People heard whispers that they are a HUMAN that is hellbent on [ staying away from ] the veils. Will they succeed? Only time can tell. Until then we will keep a close eye on them as they listen to DEMONS BY HAYLEY KIYOKO.Â
⢠Silas is a published author. He writes mainly horror and murder mystery.Â
⢠Generally disassociated from his surroundings, Silas is known to be generally detached and a little humorless.Â
⢠Silas has some daddy issues, and notably has a fascination of stereotypically "good" parents. If they try or they show concern, then he is drawn to them like a moth to a flame.Â
Without any other siblings to take any sort of shared load of the pain he endured, Silas was the sole receiver of his parents' neglect and abuse. His mother, though beautiful and brilliant, was both uninterested and detached from her son. She had tried to drown him as a baby in a fit of un-treated post-partum depression. Though she was treated and Silas was returned to his parents from protective custody eventually, Silas found that even as he grew up his mother seemed to lack that taste for motherhood some women had. Where a mother might offer a crying child a hug and a kiss on the cheek, she would simply say, "You're fine, Silas." And flip her hand at him to shoo him.Â
His father, though, was an entirely different monster to slay. While his mother left him lacking in emotion and with a hole the shape of love in his heart, his father left him with skin tough as nails from scar tissue. His knife-like tongue was the least of young Silasâ worries, and as he grew in age, the knife-like tongue was replaced by sharper edges. Silas left home at fourteen, driven away by the incessant desire to be anywhere else. He had nowhere to go, home-schooled and kept from society, Silas didn't know any family members or have any friends. He went to a police station, remembering the television shows that his father would watch between bouts of rage and knowing that they would help him much like the victims in those shows.Â
Silas had never been so wrong.
Thrown into the foster system, Silas didn't have the luck of finding a caring family. Instead, he found people tempered of the same steel as his parents. Cold, uncaring eyes that looked upon him as a means of supporting their income. Hard words and harder hands, looking for someone to unleash the cruelties of their world upon. He did not find anything or anyone to plug up his empty hole, but he found a thicker skin and a knack for self-defense in these homes.Â
One of the solace's that Silas had always found from his mother was her library, and though he had not been allowed to touch the many stacked books with their cracked spines at a young age, he had still snuck glances to their pages when he was alone. What more harm could become of him? There he learned of lands where the good triumphed, where the princess was saved, and where the evil step mother was sent away for her transgressions. This world did not appeal to Silas, still. It was false. A promise of something that was too good to be true. It was not what he knew.Â
Still, Silas found that the words enticed him, and as he grew older he would spend what he could earn and spare on books. He read, consuming words like they were love, and learned. In time, Silas found it cathartic to write down his stories, but that could only go so far with healing the wounds that his upbringing had brought him. Soon, he wrote other stories. Ones that found their basis of murder and abuse in something just as real, just as deeply buried, as Silasâ childhood. These financed his living, but no one truly knew that the stories were still real. They were still Silasâ stories, not merely crafted in his own mind. No one needed to know that, though.Â
For a time after his third book sold, something urged Silas to do better. To stay away from the situations that made him snap. But all too soon was he left aching to find a way to soothe the rough edges of the love-shaped hole inside of him. He snapped, again, messily this time, not as pre-meditated as the others. The carelessness drove Silas from his home, fleeing to Wildemount.Â
Silas had no idea that the very things he feared most - and those that he strongly disbelieved in - would become a part of his reality in Wildemount.
