full name: Santiago “Santi” Silva
gender & pronouns: cis man & he/him
age & date of birth: 43, September 1,1980
where do they live: Rural
time living in lockwood springs: on and off for 43 (between active duty)
occupation: ex-navy seal, owner of Zephry Shooting Range, cartel liaison
affiliation: keepers nomad (currently a cartel contact)
rank: n/a
positive traits: analytical, hardworking, loyal, practical
negative traits: critical, reticent, serious, uncompromising
cousin to: @diego-silva, @sofia-silva, @lol-silva, @cruz-silva
face claim: oscar isaac
BIO
tw: death, war, car accident
Santi grew up in Lockwood with a large family.
Joined The Keepers when he was 18. But then 9/11 happened and he felt compelled to join up. He joined the Navy, eventually becoming a Seal.
Was a sharpshooter, an excellent fighter and an eventual leader amongst his ranks. He and @dimitri-blackwell became close during this time.
Over the years, though, his desire to do something good and noble were tarnished by the reality that there is corruption everywhere. Honor among thieves doesn’t exist and there’s no such thing as a noble war.
He grew disenchanted with the military after years of seeing what was really being done versus what was being reported.
A switch flipped eventually because Santi knew there was corruption everywhere…and he might as well gain from it. At least this way he knew what was happening behind the scenes too.
During this time, his unit had been assigned to Latin America and these deals forged new connections with the cartel. Santi began to establish relationships for future purposes.
Eventually, Santi was injured in 2019 and honorably discharged for his excellent service. Upon his return, he got to see up close how useless the VA support system in the country was. And, rather than sit idle after healing up, Santi decided to make the most of his connections. He worked with The Keepers as a liaison to bring in some additional cartel products alongside his old buddy, Dimitri.
He goes where the family needs him – whatever it takes to make them successful so his nomad status is still enacted today due to the fact that he’s a better asset on the cartel side.
ANYTHING EXTRA:
Speaks English, Spanish and Arabic
In 2010 he got married to his long-term partner Rose, becoming stepfather to her kid. But he was on active duty when Rose was in a fatal accident in 2014 and her parents became his step-kid’s primary guardians. It’s complicated now. (WC)
Has a bad knee from his injury and when it rains it still bothers him but overall he’s come a long way from when he was first injured
Has dealt with PTSD since the accident but actually sees a therapist and has meds and the whole nine yards to manage it
Needs to sit/be facing the door or entrance at any bar or restaurant
Enjoys working with the horses at the ranch, finds them gentle creatures and a peaceful escape when his mind gets too busy
He opened Zephry Shooting Range in 2017 and his family looked after it while he was gone. When he returned, he took back the reins and managed to keep it neutral.
‘i suppose we’d be the same if anybody said something about us.’ he chuckles, knowing the feeling of protectiveness and loyalty so there’s no judgement. even if the jones kids could run riot through the city if they chose to, dimitri knows better than to stop them. besides, it’s an amusing time at boots when they show up together like a gang within a gang. ‘i was brooklyn born and raised, silva. how the fuck was i supposed to take that seriously? quaint little city with trouble, figured it was you just being needy and wanting me around.’ he takes the beer as he chides his brother, toasting to him in the same motion too. ‘yeah i think they were bothering them. just two gals out on the town, punching guys in the dick. normal at boots.’ he’s seen a lot in the previous year and he’s sure there’s more to come. ‘how you feeling about little logan being back? not so little huh?’ he asks, feeling a reminder of his own son drifting through life without him. it doesn’t overshadow the happiness he feels on santi’s behalf, but it’s there.
•
“You think? I’m always on my best behavior, Blackwell. Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Santi replies with a knowing smirk. They’d gotten into their fair share of trouble back in the day and, he supposes, even now. The fact was that they’re both in Lockwood for business that’s far from above board proves as much. Rolling his eyes, Santiago returns the toast, but with a choice finger pointed in Dimitri’s direction as he does so. “Figured you were going through your midlife crisis and needed to change things up, old man,” he goads easily before looking towards the bonfire. “Probably haven’t even gotten the worst of it yet. Once people get used to you, you’ll be in for it,” Santi warns with a good-natured grin that falters only slightly at the mention of Logan. “Nah, not at all. I’m happy to see him but...” he shrugs, “things aren’t the same. We’ll have to figure it out.” Years without a word created a strange buffer between Santi and Logan, one he’s not quite sure how to overcome...or if Logan even cares. He’s trying to give him space but it’s hard when he’s been on Santi’s mind for the past five years. Blood or not, Logan has always been a son to him. And, more than anything, having his step-son in Lockwood again reminds Santiago how much he missed him.
Cruz nodded in agreement as he crossed his arms and surveyed the large group of them, each one family even the annoying loud Silva, Rigo. It was good Santi was back, things always felt more complete that way. “Yeah, he’s taking it slow. Knows it’ll be too obvious it was us if we did anything right now.” Cruz respected Diego’s decision, knowing that any impulsive reaction could cost more lives. But it also made him wonder how it ever got this bad, there were plenty of names they all lost and it felt like Ricado’s vision was getting lost with them over time. A group of men and women standing up for fairness and justice shouldn’t ever mean bloodshed, but that’s how war worked. Santi knew that better than anyone too. “I know whatever Diego’s sitting on will be good too, probably let ‘em all think it’s blown over before he makes a hit.” Cruz guessed, but he was excited to see the fruition of it too. “You ever wonder if it’ll ever end or just be a cycle? Some dumb game that people lost score of.”
•
Being a Silva meant always having a place to land, people to rely on, but Santi knew how much that must weigh on Diego. To know that they were all looking to him as their leader, and waiting on him for their next move. “I trust him,” he reaffirms, though there’s no doubt about that. Just like in a squadron, he had to trust the person at the front or there’d be no getting out of anywhere alive. Trust was the undercurrent that ran through the MC and he can only hope others feel the same. He suspects they do. “No se, Cruz,” he admits, glancing back at his cousin, “peace is never permanent. Even if we want it to be. Just look at history,” Santi huffs with a dry laugh, “You and Diego may be intent on keeping it, but all they,” the mafia, “see are dollar signs. They’ll try to force our hand to get what they want. Territory. Connections. Whatever it is that made them kill Jason...they’re greedy.”
He looks back towards the bonfire, towards their family and the rest of the Keepers, “maybe we end the cycle for now...but it’ll start up again.” It always does. Shaking his head as though to shake himself from such dark thoughts, he takes a swig of his beer and claps Cruz on the shoulder. “But that’s not what this night is about, eh?” Santiago switches topics like the gears of a car, seamless and without stalling, “You interested in anyone, primo? Seems like most people are in a good mood,” he raises a brow at his cousin, a good-natured grin cross his face now, chasing the shadows of their conversation away.
Santi would be lying if he said he wasn’t shocked to see Logan’s again after all these days. Contact had dwindled and, by then, he though that Logan was enough of an adult to make the decision to talk to him (or not) without it being imposed. It’s clear that he’s no longer a teenager. The past month has been filled with conflicting emotions: concern over his presence in what feels like a powder keg of a city, and joy at the fact that he wanted to be there at all. He can’t help the smile that breaks out across his face when he spots him standing outside his office at the range. “You here for a lesson, Lo?” He doesn’t think before drawing the younger man into a brief hug. How can he pretend to be removed and aloof where Logan is concerned? Santi’s good, but he’s not that good. Things have been a bit awkward since Logan showed up a month ago, not because Santi didn’t want him there, more because he wasn’t sure where they stood. So he tries to act as normal but it’s easier said than done after all this time. @logan-jonasse
The club had lost a lot of good members over the years but the loss of Jason seemed heavier, not because of how much he was cared for but the cold and calculated way he was killed. Cruz could tell that it had caused shock-waves through them all, leaving the club a little shaken and uneasy. “One of the best.” he agreed to his cousin, looking over to Santi when he mentioned Rose. That was another thing about loss, it wasn’t just the club but it was the things beyond that which effected them all. “Entendido.” he then replied, giving his cousin a soft pat on the back. “I know you have our back, Santi. Wouldn’t ever question it. I’m just waiting from the go ahead from Die and then I’m sure you’ll be one of the first we call.” Cruz explained, drinking his beer again and sighing as he looked to the bonfire. “Feels like something big is coming, doesn’t it? At least it does to me.”
•
It’s times like these that make Santi grateful for his family. He’s known loss (they all have) and the weight of it can crush you if you let it. The only way out is through and even then it lingers. Jason’s death is a wound that won’t scar easily. “I get it, he’s gotta move carefully.” It makes sense why their cousin is the MC’s leader. Santi’s got an abundance of patience from years of service, but that doesn’t mean he’d feel like being patient in a situation like this. He supposes it helps that he’s adjacent to the club these days, ready and able to help at a moment’s notice. It’s better than being overseas, a decision he doesn’t regret but one he recognizes had a cost. He felt the years away from family deep in his bones. “It does. This shit doesn’t just go away. Even if there’s no move made yet, they’re probably counting on the club returning fire.” Even if the mafia will likely insist they had nothing to do with Jason’s death, they’re not stupid. They know how it looks and they’d be prepping for retaliation. It’s the way these things always go. Overseas or at home, it doesn’t make a difference. An eye for an eye. Blood for blood.
dimitri exists in a small grey area, not exactly mc but close enough to be one but he gave up participating in earning titles or patches or medals. that world was nothing but damning and he feels more secure knowing he has one clear objective as and when he’s needed. ‘how do we politely tell ethan that the only one of his kids i haven’t pulled off somebody at boots is elijah?’ he laughs to santi, taking a seat at the kitchen table. friend is too weak of a word and brother has always fitted their closeness. ‘i thought afgan was bad but god damn, seeing those two jones girls smack a dude in his dick really made me reconsider coming here.’
“Not sure it matters if you’re polite or not. That man’ll be proud of his shit-stirrers until the day he dies,” Santi chuckles, thinking that if only Ava was around to see her kids, she’d probably think so too. They were a strong bunch. “It’s a different animal in Lockwood, Blackwell, didn’t I give you enough of a warning before you decided to be an idiot and plant some roots?” He scoffs, pulling two cold beers from the fridge and hands one to Dimitri. He can’t say he’s disappointed his brother decided to settle in his hometown. Sure, Santi has family here, and he wouldn’t trade that for the world, but there’s something about going through hell that can be just as powerful as sharing blood. “Besides, if both Jones girls went to town on the fucker, you can bet they deserved it. Little Nora wouldn’t hurt a fly. I bet Elijah gets into his fair share of trouble, just knows better than to make a scene. Kinda like you,” he snorts, cracking open his can and taking a sip.
Santi takes a sip of his beer, the bonfire a little bit in the distance as he stands beside his cousin, pensive as he watches people amble around, talking and laughing and hugging as they all celebrated Jason Jones. “He was good people.” Santi laments, remembering Jason over the years – his steady presence a fond memory in his mind. “Didn’t deserve this shit. Joder.” He swears with a sigh, gaze still trained on the flames ahead. “When Rose died, he knew I had all of you but asked what he could do anyway.” Because it’s just what they did for each other. They might not have shared blood but their community transcended that. Santi looks at Cruz now, “so you let me know what we can do. Entiendes?” As a liaison, he’d make sure that if there was anything the cartel could provide the mc with, he’d support it. @cruz-silva
