reunion // arrival

sila demir-zerhouni // daughter of hades you're alive, you're alive in my head

[silamanteia]

solarstcrms·:

There is, of course, the temptation to immediately give up the ruse, if only to watch what kinds of expressions Sila hid behind her polite smile. It’s hard not to chase that high when she had so much fun the last time they spoke. But one must always focus on the bigger picture, and gloating now would only cut Lillian’s chances at toying with Sila a bit more. What’s the fun in that? She leans in, as if they’re sharing a secret, rueful smile. “You don’t have to pretend to remember, I don’t mind. I don’t go out of my way to be incredibly memorable. Not everyone in tech can be Otis.” A tap on her chin. She doesn’t give a shit about crystals. “I’m not sure. Don’t you find it’s hard to know who’s watching you these days? Mass surveillance aside, we have so many new members lately since Marina brought in the non-godly. Do you have anything for protection, perhaps?”

When Lillian leans in unexpectedly Sila doesn’t bother moving from her lean against the counter, instead knitting her eyebrows and looking down at Lillian, confused as to why someone would be getting closer to her without permission. The woman’s playful expression and comment clarifies things, and Sila does pick-up the context of their sudden shared secret. She pauses, and then, for a second time already, quiets a smile. She may be, dare she say...charmed. “I do not go out of my way to pretend.” This is clearly untrue, but Sila knows that the stranger knows this. Tech. Sila pushes herself up a bit for added distance, thinking. Maybe she does know her... The joke makes Sila scoff, “Right.” But her unexpected good mood is humbled by Lillian’s later comments, feeling a bit uneasy. “I had considered that a bit, sure.” Sila cocks an eyebrow at Lillian, but in that subtle Sila way. “Why? Do you have something to hide?” She is being playful, mostly. 

[silamanteia]

munozpeter·:

He’s stuck in between the familiar feeling of wanting to hear the thoughts on her mind and the unrecognizable one of being afraid what those thoughts might be. It puts an uncomfortable feeling in his chest, and he wishes he were the type of person who would just be out with it and get it over with, for better or for worse. But, coward that he is, he’d sacrifice the better if it means he could prolong the worse, and in this case it means for a moment longer he gets to stand alongside Sila in still and pleasant waters. Better that than to cause any ripples. Peter glances in the direction she points, noting to himself that it isn’t the right way back to the apartments, but it also isn’t a real destination, awkward and unsure as to what it means her answer is if where she’s chosen to go is nowhere. He then wonders why she’s brought a book at all if she hadn’t wanted to read, and even though they’re small wonders, he sort of hates that he’s wondering at all instead of just knowing. “Yeah, talking, I can… I can talk,” he says, breathy and distant, racking his brain for what exactly he could talk about that isn’t the miserable business of work as of late, trying to figure out Marina’s wild goose chase and covert hunt for answers and Peter realizes that the only thing that’s consumed his life these past few months is something he’s not even allowed to talk about. And that feels distinctly lonely. “Nothing new,” he answers finally, regrettably, then tries to turn to her. “What about you?” But once he’s asked it, he feels that creeping fear again, like the path they’re walking down is one where Sila admits things she can’t take back, all because of actions Peter can’t take back either.

Peter’s response doesn’t sound....sure. Nor does it sound eager. Sila can’t help but feel like she’s somehow trapped him into taking what she’d hoped to be a pleasant stroll with someone she...well, to put it simply, missed. But just as Peter is, she’s polite, or maybe feeling nonconfrontational, so she doesn’t address the feeling and instead nods as a response to his agreement. She starts moving to lead the way, or perhaps to shake the feeling that something else might be wrong on top of all of the other things that appear to be wrong lately. She finds herself a few steps ahead of him by the default of her nerves giving her momentum, but she slows her pace, aching for that sense of comfort she had known to radiate off of Peter and fall warmly upon her. When she finally finds his side he turns to her, returning her question without much update. Sila’s eyebrows begin to knit but she stops them and forces her face to settle. “Well a lot has happened lately.” So she finds it hard to believe in his nothing new. “I suppose I am still trying to adjust to such changes.” She’s talking about the incidents, but also her sister, and a little her parents, and maybe herself. She hadn’t assumed Peter might make it onto that list of changes as well. “Are you...not?” This is her rephrasing the original question.

[silamanteia]

solarstcrms·:

sila  //  @silamanteia·

“sila, right?”  she approached the wicked kitty counter with a sheepish smile.  “you’re so pretty, by the way. oh, do you have any reccomendations? i don’t really understand how all these crystals work, if i’m being honest.”

Sila is not big on people she doesn’t know seeming to know her, but she is polite enough to tip her head up from her book with a delayed smile. “Yes, hello.” She takes a moment to try to remember her face, but Sila can’t help the way her subtle smile purses at the compliment. She’s not used to comments on her appearance. This would be the moment to repay it but Sila is sometimes awkward, so instead she says with a nod, “That’s sweet.” She thinks a moment. “We have met, haven’t we?” She has no clue. “They pay me to do so. It depends on what you’re looking to do.” 

[silamanteia]

munozpeter·:

It’s been months, and Peter is pretty sure he’ll never rid himself of the stress that’s been plaguing him since that night in February, sitting on top of his skin like dust and hiding between his temples. He hasn’t gotten a good night’s rest since, and guiltily, he feels like he deserves that. It’s just been work and work and work— a lot of times behind closed office doors or in private emails with Marina and hushed conversations. Something is definitely wrong and it’s all Peter can think about in the silences. When he hears footsteps approach, he expects to see his boss, but finds himself a little dumbstruck when he sees Sila’s calming face. He notes to himself that even if he had been busy, he would have been perfectly content to just enjoy her company, to hear her turning the pages of her books in the quiet, hoping that background noise would be enough to distract him from his worries. But it’s not as easy to feel at ease around her, not like it used to be at least, because all he can think about now when it comes to his guilt and his faults and his embarrassment over everything that happened that night is how it might have affected the way she thought about him. “No, I was actually… Well, I was heading home. Not that I need to go home, or rather, I could walk you back if you were heading to the apartments, too, or we could just… not. Go home, that is.” He’s tried to make this as easy for her to choose what she wants, but now Peter’s just sort of overcompensating with words to try to cover up how anxious he feels. What’s more, he’s scared she’ll know it.

Up until recently, approaching Peter had never made Sila nervous, but she would be a liar if she said she had not noticed how little they’ve spoken since the masquerade ball. She had left that conversation eager to engage with him more afterward, opening up a space for him in her priorities and catching the vacant feeling their distance had left because of it. In Sila’s defense she had assumed Peter was incredibly busy and, if she knew him as well as she felt she did, stressed beyond belief, and while that should have been all the more reason to talk to him instead she chose to give him room to breathe. The issue with this is that healing is ongoing and if she kept this mentality there would never be a right time to engage with Peter, and that wasn’t a fate Sila was particularly comfortable with. That’s why she pushes through the window his politeness gives her to head back to her apartment and ignore that lonely feeling. He starts with being on his way home and Sila works diligently to mask the disappointed purse of her lips but as he rambles she works less hard to mask the endearment. When he suggests to not go home there’s a short, awkward pause between the two of them where Sila struggles to gauge what the right choice is. She can’t help but feel like he equally wants to be somewhere but not anywhere in particular, but she finds it difficult to tell him the truth: that she is distinctly avoiding sitting in her apartment alone, that she had sought him out specifically, and that she had done so without even realizing. Eventually Sila gestures her arm in a direction she knows neither of their apartments are in and suggests, “How about we go this way?” Her soft, almost nervous smile leads her steps as she already starts walking in that direction. She can tell something feels off between them though she doesn’t know why, but she hopes the comfort she always seems to find from him will return soon; she’s counting on it. She looks back at him as she takes those first few steps and nudges her head invitingly for him to join her. “I did not want to read anyway.” She admits in an attempt to bring some playfulness to the air. “I much rather you had been open to talking with me. I don’t really know what is new with you, and I’m rather nosy.” 

[silamanteia]

Completely content in her own company, usually preferring it, Sila has scarcely felt loneliness. Or, perhaps she’s never put the name to the feeling. She used to get full on people watching or her studies, on sitting in the same room as her sister without much talk between them, on cups of coffee with her closest friends. Lately things feel like they have been happening around her, near her, but not to her. She’s been a little touch starved for theatrics. She’s...bored. No, lonely. Whatever it might be, she’s determined today to try to ease it. Sila briefly ponders that if she could be unlonely, who might she be unlonely with? “Are you busy, Peter? Mind if I bother you?” She’s brought her own book as she approaches him in case he is busy; she will sit herself beside him quietly regardless. She needs this, so she will commit. She flashes her book to him to show she brought entertainment, but a part of her hopes she won’t have to open it. @munozpeter​ 

[silamanteia]

munozpeter·:

Peter nods once, and there’s a somber sort of agreement in his eyes. He’s always been one to need knowledge, to crave it, to lean on it when other things didn’t make sense. Rational thought, logic based on evidence. It’s how he’s always operated, or at least for the most part. He can recall other times in his life where he’s let his himself be led by his heart and not his head, but he can’t ever claim to be an expert in that area. Knowing and feeling are different. Feeling is harder, messier, an addition to what’s already there. Knowing is fundamental, almost tangible, and it’s what he knows to work with. He agrees; knowing is necessary. Not involuntary, but something he chooses to do. He thinks for a moment that it feels nice to have someone understand that the same way he does, and that makes him feel a small sense of some type of relief. If it were anyone else, he might have thought he was killing their mood by discussing dead authors and the things we believe to be our responsibilities, but Sila has given him every reason to suspect she’s a lot like him, and that this is a perfectly enjoyable way to spend her time at a party. She’s given him comfort. He considers her words, clearly mulling them over with the time and respect they deserve until his expression softens again and he turns to smile at her. “Another fair point. Are you sure you’re not some sort of philosopher in disguise?” he teases, and as he ponders her words one last time, Peter comes to the conclusion that he must not be very brave. But that he keeps to himself. “Ah, that would be Gigi,” he chuckles, pointing discreetly into the crowd at the beautiful blonde in her pink petaled dress and rose-colored mask. “I think she was a little disappointed when she found out it was me. I can’t blame her, I’m not exactly the date type. But Marina suggested I participate this time around,” Peter explains, like he has to justify why he’d asked her to come to something he wouldn’t normally do. “Still, it was fun. The date, and the mystery, and the dancing. Maybe I ought to give Marina more credit and do this more often. What about you, are you having fun yet?”

Sila can’t help but smile as this layer of their conversation meets a satisfying end. Coming to an agreement is energizing, a feeling she had taken for granted, to be on the same page as someone. Lately her relationships are overlapping but never quite blending into each other. It feels nice, for once, not to be challenged, not to wonder where she’s in the wrong. Or that if she is, someone else is there with her. Despite the weight of their conversation, her mood is airy and she’s light on her feet. His teasing sparks a quick and genuine laugh until she lets it calm. “Shhh.” She whispers, a soft warmth between them, “My mask must be good for covering something. Though perhaps it is my bane;” she jokes with a head tilt toward him, “philosophers are always thinking, but they rarely have any answers.” Sila follows Peter’s hand as he gestures to Genevieve, feeling the natural straightening of her lips, arms crossing unconsciously. She bites her bottom one until she can push it toward a smile. “I can only assume you have had an…exciting night.” Sila knows she’s judgmental, but she’s also polite, and will not talk poorly about someone after such a nice conversation. Genevieve could not be more different than Peter, and Sila hums when Peter mentions that she seemed a little disappointed. “You are interesting, intelligent, and benign.” Sila says plainly, still watching the blonde sway in the distance. Sila is not sure if she would say the same about his date, but she has no motive to make Peter feel differently, nor does she believe that’s what he was asking for. She says what she says because it is the truth. “But I do not know what the date type is,” she finally half looks at him, rekindling part of her smile from earlier. “So I would not trust my judgment.” She jokes. Something about knowing it was partially Marina’s doing makes Sila feel different in a way she can’t put words to, and it is more the lack of words than the feeling that makes her linger on it. She had not pegged Peter as a mystery date person, so there is some solace in knowing she had not pegged him wrong. She would even participate in something with a little convincing from the right person. No longer interested in the crowd, Sila turns to him fully. Her arms drop and she straightens the fabric of her dress, suddenly aware of her own body. More the chaperone type, she had believed it was her embarrassment that dressed her at the last minute and strapped her heels. But, had anyone else asked her, she might have stayed home and enjoyed the quiet. “I am having fun.” She says with serendipity in her voice, as though she’s surprised herself. Sila does not know what to make of the strangeness of that, but she is here now in her black dress, talking about her deepest contemplations, listening to Peter talk about his, and she thinks this is a perfectly enjoyable way to spend her time at a party.

[silamanteia]

munozpeter·:

“Knowing doesn’t make it easier,” he smiles. “And you know that, too.” It’s not news to him, but it’s become more apparent that he and Sila share so much of the same views, same sentiments. This is what it must be like to know a kindred spirit, and he’s glad to have found this friendship with her so easily. He tries to keep her gaze as she thinks, but it lowers instead and for a moment he’s out of her loop while she ponders the question. It’s not as if he could have read her thoughts from simply catching her eyes, but he likes to pretend he could. There he goes pretending again. He pictures the good scenario as she describes it; open field, a cup of coffee, the crossword. Peter fills it in with rolling grass under a breeze, shade of a porch, the steam of tea in addition to the coffee. He thinks it’s a pretty nice picture, not that it needs his approval. “Funny,” he starts with a slight chuckle. “Usually bravery comes from responsibility, not a lack of it.” He’s not entirely sure what to make of that response then, what exactly she might mean, and he wants to tell her he thinks she could be brave regardless of duty or responsibility, but something in him tells him that’s not what she needs to hear. Her next answer is all too easy to understand, however. “It’s not just you,” Peter says simply, his tone considerate, empathetic as he looks into the crowd again. It’s harder to discuss guilt, but at least it’s easier to know you’re not alone. He’s still watching the crowd, watching everyone pretend to be someone else, and Peter finds his gaze land on Charlie Angier-Eun as Sila asks What if you forget you’re pretending? He loses focus for a minute, then blinks, snapping back to attention to his friend, trying to shut out the image of the way she used to smile at him and the fact that he pretends he’s fine with it being in the past, and suddenly he feels more guilt now too that he does have things he pretends to ignore. “Even with the mask,” he adds, smiling again, but shakes his head. “Well, is this is us disagreeing then?” Peter jokes. “Healthy debate is good, after all.”

Knowing doesn’t make it easier. And yet, Sila has always been the kind of person to seek out answers. Inherently a problem solver with an affinity for fixing things she can’t quite touch, she’s never sat comfortably in the unknown. She ponders her search for answers, deciding she does know this. Her lips part to agree, but Peter seems one step ahead of her own self. He had known so before even she could reason. Her instinct is to say I wish I did not know this, but that’s not true. If she didn’t, they would understand each other a little less, and this current fullness of being related to would not feel so rich. Instead, she smiles and she gives him a single nod. “But it is necessary.” She insists. Ignorance only wins until the bliss settles, but in order to grow faults must be known. Sila doesn’t usually feel so optimistic, but she can sense a heaviness coming from Peter she has no desire in adding to. She will bear that optimism should he need it. Her attention shifts to him when he chuckles, a light smile in expectation, waiting for whatever might follow his cue at humor. And she laughs a bit too, mostly for the sake of keeping things light, and speaks almost whimsically, as though they’re both in on some joke and the punchline is in the air between them. “I think it can be brave, deciding not to care about consequence. Think of all the things you have to be willing to allow.” He follows up with it’s not just you and it persists, that fullness. He looks outward and Sila pays little mind to mimicking him, Sila would not have noticed where his gaze landed anyway. She’s doesn’t keep up with who’s dating who; she doesn’t care. But mostly, Sila’s never been one to pinpoint pining. She couldn’t recognize it if it looked her in the eye. He turns back to her, jokes, and she smirks. “I suppose it is.” Now debate, she can quantify. “But this is something I find worth disagreeing on.” She doesn’t explain, instead sighs in a loud, playful way, fingers knit over her thighs. “So, which floating mask is your mystery date?” 

[silamanteia]

solarstcrms·:

“don’t say that. is my company that terrible? you’re breaking my heart.”  lillian holds a hand up to her heart, a look of faux-concern painting peter’s features. it’s an expression she imagines fits peter’s face well, considering what he’s like, and a bit of pride at her own work bleeds through.  “how do you suppose? he’s always been very supportive of my power and the practice i have to put in. it’s not like i keep it a secret that i use his face.”  this is also not entirely true, though there are enough shades of honesty weaved through that lillian is confident sila won’t be able to pick what is or isn’t quite right. she’s pretty sure peter knows she’s used his face once, at least. honestly, what does anyone expect? he’s staff. obviously she has all the main nl admin memorized to keep their faces in her back pocket. it’s merely coincidence and her vigilant eye that she caught sila speaking to peter earlier. constant people watching has its perks now and again.  “how do i work?”  she repeats slowly, thrown off for the first time in this conversation,  “if that’s a come on, i’m afraid it’s going to use some work. is it peter’s face? if this is starting to give you weird ideas, please tell me so i can switch to another face. i’m not really interested in helping you fill out any secret fantasies tonight.”

Sila is a logical and clearheaded person. She is not easy to trick. On the other hand, she is susceptible to those she holds closely, or in high regard. There's a brief, uncomfortable tug at her to see Peter’s features fall, even if they aren’t really his, and she’s left with the urge to comfort him. Her once indifferent and tense eyebrows soften, but just as quickly does her gaze scan the masked crowd for her friend. When she picks him out, tending to someone, she’s at ease again. Looking back at Lillian, “Your current company is rather artificial. Perhaps I’d enjoy it much more if you weren’t hiding.” Unlikely. But she thinks Lillian has taken Masquerade Ball a little too far. As for Peter’s potential displeasure - “Supportive, likely. But it doesn’t seem like you’re using your power for any real good.” And Sila would like to think Peter wouldn’t want Lillian to use it against her, but she keeps that to herself. Sila can’t bask in throwing Lillian for a loop when seconds later Sila feels stunted and shocked. Her face twists, confused, warm, and her already perfect posture tenses to tight shoulders, hands knitting. “It’s—not. And I do not...fantasize.” But now she’s embarrassed and doesn’t want to show it. She has to commit. “It’s for research.” A beat. Geez—“And not that kind of research. I don’t—it’s for science.” 

[silamanteia]

munozpeter·:

He takes in a big breath, then lets out a loud sigh, but the tired smile he wears almost makes it come out like a laugh. It’s good-natured, everyone of course knows he loves his job, but he can love something and still see its faults— they’re faults he’s placed anyway, driving himself so hard into exhaustion and overwork. But how can he stop, when it means so much to him? “Maybe rest. Maybe breathing easier, worrying less. But I can’t imagine not working, or letting myself spend my days doing nothing,” Peter answers finally, giving her a slight chuckle.  “What does it look like for you?” he asks her, noticing the way she seemed to answer him with experience, hopeful at least that she could come out of it with some optimism. “‘We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be’,” Peter says, his tone as if in lofty agreement with her as he looks out into the crowd, then turns back to her with a shrug and a kind smile. “Kurt Vonnegut,” he tells her, citing the author. “He talked a lot about the morality of the book that quote is about, about how often we try to say that the things we do that we may not agree with can be done for a good cause— can be justifiable because of that. But pretending to do things, you still do them, don’t you? We can say those things aren’t part of our real character, only pretend, but when we keep our real character to ourselves— when only we know what we truly mean and want— then what’s really at the foreground of our character? Our actions? Or the secrets of our hearts?” he says rather than asks, really, only explaining the philosophy of the author, unsure where he himself stands. Then realizes he’s been rambling again like he’s so wont to do, and chuckles sheepishly, apologetic. “But that’s a lot of words for a simple idea. I like your version better, makes it easier to digest. ‘Pretending is dangerous’,” he quotes back to her. “Sila Demir-Zerhouni.”

Peter’s exhale gets a smirk out of Sila. She doesn’t catch his expression, but she can hear the blend of sleeplessness and solace in his somewhat laugh. She turns to him when he speaks, knowing how hard it is to say something like that out loud. “Your work should not make it hard for you to breathe — but you know this.” She tilts her head toward him playfully to show she isn’t lecturing him, and perhaps when she says but you know this she also means but I know this too. When he offers the question back Sila’s gaze lowers from his face to his shoulders, trying to imagine. “I have tried it before. In a good scenario it looks like a wide open field.” She’s not sure how much sense she’s making, but she doesn’t explain. “Not having to finish the daily crossword before my coffee is cold.” Eyes rising upward once more, even in her imagination she’s somehow working toward something. Maybe that is the point: life is rather meaningless if you’re not working toward something. “It looks like...bravery.” Much of Sila’s life is dictated by keeping people safe and shunning death. It’s half the reason she rarely uses her power. “But it feels guilty.” She says honestly. Sila respects Peter too much to lie to him. “Though, perhaps that is just me.” Her light shrug pushes curls off of the sleeve of her sister’s dress. When Peter treads a tangent Sila can’t help but press her lips together; she had planned to make the same point. His talk of Vonnegut’s theories make her think about therioteras, and then suddenly her sister, briefly her father, and enough about herself to make her turn back to the crowd. “That’s the reason why pretending is so dangerous. What if you forget that you’re pretending?” And she smiles here because she doesn’t know if the conversation has gotten too heavy. The smile she  bears when he says her full name, however, is much more genuine. With a laugh attached and an amused shake of her head, her eyes widen in jest. “Even with my mask?” He’s made a point, in a way, no one here can pretend for long. “I for one like your version better. It leaves room for interpretation.” And interpretation leaves room for hope. 

[silamanteia]

sxmonsays·:

“It is, isn’t it? This is my first time in Colorado, never cared to come before.” The state was never really appealing to him, hell, when he learned of the resort he almost didn’t come. Until he looked it up and damn!! It was so cool, Simon had to travel with everyone and just enjoy himself. “I’ve done a lot of stuff while here, would love to do more but we have to leave in the morning.” He then smiled brightly at his sister. “What about you? You do anything fun? Please say yes.” 

“I’m glad it’s treated you well.” It’s moments like these Sila remembers she didn’t grow up with Simon, doesn’t know what places have seen his face. She realizes there’s places he’s been and people he’s been she’ll never meet, and feeling so distant from Kaia makes her want to be closer to her other siblings. “Would you say it’s one of your favorite trips? Surely there must be one more exciting.” Sila has not even seen Colorado. “I think I’ll have to come back here as well, experience more.” She smiles from having an insider with herself, until Simon asks what she’s done. “Oh, you know me.” She waves her hand. “I like to wander. I’ve seen some lovely...plants.” 

[silamanteia]

petalshields·:

Kaia is avoiding Sila. The two sisters may share a common living space, but they did not share a common language to communicate. Since family weekend, Kaia second-guessed how she usually approximated her sister’s comments or expressions while she signed. She kept her answers clipped and to the point, but Kaia was never one for conversation. At least, that’s her excuse for not mentioning the ball to Sila. Of course she sees her sister, and of course she pretends that she didn’t, dark eyes unwavering from the spread of desserts. However, the facade breaks when Sila jerks, and Kaia twists in alarm, hem of her black skirt skimming along her ankles. “Are you all right?” Kaia signs instinctively, reaching for a napkin to hand to Sila. Cookie crumbs are stark against the black fabric of Sila’s — wait. Still holding the napkin outstretched to her sister, Kaia gives her a onceover. “And why are you in my dress?”

Sila’s used to covering up things that cause her difficultly, and it’s a cookie, she tells herself as she forces it down. Sila might live in a world with magic and monsters, but the texture of marshmallows is something that will never make sense to her. “I’m fine, really.” She signs without speaking, still coughing a little from the initial shock, and feeling she’s brought on attention she was trying to avoid. Embarrassment aside, Kaia’s jerk doesn’t go over head, and the thought that Kaia might not have approached her otherwise is brief and faint. Sila buries it. She reaches for the napkin when Kaia notices so that they’re both awkwardly holding one end of the suspended white paper. Sila gives herself a onceover, too. She could not lie and say she had not planned ahead because she’s a planner, Kaia would know that. She also could not tell the truth and say she had not known about the party and expose how little they’ve been in touch. She wonders when she became the kind of person who lies to her sister. “I had a minor accident with my original clothing choice. And this is a bit my style, do you not think so?” She offers a small smile, clearing her throat and finally cleaning herself off. “I should have asked, but I didn’t want to disrupt you.” She looks over at whoever you want her to be looking over to Garnet, before looking back. “Do not eat the cookies with the stripe. They’re terrible.” 

[silamanteia]

munozpeter·:

Peter watches her slide the mask over her eyes, and a laugh escapes him to see her humor the whole thing. “I don’t believe we have,” he jokes, nodding to her as if in greeting. “Pleased to meet you, stranger.” He doesn’t think she’ll get any more into the spirit of the night than this exchange, but even that is endearing to him, that she’s shown up and that she’s tried in her own way. Besides, it’s part of his philosophy that everyone be able to enjoy these kinds of things and be themselves on their own terms. Everyone but him, that is. “Is it bad to say I’m pretending I don’t have responsibilities?” he sighs, an almost pained smile on his face. He, of course, doesn’t mean it, and trusts that someone like Sila knows him well enough to understand that. Something about her makes him feel as though he can let his guard down a bit. Sure, she’d judge him for the smaller things, like the way he talks or how antsy he gets about his job, but he’s always had it in his brain that she could never hold the more important things against him. Like the way duty sometimes feels so crushing, at least when there are too many other things vying for his attention and care under the surface. “You don’t like to pretend?”

People who don’t know her well might not think Sila’s a silly person; she can be rigid and professional. It tends to show more when she’s in comfortable company. Peter’s laughter makes her feel more at home at the ball, easing some of her embarrassment. “The pleasure is mine, stranger.” She returns his greeting nod with the bare beginnings of a curtsy. Sila’s not expecting him to say what he does; there’s a slight, curious knit between her eyebrows. She shrugs a shoulder with a bit of humor, “It’s optimistic.” She’s tried that before. “But not bad.” And it’s because she’s tried that before that she feels she can say so and mean it. If someone asked, Sila wouldn’t be able to remember a time she’s ever judged Peter. Surely not about any of those things. When she tries to ignore her responsibilities she feels guilty; she wonders if he’s feeling something similar. But if she knows Peter like she thinks she does, she imagines even when he considers it he’s never really considering it, never long enough to paint a picture. “What would that look like, do you think?” She says casually, tries to recognize people in the crowd to prove a point (even if it’s only to herself). Simon. Gigi. Juniper. She hums. “Not having responsibilities?” She smiles softly at him for quiet encouragement. Sila laughs. Of course she doesn’t. “Pretending is...” She thinks hard about this. Saber. Tay. Kaia. "dangerous.” 

[silamanteia]

Sila’s not avoiding Kaia. At least, not for any reason she’s normally avoiding her lately. She just rather not explain why she’s wearing one of Kaia’s dresses unannounced. Her embarrassment about the surprise weekend may be less about her interest and more about her hurt. It felt like the kind of thing she would have discussed with her sister. Sila’s tuning out the music, freshly painted nails dusting a table of treats as she contemplates her pick. When she sees Kaia coming closer, she stuffs a cookie in her mouth. “Mmmm.” She mumbles, nodding foolishly. She needed a few more seconds to consider an excuse, but it has marshmallow in it, which she hates, so she nearly chokes. @petalshields​​

[silamanteia]

｡･ﾟﾟ･ 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓵𝓵 ･ﾟﾟ･｡

[silamanteia]

When Sila sees her brother she can’t let him know she didn’t know about this entire weekend until a few hours ago. She swallows a bit of whatever non-alcoholic option she’s drinking, lips pursed around her straw. “Colorado sure is beautiful. You must have had a busy weekend.” Gosh, she really hopes they’re in Colorado. She can’t remember. 

[silamanteia]

solarstcrms·:

“why, thank you. it’s sweet of you to notice. i’d have a much a better time if you were also enjoying yourself, though.”  untrue. sila’s disposition has absolutely no bearing on lillian’s mood for the night. mostly, she’s just unlucky to be the one lillian decided to walk up to.  “oh, dear. this really is bothering you, isn’t it… how about this? is this easier to talk to?”  her features morph, but the pleased smile remains. she won’t be able to keep this up for much longer without a break, but that’s alright. lillian got what she came here for.  “of course not, sila. have i done something to make you think i was doing this out of spite? that was definitely not my intention. is there anything i can do to make it up to you?”

Hi bestie we never decided, so I’m saying Sila does not know Lillian well. She’s met her in passing, might be able to recognize her face, but she would less likely recognize her voice. With that said, Sila also believes her enjoying herself has absolutely no bearing on Lillian’s mood. “Then I suppose we should part ways soon.” Sila suggests, if the other would like to see her even remotely enjoy herself. Watching Lillian’s features morph makes Sila tingly, as if she might look different now too. Her hands mindlessly stroke her upper arms. When it’s Peter she’s suddenly looking at, Sila feels uncomfortable in a different way. With how little she knows about Lillian, she wonders how much Lillian could possibly know about her. Her eyes dart, wondering if anyone's watching all this occur. She’s right about one thing though, this is easier to talk to. “I don’t think Peter would appreciate this either.” She assumes, about ready to leave until that last offer. She inspects not-Peter slowly, lips pursed in thought, and is reminded of what she’s been tinkering with lately in regards to therioteras. Leave it to Sila to bring work to a party. “Actually...how do you work?” Now what kind of question... “I mean, molecularly.” 

[silamanteia]

munozpeter·:

His brow furrows for only a second before he catches her joke and gives her a breathy chuckle in response. “Thanks for doing your part, Sila,” Peter smiles, turning so that they can both get a good look at the ball before them. It’s lavish and decadent and evident on his features that he’s proud of Dia for her hard work. But knowing Sila, he wonders if it’s enough to being her excitement, or if all of it entirely is too sickly sweet for her at all. Regardless of what the answer is, it makes Peter all the more grateful that she did show up. “Maybe everyone knows who you are by now, but you’d be surprised how fun things get once you put the mask on,” he remarks with a shrug and a knowing smile. “Gives you the chance to pretend, let go a little bit. Maybe we all need that.”

“It’s the least I could do.” Considering she didn’t exactly know she had to play a part in anything up until a couple hours ago. But, mostly because regardless of whether or not she considers herself a party person, she can respect something that brings everyone together. He turns to face the party and her turn from watching him is slightly delayed, eventually looking out to see if she can spot anyone she knows. Instead, she takes a small moment to appreciate it, for what it’s worth. “Especially knowing how much work goes into one of these.” Sila can respect planning, effort, thoughtfulness. She hums, “I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it.” She holds the mask over her face in humor, tilts her head a little to barely turn to him, “Pardon, have we met before?” The squint in her eye is almost serious, but she breaks character in the faint smirk that follows. Sila isn’t big on “letting go” even in theory, but the way he says it makes it sound like maybe he is. “Ah.” She ponders. Pretending. “Hm. What are you pretending about tonight?”