Ah, yes, of course, [Silas nods along, dry and searching to fill in the gaps. He was a better liar in some ways, than Oscar. His knack for believable creativity had helped pardon the man a few times in the past, Silas a master of excuses.]
Goods you needed to confiscate from those rabble-rousers. You'll turn it into the Elder's as soon as you can, I'm assured.
[Silas was a master of believable excuses, the nice and tidy kind that worked and clicked in your brain. Oscar preferred to think of his excuses as the kind that worked because a person so desperately wanted to believe them.]
[He even put the burden of his own lying on other people, he was just that remarkably selfish.]
Oh, of course. The funniest thing is that then the elder will certainly hold onto it for confiscation. In their wisdom, I'm sure they'll know exactly what to do with these coins.
[in other words, they're full of bullshit about their own rules]
Donated back to the city, Sir Oscar. Such confiscations pay the taxes needed to keep our housing. Not to mention the good will of the people. [any place that fed a Druid would be granted a stipend for the burden, but that's not apart of Oscar or Silas' concerns. They go, they get food and drink, all is well. No need to carry a purse of coin...]
You'll get your fill at the tavern without directly paying them.
[Most went to the taxes. Most. There were definitely an elder or two who took things into their own hands. In some cases it was excusable or for a generally good cause. In some cases the money just vanished. Silas was, in Oscar's eyes, really a more proper Druid than the lot of them.]
How diligent of you, Silas! [he claps his hands together with some show of excitement] I feel right like I'm back in one of those dreadfully boring lectures.
[Now, it wasn't as easy with the lectures as the physical training for the elders to try and make him quit. They found ways, though. They found ways to make studying horrid and he found ways to still study. The memory catches him for a moment and he looks distant. Then,]
If I doze off, will you strike my hand with a switch? [In a flash, back to giddy masochism that was as comfortable as a second skin to him.]
You think me a monster, Sir Oscar? [there's a playfulness to the formality, Silas smiling a bit coy as the entered the tavern. It's a quiet place, not grown rowdy yet, and falling even more silent to see two Druids enter. Shh, shh, no fun here, not until the Druids have gotten some drinks in them... Silas is ready for a drink.]
To witness you getting some well deserved rest would be cause for celebration.
[Oscar's more than ready for a drink and to watch the air of care fade away from the patrons. On one hand, it was fun to watch people take care around them, on the other it was far more interesting for there to be a ruckus.]
You underestimate my ability to uncover new gripes, Silas. [he gestures to the bartender: something strong.] Vastly.
Anyways, you can't stop me from hoping even if you are too much of a piglet to ever smack me properly. We can all have our mild fantasies. [Again, it's more the allure of Silas, so unsuited, doing it that's exciting rather than the actual hit.]
[Silas makes his a double. The bartender knows that means to just hit them both with the closest thing the tavern has to rubbing alcohol. Druid constitution was wonderful for healing and made them very difficult to injure, let alone kill, but it also made relaxing all the more challenging. Whatever kind of moonshine that's poured for them is clear and smells like formaldehyde, but it'll do the job they need.
Silas thanks the tender with a nod and a soft smile.]
I've not known you to be mild about anything. You are a man of extremes, in all directions, Sir Oscar. [and cheers to that, he thinks, raising his glass and tossing back what is practically acid. Mmmnn, pretty good stuff. This tavern should be a regular joint for them...]
[Oscar's nod to the bartender is with a little more swagger than Silas' but, well, generally you treat the man who hands you drinks well. Not that anyone would try to drug a druid. The smell is absolutely atrocious. Still, that affront to his senses was a good thing now. He'd probably have tried this quality of alcohol even before his druidic transformation.]
[The more it seemed like he shouldn't have something, the more he wanted it.]
I'd argue I'm the type for under or overstatement, though. [So calling it mild was simply much more characteristic of him than being mild himself. Or this was just another step in being contrary.] That's an extreme I'm certainly aligned to.
If you'd like, I could call them raucous fantasies.
I should prefer not to be in your fantasies. Raucous or otherwise. [Silas sounds firm and serious, but the tinge of pink across this face betrays it somewhat. The alcohol causes that, surely, not any idea of Oscar and himself in compromising situations. Silas mind doesn't ever wander like that. Ever.
He swallows nothing, before reaching for his glass, tapping it to be refilled. The bartender comments they should eat some food with that and Silas agrees softly, giving those sweet doe eyes of his to the man, who huffs and asks what they'd like. Silas is quick to answer with the previously discussed fish and chips. Nothing fancy, just filling and greasy. Just what he needs at the end of a long day and with Oscar's pestering.]
[You're not special, Silas, at least not in the way that allows you to avoid being in fantasies! Oscar's such a deviant he even had one or two fantasies about his wife! And not even drunk!]
[Oscar nurses his drink a bit more slowly, letting the sensation more work its way into his bloodstream. He needed to savor any heaviness the sensation of drunkenness gave him. There's a small laugh, a dark chuckle, at Silas giving doe eyes- piggy eyes- at the bartender. The boy was flirting without even realizing it. Or, if he did realize it, that was part of the charm. Oscar will raise a hand to also get a serving.]
You could be in anyone's fantasies, you know. Someone might go home and write their own version of the saucy druid for you. [he grins, nudging the other with his elbow. Silas did always hate that slutty druid trope. Oscar just leaned into it when he could.]
[Silas really could ask for so much more, if he'd more willingly bat his pretty pink eyelashes, but no. He kept himself restrained, probably the most controlled druid in the whole order, for whatever that may be worth. His glass is poured and he lifts it to his mouth when Oscar began to tease.
Literally always a mistake, coughing on the harsh alcohol.]
O... Oscar! Sir Oscar, please, you're too outrageous. As if anybody could think such of me, of all people. I wonder how that da-- that trope even existed before you came along... [he didn't say damned, he caught it, you damned bastard]
[Was it that Silas was bad at picking times to drink or Oscar was good at choosing his timings? Hard to say. He is delighted by getting Silas to sputter, though.]
You said it yourself, Silas, I'm a man of extremes! [he leans back in his seat a little and he'll kick his feet if given the room. It's an almost giddy amount of energy that should truly chafe against Silas' own tiredness. It was a curse but a sometimes enviable curse.]
As much as they didn't want a traitor in their midst, someone must have acted in a way to set that ablaze. I'm hardly the worst person that's become a druid. [He was the best worst person. There was a difference.]
Long before our time, Sir Oscar. I'm certain... [he swallows nothing, sighing. The Druids were an odd part of Springtide culture and always had been. The Warlocks of old, to the Mages, turned finally to the Druids. They'd needed to rebrand their practice of magic several times over, with new rules and restrictions each time. Eventually, getting to the kind of Druids that Oscar and Silas were. Pacifistic, only following the three branches of magic largely incapable of harm, and bound to the Faekin... The Mages had only been the very last of that list and the Warlocks none so restrained. That was how they conquered nearly the whole of the world before the previous empire collapses and left their ancestors banished into the forests to die.
While Silas is mulling over history, a few more people are arriving in the bar. At least one whistles at them, specifically winking to Oscar. It wasn't uncommon, given the other Druid's reputation. Silas grumbles, grimly,] .... an acquaintance of yours?
[Even if it was long before his time, Oscar's certain that promiscuous magic-users have been a tradition for as long as magic in any form.]
[His eye is drawn upon hearing the whistle and he purses his lips, the faintest appearance of a blown kiss as he waves. Silas grumbles and Oscar turns back to him, with a faint smile still on his lips.]
Never met him. [he says, taking another drink. It's impossible to tell if he's playing or or being sincere. He had a reputation, after all, and he'd never want to disappoint his reputation for something as minor as not actually knowing a person's name.]
[And, well, if they had rolled around in the metaphorical thicket Silas would grumble more.]
How ever do you stay out of trouble? [Silas asks this wistfully and sarcastically, knowing full well Oscar lived to be in trouble. If it was a physical location, Oscar would have a holiday home there.]
[Being in trouble was exciting. There were always new and exciting situations when it came to being in trouble. Well, except solitary. That would be the absolute worst. Any other form of trouble, though, was far more interesting than obedient peace.]
It's an exercise in wits, you know. [now he's ready to tap his glass and get the bartender to fill him up again. His own brief lick of the lips wasn't as well-received. Guess piggy was more of this guy's type. Tragic!]
You're still too fresh but as you get older you're going to have to do something to keep your mind young.
You aren't that much older than me, sir. [a halfhearted reply, Silas blinking as his drink was refilled along with Oscars, despite him not asking. It's fine, he'll nod in thanks to the bartender. Silas was constantly judged for his appearance and age was apart of that. It was assumed he couldn't possibly last in the Order, having started so young. Even though he'd endured the training and then so many years of being a Druid so far, it still hung over his head like an axe waiting to fall.
Only a matter of time. Silas will take another swig]
[If you were young and stubborn you could outlive anyone who was waiting for that axe. Whenever Oscar's own swung down, he intended for it to be standing on top of a pile of bodies of his doubters. His entire existence was a spiteful display.]
Hm, contented. I can't say I understand contented at all. [Therefore, he would always be seeking out trouble. He drums his fingertips against the table. They'd been covered in clay, fancy polish, various bodily fluids, and eventually blood as he sought out more and more trouble.]
Well, I'll try to keep my trouble clear of your peace. [another sip]
You're insatiable, that's why. Nothing in this realm or any other could keep you busy. [Silas huffs, but there's a hint of admiration in there. It's not like he'd say it outright, but Oscar's constant striving was always an inspiration for him. They got along because they shared a certain momentum, always striving through adversities, enduring what came their way. Silas wasn't sure if he would have made it through his druid training, without Oscar there, making him want to prove himself.
So spiteful, the both of them.... Silas smiles into his glass to joke]
[Oscar doesn't seem ashamed of that at all. Insatiable was hardly a negative trait, no matter how much trouble it got him into. Besides, it was the only state he'd ever lived in. He wouldn't know what to do with himself if he were ever more satisfied than this, here, chatting and drinking.]
[That vaguest amount of contentment does fade from his face when Silas brings up painting though.]
Painting is from outside this realm or any other. It's an otherworldly torment designed to waste the time of idiots. It couldn't keep me busy because it's such an abject waste of time.
See, that's another thing that draws my ire! [he points his finger while not letting go of his glass]
"Artist," refers to all manner of art! The idea that it's directly associated with that drivel of painting is offensive. Writing is art, intimacy is art, sculpture is art, you can't assume one's only dealing with horrible brush urchins each time art is mentioned.
[never mind the middle where he basically called fucking an art over painting]
[Silas nearly spits his drink again, swallowing before chuckling into his palm. He mouths the term "brush urchin" without actually saying it. Riling up Oscar did make him particularly funny and crass. Silas speaks hushed and laughingly outraged]
Intimacy as an art... surely not. [he scoffs, taking a swig of his booze as he looked to the bartender, who was lighting up a cigar. Silas, again it's so hard to tell if he does it on purpose, gives those sweet, fluttering piggy eye to the man. Silas gets handed a cigarette a moment later, grinning in gratitude. It would be rude of him to outright ask, but the tender was being so kind and thoughtful. Not at all taken with Silas' cute appearance. Nope.]
[Oscar is left to his grumbling for a while, hardly taking any extra offense at Silas' muffled giggling. He swirls his drink- before realizing he only has a cup to swirl and needs to get filled up again. He's rather drunk at this point, refreshingly.]
[He watches Silas flirt his way to another favor. He, at very least, waits for there to be a gap between the two before he comments.]
Oh, you've certainly gotten that down to an art, haven't you?
[no way, Oscar, he is so wise to this game. He purses his lips, unimpressed by the baiting. What would an evening with Oscar be without some verbal sparring. It's the only kind of push back he'll get from Silas.]
There is satisfaction, but no, I would not call that art. [he puffs some smoke]
For all your posturing, you do so often romanticize the world. [given that most Springtide romances are also tragedies, Silas thinks he's on point]
[Well, if Silas was an easy victim he wouldn't enjoy it so much!]
I'd go so far as to say satisfaction is an art! [he smiles, wide and clear]
I've spent most of my life perfecting it. [Ironically, perfecting the art of his own satisfaction had taken him through so many different hobbies and arts. It has also resulted in him being here in the first place.]
[Still, if Oscar hadn't done that, he probably never would have given Silas the time of day unless he was bleeding his guts out.]
Perfection such as that is surely unobtainable. A man like you could own the world and still want more. [Silas wouldn't stoke the man's ego by saying I wouldn't put that passed you, even though it was true. Oscar was a man of unbridled ambition, if he wasn't a member of the Springtide, chained to their traditions as much as he chose to be, well.... Silas wouldn't be surprised by anything he could do with so much drive.]
[The great maker gave Oscar a compulsive need for trouble and a very restrained society because otherwise, Oscar would hunt down the very maker and try to overthrow them.]
[It's a shame that such attention was given to him, while the pink lily pig boy was ignored. They should know where the real source of cute evil was in this world.]
Well, if I own nothing then technically I already own everything. [he smiles, wryly, at his circular logic.]
All things in this world are mine... as a druid, a loyal steward of nature.
You are positively ridiculous, Sir Oscar. [Silas says, stern and somehow adoring. It was as affectionate as he could be with his friend without setting him off. He may have added something, but his nose catches scent of the food arriving from the kitchen and he quickly takes in two, snorting breathes before swiveling his attention to the plates arriving. He'll thank the bartender profusely, not taking the time to bat his eyelashes, wanting too much to dig in as soon as was proper. When Silas is eating, he'd a very happy druid.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Goods you needed to confiscate from those rabble-rousers. You'll turn it into the Elder's as soon as you can, I'm assured.
no subject
[He even put the burden of his own lying on other people, he was just that remarkably selfish.]
Oh, of course. The funniest thing is that then the elder will certainly hold onto it for confiscation. In their wisdom, I'm sure they'll know exactly what to do with these coins.
[in other words, they're full of bullshit about their own rules]
no subject
You'll get your fill at the tavern without directly paying them.
no subject
How diligent of you, Silas! [he claps his hands together with some show of excitement] I feel right like I'm back in one of those dreadfully boring lectures.
[Now, it wasn't as easy with the lectures as the physical training for the elders to try and make him quit. They found ways, though. They found ways to make studying horrid and he found ways to still study. The memory catches him for a moment and he looks distant. Then,]
If I doze off, will you strike my hand with a switch? [In a flash, back to giddy masochism that was as comfortable as a second skin to him.]
no subject
To witness you getting some well deserved rest would be cause for celebration.
[a beat]
Perhaps you would gripe less.
no subject
You underestimate my ability to uncover new gripes, Silas. [he gestures to the bartender: something strong.] Vastly.
Anyways, you can't stop me from hoping even if you are too much of a piglet to ever smack me properly. We can all have our mild fantasies. [Again, it's more the allure of Silas, so unsuited, doing it that's exciting rather than the actual hit.]
no subject
Silas thanks the tender with a nod and a soft smile.]
I've not known you to be mild about anything. You are a man of extremes, in all directions, Sir Oscar. [and cheers to that, he thinks, raising his glass and tossing back what is practically acid. Mmmnn, pretty good stuff. This tavern should be a regular joint for them...]
no subject
[The more it seemed like he shouldn't have something, the more he wanted it.]
I'd argue I'm the type for under or overstatement, though. [So calling it mild was simply much more characteristic of him than being mild himself. Or this was just another step in being contrary.] That's an extreme I'm certainly aligned to.
If you'd like, I could call them raucous fantasies.
no subject
He swallows nothing, before reaching for his glass, tapping it to be refilled. The bartender comments they should eat some food with that and Silas agrees softly, giving those sweet doe eyes of his to the man, who huffs and asks what they'd like. Silas is quick to answer with the previously discussed fish and chips. Nothing fancy, just filling and greasy. Just what he needs at the end of a long day and with Oscar's pestering.]
no subject
[Oscar nurses his drink a bit more slowly, letting the sensation more work its way into his bloodstream. He needed to savor any heaviness the sensation of drunkenness gave him. There's a small laugh, a dark chuckle, at Silas giving doe eyes- piggy eyes- at the bartender. The boy was flirting without even realizing it. Or, if he did realize it, that was part of the charm. Oscar will raise a hand to also get a serving.]
You could be in anyone's fantasies, you know. Someone might go home and write their own version of the saucy druid for you. [he grins, nudging the other with his elbow. Silas did always hate that slutty druid trope. Oscar just leaned into it when he could.]
no subject
Literally always a mistake, coughing on the harsh alcohol.]
O... Oscar! Sir Oscar, please, you're too outrageous. As if anybody could think such of me, of all people. I wonder how that da-- that trope even existed before you came along... [he didn't say damned, he caught it, you damned bastard]
no subject
You said it yourself, Silas, I'm a man of extremes! [he leans back in his seat a little and he'll kick his feet if given the room. It's an almost giddy amount of energy that should truly chafe against Silas' own tiredness. It was a curse but a sometimes enviable curse.]
As much as they didn't want a traitor in their midst, someone must have acted in a way to set that ablaze. I'm hardly the worst person that's become a druid. [He was the best worst person. There was a difference.]
no subject
While Silas is mulling over history, a few more people are arriving in the bar. At least one whistles at them, specifically winking to Oscar. It wasn't uncommon, given the other Druid's reputation. Silas grumbles, grimly,] .... an acquaintance of yours?
no subject
[His eye is drawn upon hearing the whistle and he purses his lips, the faintest appearance of a blown kiss as he waves. Silas grumbles and Oscar turns back to him, with a faint smile still on his lips.]
Never met him. [he says, taking another drink. It's impossible to tell if he's playing or or being sincere. He had a reputation, after all, and he'd never want to disappoint his reputation for something as minor as not actually knowing a person's name.]
[And, well, if they had rolled around in the metaphorical thicket Silas would grumble more.]
no subject
no subject
It's an exercise in wits, you know. [now he's ready to tap his glass and get the bartender to fill him up again. His own brief lick of the lips wasn't as well-received. Guess piggy was more of this guy's type. Tragic!]
You're still too fresh but as you get older you're going to have to do something to keep your mind young.
no subject
Only a matter of time. Silas will take another swig]
I'm contented as I am, no need for trouble.
no subject
Hm, contented. I can't say I understand contented at all. [Therefore, he would always be seeking out trouble. He drums his fingertips against the table. They'd been covered in clay, fancy polish, various bodily fluids, and eventually blood as he sought out more and more trouble.]
Well, I'll try to keep my trouble clear of your peace. [another sip]
Mostly.
no subject
So spiteful, the both of them.... Silas smiles into his glass to joke]
Except painting.
no subject
[That vaguest amount of contentment does fade from his face when Silas brings up painting though.]
Painting is from outside this realm or any other. It's an otherworldly torment designed to waste the time of idiots. It couldn't keep me busy because it's such an abject waste of time.
[and he shotguns back the rest of his drink]
no subject
Mmn, though. Funny, that! Given the Springtide Renaissance is mostly remembered for it's artists.
no subject
"Artist," refers to all manner of art! The idea that it's directly associated with that drivel of painting is offensive. Writing is art, intimacy is art, sculpture is art, you can't assume one's only dealing with horrible brush urchins each time art is mentioned.
[never mind the middle where he basically called fucking an art over painting]
no subject
Intimacy as an art... surely not. [he scoffs, taking a swig of his booze as he looked to the bartender, who was lighting up a cigar. Silas, again it's so hard to tell if he does it on purpose, gives those sweet, fluttering piggy eye to the man. Silas gets handed a cigarette a moment later, grinning in gratitude. It would be rude of him to outright ask, but the tender was being so kind and thoughtful. Not at all taken with Silas' cute appearance. Nope.]
no subject
[He watches Silas flirt his way to another favor. He, at very least, waits for there to be a gap between the two before he comments.]
Oh, you've certainly gotten that down to an art, haven't you?
no subject
I don't know what you mean. I'm no artist. [he puffs]
C, certainly not by your definition.
no subject
Is there not art in a well done job? [He rephrases it, surely intended to get Silas to agree to something less embarrassing and then swing it back.]
A bone can be set one way or another but there is certainly a better way to do it and that, I would argue, is an art as well.
no subject
There is satisfaction, but no, I would not call that art. [he puffs some smoke]
For all your posturing, you do so often romanticize the world. [given that most Springtide romances are also tragedies, Silas thinks he's on point]
no subject
I'd go so far as to say satisfaction is an art! [he smiles, wide and clear]
I've spent most of my life perfecting it. [Ironically, perfecting the art of his own satisfaction had taken him through so many different hobbies and arts. It has also resulted in him being here in the first place.]
[Still, if Oscar hadn't done that, he probably never would have given Silas the time of day unless he was bleeding his guts out.]
no subject
no subject
[It's a shame that such attention was given to him, while the pink lily pig boy was ignored. They should know where the real source of cute evil was in this world.]
Well, if I own nothing then technically I already own everything. [he smiles, wryly, at his circular logic.]
All things in this world are mine... as a druid, a loyal steward of nature.
no subject