[color=B2ACA9][center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/019bad46-8841-70ef-9616-c7334ca47101.webp[/img]

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[table][row][cell][img]https://64.media.tumblr.com/52ac5596d84039cc41419d6cc1e20089/27ccf719fcc88d69-4e/s540x810/2fee24d9e60238efef9a3e051b1250cc727dcaef.gif[/img][/cell] [cell][sub][color=BCA68F][i]quiet in the moonlight
beyond tides and still lit trees

i waited for you on the roof top
knowing you were nothing more than

the whisper white snow drift
lost on a summer dream

confessions under neon lights;
dead miracle in my head[/i][/color][/sub][/cell][/row][/table]

[right][sub][color=BCA68F]Location: Home > Vega Household > Clark's General
Interactions: Lee [@SonnetNSunbeam]
Mentions: Stella [@Altered Tundra][/color][/sub][/right]

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[indent]The moon always woke Silvester. White light slipping in through the thin strands that passed off as a curtain to dance along the curved bridge of his nose, to mingle against the length of his eyelashes as they fluttered in half-sleep to the cloying cling of sweat that caked his brow. The power hadn't gone out yet, he simply ran hot and never bothered with anything but the whirr of a metallic fan that gripped to life by the barest thread of a finger. Though, at the moment, it wasn't quite the buzzing noise of the fan that woke him, but more so the sudden hit of cold air that cooled the sweat on the back of his neck.

A string of Spanish curses spilled past his grit teeth as Silvester kicked past his own covers until his feet slapped onto the worn wood floor. "[color=BC8F8F]Anya, just because I fixed the AC doesn't mean you can burn money through our vents like this,[/color]" he mumbled, stumbling through the dark of his home with the stubborn ache in his lower back. Once he padded the air conditioner off, Silvester nearly tripped his way into his bathroom to start the every tedious ritual of a morning routine (shower, lawn and house care, taking care of the dogs, seeing to his mother, etc.)

He'd found himself on the lucky end of the morning having made a quite large batch of omelets just to burn through the ever-present nerves of the day before submitting to the townwide blackout. If he hadn't known his own power was out, Silvester could certainly hear his daughter's announcement of it from their shared bathroom, "[color=BCA68F]Fuck this fuck ass fucking stupid fucking town and it's shit ass fucking mayor for not paying the fucking electricity bill like a fucking neglectful parent who fucking spent all their money on smokes and a two-bit fucking prostitute—[/color]" the loud crash and subsequent stomps announced Anya's arrival, accompanied by a number of products she was quite furiously slamming onto the kitchen table, "[color=BCA68F]Papa, I need the car for today. I'm not sitting around in this heat waiting for someone to bribe the electricity company.[/color]" She was damn lucky his mother was already on her daily milling about, likely already somewhere downtown camped out with a few of the other old folks sitting around town.

"[color=BC8F8F]Anya, your shift starts in a few hours, where could you possibly need to be in the meantime?"[/color] Silvester said, biting back the sigh begging behind his teeth, "[color=BC8F8F]I need you to check on your abuelos. Stella needs all the help she can get, especially with—[/color]"

"[color=BCA68F]No, I gotta-I gotta go, I can't. Papa, I just, I um,[/color]" A sudden tremor hit Anya's voice that Silvester wasn't familiar with and if he could get a word in he would have mentioned it, but Anya was already shoving past him with the keys tight in her hand.

"[color=BC8F8F]Anya! The omelet-your breakfast and I... I got... I have to...[/color]" Silvester cursed as he trailed off, shoving a hand through his hair before gripping and tugging until he could feel the distinct, sharp tug at his scalp. A short breath shot through his nose before he quickly divided the number of omelets into neat piles within clear containers. He shoved a few in the fridge, hoping they wouldn't spoil before the power came back on and slung the rest beneath his armpit.

It wasn't the longest walk to the Vega's, though he'd have to pace himself for his inevitable trek into town. Perhaps he could catch Stella, though by the looks of it she'd already made her way into town. God willing, she'd not skipped out on food like his own daughter had. It worried him more than aggravated him, knowing how easy it was to get lost in the stress of everything and forget even the most basic necessities. That felt like a near daily occurrence to him, at this point.

"[color=BC8F8F]I know you've probably eaten, but I've got food just in case![/color]" Silvester announced upon entering his other family's home, feeling, as he always did, the sudden weight of loss hit his shoulders. He'd not let it show in the liveliness of his expression or the lilt of the Spanish that rolled off his tongue, but it was there. A constant, present chain that he'd always feel tug at him anytime he passed the threshold of this home knowing full well she'd never greet him again. Perhaps that expedited his visits, only ever stopping by to drop things off or complete daily tasks or make his presence a reminder of self-care. He couldn't let the lead in his feet drag him further into the ground.

He couldn't let her absence be what finally dragged him under.

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Early morning starts often gave Silvester the benefit of a slow, steady pace to the routine of his days. He wasn't quite afforded that this morning with the sudden lack of a vehicle to slowly putter his ass into town. If he thought about it too hard, Silvester would likely feel pathetic taking the long road from Miners Street to Pines Holler's interior, but his mind never quite let him relax through the unfiltered madness of constant stress and numbers for not only his business but the one close by that fell into his niece's unwilling hands.

[color=BC8F8F][i]She looks so much like Solana, doesn't she?[/i][/color]

His breath caught as he found himself stopped in front of Clark's, allowing himself but a moment to close his eyes and take as much air as he could in. His lungs burned as he held that air inside until it felt like the carved pit of his stomach filled just enough to give him the wherewithal to move his legs again. Only to have that air knocked out of him when he ran face first into the shack of a store's front door. Despite himself, Silvester could only stand there dumbfounded and staring into the barren interior of the town's local general store.

What did he even need here anyways? Or was it just a stop before he could open up his own shop today? Maybe the lack of power and the long walk into town addled his brain a lot more than he originally thought. He brought a hand to his head before he caught eyes with one of the workers inside, to which his own eyes widened before he looked back down at the closed sign, then back up to meet Lee's eyes again, then over toward where he assumed was a number of perishables still stocked and maybe somewhat dusty if he squinted hard enough.

All Silvester could really muster was a stiff wave before he pointed at the sign and then lifted his other hand, wrist visible, to point at his watch. He lifted his brows in what he hoped was amicable questioning rather than entitlement, but he wasn't quite sure he had that much of a handle on his expressions these days. His daughter could attest to that, having told him how lost and out of he often looked. Dissociation, she told him at one point. Or maybe that was Ellie during one of his recent medical checkups. Anya had mentioned how Stella could've been his daughter with how similar they looked when dissociating, though Silvester couldn't presume that was his niece's constant experience.

He should just skip the store visit and hop on toward the antique shop, but it couldn't hurt to grab a few items before things went south for the day. Maybe even just to check up on Clark and see if there's anything he could do. He wasn't avoidant, per se, but if he had to sit around in his empty ass shop for the entirety of the day knowing how stuffy it'd get, worrying about mold and baking in the smell of rotting wood, Silvester was certain he'd either fall into a coma or go unbelievably mad.[/indent][/color]