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Snippet #2708615

located in The Republic, a part of The Gilded, one of the many universes on RPG.

The Republic



Characters Present

Character Portrait: Silas Buchanan Character Portrait: Edmund P. Gray Character Portrait: Canan Character Portrait: Xena Dawn Character Portrait: Amias Vennum
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He held an arm about Canan as she curled into his side. She was virtually dwarfed by a combination of her thick furs and Silas's presence in the circle. He moved his hand against her arm, brushing the furs into her delicate skin as if hoping to generate more warmth for the fragile girl. A finger caught in a strand of her hair, and he curled it about his index finger before letting it fall against her back.

"Age could most certainly be a factor," he remarked, smiling to himself. He would be thirty-five in less than two weeks, and the thought seemed to haunt him throughout the past however many days. In relation to his peers, he certainly was young, and he couldn't argue with that, but thirty-five seemed like a much larger number, like he should have done something by now and he hadn't. Or, at least, he hadn't done anything that he had planned on accomplishing. But now wasn't the time for some sort of midlife crisis.

He drained whatever remained in the glass, and his head swam once more as he looked up and met Edmund's gaze. "The murmurs are enough, I imagine," he replied, crossing one leg over the other. "I couldn't say how they will progress...I could hardly imagine they are...far from over." Edmund's own worry was reflected in his tone, but he quickly remediated that, aware that he was revealing too many of his thoughts at once. He couldn't create some sort of panic over this - not until he had some sort of plan.

" a good way to put it." And it was, truly, for if he had been told the same thing, he would have scoffed. A farm boy, hardly capable of affording a primary education, had no place in politics. And yet here he was.

But Xena's comment saved him from dwelling on the riots of his childhood, and he quickly turned his attention to her, grateful for the chance to speak of something less overwhelming. He laughed at her sharp retort, returning her smile with one of his own.

”And which would you say I do possess, Dr. Dawn? Or is it neither? I'd say that seems to be the case for most of my peers.”

He regretted saying that as quickly as it had left his lips, for Amias joined the group, accompanied by a gentle tapping from his walking stick. It was not Amias he had referred, but he felt like a deer in headlights nevertheless, caught in a faux pas. Perhaps he hadn’t heard, and Silas certainly decided to play it off as such.

”You flatter me, Amias,” he replied. Giving Canan a gentle pat on the thigh, he stood, hoping the gesture had come off as a warning for her to sit up for a moment as he stood and extended his hand to the man. As Amias likely took his hand, Silas pulled himself closer to the man and wrapped his left arm, still holding the empty glass, around the older man's shoulders. "It certainly already seems to be one for the books. What a day we've had already." Silas pulled back from Amias as he spoke and gestured to a seat nearby him as he began to sit back next to Canan.

He kept to himself as Xena greeted Amias. The brief reply gave him a moment to press a kiss into Canan's hair, a gesture that could be interpreted platonic to those around him but held more significance for the Patrician and the Gilded. It was over as quickly as he had engaged, and he turned his attention back to Amias and Xena.

"This is Amias Vennum, Xena," he interjected, feeling as though his responsibilities as host were being shirked. "Representative for the Republic, among other things. A fine man, I would say." Though he was still trying to make up for his flub earlier - which Amias, perhaps, hadn't even caught on to - what he said now was the truth. He did admire the man - a war hero, a upstanding example of challenging the status quo. It was quite easy to lose oneself in Arcadia, but Amias hadn't.

Satisfied with his introducing of the two, he settled back slightly into his seat. Quite swiftly, he was regretting his choice of beverage.