of silk & thorns | perseus sylvain ❨ speech ❩

[eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris]

PERSEUS SYLVAIN

The mist rises from the woods that surround the town square — like an ancient song, whistling through the branches. The wind is cold, but he does not shake as it blows through the space. His trenchcoat hangs open, billowing in the breeze, and his velvet scarf rests snugly against his throat. He takes the stage and hides none of his flamboyance, rolling his shoulders like a big cat that’s ready to pounce. And he is.

“Hello, Seven. Thank you for coming.” His smile is charming, like a honeysuckle that's begging to be devoured. His soft lips hide the sharp teeth just beneath. “My name is Perseus Sylvain, twenty-nine. I would imagine that I am a mystery to many of you, and for my isolation these last few years, I apologize. My family has always been prone to preferring solitude, locking ourselves in our manor and watching the world pass us by.”

He lifts a hand, shaking his head in a proud gesture. “To my ancestors, I say no more. To all of our ancestors.” His voice is cool, but there is a fire to it. The flames are a fierce and chilling blue. “You ask me how I would improve the living situation here in our district, and my central goal is nothing less. Look around you, Seven, and feel the buzzing in the air. We are in the most divine era of our lifetime.”

With a gesture to Mackenzie Pryce in the crowd, a sweeping motion to include the likes of Lex and Angel, he flashes his grin once more and carries on. “Now, more than ever, we are in the spotlight. We have celebrities living among us, two victors in the last 4 years since Jacinta Salazar returned home. And because of this, because of the eye that is being trained on us, we deserve to reap the benefits.”

All his selfishness is on display, but his breath is so sweet and his skin is so smooth that you’d never think he was the Devil. “Seven doesn’t need a mayor that’s too preoccupied with small affairs,” he says this with a cutting smirk, flashing a knowing wink at the golden boy of Seven and a playful grimace in the direction of Bryson Ripsaw, “it needs someone who wants to inspire change. We are better than axes and calloused hands. We deserve more than living in the shadows of these trees.”

The hand he offers is a dark promise, one that should not be taken lightly; “Won’t you join me? Vote for me as mayor, embrace me as a man you can trust, and I will not fail you. We will enjoy the glory of this new age together.”