๐๐๐๐๐ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
powerhungry) wrote2025-05-21 05:50 pm
powerhungry) wrote2025-05-21 05:50 pm
SALTBURNT | au.
WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK
USERNAME
STEWARD
text ๐ audio ๐ video
DETAILSโ
SILCO
๐๏ธ THE MAJORDOMO ๐๏ธ
- For as long as anyone can remember, Silco has served as steward and head butler of the Balfour house, ensuring that everything remains running smoothly and that the family's every need is met. And if he resents them for their incompetence, well. That's for him to know, and for you to (never) find out. As for what you've been up to โ all the dirty little secrets you've whispered to the house's walls โ rest assured, he knows. He'll even enable them, if you ask very nicely.
BACKSTORY:
Nobody knows where Silco came from โ just that he appeared on the doorstep one day, beginning as a servant and footman before working his way up to the head of the household.
Some would say he's the perfect butler โ seemingly impossible to ruffle, discreet, and deft when it comes to the matter of hiring and training staff. Whatever the Balfours wants, he knows how to get, a courtesy that extends to the house's guests to varying degrees (depending on one's proximity to Jonty and Portia, and on Silco's personal opinion). He's unfailingly polite, but a(n un)lucky few have caught him on poorer days. He may just be staff, but he still isn't a man to be taken lightly.
Some would say he's the perfect butler โ seemingly impossible to ruffle, discreet, and deft when it comes to the matter of hiring and training staff. Whatever the Balfours wants, he knows how to get, a courtesy that extends to the house's guests to varying degrees (depending on one's proximity to Jonty and Portia, and on Silco's personal opinion). He's unfailingly polite, but a(n un)lucky few have caught him on poorer days. He may just be staff, but he still isn't a man to be taken lightly.
RUMORS:
๐๏ธ He was involved in drug and weapons trafficking prior to coming to the house. Well, maybe not that exactly, but something illegal. How else do you explain that scar over his eye?
๐๏ธ That he seems to be completely immune to the debauched nature of the house has to do with a lost love. He won't talk about it in any explicit terms, but catch him at the right moment and in the right light, and that faraway look in his eye is unmistakeable.
๐๏ธ Rumor has it his chest is covered in bullet scars. All he says, when asked if they really exist, is, "I was born when she kissed me. I died when she left me. I lived a few weeks while she loved me."
๐๏ธ He gauges guests ahead of time as to whether or not he'll need to wear an eyepatch to ensure their comfort. If he decides he has to, well. The service isn't worse, but you may notice it's a little colder.
๐๏ธ Some time ago, a guest lamented the lack of a pool room. The next day, Silco showed them to a pool room adjoining one of the second floor libraries. Everyone swears it hadn't been there before.
๐๏ธ He knows every secret there is. The only reason he hasn't been taken care of is because he knows exactly what each secret is worth, down to the penny, and knows no one's rich enough to pay the price.
๐๏ธ A fatal "accident" befell a guest some odd years ago, leaving another guest's hands bloody. Silco was the one who convinced the coroners it was a suicide.
๐๏ธ The only times he's ever been seen to shed a tear are during his eye injections, which he administers himself. Otherwise, there's never been anything to suggest he's even capable of crying.
๐๏ธ There's been some tittering over his scar, not just over its origin but the fact that it seems to grow by the year. Fatal, some say. He won't last another ten years.
๐๏ธ A servant once forgot one of the forks in a place setting. She was gone the next day.
๐๏ธ Which makes it all the stranger that, despite how knife's-edge neat he is in matters of etiquette, there's only one guest he doesn't send a maid to correct when she uses the wrong fork at the dinner table.
๐๏ธ Wherever Alicent is in the house, if she calls, Silco will arrive within 30 seconds.
๐๏ธ The Giles brother who works at the manor was reportedly hired as a favor, though to whom, no one will say.
๐๏ธ There are only two things Silco ensures are stocked to excess: Alicent's favorite brand (and flavor) of tea, and blue foxglove, a bouquet of which delivered weekly to her quarters. Purely decoration, mind, and nothing more.
๐๏ธ The place he was born doesn't exist anymore. Saltburnt is his only home.
๐๏ธ That he seems to be completely immune to the debauched nature of the house has to do with a lost love. He won't talk about it in any explicit terms, but catch him at the right moment and in the right light, and that faraway look in his eye is unmistakeable.
๐๏ธ Rumor has it his chest is covered in bullet scars. All he says, when asked if they really exist, is, "I was born when she kissed me. I died when she left me. I lived a few weeks while she loved me."
๐๏ธ He gauges guests ahead of time as to whether or not he'll need to wear an eyepatch to ensure their comfort. If he decides he has to, well. The service isn't worse, but you may notice it's a little colder.
๐๏ธ Some time ago, a guest lamented the lack of a pool room. The next day, Silco showed them to a pool room adjoining one of the second floor libraries. Everyone swears it hadn't been there before.
๐๏ธ He knows every secret there is. The only reason he hasn't been taken care of is because he knows exactly what each secret is worth, down to the penny, and knows no one's rich enough to pay the price.
๐๏ธ A fatal "accident" befell a guest some odd years ago, leaving another guest's hands bloody. Silco was the one who convinced the coroners it was a suicide.
๐๏ธ The only times he's ever been seen to shed a tear are during his eye injections, which he administers himself. Otherwise, there's never been anything to suggest he's even capable of crying.
๐๏ธ There's been some tittering over his scar, not just over its origin but the fact that it seems to grow by the year. Fatal, some say. He won't last another ten years.
๐๏ธ A servant once forgot one of the forks in a place setting. She was gone the next day.
๐๏ธ Which makes it all the stranger that, despite how knife's-edge neat he is in matters of etiquette, there's only one guest he doesn't send a maid to correct when she uses the wrong fork at the dinner table.
๐๏ธ Wherever Alicent is in the house, if she calls, Silco will arrive within 30 seconds.
๐๏ธ The Giles brother who works at the manor was reportedly hired as a favor, though to whom, no one will say.
๐๏ธ There are only two things Silco ensures are stocked to excess: Alicent's favorite brand (and flavor) of tea, and blue foxglove, a bouquet of which delivered weekly to her quarters. Purely decoration, mind, and nothing more.
๐๏ธ The place he was born doesn't exist anymore. Saltburnt is his only home.
IMPORTANT CONNECTIONS:
ALICENT HIGHTOWER: The work wife. Heโs been caught staring before.
HENRY WRIGHT: A guest; a fellow enjoyer of the occasional cigar and fine whiskey.
JAKE SERESIN: A guest; intriguing enough that Silco has set aside a room for his periodic poker nights.
POWDER JONES: A guest; a nuisance, or so he says.
SANJI ATREIDES: Staff; the chef.
MIA CORVERE: Staff; a maid.
NATALIE SCATORCCIO: Staff; a maid.
HENRY WRIGHT: A guest; a fellow enjoyer of the occasional cigar and fine whiskey.
JAKE SERESIN: A guest; intriguing enough that Silco has set aside a room for his periodic poker nights.
POWDER JONES: A guest; a nuisance, or so he says.
SANJI ATREIDES: Staff; the chef.
MIA CORVERE: Staff; a maid.
NATALIE SCATORCCIO: Staff; a maid.
OTHER NOTES:
๐๏ธ Could draw a flawless blueprint of the entire house from memory. How does he get those rooms to move?
VISUALS:
     |
    |
no subject
ok whatever
idk its not turning on??? i'm not an engineer ๐
no subject
1/?
2/?
3/4
4/4
โ ๐ฌ
He knocks. Three raps of his knuckles on the door. And, as soon as it's open: ]
Sir. You needed help with your television?
no subject
Hiiiiiiii, Mister Silco~ [coming from him, the formal title sounds obscene.] Iโm so embarrassed, Iโm usually so good at technology, butโฆ [a helpless sigh, cherrystained lips pouting.] I just canโt figure this damn thing out...
no subject
(It doesn't. Rather, it happens sometimes, but not often. Guests intrigued by the idea of fraternizing with the staff, the odd visitor entranced by someone so buttoned-up, or hooked on the whiff of danger suggested by his scars. All gently rebuffed โ as he intends to do now.) ]
Of course. One forgets oneself, removed from the comforts of home.
[ With a nod, he begins crossing the room, coming to a stop in front of the TV console. As he kneels, craning his neck to check the wiring: ]
How are you finding the room service?
no subject
but โ koby wants to be seen, wants to not just imagine silco kneeling in front of him, but sear himself into his memory indelibly, impossibly. so heโs right there, shorts and bared arms and bright eyes, crouching down directly next to the steward and staring at the wiring with rapt attention.]
Yeah, itโs pretty good. [casual, like he isnโt close enough that silco can probably smell the cloves and cherries on his breath.] Compliments to the chef and all that good shit. Thatโs not you, right? [deliberately dumb; he knows damn well what silcoโs job is, but this gives him an excuse to tilt his head and bat his eyes like an idiot.]
cw allusion to assault
As he fishes the power cable out from under the console, he lets his gaze slowly rise up, meeting Koby's like he doesn't know the boy is being deliberately obtuse. ]
No, sir, but I'll pass the sentiment on.
[ He plugs the cord in blind, but doesn't immediately rise from the spot. ]
The remote, if you please. It ought to turn on, now.
cw: probably continued, v. vaguely
something shifts in those wide, doe-like eyes, a twist at the corner of his mouth, and suddenly heโs tucked in on himself, the position seeming protective, rather than beguiling.]
Iโm not โ donโt call me โsirโ. Please. [halting, unsure, his chin coming to rest on his drawn-up, bare knees, frowning deeper as he repeats the word.] Youโre โ weโre not โ [that different.
a little huff and kobyโs moving back, suddenly, rising up on his knees and grabbing the remote with one jerky hand, teeth gnawing at his lower lip as he offers it at armโs length instead, brow still knit in that uncomfortable awareness, that shift that makes his skin prickle all over.] Here.