IC Information
Name:
Silas Luther Douglass
Avatar:
James Marsters
Occupation:
Artist/Fingersmith
Age:
28
Birthdate:
August 6th
Gender:
Male

Appearance:
Silas, in some ways, seems like two different people. A few things are unchanging, but depending on when one meets him and where he is, it may be hard to make the connection if one only knows him as a one-time acquaintance.

Silas is fairly tall, standing at an even 5' 10", and thin, at about 155lbs. His body is lean, but muscular thanks to an active lifestyle, although it rarely shows. His hair is a sort of light chestnut brown, with a few strawberry-blonde streaks throughout, and it is naturally wavy to the point of almost looking curly at times. Sometimes he lets it grow to the point where he can pull it back into a ponytail (and in fact he’s had that look for about two years until just recently), but other than that he keeps it just longer than is easily manageable. Currently, his hair is about four or five inches long (it’s hard to tell with the waves), and goes down about to his eyebrows in front, and is cut a little shorter in the back. He is often seen with a thin layer of stubble on his cheeks, but it is lighter than the hair on his head, and thus nearly invisible. Usually he chooses to remain clean-shaven, simply because actual facial hair looks rather silly on him. His eyes are blue. Not just 'blue'; not bland and a single color, but a mixture of blues. Mostly darker shades, but also light, silvery blue like ice, and black, like deep arctic water. These eyes are hidden, however, behind a thoroughly unflattering pair of spectacles, which are round, wire-rimmed, and more than a little bit crooked. No matter how much he tries, it seems that he can simply never get them completely straight.

Silas's face, like the rest of him, is thin. He has a habit of sucking in his cheeks when he's annoyed or just thoughtful, and that makes his face seem almost gaunt at times, especially in low light. His eyes seem a bit deep-set, but only against the contrast of his dark eyebrows, and his nose. His lips don't have much color, and are generally about the same color as the rest of his skin, which is a bit pale. It's not that he doesn't like to spend time outside, his skin just doesn't tan (although he does sunburn rather easily). He has a scar on the side of his face, a small mark on his eyebrow that wouldn’t be noticeable if it weren’t for the lack of hair in that area. Thanks to the lower-class jobs he occupied in his teens, he has a variety of scars on his hands, knees, elbows, and even chest and back. The scars on his hands are from his time coal-mining, while most of the others are from slipping on the rough bricks while sweeping chimneys (which he did shirtless as a young boy to avoid getting stuck. The scar on the eyebrow was a freak accident; a slip that ended with his head connecting with the sharp corner of a step.

As far as clothing goes, Silas dresses as well as his money can buy which, needless to say, isn’t quite up to the level of the nobility. Oh sure, he owns one actually formal suit for the rare occasions when he goes to parties and whatnot (usually city-wide, since he is almost never invited to private parties), but that is worn maybe twice a year at best. Usually, he wears a combination of brown pants, a white shirt, vest, tweed jacket, and an either brown or reddish tie. He rarely looks fully distinguished, and more often has a look about him that says he was in a rush when leaving the house. His shirts are usually rumpled, his jacket creased in the wrong places, and his shoes dirty or scuffed. His tie is often tied wrong, crooked, or too loose as well. If he’d change his hairstyle and remove his rediculous spectacles, he might well appear handsome, but as it is, he keeps up a rather scholarly look, without the “put-togetherness” that most men his age share.

Every now and then, usually when a thievery goes well or he sells a painting, Silas's demeanor changes a little bit. He walks straighter, loses his hesitation in speech somewhat, and overall acts more sure of himself. Regardless, he still keeps his old lower-class London accent.

Personality:
Silas's personality can be tough to figure out, since he occasionally seems to have more than one.

He's reasonably friendly, an easy guy to talk to, so long as one isn’t putting much pressure on him. He likes casual conversations and is easy to become acquaintances with (though he doesn't let just anyone actually get intimately close to him). Once you're "officially" his friend, he is loyal, though not always honest, and will stick his neck out for you should it be needed. He can be a little shy at times, and if approached has a tendency to hesitate a lot in his speech, almost as though he’s covering up a stutter. He has a decent amount of knowledge, given his position in society, but he isn't one to speak his views on any given issue if not directly asked or sorely provoked. He tends to be nervous around those of higher station than himself, especially if they seem physically imposing or are forceful of personality. If he is bullied, he will almost always back down, but he can only be pushed so far, and after a certain point he will defend himself (either physically or verbally, although he does not like violence). The few times he goes to parties, he usually sits or stands alone, content to watch others, although he may on rare occasions ask someone for a dance – very rare, given his own mediocre ability. He is more likely to ask to draw a sketch of you than have a real conversation.

Silas is quite artistic, and if one can get him to talk to them long enough, they will find that he has some ideas that are a little far-fetched considering what is popular in art. He is a painter for the most part, although he does work in pastels or charcoal occasionally, and he has a decent amount of skill as well. He isn’t well-known though, and his paintings don’t sell for very much, but on the upside he is almost always open to do commissioned work, whether that be a portrait, still-life, or something more interesting. He does do some paintings that he rarely shows others, however, and these are what he says he is truly interested in (to those few people who have ever seen them). They are odd works, sometimes depicting nothing in particular, and sometimes showing scenes from mythology or pagan gods that have rarely been painted since before the renaissance. He also paints images that he is more familiar with, such as the children he remembers who used to work with the chimney sweeps, or the mudlarks by the Thames in London. Some of these images have much darker themes, but these he shows to nobody, no matter how close.

Every now and then, Silas’s personality takes a seemingly random change. He still appears disheveled, but his attitude changes. He loses his hesitation for the most part, and he seems much more confident in himself. On these occasions, he is outgoing and energetic in conversation, providing the topic instead of simply following along as usual. He is self-assured and maybe a bit bold (mostly compared to the way he normally acts). He laughs easily, is pretty good at making people laugh in turn, and can be the leader of any given group sometimes, if the right kind of company presents itself. Few people know what causes this change, but in reality it is not one single factor. Sometimes it is due to what he deems a great accomplishment, such as completing a painting that he actually wanted to work on rather than another portrait, or perhaps it has something to do with the dynamic between him and his wife (which may be very different from day to day or even hour to hour), or it may be because he is a little drunk (very rare), or that he has just sold an expensive painting. Whatever the reason, few who have met him before fail to notice the marked difference.

Silas is generally a friendly guy, and a hard man to upset in most cases despite his shy nature, but once you've gotten on his bad side, beware. He holds grudges for a long, long time, and it's nearly impossible to gain his trust back after you've lost it. Despite the fact that he holds grudges, he probably won't act in revenge (maybe that's the reason why he holds a grudge for so long), even if you've betrayed him or done something equally bad. However, he reacts badly to insults, particularly when they are directed against those he cares about. Those who insult him tend to cut him deeply, for he is inclined to believe that there is always some truth in what they say. When those he cares about are being treated badly, he will usually stand up for them, and seems to be emboldened by the fact that there is someone who needs his help. Silas tries not to make assumptions, but he tends to be a bit suspicious of the upper class, knowing how they treated people like him when he held even less respectable jobs than he does now. He works with them all the time, since they’re usually the ones who commission his work, but that has yet to change his perceptions.

He tends to get confused as far as "heavy" emotions, such as love or sadness, go. He doesn't really know how to react, especially with the latter. He has never had the luxury of being able to take time out to grieve over the loss of a friend before, and he has no reason to be used to it now. Like most people of his class, he knows he needs to toughen up and deal with it, but he has a softer soul than most, and thus doesn't cope quite as well as some.

There is one small bit of Silas's personality that almost no one knows. There is a part of him that goes beyond being just a little witty, sometimes even sarcastic. This part of him is cynical, streetsmart, untrusting, and ruthless. He seems to be almost without a conscience on these rare occasions, although he certainly isn’t violent – he is never, for any purpose, physically violent. This is merely the persona he needs to use to do his secondary job. He is a fingersmith; a thief. He is somewhat discriminating in whom he steals from – he takes from no one who doesn’t seem like they can’t stand the loss – but beyond that he doesn’t particularly care. Using an entirely different persona allows him to toss away the guilt easily and remove the need to think about the way he gets most of his money while he is acting like his real self.

History:
Silas was born in Newcastle, England, and raised there. His father, Abraham Douglass, was a worker in the nearby coal mine, while his mother worked as a seamstress. Silas was the second son of what would become, a year later, a family of five total. His elder brother, Thomas, was the favorite, while he was stuck between him and his younger brother, Perry. He always took to more artistic pursuits, being built more like his mother than his father – long-limbed and lean, without the bulk to haul coal all day.

His early life was relatively uneventful. As a son of a poor family, he was sent off to work as early as possible, specifically in the cannery just outside the city. He first began working there at the age of six cleaning the always-running machinery (he was lucky he didn't lose a finger or a hand), and continued until he was thirteen. At that point, his father wanted him to work in the coal mine instead, for they needed someone small and lanky who could squirm in and out of small holes to plant the explosives. It was extremely dangerous work, and more than once Silas came extremely close to being buried when one of the holes he was crawling through suffered a minor cave-in. He wanted his father to let him go to the Ragged School, made specifically for the children of poor families, but his father would hear none of it. He told Silas that it didn’t matter if he went to school or not, that he wasn’t bright enough to get a good job even if he did go to school.

Silas remained at home, working in the coal mines for another year, before he finally left his family behind and ran away to London. There, he expected to find opportunities everywhere, and a chance for someone like him to get a good job if they worked hard enough. That didn’t happen, however. He found opportunities for the children of the upper class. For him, the options were few. He eventually became a chimney sweep, chosen again for his lanky build, and he used his wages (what little he earned) to pay for a single loaf of bread and half a roll of cheese a week, plus whatever he could find and steal from the stray dogs. He took to stealing milk off of doorsteps and cooling pies and whatnot from windowsills to feed himself, and found it much easier that way. One day, while he was cleaning a chimney and his supervisors weren't around, he leaned out and grabbed a candlestick off the mantelpiece. It was that simple, and the owners never caught him because no one asked for the name of their chimney sweep, and they could scarcely see his face through all that soot to recognize him even if they did look.

That was the beginning of what would become a life of crime. Silas continued his job as a chimney sweep, and before he started working he would ask to set up some equipment in the room where the fireplace was. From there, he might steal a trinket from the room itself and stuff it in his bag, or simply break one of the locks on the window so that he could come back later that night, or another day to steal more. He was finally able to pay for a tiny apartment above a liquor store in the slums, and from there left the group he'd paid half his wages to before. He even got returning customers every now and then, but he never stole from them twice lest they figure out his deception.

Eventually, after about three years in London, the people he sold some of his more expensive goods through offered him a deal. They were going to do a group burglary of a home while the owners were away, and they needed someone flexible to get in through the chimney and let them into the house. He agreed, accepting a payment of 10% of the total gain. The robbery went off without a hitch, and from there on Silas worked with them about once a month on such burglaries, occasionally more often. He would worm his way in somehow, let the others in through the door, re-lock everything when they were done, and then get back out the chimney or window. Sometimes the robbery wouldn’t even be reported until about three days after the owners got home and noticed that the lady’s necklace was missing or that the old heirloom sabre had been removed from the mantle and replaced with a cheap one. It took a few years, but at the age of 21, Silas became the leader of his own little thieves’ group. Of course they never called themselves that, preferring the more often-used title of “fingersmith,” as it sounded more respectable.

All was going well for Silas, until one particular night in early January. There had been a bit of a feud going on between him and an associate of his, but nothing violent had ever happened between them. The theft started normally, with him slipping in through the window, but once they’d finished taking what they wanted and making it as subtle as possible, something different occurred. Silas was coming out the second-floor window that he’d walked in through, when his partner pushed him, sending him sliding down off the ice-covered roof. He landed hard on the cobblestones, bashing his head as he hit the ground, and passed out. When he woke up, there was a city policeman nudging him in the ribs with his foot, and as soon as he could stand up without passing out again, he was hauled off to prison. There he remained for four days before someone finally came to get him. Another friend of his paid the guards to look the other way while he was broken out, but didn't have enough money to bribe them not to report the escape. Needless to say Silas was extremely grateful, but he couldn’t stay in London any more.

He left immediately for Newcastle-upon-Tyne, where he set up a similar business. This time, he acted as a silver-shiner, setting up a tiny apartment for about four years before he could save up enough money to move away again, this time to Blackpool, and establish himself as a lower-middle class artist. He’d been dabbling in art for some time, mostly with charcoal he’d found in the fireplaces while he was a chimney sweep, but now that he could actually afford supplies he put up the façade of an artist, taking commissioned portraits. He would go to the home of those who were paying him, scope it out a little, and break a window lock, just as before. Then he’d come back weeks or months later and steal from them, sometimes taking the painting he made so that they wouldn’t suspect him. He was about 25 years old when he first met his wife-to-be.

He had been to a judge’s house and just finished a new portrait. On his way out, he passed a cabby who was loading a heavy trunk onto the top of the cab. As he lifted it up, it opened and spilled all of its contents onto the street. Now, normally they simply would have been picked up and put away quickly, without embarrassing the lady who owned them too much. However, it was the cabby who was quickly humiliated as the woman who owned the trunk came out and began screaming at him. Silas was going to walk past, but decided to be courteous (for once) and stopped to help put the clothes away. He found that she was more than a little particular about how everything should be laid out, but he helped her anyway. When he left, she was still angry at the cabby, but was at least grateful that he had helped her.

Over the next few months, he saw her again on several occasions, and he even went so far as to ask for a dance at the one party he was actually invited to during that time (for which he was soundly rebuked). He even went so far as to inquire about her to a few of his acquaintances, and he found out that she apparently lived alone, her parents being back in Italy and having sent her, unmarried, to England. It took him about a year to finally inquire after her, but when he did he was exceptionally surprised to find that she agreed to marry him. They were married in a ceremony involving only Silas, Stella, and the preacher, and shortly after getting married (about 18 months ago) they moved to the city of Lindebo and Silas was able to buy a small house (which seems huge to Silas, who has never owned a real home before) for the two of them to live in. He is trying to make more money so that he can afford a maid, but right now that isn't quite possible. Currently, Stella knows nothing of his secondary “career,” and Silas is being very careful to avoid getting caught again.


Strengths:
- Artistic
- Passionate
- Loyal
- Willing to stand up for those he cares about
- Streetwise
- Athletic (quick and flexible, not strong)

Weaknesses:
- Shy/awkward
- Tends not to stand up for himself
- Lower-middle class
- No steady income
- Dangerous profession
- Criminal history

Weapons:
He certainly isn’t a master with it, but Silas sometimes carries a small knife with him (only prying open windows and whatnot).

I haven't got time just at the moment to look at him in the depth he deserves. Apologies! I will try to hurry around to him!

In the meantime, is the Newcastle where he was born the one upon-Tyne, the one under-Lyme, the one in Shropshire, or the one in Herefordshire?

Why do I know of these places, you ask? Because when I went to England, my British friend neglected to specify to the Ign'ant American that there were that many different Newcastles that would pop up on the map! I spent two hours freaking out about which one my train ticket was in before he finally popped and said it was Newcastle-upon-Tyne I was going to. :angry:

Ugh... I knew the answer to that when I made the profile... It was a mining town, and it wasn't -upon-anything, but... I need to try and find the site I got it from again. I'll edit it as soon as I can.

Dewd, dewd, I was just joking. :) It's no biggie! But I think that Newcastle-Upon-Tyne was a big coal mining area. In fact I'm pretty sure of that and would be willing to bet money on it. :)

Okay, I have some things to say now. So I'll say 'em. :)

This slightly conflicts with:

Not even his wife? And... despite if he never shows them, does nobody ever see them? Specifically, I'm thinking that paintings require a lot of space to store and his wife might wonder why he has a lot of unsold paintings... I certainly would, if I was her; especially if I was that OCD.

I think he would make a LEETLE bit more than that. I mean... that's really little. Who would even work for that much? He's not spending it on living spaces, apparently, so... that's like working for tuppence a week. Er. Yeah. Maybe up that a bit.

You need to come up with a better story of how he got out of jail. Sorry, but that's the plain facts. I've already told other people that "a friend bribed the guard" is not going to cut it. It's not just you. :) Now, "a friend framed another dude with way more evidence than was against Silas, and made it look like Silas was just a passerby that the other dude bopped on the head to make Silas look guilty" or somesuch, that might fly. :)

Er, what is that? I can't find anything on google about silver shiners except as pertains to fish. Butlers were responsible for the silver of people who could aford silver, I believe.

I think if he could never afford to buy a house before, he couldn't now either. What say you that maybe Stella had a dowry that they used to buy it?

And being lower middle class is not a weakness. Sorry. :/

That's all I thought of so far! Hope I'm not being discouraging, I certainly don't mean to be. :)