Re: Diner: 1AM-ish
Shiloh had long since realized he and his siblings weren't like the real people out here in the world. They'd lived in a bubble created by a woman who wore A-Line skirts and heels for breakfast. Real people didn't wear their pearls and false faces until the moment their heads hit the pillow, and Shiloh even had doubts she took anything off then. She'd raised them thinking the world was what she'd shown them, and there had been a great deal of trouble once those small children became old enough to realize the world was nothing of the sort. And still their version of rebellion had occurred in a very small town, one which was practically owned by that same woman. He'd felt so very sorry for Father.
Laughable, really.
Shiloh's gaze followed Gabriel's to the waitress, and then it followed back again. Shiloh was quiet, attentive, sipping at his coffee idly, his entire demeanor a thing of unfolded and sprawled elegance. "I'm not sure I much see the point in being oneself amid that. It would be like acting in a movie as oneself. There should be a part to be played," said the young man who had never owned a television, never attended a play or a movie, but who still felt this to be true. "Achilles. What happened to your heel throughout the course of the evening, Achilles?" he asked, grin there and present and accounted for. But back to the crux of it. "I know there are wild and magical things beyond this town, but I do wonder that these events happen here so prominently. Is it the people, do you think? Or the ground?" He asked he questions with a tone of not caring. They were merely words to throw across the table, and Mother had taught them conversation, as if conversation was a skill that could ultimately change the world.
"Who needs parties to forgo inhibitions?" he asked. "Why not simply do what one would go and do?" Shiloh had, even as a child, tested every boundary. Perhaps he should've realized then that Mother treated him differently than the others, but this was a hard thing to grasp when everyone was treated with varying levels of contempt or disappointment, even her favorites (on occasion). "But, here's the thing. People do what they would not normally do at these happenings, but in the morning they are once again themselves. I can't be that confused man today, nor can you be someone who does not feel. Can we?"