mentally, he puts it down as one of those things he’s known, some way, about danny much longer but some of which’s realities hasn’t dawned upon him until that moment. eyes move from the dark creature to the other boy, estimating if atlas–the cautious, walls-up, hide-from-most-displays-of-affection atlas—yet realises how much he’s just told about himself. “ yeah, it’s a protection thing. for most people, i think, they just think it’s magic. not like that’d be the weirdest thing they see when they come here. ” he’s talking a bit too much, even if convincingly paced, and he knows it’s mostly to buy time.
“ most people that don’t include you, me since the THIRD YEAR, or anyone else that’s seen someone die. ” suddenly, dylan’s not sure if he’s ever told that part to danny—the part where he actually saw his dad die first thing after the end of the school year—but maybe it doesn’t matter if he hasn’t: this is as good of a time to bring that up as any.
a moment ( or ten ) too long is spent reading the news of the day on his laptop when the smell of fish stock starting to burn fills the kitchen. a few swear words slip out as the clock and the consistency of the broth confirm what the smell implied—it’s too thick to be used. dylan is just in the process of pouring it out as he hears another set of feet travel to the room—jack or atlas, by the pace of it—but dylan doesn’t stop running water into the pot. “ i got SIDETRACKED and forgot to watch the temperature–… ” it’s less news and more an acknowledgement of the other’s presence until he has finished the preliminary rinsing and he can turn around to face—jack.
one thing’s for damn sure, he’s not starting that process again. he’ll experiment when the safe house is less populated and he more focused on the task at hand. “ i’m gonna make nicoise—you want me to make enough for two? ” salad, he’s pretty sure, he can manage to make right now.
it’s funny, he finds, how well hidden he needs to keep the side of his life that’s safer in the daily life: the part that’s just pushing around papers, reading up on court cases, and calling people to make paperwork appear and disappear when convenient. the other sees the horseman: the daredevil, the vigilante, the guy who’s always one miscalculation away from being slammed against a wall in handcuffs or falling to his death from the edge of a rooftop — for as long as the eye is kept a secret, dylan can’t blame him for worrying.
“ yeah, i will. —thanks. ” it’s only second in his nature to understand it as a sentiment: the first, unspoken instinct is to brush it off with a claim of ‘always am’ — a lie he’ll save for a day more dangerous. “ see you soon, alright? ”
it warms. the corner of his mouth lifts and eyebrows elevate in mild surprise — it’s not that he doesn’t know or has any doubt that lillianna cares for him, he simply… isn’t used to hearing it like that. out of the blue, not followed by the type of reasoning that sounds more like rationalising or giving conditions to said respect. a smile is all the thank you he can muster ( it doesn’t feel like something where saying ‘thank you’ is appropriate, and yet dylan dreads feeling ungrateful if he says nothing at all). there’s almost a temptation to shrug it off, misdirect — dylan fights it.
hesitantly, he raises his head — his eyes slowly come up from the floor, and it’s completely obvious now how long he’s been crying: his tears have ended once, and he’s continued to grieve until he could cry again. the same cycle, on repeat until he’d finally tired himself out to numbness. for the past… hour, hours ( how long has it been since he walked out? how long has it been since danny joined him?) he’s done nothing but tried to carve out this sadness, cling on to danny’s uniform shirt — grateful that the slytherin was here with him despite surely earning himself more detention every minute — and try to shut his brain up from telling him how lonely he’d just become, how irrelevant, how he’d just become one of those orphans who get pushed around because they don’t matter to anyone. and at some point, he realises, he must’ve started to say some of it out loud.
“ do you MEAN that? ” dylan’s tired, and the monotone it causes makes it sound colder than he means it — it’s just his eyes that are telling of the vulnerability that prompts the question. “ because right now, you don’t get to just say that to me if you’re just saying it. ”
it’s only then that he pays enough attention to the notes to recognise the song — head turns to danny with a moment of fright, as if he’s been caught doing something private… and then it softens as dylan realises it actually doesn’t matter when the hell danny had noticed how often he has the cheesiest of 90′s tunes stuck in his head, or that maroon 5′s earlier stuff only really manages to sneak into their background music at home when dylan is around. “ it’s ONE of them. and you’re a sentimental idiot for playing it to me. ” it’s probably specifically how clicheé the song choice is that makes him laugh just as much as he feels flattered. “ my favourite song is actually BELIEVE by cher, but i get why you’d pick this one. ”
Dylan only ever really loses his temper when he’s with people he cares about, pushing his buttons for nothing seemingly important — or when he’s already repressing some negative emotion, but that’s a conversation for another day. When he gets a flash of anger, obviously frustrated, sharpens his tone and brings up his volume… you’re probably fine in the long term.
Because Dylan doesn’t snap at people he genuinely hates. No, he swallows it, smiles, wishes you a good day and apologises — and then he lets that hatred simmer until he can find a way to retaliate. His temper is hot, but actual, legitimate anger is cold and contained and something he will make absolutely sure you know he’s only not acting on it because for now, you’re more useful in one piece than not.
That terrifying sentence aside, Dylan is usually pretty good at keeping his cool, remaining calm especially when others start spiraling. He will defend himself, but for the most part, he prides in being able to swallow it down until he can process it properly… but god fucking help you if you attack on someone he cares about.
Despite being largely an indoors-y person, Dylan has and always will prefer almost any weather to rain. It’s convenient now that he’s an outlaw who needs to blend into crowds whenever he goes outside because rain means oversized clothes and people trying desperately to keep their head down and focus on getting where they want to be rather than glancing at passerbys… but he doesn’t like standing in it. He’s more used to sun, finds snow more aesthetically pleasing, and can even find beauty in full-blown storms for as long as no one is getting hurt, but just plain rain — or wind and rain — is just an inconvenience.
Good thing they’re currently living in bloody England, right?
For a large portion of his life, Dylan completely and utterly thought loneliness wasn’t an issue with him, that he was better off on his own and didn’t need others to reach his goals because in his mind, he was doing everything on his own anyway — something that is obviously bullshit. Not only did he go through long periods of extreme unhappiness during the pre-Horsemen years, but he was also never truly alone: he had people in the FBI giving him emotional support ( knowingly and unknowingly ) him through day-to-day life, he had a girlfriend and a fianceé at some point, and he had his trust entirely on The Eye for most of his years. He could always count on someone to have his back.
The truth is, Dylan can’t live without other people. His abandonment issues are entirely too aware of that, and it’s a huge reason why the Horsemen’s dynamic being shaken hits him so hard. He might prefer a smaller social circle, but he’s still very much an extrovert, and even the concept of being left alone terrifies him.
The condition of Dylan’s nails ought to come as virtualy no surprise to anyone who’s ever met him. They’re clipped short, kept clean when he has the time to do so, and frequently scartched from hitting too hard against something. It’s one of the few vanities he lets slip into his character as Rhodes — keeping his fingers clean is simply a part of his daily hygiene routine, even if he considers it as a rather irrelevant task. Those who knew him when he was still a smoker might’ve briefly seen him with stained nails — though very, very rarely.
( And as far as the nails made of metal goes, Dylan rarely uses them in shows: fakir tricks went out of style roughly one thousand years ago, and Russian Roulette isn’t really his forté. )
Hello, my name is Aurora, I’m 21 years old and Finnish. EET time zone, naturally not a native speaker — if my replies make no sense, please let me know, it’s either because of me being tired or fucking up grammar. Please tag choking, somnophilia, eating disorders, suicide and bluespace, including screenshots of the dash: essentially, if the sides of the picture are the same colour as the dash, tag it.
selectivity
I am open to ocs and crossovers. This blog is mutuals only: threads, plotting and im are only for people who I have followed back. However, non-mutuals can send me asks and memes and reply to opens. I do tend to form mains and practice exclusivity, especially shipping exclusivity: the list can be found here. Note that I fully admit to being a lazy ass about checking my followers: I am currently using an extension that hides my follower count, so it is up to my own memory to remember to check the list: thus, it can take up to anything from a week to a month to check out a blog — more, if it’s a muse from something I haven’t seen yet.
pre-established relationships
If you have a non-romantic relationship idea (friends, colleagues, even family) between our muses, chances are I’ll be up for that, but do please run it through me first. This is twice as important for Horsemen ocs. The Horsemen and the dynamic between them form a large part of Dylan’s life, so I am more hesitant than most about writing with them because I need to understand why Dylan would have chosen them. I hope you can understand this.
shipping
Shipping-wise, Dylan is free game, but only if it happens with chemistry. This is even more highlighted by the fact that I play Dylan as demisexual, meaning that he doesn’t feel sexual attraction to anyone until he has a strong relationship with them, platonic or romantic.
Statistics
FULL NAME: Dylan Caspian Shrike
ALIAS: Dylan Rhodes (active from 1990 to 2015)
AGE: 44
BIRTH DATE: December 21, 1971
GENDER: Cis male
ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Panromantic
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Demisexual
RELIGION: Atheist
SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English (native), Mandarin, Cantonese, French, Italian, some Greek
CURRENT HOUSING: Apartment connecting to The Eye’s headquarters in London
OCCUPATION: The “fifth” Horseman, leader of The Eye’s western base. Worked as a mole in the FBI until being exposed publicly at the end of 2015
relationships
PARENTS: Lionel Shrike (deceased in March 6, 1984), Henriette Shrike (deceased in October 20, 1988)
SIBLINGS: None
SIGNIFICANT OTHER: Currently, none
CHILDREN: Unable to have
physical traits
EYE COLOUR: Brown
HAIR COLOUR: Dark brown, greying
HEIGHT: 5'7½
BODY TYPE: Short, square, somewhere between builtfat and chubbyfat.
personality
INTELLIGENCE: Book-smarts: studied engineering in college, degree in Criminology, mathematical brain. Strategist by nature.
DISPOSITION: Intelligent and calculating. Extroverted, but prefers a small social circle. Needs to feel in control, tends to take a leadership position very easily, as well as responsibility over others. Strong moral compass and need to see justice served.
Biography
Dylan Caspian Shrike was the first and only child born to Henriette Wilson, a former actress, and Lionel Shrike, a famous magician and a member of The Eye. The family lived in an apartment New York they owned, greatly relying on Lionel’s profession to supply for them. Partly to this, Lionel was largely absent at home, always performing, practicing, or travelling to China to buy equipment for his tricks. Dylan always knew his father first as a magician, and only then as a father.
This not-ideal but functioning life came to a stop when Thaddeus Bradley revealed how all of Lionel’s magic tricks were done in the pilot of his show, leaving the family unsure how Lionel’s career would handle such a blow. In an attempt to regain spotlight, Lionel insisted on doing a trick Thaddeus had called impossible: to break out from being handcuffed in a safe in the middle of a river. Dylan watched his father go down in the safe but the metal the safe was made of warped, making the escape impossible and causing Lionel to drown. Because his body nor the safe was ever found, his life insurance claim was denied, and the family was left without a penny.
Dylan always blamed the death of his father above all on Thaddeus Bradley, and after his mother had to give him up for adoption at the age of 12, Dylan started to plan for revenge. He spent most of his teenage years in a group home and two foster families, copying his father’s tricks and practicing some of his own, never specialising in anything in particular, finding himself more interested in the behind-the-scenes work that went into the larger tricks.
He started to study engineering in college, but The Eye gave him another task: take a new identity — that of Dylan Rhodes — and move to study Criminology in order to become a mole in the FBI. This alias gave him a possibility to start working on his plan to bring those responsible for his father’s death and the hardships that followed: a group of magicians that would bring the art back to a global spotlight whilst using their abilities to deceive for a greater cause. Gathering resources, perfecting his plan, and making it possible to do without known help from The Eye — as is required from applicants — was a long process, but he finally got it to motion in February 2013.
