#azranarchy ; ind. priv. sel. jean descole from the professor layton franchise. penned by nova. they/them. gmt+5. 21. 18+ only. entire series spoilers inbound.
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@azranarchy
#azranarchy ; ind. priv. sel. jean descole from the professor layton franchise. penned by nova. they/them. gmt+5. 21. 18+ only. entire series spoilers inbound.
| HEADER | BOARDER | DIVIDER ONE | DIVIDER TWO |
Oh Des, the real azran legacy was the friends we made along the way. Anyways first time actually finishing my sketch for once (no I am not kidding) I have a lot of firsts but im enjoying this brush so far
descole is fun as fuck to draw actually
"As children, we're taught that the golden rule is to be kind. But we're not children anymore." - from Alphonse to "Angela" @bosstonius
One who is privy to the threshold of theatre can use their talent for their own gains and desires. It was something they were aware of once they plotted out the part in which Angela Ledore needed to be kidnapped and replaced. Replacing her was a simple ordeal, and while playing her part in the story of Monte d'Or wasn't awfully difficult, the necessity of context that wasn't there became somewhat of a nuisance. While they certainly used to have the means of pulling out the memories of another, the ability had been lost by one astronomical inconvenience. They had the funds to recreate it should they feel the absolute need to, but they didn't have the time. Ironically, the target on their back was becoming too big to bear. Any wasted time set them further on the path of death. So he had to improvise. It was one of the first things someone learned when engaging with the performing arts, and something you had to do very well in order to be considered one of the greats. He had no teacher now, but he could be his own scholar. This performance was assembled by one figure only, and no one else was needed to criticize or intervene with her ploy. The bumpkin had, thankfully, been lenient and obedient to not disturb his role as his betrothed, but even if he had to rely on him to put in some of the missing pieces, he could not. Not any that involved Alphonse Dalston. Descole really wasn't sure what the point of inviting Angela over to his mansion was. Did he believe that she was fretting so much over the blight of the Masked Gentleman? Did he think so lowly of her that she must have a man to tend to her? Or was he doing this solely for his own benefit, because his rivalry with Henry (a vying relationship that she found quite humorous) opted him out as someone to seek comfort in? Descole believed Dalston pathetic, but Angela would be willing to seek him out, speak with him, because that was what Angela Ledore was supposed to do. It would've made her feel sick to her core had the wine Dalston provided not filled the emptiness in her stomach. That was here nor there. The Masked Gentleman was what was and should remain on everyone's mind... and whatever malarkey Dalston was attempting to bring up. It would be rude not to answer him, and Angela Ledore wasn't rude. Not every performer liked the position in which they played.
"No, we aren't." Angela replied in a defeated tone, sadness washing over her features as a sigh blew out of her lips. She shook her head slowly, brought the wine glass to her mouth for another drink, and lowered it back down. She twirled the glass in-between her fingers, the base resting in her palm. Not one drip of it spilled on any of Dalston's surfaces. "Surely you don't mean to say that towards Henry now, do you? The duration of both of your... resentment towards each other has been remarkable, but I don't think that should be the first thing on your mind. Not in times like these." Everyone in Monte d'Or should remain solely focused on the spectacle inflicted on the city for the past month instead of irrelevancies that only muddy up her investigation. The more people that turn the other cheek to her, the more opportunities she can look for the Mask of Order. Dalston should be one of those people the least involved with her. "You must be talking about the Masked Gentleman, then. Are you planning to do something against that fiend?" There was next to nothing Dalston could actually do about him, but she was all ears as to what exactly a tipsy Alphonse Dalston had planned against the one bestowed the Mask of Chaos.
What a bothersome thing you are... - Thank you so much @sacriou for collaborating on this piece with me!! ❤️❤️❤️
is this azran legacy. idk ive never played (spoilers)
my favorite desmond faces are when hes looking various levels of distressed
my second favorite desmond face is his customer service ass smile
theyre so fucking stand
"That wasn’t part of the plan, was it?" from battat specifically for descole, before the identity reveal >:)
Des knew that tone in its voice: resignation and realization. The small 'chip!' noise when you put two pieces of something together, slotting in perfect harmony. An understanding that one would typically feel good about. This was not such case. The way it looked at him, its expression of so many conflicting feelings... The thespian showed nothing on his own expression, but he stood there painfully still and stared. There was nothing else to be done about it. Just as the amateur criminal, Des had been caught red-handed. Amateur Des was not, and yet this time, this time, he'd slipped. Now, the game they'd been playing, one-sided in its nature from his perspective, was over. Just as ice, the chilling trepidation was enough to freeze Battat, too. It was silent between them for what felt like years. A span of time in which they could've grown so much closer. Had Des kept the facade up better, had she planned more precisely, they wouldn't be here. Battat would've went home and found one Professor Sycamore waiting at his doorstep, gentle smile on her face underneath her red glasses, and the two would enjoy a pleasant evening together. Battat now saw the glasses for what they were: just another mask. If he reached in and took the mask off, those very same eyes would show. He already knew this, and she did as well, so there was no real point in making the attempt, was there? There wasn't any real meaning behind anything in that exact moment. A regularly-used bridge had just been burnt down. Destroyed. And Des had nowhere else to go.
"... No," a voice that didn't belong to Jean Descole responded in a tone so forward like a fresh wind that it was enough to push you over. Push Battat over, in the further confirmation of the nagging feeling that followed them into their nightmares. A chuckle escaped the mouth underneath the mask, but there was nothing to it. No cockiness, no allure, no nothing. Blank, empty, defeated. Des let out another one, just for the sake of it. "Ha-ha;" it was more dull than the last. "Well, there you have it. Are you satisfied, Sherlock? The hunter has been captured by the game." Des bowed with his entire body, arms out, hat starting to tip from his head. "Congratulations, though I suppose this is hardly anything to celebrate about, is it, dearly beloved?"
👻 ⸻ 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗦𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗧
send 👀 or ( ‘EYES’ ) if you want to know how I see our muses interacting or how they could interact in the future. bold all that definitely/currently applies, italicize what could potentially apply. feel free to add more if you think certain options are missing or you just want to add more.
Get to know: NEVER! | I'd rather not | Convince me! | Sure why not? | Yes please | ALWAYS
Befriend: NEVER! | I'd rather not | Convince me! | Sure why not? | Yes please | ALWAYS
Date: NEVER! | I'd rather not | Convince me! | Sure why not? | Yes please | ALWAYS
Kiss/Make out: NEVER! | I'd rather not | Convince me! | Sure why not? | Yes please | ALWAYS
Hook up with: NEVER! | I'd rather not | Convince me! | Sure why not? | Yes please | ALWAYS
Protect: NEVER! | I'd rather not | Convince me! | Sure why not? | Yes please | ALWAYS
Help: NEVER! | I'd rather not | Convince me! | Sure why not? | Yes please | ALWAYS
Kill: NEVER! | I'd rather not | Convince me! | Sure why not? | Yes please | ALWAYS
Have drinks with: NEVER! | I'd rather not | Convince me! | Sure why not? | Yes please | ALWAYS
Have dinner with/cook with: NEVER! | I'd rather not | Convince me! | Sure why not? | Yes please | ALWAYS
Do a heist with: NEVER! | I'd rather not | Convince me! | Sure why not? | Yes please | ALWAYS
Make a mixtape for: NEVER! | I'd rather not | Convince me! | Sure why not? | Yes please | ALWAYS
Resolve a mystery with: NEVER! | I'd rather not | Convince me! | Sure why not? | Yes please | ALWAYS
Damnation Sentences
(Sentences from Damnation (2017). Adjust phrasing where needed)
"If you make someone rich, you can get away with just about anything in this country."
"We're all in this together, whether you like it or not."
"If you disappoint me, you can be so easily discarded."
"We resolve our differences with words and laws here, not guns."
"I've done wicked things in this world, and every day I'm trying to make up for that."
"As children, we're taught that the golden rule is to be kind. But we're not children anymore."
"You look different to the last time I saw you."
"Maybe we can win this war, maybe we can't, but I'm not going to let people keep pretending it's not going on."
"I don't have a side. I just have a job to do."
"I know of fathers like you. Your kids would be better off without you."
"How does it feel to go around town with a psychopath?"
"The world doesn't care about you or your wants. What the world cares about is maintaining an agreeable semblance of order."
"You underestimate just how charming I can be!"
"Where I come from, men like you die pretty easily."
"You don't actually care for this cowboy, do you?"
"So what's your excuse? Corruption? Cowardice? Or just plain idiocy?"
"Deep down, that cold-blooded killer routine is just an act."
"I know you don't like it, but there are still things about my past I don't want you to know."
"Just because you don't trust me doesn't mean I'm wrong about this."
"If you would only stop running from your past, perhaps then you would not be fated to repeat it."
"I know that I'm hard on you, but it's all done out of love."
"Everyone's dead because of you."
"I've paid for the sins of my past. What about you? Can you say the same?"
"I may have written a couple of poems for you..."
"This is how we're going to do it! This is how we're going to bring people together!"
"STOP PUTTING YOURSELF INTO DANGER!" PROMPTS * assorted dialogue for expressing your fear that the person you care about might get themselves hurt if they keep acting like this, adjust as necessary
i thought i told you to stay back.
i love you too much to let you get hurt like this.
this affects me, too, you know.
every time you leave, i sit up all night waiting, praying you'll come back alive.
you keep pulling stunts like this and something bad will happen.
do you have a death wish or something?
this isn't fair to me.
i deserve better than this.
i didn't get any sleep last night because i was so worried about you.
you promised me you'd stop going out at night.
i don't like hearing this.
you've been risking your life, and for what? so you can feel like a goddamn hero?
i said i would handle it.
what the fuck are you doing here?
you told me you'd stay put.
so much for laying low.
you remember how bad it was last time.
seems like you haven't learned anything.
i believe you promised me you'd lay low.
i can't keep doing this.
don't give me that look.
we'll discuss this later.
this stops now.
i'm tired of picking up the pieces once you've left.
you keep throwing yourself into danger.
you don't give a shit about yourself, do you?
i'm sitting here, worried out of my mind, while you're out doing god knows what.
that was really stupid of you, and you know it.
i thought you knew better than this.
what's your excuse this time?
you do realize what this does to me, right? seeing you get hurt like this? you know it hurts me, too?
you really don't give a shit how this affects me, huh.
that was the dumbest possible thing you could have done.
i need you to stop throwing yourself into harm's way.
that was completely unnecessary.
they had it handled.
you didn't need to step in like that.
why do you think you're invincible?
the last time you pulled a stunt like this, it nearly got you killed.
i can't just sit here and watch you get hurt.
what are you trying to prove?
you just like fucking with my heart, don't you.
this shit hurts me, too, you know.
you're not the only one affected by this shit.
you've got a lot of people counting on you to come home every night.
what happens if you don't come back?
you think we can just carry on without you?
you think i can handle things if you end up dead?
i'm not sticking around to watch you get hurt.
you're not even slick.
you think you're invincible, don't you.
quit pretending you've got everything under control.
let someone else do it for a change.
you can't keep putting yourself through shit like this and expect me to just sit back and watch.
i'm done with this.
next time you do this, i'm not coming back.
promise me this is the end.
look me in the eyes and tell me you'll stop doing this.
let the authorities deal with it.
you're making a big mistake.
is it worth dying for?
i've dealt with enough pain over the years.
› TENSION LINER PROMPTS & THE FIRST SIGN OF INTIMACY
"Was that your hand, or did I imagine it?"
"You didn’t pull away."
"That wasn’t just a glance."
"You felt that too, didn’t you?"
"Your breath just hitched."
“Are you alright?”
“You look out of breath”
“You were looking for me?”
"I noticed the way you said my name."
"That’s the first time you’ve touched me like that."
"Don’t pretend you didn’t lean in."
"You’re closer than you were a minute ago."
"Say it’s not just me feeling this."
"Your fingers just brushed mine."
"We’ve never stood this close before."
“This is new territory.”
"I felt your hand pause there."
"Your voice changes when you're near me."
"That smile… it wasn’t friendly."
“Are we pretending that didn’t just happen?”
"That wasn’t part of the plan, was it?"
"I’m not imagining this anymore, am I?"
"You touched my arm and stayed there."
"When did the way you say my name start sounding like that?"
"Your lips are a lot closer than they should be."
"You didn’t have to whisper it like that."
"That was the first time you hesitated."
"You’re not hiding it very well."
"You looked at me like you wanted to say something else."
"We crossed a line just now, didn’t we?"
"You leaned into the silence."
"I caught the way you looked at my mouth."
"You blinked like I surprised you."
"You didn't let go."
"That wasn’t how friends touch."
“You moved closer, not away.”
"We’re not just standing here, are we?"
"You tilted your head like you wanted more."
"Something just changed, didn’t it?"
"That was the first time you didn’t avoid my eyes."
"You’re looking at me like I’m already yours."
"Your hand brushed mine, and everything stopped."
“I felt your hesitation…”
"You’re not pretending anymore."
"That silence said more than anything else could."
"That look, what does it mean?"
"You almost kissed me just now."
"Tell me that wasn’t nothing."
"You were going to say something, weren’t you?"
"Something’s different this time."
angst-y sentence starters
if you are sending to a multi-muse, remember to specify the muse that the sentence starters are being sent for .
“ I never asked you to save me - I asked you to stay. ”
“ You keep saying you’re fine, but I can still see the blood on your hands. ”
“ Don’t touch me. Everyone I love ends up broken. ”
“ I forgave you the first three times. There won’t be a fourth. ”
“ You weren’t there when I needed you most, so why are you here now? ”
“ I stopped counting the days since you left - turns out forever is shorter than I thought. ”
“ All those promises you made sound like lies when I say them out loud. ”
“ I kept your side of the bed empty for a year. It’s time to admit you’re not coming back. ”
“ You look at me like I’m a ghost, but you’re the one who killed us. ”
“ I would have burned the world down for you. You wouldn’t even cross the street. ”
“ Say it. Say you never loved me so I can finally stop hoping. ”
“ The worst part isn’t that you lied - it’s that I still believed you. ”
“ I practiced smiling in the mirror so you wouldn’t notice I’m falling apart. ”
“ You taught me how to trust again. Thanks for the lesson. ”
“ Every time you walk away, a piece of me goes with you. ”
“ I didn’t lose you. You threw me away the moment someone better came along. ”
“ Stop apologizing. The damage is already done. ”
“ I still reach for you in my sleep and wake up colder than before. ”
“ You said ‘forever’ like it was easy. ”
“ I keep replaying the last time you said my name, trying to hear love in it. ”
“ The silence after you left is louder than any fight we ever had. ”
“ I was ready to die for you. You weren’t even willing to live for me. ”
“ Tell me where it hurts, so I know where to stop touching. ”
“ You moved on so fast I didn’t even get the chance to miss you properly. ”
“ I built my whole world around you, and you just walked out the door without looking back. ”
“ The worst lies are the ones we tell ourselves to survive loving you. ”
“ I finally deleted your number. My phone still autocorrects ‘I’m sorry’ to your name. ”
“ You weren’t the villain - you were just cruel with good intentions. ”
“ I hate that I still check if you’re okay when I’m the one bleeding. ”
“ We didn’t break up. We slowly tore each other apart until there was nothing left to save. ”
“ You said you’d never make me cry. Look at me now. ”
“ I keep the voicemail you left the night everything fell apart. I’ve listened to it so many times I know your pauses by heart. ”
“ Loving you feels like drowning in slow motion while you stand on the shore. ”
“ I wasn’t enough to make you stay, but I was enough to make you feel guilty about leaving. ”
“ You came back like nothing happened, but I’m still picking up pieces you don’t even see. ”
“ I stopped leaving the porch light on. You never noticed anyway. ”
“ The saddest part is I still defend you when people ask why I’m not over it. ”
“ You didn’t just break my heart - you broke my ability to believe anyone else. ”
“ I finally understand why you always said ‘don’t get attached.’ You never planned on staying. ”
“ Every happy memory we had now feels like evidence in a crime scene. ”
“ I wish I could hate you. It would hurt less than this. ”
“ You keep asking what you can do to fix this. Start by going back in time. ”
“ I smiled in all the photos so no one would know you were destroying me behind them. ”
“ The hardest part of letting go is realizing you let go first. ”
“ I still flinch when someone says your name like it’s a curse. ”
“ You weren’t a chapter - you were the whole book, and now it’s on fire. ”
“ I didn’t lose feelings. They were murdered, slowly, every time you chose not to choose me. ”
“ I hope one day you look for me in a crowded room and feel what I feel every single day. ”
“ You walked away like it was easy, but I’m still here trying to remember how to breathe without you. ”
“ I finally stopped waiting for you. That’s the closest thing to healing I’ve managed so far. ”
Joey doesn't buy that faux-innocent look for a moment, but that doesn't mean he's fast enough to escape; he is—both literally and figuratively—hosed. A small yelp escapes him as she strikes him first in the chest, soaking through his shirt without mercy. The real dig, however, comes when she tilts it upward.
"Ah—FUCK!" The petulant lilt to his words is perhaps best described as whining, raising his hands to try ineffectually to ward off the spray—but with the nozzle set to such a narrow setting, even a moment spent under its assault is merciless to his carefully styled mane. He ducks away behind the car to shield himself, grumbling as he squeezes water out of the mess.
"Turnabout my ass!" he calls back, wrinkling his nose as his hair flops down over the right side of his face. Utterly unsalvagable, he can tell—he'll be spending another long hour in the bathroom fighting it back into shape. "You sure that wasn't more like a declaration of war?"
The laugh that bellowed out of thespian's chest was downright thunderous. He hounded with sinister, devilish laughter, especially when the water moved to splash all over Joey's hair. He knew full well how important that hairdo was to him and how much time he was going to have to waste getting the pounds of hair gel back into his scalp. Des thought that he was doing Joey a favor, but their definitions on what favor meant clearly differed. Des still ran the hose even after he hid behind the car. Her wrist flicked slowly to sway the water from left to right, making sure it hit wherever it was Joey was trying to hide at. She only turned off the nozzle once he popped himself back up again, only because she had to laugh more at his ruined hair. Oh, maybe this was a good idea after all! Des wished she had a camera on her!
"I'm sure you've learned your lesson now, haven't you?" They replied firmly, their attention shifting to whatever Joey meant by war. What did he mean by that, really? Wars were often thought when the opposing force had something of a chance of winning. With Joey? Tough chance. He wouldn't survive the first five minutes. "A soldier needs his weapon for this to be a war, snowstorm, which is something I can't help but notice you're lacking," the thespian snarled smartly, gripping the end of the nozzle and twirling it around in his grasp. "Unless if you consider that towel your arsenal. Then go right ahead, Mister Flores. Try to best me at your own game."
And so Vox does.
"Somewhere, waiting for me—"
It's not even a conscious choice, really—a request that pulls forth a long-buried people pleaser, someone who hasn't seen the light of day in decades. It had been such a long time since he'd felt the need to do so. At the height of his power, every action he took couldn't help but please someone, filling a bottomless stomach ever hungry for praise and validation. He'd gotten closer to satisfying it as Vox than he ever had as Victor; weeks, months going by without feeling the need rearing its ugly little head deep within his circuits.
"My lover stands on golden sands and watches the ships that go sailing..."
Even now he doesn't realize how ravenous it's grown on the diet of being one of Hell's most beloved figures. He only knows that he feels pathetic, so readily acquiescing to Descole's request like this, unable to find a single line of code within him on which to base a refusal. Such is the same beast that drives his feet to find their way to each of Charlie's therapy sessions, even if Vox scowls and bitches and drags his heels through each one.
"Somewhere, beyond the sea, she's there, watching for me..."
At least he can begrudgingly admit to himself that the request of a song is much less humiliating than that which he suffers through at the Princess's behest. He's far too easily spurred on by a single word of approval, the first hes heard in over a month that hasn't been Miss Morningstar's saccharine support. It feels... Truer, perhaps, than anything the hotel's fearless leader has said to him, but he refuses to let that show on his face. Not because he thinks Des won't know regardless—they've always struck him as far too smart for that. It's more a matter of his own pride than anything else.
"If I could fly like birds on high, then straight to her arms I'd go sailing..."
He can lose himself in the tune for a moment, one that he's certain he enjoyed once upon a time. He doesn't at the moment—everything is ash in his mouth, now—but if he tilts his monitor just so, he can almost pretend that he still does. He can recall in perfect clarity singing for Shok.wav some years ago, feeling something like contentment. If he doesn't focus too hard on it, maybe it'll feel true again, rather than a hollow echo.
"it's far beyond the stars, it's near beyond the moon... I know beyond a doubt my heart will lead me there soon..."
The memory is easy enough to hang onto, but the feelings that had gone with it are more elusive; that hollow echo bounces around his motherboard, unable to escape the multitude of disgusting thoughts that crowd his circuitry now. They coat his recollections like oil over a bird's feathers—add his regret to the pile, ruining another good thing for himself like this. Nothing is sacred, but the performance continues. He is a TV, after all. The show must go on. The television doesn't get to stop broadcasting just because it has an ill-timed bout of feelings.
"We'll meet beyond the shore, we'll kiss just as before—happy we'll be beyond the sea, and never again, I'll go sailing..."
A couple more verses repeated and the song is wrapped up. Vox's eyes slide to the edge of his screen as though he can actually see Des through peripherals he doesn't have.
"Did you actually want something, or are you just looking for a jukebox?" he asks waspishly. "Because if it's the latter, I'd rather order one for the lobby and be done with it."
One generally understands what they're getting into when they arrive to a stage to watch a performance. One hears reviews, the good and the bad, from acquaintances. Either way, something draws someone to the audience, to spend their time watching something that would at the very least entertain them. Would they always take something meaningful away from that experience? No. Was there something akin to hope that they would anyways? Almost all the time. Otherwise, one wouldn't bother to go and watch something that was simply incomparable with them. Even if one is very unfamiliar with the subject material, they could feel something for it should the performance call for it. That was what either made or broke a show, and that had to be something the current performer had to know very well. The audience knew it too, but not in the same way. Never the same way. Vox's song was one that she hadn't heard before. The tune, the sound, the everything indicated to her that she should've known it. Alas, the thespian did not, but she was willing to learn. Being an archaeologist in life meant that Des focused primarily on creations made by people from the past. Was whoever made this song considered so distant from Vox's past? Surely not, or else he wouldn't have cared to sing it aloud again. If the Overloard was anything, he was futuristic. If he was told by her to listen to Billie Holiday or The Pied Pipers... well, then he would've thrown a fit. He would've thrown one anyways if told to do anything. He'd already had plenty of that while staying at the hotel. It was best to let him have this. Des's head tilted side to side in a very slow motion. It wasn't synced with Vox's vocals, but by the way his lips had curled into the smallest of smiles, he must've been enjoying the performance to some degree. Behind the mask red eyes were closed, losing himself to Vox's melancholic verses. Anyone could sing anything they wanted, but human logic dictated that there had to be a reason behind their actions. Of course, the Overlord just might've been a big fan of the song and nothing more, but the thought still lingered in the thespian's head. Did Vox have a lost lover?
"There's no need for a jukebox with vocals like yours. I wouldn't want you to try and compare yourself to prerecordings anyways. That might backtrack you a few good weeks." Unfortunately for Vox, Des wasn't going to be any less of a smartass than they usually were. They smirked slightly with some of their teeth showing. Vox deserved it, they believed and would always believe. The reality was that the Overlord would never be fully forgiven for what he brought to Pentagram City -- no, practically all of Hell and Heaven. He was lucky no one's come to pike his screen with an angelic blade... yet. "You want to know why I'm here? Save your surprise, but I actually thought it wise to pay you something of a... visit, all alone. A one-to-one with a mind like your own." Both of them were geniuses who used their intellect for disastrous things. Whether both of them could label their crimes as such remained to be seen. Especially in Vox's regard. Des still had plenty of fight in her prolonged, internal blight that would never let up for the rest of her afterlife. Not that Vox would have any idea about that. "You have a nice range, I'll tell you that. Did you ever sing on set, Vox? Its supposed to help relieve stress, you know. You might need it."
A wolfscole for @sacriou