[ shayan sobhian, cis-male, he/him ] - was that BROOKS AZAR i saw by the lighthouse today? i heard that the TWENTY-SEVEN year old who has been in nightrest for TWELVE YEARS and works as a LATIN TEACHER AT WARDWELL has a reputation of being OUTGOING, but also UNORTHODOX. they reside in LOW POINT & people in town usually associate them with A SCHOOL RECORD OF VISITS TO THE HEADMISTRESS’ OFFICE, A PERPETUALLY UNMADE BED DRESSED IN SHEETS LEFT OVER FROM CHILDHOOD, & SUFFOCATING SILENCE FILLED WITH FINGERTIP DRUMMING. let’s hope the killer doesn’t go after them next.
tw: strained familial relationship, smoking mention
It had been clear early on that Brooks was different from the rest of his family, the black sheep even before he hit puberty. His parents, Javad and Vanya, were successful in their careers as a psychiatrist and chemical engineer, respectfully. His younger sister, Nessa, had practically come out the womb an overachiever: saying her first word faster than he had, excelling at diving and earning a scholarship to multiple Ivy's. He on the other hand, was the sort of kid teachers described as a distraction to the class. He was smart, make no mistake, just not exactly the most responsible. Brooks had forgotten to either do or bring his homework multiple times in a week and he was perpetually late to class, usually having lost track of time talking to one friend or another. Sometimes even too busy sweet talking the lunch lady.
Figuring what he needed was structure, his parents got him into Wardwell and shipped him off his sophomore year. While their intentions may have been for the best, it only proved what Brooks had thought for years: he was too much for his own family. He used the distance as an excuse to fall out of touch, calling maybe once every two weeks. When they came for parent weekend, and they didn't seem to notice the shift in his feelings, well that just solidified everything. Family by blood , nothing else.
Brooks has always been social, almost collecting people into his found family. At Wardwell, the door to him dorm had been open 90% of the time. And now, with his own place in Low Point, that sentiment remains. He thankfully retired the old futon for a semi-decent pull out couch that has been known to host friends and the like after a night out or fight with families or partners.
Applying for the position at Wardwell had been a Hail Mary of sorts. With his track record from back in the day, he figured it was an immediate no but went with the good ol' motto of "fuck it." To this day he still jokes that they must have been desperate. While being at the school brought up complicated emotions, it was still kinda home to him. Or maybe it was because he was a big fish in a little pond. Either way.
Latin was a required course at Wardwell when he went; something about being good for the SATs and all those tests. Brooks didn't care much about that, instead liking the non-language aspects of it all. The myths, the stories, the history. It was much more fun learning a language that had you translating people turning into cows and trees than simply figuring out how to ask where the bathroom was.
He doesn't always see eye to eye with the Headmistress, however. The structure his parents at sent him away to find... yea, fuck that. He's the sort of teacher that'll move class outside if it's nice enough, let the conversation veer far off course from the lesson plan, and accepts out-there project ideas. Just last semester he had a pair of girls present on the Battle of Thermopylae with a detailed puppet show. While not the best teacher with the best results, he's fairly popular with his students. They know he's also the type to say yes when others won't, which is how he's landed himself as the advisor to Coffee Club and Bigfoot's Army, a more unusual club that bounces back and forth between nature walks, discussions on Mothman, and general conspiracies.
Brooks is the type to tell you that coffee is considered a meal. Already not a morning person, he is practically useless after getting up until he's had at least one cup. He's a loyal Daily Dose customer and does actively judge those who make the trek to Dunkin.
Aside from getting his coffee fix, Brooks is also a regular at C's, seeing as it's down the block from his apartment and since moving to the Northeast has developed a major love for all things seafood. Spirits on the other hand... less his scene. Firstly, he thinks the whole haunted thing is stupid and, despite growing up well-off, he can't fathom spending double digits on a cocktail. Besides, he's not much of a drinker anyways, left that behind him in college. Now he much more prefers smoking (and is usually down to share).
Brooks has four tattoos, all done at Permanent Record and all impulse decisions: a bigfoot on his calf, a sad party balloon on his forearm, a man riding a fish on his bicep, and, for some reason he can't fully recall, the word 'pluto' on his side.
wanted connections:
best friend(s)
friends
old friends
old roommate a wardwell
someone he went to college with - did not establish where
smoking buddies
someone he grabs coffee with
exes
fwb
one-night stand
enemy/do not get along
someone he annoys
found family, people he considers to be like his siblings or even aunts/uncles, parents
parent of one of his students
neighbors
there’s plenty more i just cannot think atm
