#azranarchy

[fluoresnow]

@azranarchy

"Awwwwww. And yet you still let my disgusting self onto your airship!"

[dismalice]

@azranarchy continuing an ancient plot

There's a bit of a mid-autumn chill in the arboretum--something to which Simon has grown accustomed over his years of living in the human city. The place he once called home wasn't exactly known for its cold even in the winter and fall, but he did often visit locations that even a man of his ancestry would have called chilly at the very least. Now, he only experiences the lower ends of the temperature scale in a relative sense. If not for the changing of the leaves and the increasingly layered clothing of the people around him, the passing of the seasons would go unnoticed to someone so numb to cold. Though he supposes it's for the best, it does bother him that somehow, residual magics may yet linger...

But now is not the time for those worries. Now is, in fact, the time for completely different worries, such as those that come with waiting to be granted the joy of a promise kept. The solid wood of a park bench in the off-season does little to put him at ease. For so long, he's spent so much of his time alone... The idea that someone would be eager to experience his company feels far more foreign than it should, and it makes him wonder yet again if he's only being cast in the part of the pitiful, lonely old man that people interact with out of obligation and would just as soon abandon if not for the guilt that would come with it. He knows, however--as any Minerva would tell him--that he often anticipates disasters that never manifest themselves... and vastly underestimates his ability to handle those that do. How would he react if he was stood up, really? He can't imagine he would break down the way he might have in the past, but what would he do? It's probably better for the both of them that this hypothetical never comes to pass. Thankfully, the appearance of a strange yet familiar figure ensures that it won't.

"You came..." A simple statement, revealing some of the complex emotion hidden beneath. Is it surprise? Awe? Best not to dwell on it. His dear friend has arrived, and they must become his top priority. "Part of me worried I'd just imagined that whole thing. I'm glad I didn't. Who else would I give this to?"

Simon hands them a fresh to-go cup of warm, spiced apple cider the moment they're in range, as if to silently quell any objections they might voice to accepting the gift. Their last meeting has Simon suspecting that they may be experiencing some issues of self-worth, to put it very lightly.. He hopes this small act of appreciation will help with that in some way, though he knows from experience that mending such wounds is much more easily said than done. But there is hope to be found... and he will help them find it.

"I'm... not sure if your current form can drink anything, but you can appreciate the warmth all the same." Perhaps he's being overly familiar for someone who hasn't seen them in so long, but Simon either doesn't notice or simply doesn't care. Of course they'll enjoy something warm and comfortable; hadn't they always? He's quite certain he's managed to procure one of their favourite beverages as well. It doesn't occur to him that their tastes might have changed since he knew them last. "There aren't many people here in the cooler months. I thought you might appreciate the privacy. It may not be as vibrant as it is in Spring, but I enjoy it." Warm, dark, and earthy, much like the tones of someone he knows...

[fluoresnow]

"Wouldn't you rather favor in tea instead? I'm certain it'll be much more worth your while..."

"The only acceptable type of tea is if it's iced and has enough sugar in it to cover the entirety of the East Coast."

Yeah, he knows he's about to start some shit with that take.

[fluoresnow]

continued from x with @azranarchy

-

"Why do you want me to so much, Desmond?" Joey's question is pointed, sharp, but his grip on the shotgun in his hands relaxes. Try as they like, but after their time on the Bostonius, he finds it difficult to see this alter ego as a threat. Or rather—he's aware that Descole has a bite to go with their bark, sure. He's seen it in play. It just doesn't really hold a candle to his theatrics—not on a personal level. Up close and personal doesn't strike him as their style bar a bit of swordfighting, but he doesn't know enough about that to be entertaining.

Or so he hopes, anyway. There is a seed of doubt ever present when it comes to Descole, but it's only one of many, and Joey finds it easy enough to keep in check for the moment.

"Yeah, sure, sue me. I don't despise you. I don't despise a lot of people I probably should." That's old hat to him by this point. Relationships gone sour over time seem such a constant that he wonders if he lets them fade out on purpose now, before they can get a chance to. Had they been anywhere but the Bostonius, on board with nowhere else to go, Joey is sure the same would've held true with Sycamore. "but you put a lotta 'coulda' and 'wouldas' in there, Des."

"You come all the way out to the states just to try to piss me off? Or did you just wanna see if I'd shoot first and ask questions later? Dios mio, you talk a lot of shit for the dead man you just claimed to be."

[fluoresnow]

continued from x with @azranarchy

-

The late night has a way of making most everyone prone to rambling in ways they might not otherwise be inclined to. In particular, long hours under a moonless sky have a tendency of bringing up a more thoughtful, introspective side to Joey--one that masks surfacing anxieties with what might sound like thinly-veiled philosophical considerations, if one didn't think too hard about them.

It was inevitable having been aboard the Bostonius for so long that insomnia would sink its claws into him again. What should be a restful night's sleep of the sort of nonsense only dreams can provide is instead replaced by the cold current of racing thoughts as he spirals down a path of uncertainty lit by the unnerving cerulean glow of ancient technology. There's nothing out there now--nothing that can be seen, at least. The moors of Hoogland fade into a matte darkness a few dozen feet from the Bostonius' landing lights; not the sort of darkness that suggests depth, but rather the kind that suggests there isn't anything beyond the light, not even space itself. Certainly none of the ethereal light that defines the Azran, except for what seems reflected in his own icy gaze.

He isn't entirely aware that the words have left his lips until he registers Sycamore speaking, their words muffled and foggy like they're underwater. He turns to glance at them, finding clarity within the near-perfect honey-brown coifs and the warmth of their understated grey three-piece suit. Nothing about Professor Sycamore quite strikes him as an anchor, and maybe that's just the nature of being aboard the Bostonius, but for a moment they act as one anyway.

His own eyes widen, some of the ice in them sloughing off as he belatedly realizes his own accidental slight. Of course being the only other one in the room, she'd think he was talking to her--so goes his reasoning, already accepted and lost as he searches for the words to make amends.

"Sorry, Professor." Joey's tongue feels languid in his mouth, fuzzy in the neural translations between his lips and his brain. Perhaps she can perceive the snow shaken off his shoulders, the retreat of frost back into the deeper depths of his mind, cold claws and errant whispers dispelled for the moment. "Sorry, I didn't mean--you didn't do anything, promise."

He's not usually one prone to rambling, but he feels he owes Desmond an explanation more than just an apology, lest he think that Joey is just uncomfortable with being called out. His gaze remains on Desmond's for far too long a moment, unblinking. "I was thinking about the Azran. Everything I've seen of their technology so far, everything that still isn't known about them. The sheer scale of their constructions alone is enough to boggle the mind... Makes me wonder what it is exactly that we're chasing down. Y'know... is one of these gonna be the Azran's closet, so to speak." Full of skeletons that were better off left to rest, he doesn't say.

Maybe it's something of a relief to get such doubts off his chest; maybe he's simply finally shaking off the last remnants of the ice in his veins. His gaze drifts away, his mouth pulling up in a wry smirk. "...I'm barkin' up the wrong tree here, aren't I? Don't mind me, my brain just gets a little weird this late at night, sometimes. I promise I don't have any doubts concerning your expertise."

[fluoresnow]

"Are you thankful for me, snowstorm?" ~

Crystalline eyes flick upwards, coy gaze meeting her own. An amused smile tugs at Joey's lips as he raises his eyebrows in faux innocence. "I'm surprised you even have to ask, Magnolia," he drawls. "But if I were a betting man, I'd say you just wanna hear me say it."

"So to answer that... yes. Of course I am. I'm thankful that you allowed me to stay aboard the Bostonius, even though I didn't have the same skills to contribute as Layton and Emmy. I'm thankful that you took the time out of our trip to teach me some self-defense and fencing. I'm thankful for every late night we spent talking and drinking, I'm thankful for that one memorable night that somehow turned into karaoke and racing on the outskirts of Torrido... I'm thankful that Emmy gave me the photos that she took of that night, too."

"And I'm thankful that you came back to see me, 'cause truth be told, I never thought you would."

A smirk plays around his mouth, accompanied by a feigned roll of the eyes. "Forgive me for holdin' out on you, darlin', I just didn't think you United Kingdom types did Thanksgiving."

[fluoresnow]

Romantic candidates meme: Des or Gingie?

"...You're not askin' me to choose between them, right? I'm gonna assume you're not, because that would make this Incredibly Dangerous for me to answer."

"Er, anyway- I don't think I've been exactly shy about how cute Professor Sycamore is. Not to mention the brilliant mind, airship, so fuckin' rich it boggles the mind, y'know... what's not to love? I ain't ever spent a day in her company that was boring."

"....Also, you know what, fuck it, she is actually a real sweetheart under all that attitude. She pretends she isn't, but she is. And that's all I'll say about that."

"As for Gingersnaps- yeah, okay, the man radiates sweetness. I feel like I'm gonna get a cavity when I spend more than five minutes with him. But... somehow... SOMEHOW... he makes that gay ass white top hat and the sideburns work for him. I don't get it, but I respect it. I guess."

"...I ain't ever bored in his company either. The world with him is a different place entirely."

mentioned: @azranarchy and @imagingie

[fluoresnow]

There's no warning, no sign at all, that outside Snowy's door would be Des -- specifically dressed up with the Sycamore glasses -- standing still there. In her hands was a large bouquet of blue flowers, her eyes half-lidded and lips curled into an inviting smirk. "You wouldn't happen to have plans already, would you? Cancel them. I'm taking you to dinner, my snowstorm." She puckered her lips at him with a smirk.

"Well, well, well... What a pleasant surprise to see you, Magnolia." His words carry their usual teasing lilt, but his eyes soften with appreciation and affection, stepping aside to hold the door open for her. Despite the fact that he's not usually keen on announcing his birthday, there's no doubt that this isn't a coincidence.

Knowing her, she probably copied his driver's license at some point or something. He should mind, but he really doesn't.

"Come inside for a moment, would ya? Ana usually drags me out to something, but I'm sure she'll be over the moon to hear that I've got a date for a change. Give me five minutes to call her and put on somethin' nicer."