❝ critical thinking is key in my line of work. ❞
⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎
isola affiliated desmond sycamore / jean descole of the professor layton series.
HOUSING: CONDO 403
written by maya.
world renowned scientist, professor sycamore! he's the head of the research on the azran legacy, making him knowledgeable in the subject. he could go on for days about his research if given the chance.
polite and kind to those he meets. the textbook example of a proper english gentleman.
has the patience of a saint.
a man with a lot of secrets. you wanna get to know them? that's too bad. maybe he'll open up, maybe he won't.
JEAN DESCOLE
...one of those secrets being that desmond sycamore may as well be dead, because he's nothing more than a mask for jean descole to use in order to get what he wants.
manipulative and quick to anger. he won't stop until he gets what he desires. will resort to violent measures if needed.
he holds a lot of resentment in his heart to those who've done him wrong.
honestly: a complete 180 of desmond sycamore. funny how that works, isn't it?
( APP ⚜︎ STATS ⚜︎ RULES ⚜︎ written by maya! )
this blog will contain heavy spoilers for azran legacy from time to time, please be aware of that if you have not played through the professor layton games and would like to!! i will do my best to tag spoilers where necessary but. this game came out over ten years ago, please forgive me if i end up slipping up and forgetting.
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To say that the woman's desire to meet him was bothersome would be the understatement of the year. He had never heard of her in his life, had no real desire to go out and meet with people he didn't already know of. Yet, her constant pestering grew to a point.
Getting both the physical and vocal confirmation that he did not know this woman- and she didn't know him was the icing on the cake. Still, he persists - a smile grazing his lips.
"My, I apologize. I know it must be disappointing to be expecting someone else and you're met with a complete stranger."
"...A Pokemon? I'm afraid I don't know what that is."
woops. hello! i didn’t mean to suddenly go inactive, life caught up to me but i should be okay now. i’m not quite sure yet if ill participate in the cyor event- but for now, here’s a starter call! capping at 3!!
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Truth be told, Descole had been doing everything in his power to avoid having to confront... well, himself. Having to come face to face with a version of himself that may as well be dead to the world felt daunting- something he just didn't want to do. So he would spend his time roaming, wandering through the streets of Spirale trying to find anything to keep his mind busy- anything to distract himself from the inevitable.
Yet, as he stands face to face with a dead man walking, Descole knows that there's only so much he can do.
It was bound to happen sooner or later- but Descole isn't quite sure what he feels is worse. The fact that he stands face to face with a version of himself who exists no more- or the fact that Desmond seems to stare at him with a knowing look in his eye.
"...Sycamore."
Desmond doesn't say anything. Not right away- all he can do is stare at the man before him. The way he holds himself, cape covering his figure, mask hiding his features. By regular circumstances, Desmond shouldn't know who the man before him is. Yet, the way he speaks, the way he holds himself- it's all too familiar. This is him, is it not?
"Apologies." Desmond starts, his tone soft, careful. "I'm afraid I don't know you."
Bullshit, Descole is about to say. Instead, he scoffs. "But you do."
There's a bench not too far away from where the two are now. His steps are slow, almost melodic, as he approaches it- and soon after, he hears the sound of footsteps following behind him. Sure, Desmond could have simply just followed after him, yet it felt like a solemn reminder that the two are one in the same.
and to desmond, it seems he's come to the same conclusion.
Desmond takes a seat next to Descole. His hands resting on his knees, he stares ahead at the floor before them. For a long while, nothing is said between them. They sit in an uncomfortable silence, neither of them speaking a word.
"You are me." Desmond says.
Descole winces.
"Are you not?"
Descole doesn't say anything. Not at first. He doesn't even offer the other man-- himself, a glance in his direction. Instead, he nods, his hands curling into tight fists on his lap as the words fill his mind.
"Yes." Descole finally says, a low growl leaving his lips as he closes his eyes behind his mask, unbeknownst to Desmond.
"You speak to me with such vitrioul."
There's a deep desire in Descole to pull out his sword and aim it at his past self's neck. To silence him of his retorts, and how dare he mock him- but he holds himself back. After all, acting out in such a way would only prove himself right, and quite honestly- that was the last thing he wanted. That, and the fact that Descole didn't have his sword on him... There was only so much that could be done.
"You can't blame me." Is what Descole decides to settle on. He turns his head just enough to see his younger self through the corner of his eye, and it feels mocking.
There was a time where he could truly say that he was happy. Where he could truly, earnestly, and honestly say that he felt himself- he hadn't felt it in so long. Yet, here he is- a mirror of his past self, reflecting what once was. What he felt he could never have again, and it felt like a slap to the face.
"I can't remember a time where I didn't feel like this." His voice is uncharacteristically soft. Very rarely did Descole ever feel the need to be vulnerable- especially to himself, but the past few weeks had felt... different. A part of him was missing, as much as he refused to admit it.
He doesn't remember a time where he didn't feel the way he does? Of course he does.
He's sitting right next to him, as much as he wished he wasn't.
The last time he felt like this... There was a lot in that sentence for the younger Desmond to process. One hand rests itself over his own, fingers toying with the ring around his index finger. He glances down towards Descole's lap, trying his hardest to observe the hands on the man before him- but they were too bunched together. He couldn't make much of them- other than the callouses that the two of them shared, and the faint indent where a ring would once sit.
He feels he shouldn't ask. After all- this was a version of himself from the future. He wasn't sure if finding out about something that has yet to happen to him would alter anything. Yet...
"What happened to her?"
Descole knows immediately who he speaks of.
He doesn't answer.
Somehow, that's really all Desmond needs to hear to get the answer he's looking for.
A long, drawn out silence sits between the two of them. Desmond toys with his ring- Descole fully turns himself away from the young professor, doing whatever he could in the moment to avoid having to look him in the eye. "Everything that I do- I do it for them. I don't know if they could ever be proud of me for it, hell- I wouldn't be proud of it if I were in their position." Maybe he should be the one in their position- no man should ever have to lose two of the only few people he truly cared for. Especially not her- especially not a child no older than five.
"I don't think anything could get me to a point where I could feel... whole again." Finally- Descole pulls his head up. He turns to look at the man next to him- one filled with life, an uncertain, yet careful gaze beneath the frames of his glasses. He looks at him-- the last time he ever truly felt whole, and everything tells him that at the very least, the man deserves a conversation where he can at least see the eyes of the stranger before him.
...Yet, he doesn't.
Who sat before him-- Who sat before Desmond was his fate. He isn't sure what's going to happen to him when everything's all said and done with- whether he'll join him and he'll feel more complete, or he'll go back to a time where they were still alive. A time where he would wake up next to the love of his life- a time where he would come home from work to his baby girl excitedly running up to him to be picked up. A time where he didn't need to worry about the man he has to call his father ruining his life even more-so than he had already.
"I don't know if I can tell you what's to come. What happens to them, what led you into becoming... me. But I need you to promise me something, Sycamore."
Desmond's lips part as though he were to say something.
Nothing comes out. Not right away.
"Go ahead."
Descole keeps his eye on him. He waits, waiting for Desmond to meet his gaze beneath his mask.
"If you go back to them..." The tips of Descole's fingers brush against where his ring should be. "Treasure your time with them."
He nearly chokes on what he wants to say next.
"Please."
Desmond doesn't say anything. Not right away- of course. He only stares at Descole, looking him up and down. He holds himself so close together, as if to protect himself from the world around him. He doesn't know what's happened to him- what's caused him to turn into the man before him. He knows he'll experience it when the time for it comes, and... quite honestly, his request to treasure the rest of his time with his family seems silly to him.
So much so, that Desmond chuckles beneath his breath. A reaction that Descole clearly isn't expecting, if the immediate desire to punch the living daylights out of him says something. Just as he's about to get up to grab the collar of Desmond, Desmond leans himself back on the bench. One leg crosses itself over the other, and he closes his eyes.
"What a foolish request." He starts.
"I already treasure my time with them, no matter how long, short, easy, or difficult it becomes." Desmond opens his eyes, a smile forming on his face as he looks to the man who's become a shell of his former self.
Him.
"I can only hope that in the future, you do too."
...
The shell of a man sits next to his former self. The silence is loud, comforting, yet uncomfortable all once. The two don't speak a word to each other. There's no need to, both of them have spoken their mind.
Just as time would, the sun begins to set. A sure-fire sign that Descole had spent far too much time on his own. Where there was once two men now stands one- as Jean Descole pushes himself off the bench. His cape flutters in the cold wind as he stands, and he looks behind him to where his past self sat, and then--
hi i’m sorry replies are taking a little bit! (´；ω；`) !! i’ll be jumping on them as soon as i can over the weekend and chip away at them when i can. i’ve just been really busy with irl stuff and haven’t had the motivation to sit down and write, but i’ll be getting to everything soon!!
there’s a kid digging through the flowers on the side of the path.
Their sleeves are rolled past their elbows, showing splattering of bandaids of all colors. They’re pulling at something — digging it up. Flowers. Their fingers are red, blistered and uncomfortable.
They look up, and they smile.
“Oh? Are you another human apparition, come to mock me?”
Descole watches the child. He doesn't say anything, only curious to know what it is they're exactly doing. He sees the way their blistered fingers move, how the kid moves- how they look at him and immediately begin to accuse him of something, despite the fact he had showed no prior interest in doing so.
The man shakes his head, taking a small step closer, yet, keeping his distance.
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Hello . Here’s a starter call for the event, capping at three!
Due to the nature of this event, I figured the best way to approach it would be through a drabble. But I would still love to do some threads for Desmond on the side, just to have a chance to explore it.
The Desmond of the past will be taken from when his daughter and wife were still alive. Which means:
- Desmond will have a lot more whimsy and generally be happier as a person.
- While his research to the Azran Legacy is still important to him, he is a family man first and foremost.
- He will only appear to be a few years younger. Isn’t it sad how so much can change in just a few years…?
Hello . Here’s a starter call for the event, capping at three!
Due to the nature of this event, I figured the best way to approach it would be through a drabble. But I would still love to do some threads for Desmond on the side, just to have a chance to explore it.
The Desmond of the past will be taken from when his daughter and wife were still alive. Which means:
- Desmond will have a lot more whimsy and generally be happier as a person.
- While his research to the Azran Legacy is still important to him, he is a family man first and foremost.
- He will only appear to be a few years younger. Isn’t it sad how so much can change in just a few years…?
Another leisurely day passes by through the city, especially through the eyes of the Stars who watch from where it is they hide themselves away. The city itself seems at peace, even after that dungeon had risen from the sands to be explored. Nothing new, nothing to be wary of ━ beyond the typing on the computer from one of the Stars known as Pleiades.
"I think it's been a little too quiet. We can only watch so much before testing them a little, don't you think?" Her voice echoes through the lit room, one finger tapping on her cheek as she observes the screens after she stops whatever input she was debating. It's a risk, but one she's always willing to take if it means progress, especially for those subjects they keep a keen eye on below.
"What were you thinking?"
"Hm. Progress... ? Progress... I want to see how much they've grown. Not just in the city, but from their past selves, too."
It was a curious idea, one that Pleaides was keen on seeing through upon it entering her mind. So the typing continues, strings of code at her fingertips being submitted into the computers before hitting enter so that it might take root.
Within the city itself, everyone feels just as always. Until that feeling of being ripped apart settles in, as if the very foundation of their bodies were being torn in two. Only when the pain subsides would they realize that it was actually the case, some coming face to face with none-other than themselves. Not just a duplicate, but one from a long before, looking as they did from a time they no longer live in: the past.
A smirk sprawls across her mouth at the incident, all too pleased at her doing.
"... Um, Miss Pleiades? How are we going to test that growth of theirs."
"Ah. Good question. Let's see..."
Leaning forward, it only takes a second for the screens of the city to flicker to life, overriding anything with a wave of static to relay her voice.
"Good evening, everyone. I trust you've noticed something strange has happened again... an unfortunate malfunction occurred just recently." A lie, but it was none of their business what the real reason was going behind the scenes, right? "You can feel it, can't you? As if something is missing. Well, it seems a part of you has broken free from who you are. A bit from your past, from the looks of it. This can bring dire consequences if not corrected. We can't have you running around in tandem without everything falling apart, so we'd like to ask that you track them down and regain what was lost."
"Of course, you're welcome to leave them alone if you'd like. But remember this: if you can't accept your past, you'll be losing your future. You don't want them taking your spot in life, do you?"
A pause, only for them to speak one more time without elaborating.
"That's all. Oh, and good luck."
The screens go black, fizzling out in a gentle tone of white noise before all falls silent. Before long, the city carries on with its own living ━ cars continuing to drive through the streets, shops selling their wares, and much more. But still, that sensation of something missing lingers in you, gnawing its way through your chest with an urgency that only continues to grow...
═══════════════════════════════════
SO WHAT'S GOING ON?
Your muses have, plainly speaking, woken up to a version of themselves that has split off from them, one that has come from a pivotal point in their past! That means acting as if they would in the past, looking like they would in the past, thinking that they're from that time, etc. Essentially there are two versions of the character in the city at the current time, meaning others can also run into their past self at any given time since they have their own will and independent thought. There's also a noticeable part of them that feels like it's missing from your muse after the split, something that urges them to seek out that side of them to confront their past... Or remain with that empty feeling that continues to gnaw at them from the inside out, one that grows more and more with each passing hour.
PIVOTAL POINT? WHAT DO YOU MEAN?
Things such as: they were from another faction before defecting, a time they regretted their actions or decisions, or a point in time where they started to change to who they are today. Any point can be a pivotal point if you think it is, so long as they're different from who they used to be at the time. As long as there's a little bit of a difference, anything is fine and the decision is entirely up to you!
WHAT'S THE GOAL OF THIS?
The goal is, ultimately, to confront your past self and accept who you were. Just as the Stars said (whether one believes them or not), in order to keep your future, you must learn to accept your past for what it is and co-exist with them once again in the same body.
There's also the philosophical side of it, such as questioning which is the real you? Can you tell? Does something like that even matter? You've both lived as yourselves, so why would one be more important than the other? Feel free to tackle things like these along the way!
DO WE ALL SEE OUR MUSE'S PAST SELF AFTER THE INITIAL SPLIT?
Not at all! Some people will have their past selves right in front of them, while others could have had their split selves appear in other parts of the city and need to track them down. Do whatever you feel you'd like for your threads!
CAN WE THREAD USING JUST OUR PAST SELVES?
You may! You don't need to have your present self in the thread to write with them, so feel free to mix and match people meeting your past self without the need to attach them to your present character. After all, they're just as independent and free as your characters are. Have friends meet who you used to be, meet who your friends used to be and so on. Just have fun with it!
WHAT IF MY MUSE DOESN'T ACCEPT THEIR PAST SELF?
Well, you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?
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what’s a grammar rule you find yourself breaking or ignoring a lot?
are there any languages besides english in which you think you could comfortably roleplay?
how often do you reach for a synonym dictionary when writing? how about mentally?
how often do you need to translate your own or the other’s writing with a dictionary or google when writing and reading replies?
do you listen to music while your write?
do you have ideal writing circumstances when you can do a lot of drafts or tackle really long ones very easily?
are you a morning, day, evening, or night writer?
how does tiredness affect your writing?
have you ever written a serious reply intoxicated?
how much do you proof-read as you are writing vs. proof-read at the end?
when you are writing a reply, how much ahead in the thread do you plan?
is there ever been a time when you’ve had to drop a roleplaying partner because you’ve found their writing style exhausting?
does writing roleplay things in public spaces make you uncomfortable?
what do you do after you see a person has replied? do you read it immediately, or do you wait for it to show up on the dash? do you like it, draft it immediately, etc?
how often do you need to change the icon in your reply while or after writing the reply?
do you first get in the “zone” when writing, or do you start writing and “enter” it that way?
what is your biggest obstacle to writing every day, if time doesn’t count?
what’s your inbox count currently? what did you do to get it so high/low?
how many drafts is a paralysing amount?
if you are writing a wrong reply that’s not working out, do you save what you have to be continued at another date, or do you scrap it and rewrite?
does making icons give or take away energy to write? what about other graphics?
longest reply you’ve ever writen on mobile?
does the total amount of threads you have going on matter to you, or just how many you owe?
what’s your thought process when you format? any unspoken rules you follow?
｢𓆄｣ "Well, I can't really go divulging all that now, can I? Kinda defeats the purpose of confidentiality, you get that, right?" Whatever he was up to seemed fishy, and Hawks was the type to extend olive branches all the time.
"But...If ya haven't gotten into any trouble 'round here, you're gold. Once I start getting involved, that's when files become interesting, to say the least. But, as far as you're concerned, when you poof onto the island, only what's public record populates here."
"Is there beef, though? I'm a bit of a gossip." Oh so curiously, Hawks placed his chin in his hands and leaned in, very interested. "I'm trustworthy, gimme the deets!"
Beef? Desmond had never heard that word used to describe anything other than meat. It doesn't take him long to figure out what the gentleman means exactly with context clues, so he shakes his head and gives a low chuckle beneath his breath.
"No, no. No... beef," Is he using that word correctly? "I just couldn't help but be curious."
"In fact, what I was inquiring about involved myself, and like you've said. Confidentiality is key, so if I were to go and share all my secrets with you that wouldn't do us any good, now would it?"
