Desmond Miles ❖ 009
Who: failssassin and all somarium
Where: Small coffee house in Somni's Shopping district
Style: Starts in third, but I'll match!
Status: OPEN!!!! I'd love to consolidate any of the CR he got during the AU event, but everyone is welcome to hit him!
Warnings: As per usual with Des, may content language
Within the soft atmosphere of the coffee house, only a few blocks away from his burned club, Desmond was sitting at a table, a cup of steaming coffee barely a few inches from the edges of the table, the blue prints of his club taking up all of the space of the table he had been able to secure. But even though he had been staring at the plans for an hour now, he couldn't recall where the architect had placed the main bar, nor where the booth to sit were now or how large the new dance floor would be. No, because even though his eyes were glued to the papers in front of him, his mind was miles away.
It had been hard enough to block memories from his ancestors ever since he had started to get into the Animus, but to add false ones of his own to the mix had been detrimental to say the least. When he didn't had nightmares about Renaissance Italy or the Third Crusade, he was seeing the dead body of a brother he never had, or comforting his widow that had been his girlfriend at some point. Or he was fretting over the danger his best friend had found herself in or joking with his apprentice at the bar. Or proposing to the blond angel that had somewhat saved his life from sorrow and pain. He was reliving relationships and emotions that never belonged to him in the first place, but unlike with what he had seen of Altaïr's or Ezio's memories, it was even more difficult to compartmentalize. After all, he was seeing those faces on a regular basis in this world now.
Groaning, Desmond ran a hand through his hair, now back to their rather short clipped cut. Trying as hard as he could to push away the memories of the past week, he reached for his mug, taking a sip out of it with a small frown. Not thinking about the week before might become easy with time, but now how was he supposed to react and act around the people he had considered his family or friends or co-workers?
Where: Small coffee house in Somni's Shopping district
Style: Starts in third, but I'll match!
Status: OPEN!!!! I'd love to consolidate any of the CR he got during the AU event, but everyone is welcome to hit him!
Warnings: As per usual with Des, may content language
Within the soft atmosphere of the coffee house, only a few blocks away from his burned club, Desmond was sitting at a table, a cup of steaming coffee barely a few inches from the edges of the table, the blue prints of his club taking up all of the space of the table he had been able to secure. But even though he had been staring at the plans for an hour now, he couldn't recall where the architect had placed the main bar, nor where the booth to sit were now or how large the new dance floor would be. No, because even though his eyes were glued to the papers in front of him, his mind was miles away.
It had been hard enough to block memories from his ancestors ever since he had started to get into the Animus, but to add false ones of his own to the mix had been detrimental to say the least. When he didn't had nightmares about Renaissance Italy or the Third Crusade, he was seeing the dead body of a brother he never had, or comforting his widow that had been his girlfriend at some point. Or he was fretting over the danger his best friend had found herself in or joking with his apprentice at the bar. Or proposing to the blond angel that had somewhat saved his life from sorrow and pain. He was reliving relationships and emotions that never belonged to him in the first place, but unlike with what he had seen of Altaïr's or Ezio's memories, it was even more difficult to compartmentalize. After all, he was seeing those faces on a regular basis in this world now.
Groaning, Desmond ran a hand through his hair, now back to their rather short clipped cut. Trying as hard as he could to push away the memories of the past week, he reached for his mug, taking a sip out of it with a small frown. Not thinking about the week before might become easy with time, but now how was he supposed to react and act around the people he had considered his family or friends or co-workers?