#evelyn: general

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emmelina is known, to those who have an actual head for politics, to be the best hope for a better rule if she can be put on the throne. HOWEVER, the common people of her kingdom don't really know much about her. she has spent nearly every moment of her life within the walls of the palace, her outdoor time spent in enclosed gardens and courtyards. to them, she's likely just as spoiled and indulgent as the rest of them, nothing more than another rotten branch of the royal family tree. evelyn becomes her only true method of communication with the outside world, and it is only when her cousin arrives in court that she begins to see there could be a way to fix what's broken, to make a difference, to communicate with people outside the palace walls. it is only after evelyn arrives that she is able to - - slowly - - begin to make inroads with the commoners of her land, a path that's as dangerous for her as it is difficult. there is no small amount of ill will built up toward the royal family, particularly in the palace's immediate environs. there are those who would rather see her dead or held for random than vying for a crown, and it's difficult to know who to trust.

[evelynaiart]

[eternalremorse]

I. AM. SCREAMING!!!

LOOK AT THEM!! SO BLOODY CUTE!!

[made using vidu.studio]

[firelise]

Film & TV I Think About A Lot » Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022) dir. The Daniels

"How on earth did you do it? How did you let me go?"

[ultimatemilvesbracket]

TESTIMONIALS

"She's in every universe. She saved the multiverse. All by learning to accept her daughter, husband, and herself. She's everything. Everywhere. All at once. And she's played by Michelle Yeoh."

"When she was flirting with a shapeshifter and he was saying they were too different to be together and said 'Every 16 hours, I turn into a liquid,' she just shrugged and said 'I can swim."

[perplexingly]

I'm on the last chapter of The Last Man, and hm... Mary Shelley wanted to write gay romance real bad huh

[hiemaldesirae]

picked up this book called 'murder your employee: the mcmasters guide to homicide vol 1' from my local bookstore and . Hmmm. am i hearing murder academy radiostatic au... (<- delusional)

quick rundown of the books setting (time period vaguely 1950s, before 1962 at the latest) is that there's this murder academy (i say that but its closer to a uni than a boarding school which is typically what i think of when i read academy) open to applicants of all ages to train their students to murder. the admissions fee is an extremely high price, but regular people can enter in via sponsorships (like scholarships, sort of, but its more like a specific rich person sponsoring the candidate). the students don't operate on a regular year by year schedule because 1) no one knows where the school is and thus cannot always tell even what season it is much less the month 2) students are informed of their graduation basically the day of, when the faculty decides theyre ready to leave and complete their thesis project (AKA the murder). anyway its a very fun book and so of course i had to be insane about its premise

For what it was worth, Alastor hadn't meant at all to end up studying at the Hazbin Institution for Homicide Practitioners.

Which, in fairness, was just a fancier way of saying that he hadn't meant to get caught.

It had been a situation entirely out of his control. For whatever reason, that night, the swamp had been especially difficult to navigate- even alone, much less with a bloodied and battered body slung over his shoulder, he's quite certain it would have been a struggle to work his way around the place. And while that had never been a problem the few dozen or so times he'd made the trek before (granted, they were without the actual body in his hands, but it didn't make much of a difference when he'd been carrying heavy sacks of sand to offset the weight), there was an unfortunate caveat in his plan.

He hadn't banked on being seen and followed by a truly infuriating pair of 'detectives' (though surely whatever idea they'd held of a detective was truly and fully siphoned from one of those insipid moving pictures his dear Mimzy was ever so obsessed with), and he hadn't expected to be offered a spot as a student at this... interesting facility.

The smiley man sitting in front of him nods emphatically as Alastor finishes his little cajoling speech. The nametag on his black and red suitjacket reads Dean Morningstar, and a half-poured cup of brandy sits on the side of his table. Alastor eyes the alcohol with interest, if only because looking anywhere else in the room might make him lose composure and attack the bothersome man sitting across from him.

"So, then... Mr. Hartfelt, is it true that your next target was to be your father?"

Alastor narrows his eyes at the dean. The room's atmosphere seems to drop as he holds his gaze, both of them wearing smiles that convey vastly different emotions. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're referring to."

Of course, such a lousy comeback isn't tantamount to a proper argument (unless you're the type who enjoys messing with people, which Alastor is in all moments except this one) and the dean smiles when he realizes Alastor's slip up.

"See, you have an extremely generous patron backing you on your goal... not only to take down your father, who, by the way, seems to owe you quite a lot, considering your less than stellar upbringing and childhood, so good luck with that one, but also in relation to the other bodies that have been found half-submerged in the swamp." The little devil smiles merrily. "Sorry about that one, by the way. But we had to be sure you were a good candidate for our very highly revered course list. I mean... your sponsor is paying a lot of money to see you succeed, so... we had to be pretty thorough. Again, sorry, but it's just standard protocol."

Alastor clenches his jaw, feeling his eye twitch. He'd more or less tuned out whatever else Dean Morningstar had said after he admitted to resurfacing the already weeks old bodies in the swamp- Alastor's very first targets- as a means of... assessing him, apparently. "So you're the reason the bodies have started turning up in the bayou...?"

"Not entirely," Dean Morningstar shrugs, providing no further context. "In any case, this is sort-of a caught with pants down situation, I think. You don't have many options, Mr. Hartfelt. Either you stay as a student, or we let the truth out- and let your mother know first, before getting rid of you."

He grins sunnily at Alastor. "What will it be, young man?"

So, that was that.

Following that conversation (blackmailing session) Alastor finds himself being the unwitting recipient of a campus guide by the dean himself, who, despite his short stature and seemingly accomodating personality, had already managed to make himself an enemy in the form of one (1) incredibly vexed young radio host slash serial killer in the making.

"...And that's the Music Hall, where my vice-dean and most beloved wife holds her concerts and lectures on Murder, as a Fine Arts- you may notice the ingenious references there to one Mr. Thomas De Quincey, the famed opium eater of the 1800s London..." Alastor turns a blind eye to the dean as the man just kept on talking, choosing instead to focus on the surroundings instead of the urge to strangle the annoyance beside him.

The trip to the Hazbin Institution for Homicide Practitioners- a mouthful and an incredibly unnecessary one at that- had been less a trip to a school and more like a kidnapping, in which Alastor had been more or less blackmailed into going with the two detectives who'd found him in the bayou that day and then drugged to high hell from some sort of tampered liquor, then promptly deposited in front of the school gates and almost fed broken glass twice before nearly being poisoned and then having to sit through another blackmailing session with the Dean (the guy who'd tried to poison him in the first place). So... all in all, a rather unpleasant experience on his end.

Still, the scenery almost made up for it.

The campus was almost the size of his town back home, and towering gothic buildings from before his time populated the grounds. Signs in different languages were littered around the campus grounds, and exotic foliage grew in just the right places to make the patchwork of cobbled streets and oddly vintage buildings look uniform.

"Oh, Vox! How are you this afternoon?"

Alastor's attention is drawn back to the dean as the man greets a young man dressed in formal evening attire, complete with a pocket square boutonniere and sleek black gloves. The man in question has short-ish black hair, tied back into a small ponytail with a deep blue ribbon, and two striking eyes: one a glassy larimar blue and the other the deep brown of axinite gems. Alastor finds himself regarding the other while he and the dean make simple conversation. Something about him strikes him as familiar, though he can't quite put a finger on it exactly. "Going to the Music Hall, I presume?"

"That would be correct, Sir," Vox inclines his head respectfully. "Professor Leviathan asked us to dress for the occasion, since we would be doing another ballroom class."

"Ballroom class?" Alastor raises an eyebrow, and the man startles, seemingly not having noticed he was there. Rather inept for an assassin-to-be, Alastor frowns. Were these really the sorts of students they were training? Pretty-faced civilians knowing nothing of killing, who dressed up in evening gather for afternoon classes?

"A-ah, yes..." Vox looks off to the side, seemingly nervous. His cheeks redden slightly, like a child caught in the act of stealing candy. "Uh. You're new here, right? I haven't seen you around before..."

"He is," Dean Morningstar confirms, beaming. "Just arrived this morning, with a very generous sponsor backing him. In fact, he's going to be rooming at Pride House because of the sponsor!"

"Oh, is that so?"

Vox's easy confidence seems to come back to him as he turns to Alastor, seemingly mollified by the Dean's interference. Something inside of Alastor wants to see the man nervous again, if only because the uneasy approach of the man with the gemstone eyes reminded him of the shaky-footed does he would fake out during hunts. "Well, in that case, we might be roommates. It's nice to meet you, Mister...?"

"Hartfelt. Alastor Hartfelt," Dean Morningstar says before Alastor can introduce himself, smiling even when Alastor directs a glare at the man. "He's quite the upstart, I'll have you know- Hell, I think he may have set more fires on his first day here than you did!"

Vox chuckles awkwardly, a reaction that has Alastor's eyebrows raising with curiosity. "Well, I'd sure hope not. I really wouldn't want to cause Professor Leviathan any more trouble than we already have. He deserves a bit of a break from troublemakers like us, I'd say."

While Alastor is... okay, not really all that sure what exactly Dean Morningstar was referring to with 'fires started'- in his case, they were all non literal, considering his first arrival here had ended with him on the wrong end of a shotgun (its irony was not lost to him now, three hours later and standing in the middle of what looked to be a town square plucked straight out of Vienna's bustling populace despite the fact that they were in a location completely unknown to the rest of the world)... but whatever this man had done... it intrigued him, especially given Vox's reaction to it.

"Anyway..." Vox smiles once more, inclining his head in a bow. "I really do have to get going now. If I don't, I'm afraid I may be late, and Professor Asmodeus always picks on the latecomers to answer questions first."

"Ah, we won't keep you any longer, then," Dean Morningstar agrees genially. "Have a good afternoon, Mister Vanhal!"

"You too, Dean Morningstar, Mister Hartfelt," Vox bows once more, before turning off and heading in the direction of the Music Hall. Alastor regards the other man's retreating silhouette carefully.

"Is there something you want to say, young man?" Dean Morningstar snaps him out of his reverie, covering the faint smirk on his face with a gloved hand.

While Alastor wishes he could simply meet the other with simple derision, there is a question he had been meaning to ask. "What was the evening get up for?"

Dean Morningstar shrugs, but there's a glint of something Alastor doesn't quite like in his eyes. "Why don't you go and ask Vox yourself, if you're so interested?"

"...I'm surprised your staff haven't tried to murder you yet," Alastor responds shortly. He's much too tired and frustrated to entertain the man, and- well, frankly put, his mind is a little distracted at the moment at the thought of the man with the mismatched eyes.

Dean Morningstar laughs. "They're certainly welcome to try, as are you. After all, you're now a student of the Hazbin Instution for Homicide Practitioners- and we pride ourselves on our hands-on, engaging curriculum. Hopefully, your sponsor finds what they're looking for by sending you here."

"Hopefully," Alastor agrees. After all, there's nothing else to say: from here on out, it seems to be do or die.

Student Report written with input and conference from Dean Lucifer Morningstar

Student: Alastor Hartfelt, 29 years old, Sponsor

Sponsor: [REDACTED]

To the esteemed and generous sponsor of one Mister Alastor Hartfelt,

Enclosed is a report of your charge's first day at our esteemed institution. Please dispose of this report as soon as you are finished reading it for privacy insurances. We at the Hazbin Institution for Homicide Practitioners thank you for your interest and your patronage.

Sincerely, Dean Lucifer Morningstar.

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emmelina is like. by all accounts everything a princess should be. evelyn is her mostly-feral cousin who is also her one and only real lady-in-waiting (it's a long story).

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of the two cousins, emmelina is known for her kindness and beauty, Evelyn is known for her sharp tongue and her boldness

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EMMELINA "LINA" DELACOURT & EVELYN MONTANE:

once upon a time, in lands far away, two baby girls were born to two very different families linked by blood. in the south, a princess was greeted with a week of feasting and dancing (while a nurse tended the celebrated child). in the north, a family gathered to pass a bundled baby around from arm to arm, whispering words of love.

the princess, emmelina, was born to a a kingdom in decline although none of the nobles seemed to know it. the sole child and only heir, she grew up in a drafty palace secretly crumbling into the sea, while the only attention paid to its upkeep went to new paint and new tapestries, embroidered hangings. revels seemed a near constant in the palace, which the royals rarely left. feasting and dancing, great masques, concerts for the newest most celebrated players.

meanwhile, outside the palace halls, whispers of dissent were building as the common people struggled, crime ever on the rise in city streets the royals didn't care to keep safe.

emmelina grew up a lonely child, and then a worried young woman whose attempts to make her parents see reason fell on ears that would not hear her.

meanwhile, the struggles in the kingdom were not unknown to the north. nominally ruled by the palace in the south, the north was governed by the brother of the king - - - and a much more peaceful place. the lord and lady had been watching with mounting concern as the lands in the south crumbled. what had begun a slow shift of pebbles was swiftly becoming a landslide, but there was hope to be found. emmelina was known to have a good head on her shoulders, and her uncle hoped she would be a better queen than her parents before her.

to be sure, he sent his daughter to find out.

evelyn montane, the princess's cousin, arrived in court with her sharp tongue and a scowl, expecting to dislike every bit of it - - including her cousin. emmelina was the only thing that surprised her. the two became fast friends, a balance of emmelina's courtly grace and poise and evelyn's sharp tongue, lina's diplomacy and evelyn's boldness.

evelyn wrote back to her family often, and through her letters hope for a better future grew. but that hope could only be sustained if the kingdom survived to see lina on the throne.

no one wants a bloody coup, much less one between families. so while the girls survived each day in the crumbling castle by the sea, trying to stop up every leaking gap they could on their own, the king's uncle set to work to try to find a way to peacefully pass the crown from his brother to his niece as soon as possible.

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depending on preferences, i can and will absolutely write BOTH emmelina and evelyn in meme replies, threads, etc. "canonically," so to speak, they'd be together a good amount of the time, so it can pretty much always make sense. (if interacting with two muses at once is overwhelming, this also does not NEED to happen - -they're individual characters and can of course be written separately. it's entirely optional.)

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emmelina is the heir apparent to her parents' throne, and evelyn IS in the line of succession. it would go from lina to her younger sister in the event that lina never had any children, and then from there would pass to evelyn's branch of the family. evelyn wouldn't be the first in that family to inherit (that would likely be her father or her elder brother), but the branches are close enough that she does factor in. there has never been the kind of discord between the two branches of the family that would cause any vying over a throne. there are no plots within evelyn's family to take the crown from emmelina's, though they don't make it a secret that they would prefer lina on the throne sooner rather than later, thinking her parents unfit to rule (spoiler alert: they are). the girls always got along well, though they didn't see very much of each other until evelyn came to court (her family's home isn't terribly far by distance, but the journey is challenging). they've become closer since then, though they can tend to butt heads. for all of their differences they're both very stubborn and have their own ideas of what the right thing to do is in any given situation. evelyn isn't one to back down from her opinion simply because her cousin is a princess, and emmelina isn't one to let go if she thinks she's right.

[pathstread]

nan and bee once said that my rp types were "feral gremlin women and virgos" and i said "you know what, you're right" and that's how we got evelyn (feral gremlin woman) and emmelina (virgo).

[evelynaiart]

[evelynaiart]

[evelynaiart]