#also this doesn’t mention the times that Phoenix is MUCH HARDER to read than edgeworth bc of his incredible repression skills

[possesseddog]

everything abt phoenix and edgeworth makes it seem like edgeworth is Cool and Composed while phoenix is on the urge of a mental breakdown at all times, and while that is true about phoenix, I think it needs to be said that edgeworth is equally flappable. he gets startled in court and does the shinji chair meme standing up. he feels one emotion and visibly sweats. man is not Easy to read but he is like a small dog in the way that you can tell when he is distressed

[askaceattorney]

Dear Anonymous,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: Unfortunately, you are anonymous, so I wouldn’t be able to know if I tried remembering. If it was a Holiday Letter, then it’s likely saved and will be answered for the next Holiday. If it was a normal letter, I wouldn’t remember any letter I answered around July. I can only say that two things might’ve happened if it was deleted. 

Either I deleted it by accident, which rarely happens but I’d be lying if I said I never accidentally deleted a letter before. Either that or you went over the number of letters you’re allowed to write. If you wrote over five letters that day, that is likely what had happened. If not, then it was likely deleted by accident. To that, I deeply apologize. I would try posting it again, if you can remember it.

(Referenced Letter)

Dear Charicla,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: This is the same guy that keeps blaming Edgeworth for not telling him about the Updated Autopsy Report, even though it was Gumshoe’s job to update him on that. If I earned a dime for every time Phoenix thinks or says something stupid, I’d be richer than Miles Edgeworth and Barok van Zieks combined.

With all of that said, I must also mention that if a report is made to the Police Department, even if it is ignored, that doesn’t mean Gumshoe will ignore it. Phoenix was likely thinking that had Apollo showed the police, Gumshoe would know as the Homicide Detective. 

Dear Miraz van Nohrr,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: I know I normally have the characters state they don’t know what you’re talking about if you don’t show the link to the previous letter you’re following up, but that’s because I literally do not remember. I have Autism, but I doubt I’d ever remember a mod letter you sent around February or March 1. Not to mention searching in the archives of old letters is too much trouble than it’s worth. Please paste a URL to the previous letter.

(Three Referenced Letters)

Dear Anonymous,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: Yes and no. News Reports don’t need to be signed, since they’re reading from a Newspaper or a magazine on the News.

As for a stranger from the gallery speaking, you need to look at it from different angles. First, they’re reading an actual letter, not an article or Newspaper. Second, Phoenix and Edgeworth are two different characters. Phoenix doesn’t think when under pressure, while Edgeworth is a genius that always thinks under pressure. He only messes up when he gets too cocky, thus why in AAI when he gets the wrong answer, he’s always smug and overconfident. Third, Phoenix is getting a letter from a child, who doesn’t know how to write letters, while Edgeworth is getting a letter from a supposed adult stranger. 

I will say that when it comes to Phoenix, you do know how to write letters to him from other characters that act OOC without him knowing, but that is because putting Phoenix in court puts him in a situation where he’s liable to mess up. Edgeworth doesn’t mess up in court. In fact, he’s at his strongest and sound-of-mind when on trial. Sure, he might have some funny responses here and there, but he’s going to be harder to fool with letters from random gallery members that are acting stupid or characters acting OOC. 

If you want Edgeworth to easily fall for a character being OOC or a stranger sending him a letter without signing a name, you need to place him in a situation where he’s liable to mess up in AAI. Those would be times of confrontation when he’s questioned and is expected to answer on the spot, being he’s introverted and gets exhausted when being confronted. Overthinking things is another way Edgeworth messes up, being he gets anxious due to his PTSD. Trials are not the best places for Edgeworth to mess up, since that’s where he’s at his strongest, much like Phoenix would be at his strongest when he investigates and gathers witness testimonies. This is not including the magatama, since Phoenix is questioning the witnesses, not vice versa like with Edgeworth. 

So yes, if you want to write letters of people from the gallery or any canon character acting OOC and stupid to other characters with said characters falling for them, you have to put them in a situation where the character IC would fall for it. Knowing you, I’m sure you can do it.

(Referenced Letter)

Dear Charicla,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: Outside of suggesting you inform me in the comments like Jeffrey did, the only reason I haven’t or won’t change it is because I have talked to Modthorne and she likes it like this. 

If you saw I messed up on answering a letter, but like it just the way it is, you can ask me to not change it and I won’t. But also, I do talk with Modthorne on Discord. If she wanted me to change a letter I messed up on, she can just ask me on Discord.

Dear Charicla,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: I don’t think you did, but if you did, I probably already deleted it around March 4th and just don’t remember.

Dear Anonymous,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: AH!

.....

Did you say something?

Co-Mod: Stop turning people into e--!

(Source)

Dear Anonymous,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: I consider Simon Keyes the most complex villain in my opinion. He was a victim with the shortest end of the stick that became evil, because he learned to not trust anyone. He’s the kind of villain that you find it hard not to defend, if only because you know he didn’t have any good person to turn to for help.

Co-Mod: Yanni Yogi comes to mind.  He was also dealt a cruel hand, carrying several heavy burdens for 15 years.  He claims that he has no regrets after being found out as a killer, but I find that hard to believe considering how little he had to gain from what he did.  Much like Simon and von Karma, I can’t condone his actions, but I also can’t help but feel some amount of pity for him.

Dear Ronald,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: All of us current mods, including Co-Mod, are from the states.

Co-Mod: I’m from the Bluegrass State, specifically.

While she’s no longer here, it so happens the Modthorne is from Canada.  (Which might explain how friendly she is.)

Dear Anonymous,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: It’s Chief now, but I’m glad you loved it. I worked very hard on it. I’ll answer this in the best way I can, consider it’s lengthy.

For your first point, I was talking about if Kristoph created the diary entree before or after being fired. Phoenix’s entrance had nothing to do with it. Considering how cautious Zak was being, I was convinced that it didn’t matter if Phoenix or Grossberg was the replacement attorney. Either way, I’d like to believe it is up for interpretation.

I honestly can’t see a reason Kristoph would cheat against his little brother, considering Klavier was new and trusted his brother. If Kristoph said the guy was innocent, Klavier would believe him wholeheartedly. If anything, it seemed more like that diary entree wasn’t created until after Kristoph was fired at some point. However, whether or not it was before or after being fired is up for interpretation, so if you believe it is before, I won’t say you’re wrong. It is very possible. I just don’t personally see a motivation for why Kristoph would be so caught up in a win if the killer could’ve been Valent just as much as it could’ve been Zak. 

As for Phoenix thinking of Kristoph as his friend despite having set him up with forged evidence, he has befriended killers and forgers before. Godot had killed someone and Iris had helped two killers. Let’s not forget Edgeworth had forgery in his reputation for quite a long time. Let’s also not forget that Larry had stolen Edgeworth’s lunch money, which set Phoenix up for being blamed for it in school. Phoenix has never been above befriending those that have made mistakes or killed. Zak was not a good man and Phoenix was literally calling the cops on him at the same time Kristoph attacked and killed Zak. So yes, Phoenix did reveal the truth about Kristoph in court, but he does this with all his friends. He literally dragged Datz and Larry to court on two separate occasions because they were involved in some shady stuff. 

The proof of Phoenix considering Kristoph a friend is in the images in the essay when Phoenix said, “After that, he was killed. And I asked you to help me, because I remembered your kindness back when everyone had turned on me.” Phoenix originally was calling for Kristoph’s help after Zak’s murder, because he remembered how kind Kristoph was when everyone turned on him. Phoenix is like that. He gravitates towards people that are kind to him at times when he least expects it. Not only that, but he befriends those kind of people. It was only once he saw the evidence that Kristoph murdered Zak that Phoenix changed his defense attorney to Apollo. As for if Phoenix ended Kristoph’s friendship the moment Kristoph became a murderer or after Drew Misham was killed is up for interpretation. I could go for either one. However, it is not in Phoenix’s nature to fake any friendship, considering how much he hates betrayal. AJ already makes Phoenix hypocritical with forgery, but faking a friendship would be the worst character assassination for Phoenix Wright imo.

With all of that said, I love Kristoph as a villain and I enjoyed AJ a lot. It was a great game with great characters and story. Sure, it’s not perfect and is Guilty of some serious character assassinations, but it’s solid overall. Thank you for your support. 

(Previous Letter)

Dear Charicla,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: Oh, I see now. My apologies. I’ve fixed it.

It’s hard to tell if this is for us mods or just responding to the character in the letter when you send a letter that doesn’t show who it’s being sent to. Not to mention for a letter informing us that we didn’t place any signature, I’d prefer it be told to us through the comment section of the post.

- The Mods

[browniefox]

Color Theory

@wrightfamilyweek Day 2 - Investigation/Hijinks

In which an anniversary is coming up, so Trucy makes some plans.

You can also find this on AO3 right here :)

“Have fun at work, Daddy!”

Trucy runs up to Daddy and hugs him around the stomach. He kisses the top of his head.

“Mmhm, I expect your homework to be done and you to be in bed by the time I get home, alright? No exceptions!"

“Of course!”

“And no trips to Germany, alright? I’m sure you can hold off for another few months.” Daddy teases. Trucy sticks his tongue out at him and he ruffles her hair before going out the door. In a few months, she is going to actually get to go with Daddy on one of his trips to see Miles, a reconnection between the two of them since Trucy's own little trip a year ago.

As the door closes, Trucy runs over to the window and waits until she sees Daddy riding down the street on his bike, officially out of the building. Her homework is already done, most of it finished during class time and the rest of it finished up during recess and on her way home from school. Walking while writing had made her numbers come out a little odd, but it didn’t matter, because now she had hours and hours of time to work.

She stops by the fridge, staring up at the calendar. It’s four weeks away from the date circled in red, and two weeks from the date that sits ominously empty. It’s plenty of time, though.

Trucy makes a lap around the office, double-checking that the windows are locked just like Daddy does every time before leaving. Everything seems safe and sound, so she grabs her backpack and leaves, making sure she has the spare key and locking the door behind her. Daddy won’t be home until late, but she’s still going to make care to be home with plenty of time to spare. The meer idea of putting him through the same fear of last year sits in her chest like a promise.

It’s a few bus-stops to get to Gummy and Maggey’s house. They’re both out at the moment, so Trucy finds the spare key in the fake rock and lets herself in. She’s spent a lot of time over here by now, and the couple has spent alot of time over at the office, the big and towering man she’d met at the airport transforming into a familiar and lovable family friend.

She skips over to the closet, pulling out the supplies stuck in there. Streamers and confetti, magic wands and fake flowers, tumbling out from where Gummy had helped her shove them in last time. She looks down at the supplies and begins organizing it into the different acts that they’re associated with. There’s a lot of pieces, a lot to get over to the Wonder Bar eventually. Keeping so much of it over here makes it harder to practice back at home, but that’s kind of the point, even if it’s really annoying.

Gummy and Maggie came home after an hour, setting their things down and chatting about their day while Gummy starts dinner. The smell fills the house, warm and comforting. Trucy likes the Gumshoe house. It’s not too big, but not too small either. Gummy and Maggey used to clean it up before she came over, but they’ve stopped making that special little change for her, and so she gets to see it all lived in, a sock strewn here, a few dishes left out, pillows lying wherever they were last placed. Small things that make the place not a house but a home. She’s never had a home like this one, and oh there are sometimes where she’ll be lying on the couch and imagine what it would be like to stay here.

She knows she could.

Daddy has made it clear that if she ever felt dissatisfied with the cramped office, with him, all she has to do was say something. Gummy and Maggey have mentioned, before, that they’d be willing to take her in if anything ever happened to Daddy. Gummy had laughed about all the sorts of injuries Daddy tended to accrue, recounting a story about Daddy getting amnesia before a case - Trucy knew that one, she’d read it a bit ago.

Trucy doesn’t want to leave the cramped little office.

After dinner, Trucy uses Gummy’s phone. Gummy and Maggey know how to set up her stuff for a performance by now - they’ve already agreed to be her stage crew for the performance. While they’re doing that, Trucy calls up Aunty Maya.

“How’s my favorite magician doing?” Maya answers, and Trucy can hear the smile in her voice.

“Working on her next trick.” Trucy replies. Maya makes a humming sound.

“Well, things are going well on our end over here. Are you sure about the color? You don’t want to go darker?” Maya asked.

“Nope! It’s, well, there’s a reason for the shade.” Trucy says. She can hear Maya hum in understanding over the receiver.

“Well, I’m almost finished with it, although I’ll probably come up soon just to make sure everything is right. Pearly says hi, by the way.”

“Oh! Is she there?! Is she there?! Hi Pearls!” Trucy shouts over the phone and gets a distant and soft ‘hi Trucy!’.

“When I come down I’ll bring Pearly with me, don’t worry. If I didn’t,she might just run the whole way over there anyway!” Maya laughs and Trucy laughs along.

“If everything’s working out, then I’m gonna have to go. I need to make sure the rest of the show is ready to go!” Trucy says.

“Alright, alright, just say you’re afraid I’m going to start prattling on about the new season of Rubber Samurai. But you know there-”

“Love you Aunty Maya bye!” Trucy hits the end call button still chuckling to herself. She hopes that Aunty Maya makes true on her promise to come back down and to bring Pearls before the big day, but if she doesn’t then Trucy guesses she can wait that long, even if it’ll be agonizing.

She stares at the next number for a long long while before finally hitting the call button.

The phone rings once, twice, three times before he picks up.

“Gumshoe, this had better be fucking import-”

“Hi, Miles!” Trucy chirps. There’s silence on the other end.

“... who is this?” Miles grumbles.

“Trucy Wright!”

“Trucy?!” Miles sounds a little more awake now.

“Yup!”

“Ms. Trucy… why are you calling me at… three in the morning?” Miles groans.

“Th… three in the… OH!” Trucy gasps, feeling her face flush in embarrassment. She’d completely forgotten to take into account time differences. “Oh my god, Miles, I’m so sorry, it’s pretty late here and-”

“It’s, it’s fine Ms. Trucy. Just tell me what you were calling about… from Gumshoe’s phone? Is your father alright?” Worry creeps into Miles voice.

“Oh, yes, Daddy’s fine! Daddy’s just at work right now, and I went over to Gummy and Maggey’s! We had spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, and then we’re gonna play a card game, and then Gummy is gonna drive me back to the office ‘cause it’s all dark now!” Trucy says.

“Ms. Trucy, I don’t mean to sound rude, but again, it is three a.m. here…” Miles sighs.

“Right! Right, um… Mr. Edgeworth, do you think you could help me with a little something.”

“I’m going to need a bit more information than that.”

Trucy rattles off her little plan into the phone. Miles stays silent for the entire explanation, only grunting here and there to assure her that he is still awake and listening on the other end.

“... this is very short notice.” Miles says.

“Oh,” Says Trucy, looking down at her feet, “Well, that’s okay, I’m sure together, the rest of us-”

“I never said I wouldn’t do it, just that next time you’re planning something like This, please, tell me about it a little more ahead of time.”

“Okay! Yeah! Next time! And this time… you can do it?” She double checks.

“Yes, you can count on me, Ms. Trucy.”

“Thank you! Um, I’ll let you get back to sleep, thank you!”

Trucy skips back into the kitchen, where Gummy and Maggey have set up a board game. She still has her show to practice a bit more, and even now thinking about it she’s a little nervous, but she’s found she’s more excited. It’s coming together.

oOo

“Please, Daddy, please, come and see my show tonight? Pleaseeeee?”

Phoenix lets out a long sigh. Trucy is bouncing around in excitement in front of him. She’s already done her stage makeup, and he’d helped her put little weaving braids into her hair. Most of it will be covered up by her hat, but there are usually moments during the performance where the hat comes off, and so she needs to look amazing no matter what’s going on. Phoenix is fine to help her with this, but on today of all days, all he wants to do is sit in his office, read through old case files, and mourn what he has lost.

He was disbarred two years ago. That both feels like too much and not enough time. For the most part, he likes to think that he’s been coping with it well. He’s been working, and raising Trucy, and he’s had some other little things in the works, but on today of all days, it’s so hard to focus and not feel the ache of what was taken from him, of what he’s lost, of those who have come to his door in the past couple years looking for help and having to be turned away.

“Trucy, baby,” Phoenix starts, trying to let her down easy, but Trucy stomps her foot.

“No, Daddy, please, just, just come? To the show? Please?” She begs.

She’s been 'off' all week, too quiet and then too talkative in bursts that serve to confuse Phoenix. Now, there’s something almost akin to fear in her eyes, and it tugs at Phoenix’s heartstrings.

“Alright, sweetie, let me just,” He looks down at himself, still in sweatpants and a hoodie. He’d meant to get dressed today, but even now he’s struggling to find the energy to get into something better, and eventually he just says lamely, “Put some shoes on.”

He gets a pair of beat-up sneakers on and walks outside with Trucy, who is still vibrating with energy. He considers for a moment that perhaps he should buy a new pair of shoes, but then he sees Trucy’s cape, starting to look thread-bare in places and sitting so much shorter on her than it did two years ago. It used to fall to cover her almost completely in a mysterious sort of way, but now you can see her entire hands. Trucy has told him before it’d be fine, her cape had been too long anyway, but maybe he should start to consider how to get her something new and nice. Things for himself could be put off as long as they needed to be.

The ride down to the Wonder Bar is quiet between them, Trucy sitting on his handlebars with careful balance. The first five times they did it, Phoenix had been worried about her falling off or something, but now it was routine if they had anywhere they both had to be and didn’t have the time to puzzle through bus schedules or the budget for a taxi.

Phoenix recognizes some of the people in the Wonder Bar, and Mr. Wunderbar himself comes over and greets.

“Ah, Ms. Wright, so glad to see you! Your assistants are already backstage.” Mr. Wunderbar says. Phoenix’s brow furrows.

“Assistants? You mean the your staff?” Phoenix asks.

“Alright thanks Mr. Wunderbar Daddy find a seat love you bye!” Trucy says in one breath and runs over to the stage.

“This way, Mr. Wright. Trucy asked that we have a table upfront reserved just for you.” Mr. Wunderbar leads the way to one of the tables close to the stage, which does indeed have a a ‘Reserved’ marker on it. Phoenix feels suddenly self conscious in his outfit. He’d been planning to sit in the back, where nobody could see him, and he feels like everybody in the bar, waiting for Trucy to perform, are staring at him.

Mr. Wunderbar took his order and then slipped away. Phoenix drumms his fingers on the table, a cowardice sweeping through him with such force that he almost gets up and walks away. Something odd is going on, and it's making him even more nervous.

“Oh good, Trucy was really worried you wouldn’t show up.”

Phoenix jumps at the familiar voice, and spins around to see Maya and Pearls.

“Wh- hey, what are you two doing here?!” Phoenix jumps up and hugs both of them, “And especially what’s Pearls doing in here?”

“Mr. Wunderbar says that so long as nobody at our table orders drinks, he’ll allow it this once.” Maya says, sitting down, and Pearls sits on the other side of Phoenix, sandwiching him between the Fey’s.

“But why are you two-”

“Now Nick, do you really think we’d let you spend today on your own to mope?” Maya sets her hands on her hips. Phoenix looks away. He doesn’t point out that they didn’t last year, because it’s not their responsibility to look after him. Maya has her own life she’s living. She had texted and called him, though, regularly, throughout the day, at random intervals. She threatened that if he didn’t pick up any of the times, she’d be coming over right way, “I’ll admit, though, clearly we came mostly to see Trucy perform. Right Pearls?”

“Yeah! She’s so amazing, Mr. Nick! And we also had to bring the-” Pearls starts to say, but Maya puts a finger to her lips and shushes Pearls, who’s mouth slams shut.

“... alright, enough of this, what’s going on?” Phoenix asks more plainly.

“So she still hasn’t seen fit to tell you yet?”

And then, slipping into the fourth seat at the table, is Miles. Miles, in California, in the flesh, in the Wonderbar.

“M-Miles! What are you doing here?”

“Your daughter had a simple request, and I obliged.” Miles sniffs, “You look,” Miles regards Phoenix and Phoenix looks away, wishing he’d brought something to cover his head as well, “Alright, all things considered.” He ends.

“No need to sugar coat it, Miles.” Phoenix laughs bitterly.

“I’m not. You seem to forget you’re not the only one who has gone through some trying times.”

Before Phoenix can formulate anything to say to that, the lights in the bar dim. The curtain lifts, but there’s a sheet behind it, so that all once can see of Trucy is her silhouette.

“Now introducing… Trucy Gramraye!” The announcer booms, and there’s some applause, even though nothing’s happened yet, Trucy still not seen.

“There are times that we, in life, come to a crossroads,” Trucy’s voice booms through the speakers over a mystical sounding soundtrack, “ Where we our lives take sudden changes.”

Oh, Phoenix thinks, heart plummeting to the bottom of his stomach, a theory forming in his mind, She wanted me here for her Last Show. Did something happen that made her want to stop being a magician? He’s tried to be supportive, even though he’s had some trouble keeping track of the supplies she needs, and how to help her out, with her teaching him far more than he can possibly teach her about this stuff. He’s offered to get in touch with Max Galactica, but Trucy had made it plain her opinion of that magician.

“Sometimes, you need to say things. And sometimes actions - and appreances - speak louder than words.”

Phoenix almost wants to stand up, to shout at her that no, he doesn’t want her to give up her magic just because she thinks it’s going to make him happy, but he’s frozen in his seat as the sheet of paper hiding his daughter from view is torn through and fog comes rolling out… but she’s not there.

In a puff of smoke, Trucy appears on top of his table. She winks down at him, the spot light finding her.

Her red hat and cape and bag are all gone, replaced by pale blue versions. New, lovingly crafted, and Trucy puts her hands above her head in a pose.

“I am Trucy Gramarye, but your little witch in red is now a magician in blue. Sorry if I startled anybody by coming… out of the blue like that?” Trucy says. She smiles, twirls around, and in another puff of smoke she’s gone. The room goes dark.

The spotlight finds her back on the stage, still in the strange blue uniform.

“Wh-what- when did she-”

“You know, in Kurain, we have to make all our own clothes.” Maya says with a mischievous little smirk.

“You mean you-”

“She wanted to put together something to make sure you weren’t too sad today.” Maya explains, smiling.

Phoenix does his best not to cry so that he doesn’t miss any bit of the show.

When it’s done, Mr. Wunderbar brings over another chair and Trucy sits with them. Phoenix spends the evening surrounded by his friends, by his family, and staring at Trucy’s new outfit. Blue, just like his old suit, he thinks.

“Do you like it?” She asks, surprisingly shyly, right before bed. Phoenix grins, picks her up, and twirls her around.

“You look amazing sweetie. You know, you didn’t have to go through all that just for me.”

“I didn’t do it just for you.” Trucy defends, “I did it because I wanted to! And because I love you!”

“I love you too Truce.”

Tomorrow morning, reality will set in again. He’ll have work, and maybe all the grief he was able to put off today will make a forceful comeback, but tonight he knows he’s loved, and that Trucy wants to be a part of his world, wants to be a part of his broken little family, and maybe that’s all that really matters in the end.

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

Witches, Chapter 29: something of an overdue talk, in a long overdue chapter.

Hey everyone! We’re back at it, hopefully, with a few orders of business.

First things first: I’d like to issue a small warning for a short discussion of past suicidal ideation that pops up during this chapter. Since this series is a retelling, generally most of you do know what’s coming up next and what we’ll run into and to brace ourselves for that. You know about the characters’ past traumas and future choices and know where that pops up, or if it becomes unexpectedly relevant or makes a new parallel, you did at least know in advance that it happened. Phoenix’s occasional oblique allusion to Edgeworth’s “choosing death”, for instance. 

As this is not something quite like that and comes up more out of nowhere than usual, I just wanted to make sure that no one is uncomfortably caught off-guard. It felt like something different to me personally as I was writing - whether it’s going to strike any of you as different than other heavier material we’ve had in the past, I can’t say, but I’m erring on the side of caution today. If you’ve got any questions or concerns or anything you want done for content warnings in the future, please do come talk to me and let me know!

On two lighter notes: thank you all for bearing with me through the “oops all Fire Emblem only Fire Emblem” hiatus. It’s been a weird year, obviously. I’m hoping that I can carry on with room in my brain for both.

And finally: Happy UR-1 day! Today is, yes indeed, the exact day that Simon Blackquill is arrested for murder, and in honor of that, have a chapter where I mention him one (1) entire time.

[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

[Witches of Los Angeles Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

----

Golden Saturday-morning sunlight streams in through the blinds, lighting up the dust particles swirling through the air. The office is colder than Apollo expects for the end of October - colder than it was last year this time - and Phoenix is even wearing a sweater, the shining locket that Apollo hasn’t seen in a while hanging around the outside of the tall collar. “Morning,” Phoenix says, without raising his eyes from what appears to be a manila folder full of newspaper clippings he is perusing. “What’s up?” 

Straight to business, then. Apollo is fine with that. He grabs the chair from his desk and drags it around, not directly in front of Phoenix’s desk, but near enough that it will be harder for Phoenix to ignore him.

“Is there any way to break a curse?” he asks, shoving his hands deep in the pocket of his hoodie. If it were this cold in a regular office on a Saturday, that would make sense; save money on heating bills when no clients are coming in. This is just - fae bullshit. The beginning of their seasonal tantrums. Winter only properly begins on the solstice, and Apollo really wishes that the fae of Kurain would respect the astronomical seasons. Stave off the snow until the end of December and end it in March. Don’t allow it to span from October to April. 

Phoenix sweeps the scraps of paper all back within the folder and ducks down to set it inside a drawer. “If I knew a way,” he says, rising back up with the magatama in hand and setting it down on his desk with a hard clack, “do you think I would go around looking like I do? You don’t think I would’ve gotten this mess cleaned up a long time ago?”

He doesn’t offer Apollo the magatama for a refresher on what that mess looks like. Maybe he was just making a dramatic point with it. “Oh,” Apollo says, scratching the back of his head, faintly embarrassed by how obvious the answer is if he’d given it a modicum of thought from that perspective. “I guess not.”

“Right,” Phoenix says. “As my understanding goes, you can theoretically maybe mitigate a curse, if you layer another opposing blessing on. I am ‘lucky’” - he makes sarcastic quotation marks to ensure that the bitterness dripping from the word doesn’t go unnoticed, as if Apollo could possibly not notice - “to have known enough fae that I’m saddled with both Fortune and Misfortune, and Life and Death. But I’m also not certain that when you drop those on each other they don’t just each take their own separate niches. I’m not dead, but god knows when I try to go somewhere for a vacation or a day off, I still stumble across crime scenes like nothing else. Stunningly lucky in some aspects, and wildly unfortunate in others. You know me. I don’t need to elaborate too much, do I?”

Apollo nods. 

“So that’s the theory, but I don’t think that helps anyway for your purposes, which - this is about Prosecutor Gavin?”

Apollo nods again. Phoenix sighs and rubs his eyes. “Shit,” he says, folding his hands together in front of his face and leaning his head against them. “I - believe me, Apollo, I wish I had some - I wish I had any way to help him.”

And Apollo does believe him. Apollo has to believe him, and believe that Phoenix means well, because he’d go crazier if he wasn’t reminding himself that Phoenix’s most frustrating decisions are born out of good intent. That Phoenix thinks he knows what’s best, but there’s still that old saying about good intentions. 

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Apollo asks. “You knew before this. You knew before he asked you.”

Phoenix raises his head. “And what does telling him get him? Secure in the knowledge that his brother - who is already in jail by the way, don’t need any more proof of his crimes, he’s already never getting out to be able to hurt anyone ever again - hates him enough to have wished him dead?”

Basically the same reasoning that Klavier had, but Apollo has a counterargument now. “Gives him time to come to terms with it before someone dies!”

“You don’t!” Phoenix slams his palms on the desk. Apollo flinches. Of course everyone is volatile and heated over this topic, but that doesn’t make it easier in the moment that it first gets directed at him from people who are usually frustratingly calm and casual. But Phoenix winces, lifting one of his hands and dragging his fingers through his hair, and sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says, and repeats, much quieter, “You - you don’t. Or I never didn’t. I knew from right when it happened that I was cursed; I had three years between then and when Mia died - it - I could’ve had a decade, or two, and it - it wouldn’t have helped. I wouldn’t have felt any differently. Any more come to terms with it. With the thought that I - helped cause—”

His tongue heavy in his mouth, Apollo nods. “But - but wouldn’t it have been worse to find out right after she died?”

“Of course it would have,” Phoenix says blithely. “Of course that - this - is the worst possible alternative. Of course I would’ve said something if I’d known that this was what would happen instead.”

“But you have to have expected that someone would—”

“No, I didn’t,” Phoenix interrupts. “That’s not how this works. You know Klavier. You know how much he doesn’t say, don’t you? How much I don’t - you know what people like us are like. Who’s going to tell him? Sebastian forgets half the time that he even has the Sight. Kay only acts like she knows things. Prosecutor Blackquill spent until two days ago acting like magic isn’t real even when he knew we knew otherwise. Someone who means ill isn going to keep that information to use it, and not to just plainly say something.” He frowns. “Well, usually not. Unless they’re a clumsy interloper stumbling in somewhere they don’t belong and getting themselves fucked over for it too.”

“So other than Means just walking all over everything” - because he wasn’t immersed in this kind of fae etiquette, didn’t grow up in it, learned just enough to spot what he thought were opportunities and ruined himself by it - “you think every other random stranger is just going to respect all these - these weird little rules about what you don’t say?”

“Rules of engagement, basically,” Phoenix says. “Yeah, I do.”

“Prosecutor Gavin told me that you’re cursed,” Apollo says. “Don’t just tell me that’s - that’s the exception that proves the rule, or whatever.”

Phoenix’s expression, smug and trying to dampen that smugness back into something that respects the seriousness of the conversation, tells Apollo that yes, yes that is absolutely what his retort was going to be. Apollo considers screaming. “I’ve been tangled up in this for far too long,” Phoenix says. “I can promise you, I know the patterns. I know the way these things go.”

“And because you’re so much smarter than the rest of us, that makes it okay?” Apollo demands. “To take a gamble and just hope that it won’t go wildly wrong?” 

And he wants to, really wants to add, I guess that’s what you do, just gamble with people’s fates, and he doesn’t, and Phoenix’s face still darkens like he knows, like he can read Apollo’s mind. Because every time Apollo ends up arguing with him, that’s always at the core. This playing card that haunts them both, burnt a bridge barely built, and they keep trying to balance on the ashen skeleton of it. “Just because Prosecutor Gavin is too fucked up about everything else to be mad at you for hiding this—”

“I did,” Phoenix says, voice low, eyes narrowed and dark as an evening’s storm clouds, “what I thought would be best, based on my prior experiences of both how curses don’t get talked about, and knowing exactly what it is like to personally live with knowing that I’m cursed. This is not something I want anyone to have to know how it feels.”

“So you think ignorance is bliss,” Apollo says. Klavier said that. Apollo wants to know how Phoenix takes that statement.

“I wouldn’t call it ignorance,” Phoenix says. “It’s not like he, or you, didn’t know what Kristoph was like until you found this out. You know the crime, the verdict, the sentencing - and everything else that Kristoph tried but failed to do. That Kristoph also wanted Klavier dead is only another small piece in the grand scheme of it all.” 

Still the same argument that Klavier made; Apollo can’t imagine they discussed it. What brought them to the same conclusion? That they both have lived this strange specific kind of grief? This common ground that they share that is foreign to Apollo.

“Come to terms with - Klavier’s already got to come to terms with the rest of that,” Phoenix continues. “It was obvious during that trial how much Kristoph despised him. He knew that too. He knows that Kristoph ruined more lives than just the people he murdered - that he tried to kill more people than he actually succeeded at - cursed and tried to kill children because he couldn’t have - didn’t want anyone remaining who - who could - could… say…”

If Phoenix hadn’t faltered like that - fumbling and failing to continue, words petering out as he went back over what he just said, his eyes going wide and welling up with horror - then Apollo would have simply assumed that his thoughts were moving too fast for his mouth and he couldn’t keep them straight. It would have been easy to talk right through it, and Apollo wouldn’t think twice. If Phoenix hadn’t showed his own hand, gave the game away. Something too terrible for even seven years of professional poker to hide. 

“Mr Wright?” Apollo asks, and Phoenix turns his head, glancing away away, no longer meeting his eyes when less than a minute ago he was staring him down with a cold confident glare. “What - what are you talking about? Vera, and - not someone else? Who else?”

Phoenix makes a tiny shake of his head, and even that little motion is a bright, distinct liar’s red. It lights up his eyes, too, when they dart down to the floor. “Mr Wright?” Apollo repeats. When would this have been? He casts his mind over everything he learned, just a little over a year ago, Phoenix sitting him down to explain seven years of information collected about Kristoph, what he’d done and how he’d tried to cover it up. He tried to kill Drew Misham to tie up that loose end; he cursed and poisoned Vera, two precautions because he wasn’t confident enough in the former, hoping that if she ever left the house she wouldn’t be able to speak to his identity and the forgery he requested. He killed Zak Gramarye seven years later to hide the same. He wanted to eliminate every link in the chain that connected the diary page to him. Its makers Vera and Drew, and Zak who knew he was the first attorney on the case, and then the page got to Phoenix via—

Via—

“Mr Wright,” Apollo says. His voice shakes. “He didn’t—”

“Promise me something, Apollo,” Phoenix says firmly. His mouth is drawn in a tight line but he doesn’t look stern. He looks more like he’s going to cry and is desperately trying to stop himself. “Promise me.”

“Wh - what? I can’t—”

“Promise me, Apollo.”

Not until you tell me what I’m promising, Apollo thinks, Apollo knows is what he should say. He’s been told this enough times; he’s aware of this on his own. Don’t agree to a deal before all the terms are set. Don’t sign the contract before it’s read thoroughly. Rules for lawyers and fae are the same. Just because Phoenix means well doesn’t mean that Apollo agrees with those decisions he makes; certainly not the one they have been discussing, and likely not whatever Phoenix is asking him to agree to. 

“Please.”

The air in the office is so cold. Even the sunlight seems cold now. Apollo shivers, hunches himself up further. What does Mia think? Is this secret-keeping so natural to her, easy as breathing once was, because she’s fae and that’s what they are, liars by trick and by trade?

“Just promise me you won’t tell her until I do.”

His mouth dry, Apollo nods and croaks out, “All right. I won’t.”

He almost regrets pushing the issue,regrets ever asking Phoenix why he faltered. Phoenix sits slumped, his hands in his hair, and when he glances back up at Apollo, he looks so exhausted that it reminds him of Klavier last night. Burnt-out and broken, when it’s so rare for either of their masks to break. Rarer for Phoenix not to be positioning himself as the one with all the cards in hand; for him to fall apart, for Apollo to actually see him upset. “Yeah,” he whispers, soft enough that Apollo sits forward to make sure he can hear him. “Everyone involved in getting the diary page from him to me, Kristoph wanted dead, or to make sure he could silence them. Everyone who knew, even if she was - eleven years old, or eight. The girl who made it, and the girl who gave it to me. He fucking hated the Gramaryes. You think he didn’t jump at the opportunity to try and get rid of all of them that he could? That he wouldn’t cast a curse on each one who ever entered his sight?”

“And she” - Apollo’s voice cracks - “she doesn’t know? You didn’t tell her?”

“Shit, no,” Phoenix says. He sounds close to cracking, too, and when he drops his hands to his desk he starts shaking his head, his eyes scrunched closed. “Being a Gramarye has been goddamn enough of a curse for her. She lost all her family and then found out that her grandfather buried her mother’s soul in the woods because he was a monstrous son-of-a-bitch who deserved worse than getting to go out on his own terms by shooting himself in the fucking head—”

Apollo shudders. Phoenix had never before directly stated his opinion on Magnifi, but Apollo could definitely tell he held only disdain for the man. This, though, is more than disdain. This is positively venomous, and more than a bit frightening. Did he always feel like this, and hid it, or is this hatred something that has only come about since last year Trucy came back to the office with her mother’s soul in her hands?

“—so yeah, on top of that, I’m definitely going to tell her that the same man who killed her father cursed her just because of the accident of who her family is.”

“B-but—” Apollo doesn’t quite know what he’s arguing. He also doesn’t know where all of his prior conviction went. Of course Klavier should have been told - because he found out in the worst way possible - and Trucy - to take a gamble with her too - that’s got to be just as wrong— “Nine-Tails Vale,” he says suddenly. “We went there, and then there was a murder - that - that’s - is that like—”

“Like what happens to me?” Phoenix asks. “What happens with a curse? Yes. That’s how it goes.”

“And you - you’re not going to - to tell her? Ever? In case - in case something happens to her like with Klavier, or—” Too many thoughts are playing in his head, and the next one grabs hold of him and pivots him away from the point he was going to make about maybe why Trucy should know. “The concert,” he says. “When we went to the concert, Trucy and I, and Klavier was there too of course but that’s - Romaine LeTousse was murdered. They’re both cursed and they - wait, was Klavier cursed then? That was before…” 

Did Klavier know when it happened? Did he tell Apollo? He’d said that Phoenix had seen him twice since the trial last October. Presume then that Kristoph cursed him then. The last time the brothers saw each other, and that doesn’t make one bit of sense. 

“How could Kristoph have cursed him?” Apollo asks, and he doesn’t miss a momentary flash of panic that passes over Phoenix, his eyes popping wide for half a second and a loud, sharp intake of breath. “Klavier always has iron on him. He gave me—” He looks down at his hand, and then back up, to Phoenix’s lifted eyebrows. Apollo sticks his hand back in his pocket. “What’s the point in iron if it doesn’t actually save you from being cursed?”

Phoenix is obviously trying not to move. He knows Apollo is watching him, waiting for a twitch, anything to pounce on and draw an answer out of him. Staring steadily back at Apollo, he barely blinks; he rests his folded arms on his desk and his fingers curl just a little tighter into where he’s gripping his arm. Apollo is right to be asking these questions. He’s getting closer to something that Phoenix is hiding. 

“Or it does,” Apollo says. The veins on the back of Phoenix’s hand flex from his grip. Apollo thinks about someone else with a tense hand and secrets. “And he couldn’t have been cursed then, at Vera’s trial, if it does. So then Mr Gavin hated him that much before then.” Phoenix blinks placidly, but he doesn’t adopt his lazy-eyed gaze. Too serious even for that. “And you lied,” Apollo adds. “You lied about when.”

Phoenix flinches. It’s just a tiny one, pulling his head back, the muscles in his jaw and neck tightening, but Apollo can’t miss the light show. Can’t miss that the lie is bleeding out of him.

He finds himself on his feet, not stepping any closer to Phoenix’s desk, just needing the height, just needing to move a little to stop the shaking in his hands and in his chest, a trembling that goes right down to his heart. “He knew already that he’s cursed! Why did you keep lying to him!” 

“I didn’t lie to him,” Phoenix says evenly, but very quietly, and Apollo wants to go over and slam his fists on the desk and make him stop with these hollow justifications, make him face what he’s done couched in none of his winding words. “I just didn’t correct his assumption.”

“That’s lying!” Apollo shouts. “That’s still lying! That’s what happened in Mayor Tenma’s trial! Do you remember that? Do you care!” 

“Don’t accuse me of not caring.” Phoenix’s voice is low, his eyes dark, staring up at Apollo. “I do care. I—”

“You don’t care about lying! But you do care about - what, about us? Doing this because you care, because you always know what’s best for everyone not to know!” Apollo throws his hands in the air. Phoenix’s brow furrows further, his jaw set tightly. “Never mind that Athena had a breakdown during the trial because Means hit her exactly where you were worried she would be! And you didn’t prepare her! Never mind that Klavier’s having a breakdown now because he found out at the worst possible time! When you could have told him! You know—”

“And if what he knows already hurt him this badly, then what do you think would be happening if he knew Kristoph cursed him years ago?” Phoenix slams his hands on his desk like he’s at the defense’s bench, pushing himself up out of the chair and onto his feet. “That his brother’s wanted him dead for that long? You think that’ll help anything, for him to find that out right now on top of all this? You want him to have that to come to terms with right now, too? I didn’t lie to him! He made an assumption that I didn’t correct because I’m not in the business of salting anyone’s wounds!”

He makes - a point. Apollo sees where he’s coming from. Why he’d do that. An additional piece of truth, yesterday the same as a salting of the wound. “But you don’t think he’s ever wondered if - if Mr Gavin resented him for that long? If he - if you would be setting something to rest, if you told him that. You can’t decide for someone else what they’re capable of handling.”

“Fair point,” Phoenix says. He sinks back down into his chair, and then motions to Apollo’s, suggesting he sit back down. “If he’d asked, I’d have told him. If he ever asks, I’ll tell him. I just wasn’t about to drop that on his head with him unprepared. Or if he asks you - I’m not asking you to swear silence to that. Shit, if you ever think that it’ll help him to know, then tell him - tell him you just found out from me, throw me under the bus and lie to make me look worse, that’s fine.”

Apollo returns to his chair, still not feeling any less like he wants to take a swing and see if he’s gotten any better at punching since last April. “You want me to lie now too?” he asks. 

“I want you to use your best judgment about what he might want to know or be able to handle,” Phoenix says. “To not pile on more if he didn’t ask, if you don’t think he’s prepared. Like I said, when it comes to being cursed, I didn’t ever not know, and I know what the knowing is like. Yeah, I took a gamble that if I didn’t tell them then no one else ever would. That they’d never know, I hoped.” 

He shakes his head and then leans it back against his chair, his eyes closing. “See, it’s not just grief, not at all. The woman who cursed me was someone I thought I knew. Though I’d known for a while. She had actually wanted me dead since we first met.” His eyes pop back open. “Eventually she tried to poison me, and when that didn’t work she tried to frame me for murder, and when that plan fell apart she just tried to kill me with a curse because she was pissed about it. She was a lot stronger than Kristoph, I’ll tell you that much. But Mia stepped in, and now I’m still alive and other people just drop dead all around me instead.”

He sounds almost like he is making a recitation, like he’s rehearsed it, scripted it. Apollo wonders if he’s ever told anyone else all these details, if anyone else lacking the Sight knows that Phoenix is cursed, and if he used this same script then too. He’s speaking about himself, something so personal, in a way so curt and crisp, so much more detached than he’s been speaking about Klavier, or Trucy. 

Apollo nods numbly, unable to force his tongue to ask any of the questions he has.

“I could have come to grips with her hating me that long and that much - I could’ve come to terms with it and moved on. I was - well, I eventually became glad to know what she was. I could’ve been okay with all that. Eventually. If I hadn’t known about the curse. But I did and the - the knowing, the - Mia was murdered. Three years after she saved me. That long, thinking I could accept that I was cursed, and as soon as something really happened - I couldn’t.”

He presses his hands together and rests them against his chin. “And I couldn’t ever even just grieve her, because I had this guilt. That her death was my fault - I know, I know, some other man murdered her. He got to rot in jail for the rest of his life for his crimes, and he would’ve hated her whether or not I was cursed. For the things she did and because of what he was, and I had no part in any of that, but I was still - thinking, if maybe if she hadn’t ever taken me under her wing. If I hadn’t been around, maybe it would’ve been different somehow. Maybe she would have survived.”

The lights flicker gently and return dimmer and softer than they were before. Everything that gets talked about in this office, Mia hears; Apollo wonders if Phoenix doesn’t get sick of it sometimes, just want to say something without her offering input. Even if this is presumably well-meant, some attempt at comfort, the most a dead woman who can’t speak can give. Apollo exhales and can see his breath. He shivers again. “Why are you telling me this?” he finally asks. 

“I want you to understand.” Phoenix rubs his hands together, a vacant look in his eyes, like he hasn’t quite realized why he’s so suddenly cold. “What it felt like, and what I’m worried about. If I’d told Klavier, or I tell Trucy - once I say something, I can’t take it back. That’s it, and they know, forever, just like I do. So I want to be sure that this won’t - I want—” He drops his hands and reaches over and picks up the magatama, idly spinning it around between his fingers. Apollo can’t remember ever seeing him this uneasy, this fidgety. “Klavier, especially, reminds me of myself when I was his age, and of a prosecutor I knew then, too. And that - recognition” - he gestures with the magatama clutched in his hand - “is not good, because we were not - okay.”

Apollo wishes he could remember with clarity all that Phoenix said to him about this time a year ago, about Klavier, about Phoenix being concerned for him. He does remember that Phoenix said something about some other prosecutor then, too, that Klavier reminded him of. Or that he was worried Klavier was going to end up like.

Phoenix inhales slowly, and says, “Six months after Mia was murdered - which was three, three and a half years after I was cursed, mind you - I lost someone else. I didn’t realize how badly he was doing - he did a good job at hiding it, and I didn’t know how to reach out. I was wrapped up in my own loneliness and depression, and then he was gone.” 

He stops turning the magatama between his fingers, staring down at it for a few seconds, and then he resumes fidgeting with it. “I felt like I’d caused both of those. Couldn’t convince myself otherwise. Every other factor I knew there was, every single thing I couldn’t prevent or control, all these other things that other people did - I still thought that if I wasn’t cursed, then it could have been - just different enough that they would still be here.” He reaches up, brushing his fingertips across his temple. “Wouldn’t have been a fatal wound. Or wouldn’t have—”

He falters, staring past Apollo now, over at the window. This is the same thing he said about Mia earlier, about that sense of guilt, even knowing someone else murdered her. That he held some kind of responsibility, for a curse that seems to manifest itself as coincidence. Just coincidence, a little too often. 

“They could’ve been okay, somehow, in the end, I thought,” he continues. “And instead, I was - I was there, I was still around, and they weren’t. And all I could think was that if I didn’t do something, then I would just lose the other few friends I still had - they would be around me, and they would die for it.”

“Didn’t you say that there’s no way you know to break a curse?” Apollo asks. From Phoenix’s solemn expression, he’s not going to suddenly say that there is a method, but Apollo has no idea what he is going to say. What that something he thought to do was. 

“Right,” Phoenix says. “So I thought - only way to take the curse out of the equation is by taking myself out of the equation. I thought - as long as I’m not around - if I go and die, then anyone else who I love won’t. The curse will be gone, right, if death finally takes me. But the curse only seemed to hit other people, not me, so if dying was what I needed to do, then I…”

Klavier lying on the stage, wondering why it had to be Courte who died instead of himself. Phoenix’s dark, pained eyes, as he speaks again, finishes the thought in a voice barely above a murmur. “It made - made far too much sense to me, then. Was far too appealing a prospect.”

The question of what Phoenix won’t quite spell out catches sideways in Apollo’s throat, and when he tries to force it he just makes a soft croaking sound. Phoenix presses his lips together and glances away. “It’s a pain I wouldn’t wish on anyone,” he adds softly. “Klavier’s - he’s what, twenty-whatever? I was twenty-five when I—” 

When Mia died, Apollo thinks, but that Phoenix doesn’t finish the thought, swallows hard and stares at his desk and says something else, makes Apollo think there was something even worse he could have said, with that implication he didn’t say. “And Trucy - she’s my daughter. I’m supposed to protect her. I took her in because I couldn’t live with the thought of anything else happening to her when I could bring her here, hope that Mia could somehow bless and protect her as much as she did me. But I can’t imagine just - I can’t let that happen to her. To suffer the way I did, to - to spend her life wondering if wherever she goes, someone’s going to die - the concert, Nine-Tails Vale, to ever - to think she can blame herself. Or that everyone she loves is better off without her. Or to—”

He blinks, fiercely, his eyes watering, and Apollo hopes he’ll never have to see Phoenix this close to tears again. Phoenix, cursed and trying - and in the case of Klavier, now failing - to shelter others from that same pain. Klavier, and Trucy, and—

“What about Vera?” he asks. “You explained to me, but did you ever tell her that she’s—” Phoenix stares at him, blinks slowly. Apollo squeezes his own eyes shut. “You didn’t tell her.” He’s unable to muster the same indignation he was before. He can’t really even bring himself to feel manipulated. Phoenix told him exactly that he was saying all this to make Apollo understand. Phoenix sought this reaction. But Phoenix’s chessmaster act has never superceded his desire to keep secrets before; there’s no way that Apollo can convince himself that this emotional vulnerability is all entirely a ploy to get Apollo to shut up. How many times has he refused to explain something and just left Apollo to stay angry about being in the dark? He has never been reluctant to do that. To just sit silent and lock Apollo out. To let Apollo hate him for his secrets.

He wanted Apollo to understand, intimately, whatever it took. So that Apollo would agree keep these secrets. So that Apollo would go along with him. And it might be concern that drives him - he cares, of course he does - but it’s still manifesting in the most infuriating ways possible. In well-meant silence.

“Would you want to know?” Phoenix asks, and that question at this time is an answer and confirmation in itself. “I know the truth is important to you, Apollo - I know it is to all of us.” 

For once, Apollo believes he means it. He’d know it’s the truth because he can see when Phoenix is lying, but he’s actually convinced, this time. 

“But,” Phoenix continues, “if you already know that the person who cast the curse hates you and is in jail for committing murder - already got to come to terms with that, or grieve that, or for someone else dead - you already know that truth. Would you really, honestly want to live with also knowing that you’re cursed?”

To possibly want to die because of it, like Phoenix did? Apollo opens his mouth. He wants to say yes, yes he would like to know, because that’s the truth of it and he wants to always know the truth, all of its facets no matter how ugly. 

Doesn’t he? 

He thinks about Nahyuta, about Dhurke, about trying to forget they ever were anyone, because that’s easier than facing the fact that Dhurke abandoned him, and they might both be dead by now. Easier than wondering whether they were human or fae or something else. He doesn’t want to know what they were. He wants to deny the dreams, to convince himself they’re nothing but the weird subconscious mash-up of memory and the fae horrors Clay has spent all these years warning him about. He doesn’t want the truth about his childhood. He doesn’t want to remember his childhood at all.

(Is it well-meant silence when he doesn’t tell Clay, or Trucy, or Klavier, about them? To not worry them about his life and his past? Or is it just cowardice on his part? Blissful ignorance.)

He closes his mouth. Thinks about the smile Trucy forced onto her face as she realized that Apollo was about to reveal to the court that her father Zak Gramarye was murdered six months before then. Thinks about how she couldn’t keep that smile forced when she found out that her dead grandfather took her mother’s soul for his own personal gain. Thinks about Klavier lying on the stage wishing that he had been the corpse there, not Courte. All the pains that truth has caused them. Is that better or worse than that alternative? Does it depend on what truth it is being hidden?

(He thinks about how long it’s been since he’s said Nahyuta’s name out loud. What color were his eyes in real life, and not Apollo’s haunted dreams? He doesn’t remember.)

“I - I don’t really know,” he admits.

The smug, victorious expression he expects never arrives on Phoenix’s face. There’s no satisfaction in winning this argument. “I’m sorry,” he says, closing his hand around the magatama. “I told you about Vera because it mattered directly for that case, but the rest of this - I wanted to shoulder it myself. So the rest of you don’t have to worry about it. I don’t want you to have to keep secrets from anyone. But I don’t know what else to do.” He forces a smile onto his face with visible effort that makes Apollo wince. Nothing masks the exhaustion written into the lines on his face. “Maybe we put our heads and together we figure out some better way to talk about it. If I ever figure that I should tell…”

He trails off, touching a finger to his locket. Tell Trucy. If he ever gains reason to think that he should tell Trucy. Would he actually run it by Apollo first, ask for his advice? The possibility of being in Phoenix’s confidence for something that isn’t a case doesn’t make a damn bit of sense. 

“I still don’t think you should try and keep it secret forever,” Apollo says, “but I - I guess I see what you mean. And why you don’t just…”

Why he doesn’t just tell her. More reason that just because Phoenix doesn’t “just tell” anyone anything. For once, he’s not being a cryptic bastard.

“Believe me, Apollo,” Phoenix says darkly, “I’m always thinking ahead and trying to plan for the worst. I’m not naive enough to just hope that anything will stay one way ‘forever’. But I have to be sure I don’t make it worse, either.”

It isn’t the lack of a visual cue that makes Apollo believe him. It’s knowing him that makes Apollo believe him. Phoenix always has his eye on something down the line, playing out the plan a few steps ahead to find the complications. Even - especially - while he wasn’t a lawyer. A gambler’s steady hand holding the cards, chancing on an outcome, because the cost of doing nothing at all is even more unthinkable. 

Apollo nods, more times than necessary, lacking anything else to say. Phoenix cocks his head. “Apollo, you all right?” he asks. 

What the hell is he supposed to say - how the hell is he supposed to be? Fine? In what world is he possibly fine? At the end of this, he’s learned more than he ever dreamed he would from his sole initial question, but in it all, that first answer has never changed. 

This is all there is. A rabbit hole of pain so unfathomably deep and winding, and in its darkest depths, the same as the answer given to him on the surface: there’s no way to break a curse. Their lives aren’t the kind of fairy tale where true love’s kiss can wake a sleeping beauty or transform a beast back to a prince - it’s grimmer than that, colder than that, crueler than that. Curses not so concretely visible but more like haunting coincidence, a ghost whispering at the shoulder with reminders of guilt. How could a man who wasn’t even there when the crime happened blame himself for his mentor’s murder? And yet, even after the killer’s confession, how could he not? How can even the curse’s caster be blamed when someone else wielded the murder weapon? And yet, how could they not share in it?

Apollo would rather someone have been turned into a frog, honestly. Wouldn’t that be easier to grapple with, a simple chain of cause and effect, and no ambiguity in who to blame. 

“No,” Apollo finally says. “Not really, no.”

“I guess that was a bit of a stupid question, huh.”

Apollo nods. No kidding. What’s a better question at this point, anyway? Not what he says. “How - how can there really not be any way? For a curse to be broken, I mean.”

Phoenix spins his chair around, resting his head back against it, eyes turned up to the ceiling. Once he slows to a stop, facing the windows, he says, “I mean, maybe it’s possible there was, once, but it was forgotten. There’s a lot of magic that’s gone that way.” 

He gives Apollo a moment to digest that, and then continues, “The Court’s heyday was thousands of years ago. They’re living ruins of what they used to be, and a fraction of what they used to know. Maya - you haven’t met her, she’s Pearl’s cousin - Maya’s helping me out with some matters by trying to dig up more about some kinds of magic they’ve forgotten the nuance of. But even that’s something we’ve got a hint that they knew, once. Not like—” He shrugs helplessly. “I’m sorry. Don’t hold your breath waiting for a way to break a curse.”

“Oh,” Apollo says, somewhat surprised, but pleasantly so, that Phoenix said that much. It would be typical of him just to reiterate that no, there just isn’t any way he knows, that’s all, and to skip the explanation for fear of giving Apollo false hope. But thinking about the prospect of false hope is still easier than really, truly considering the meaning of what Phoenix just said - that this, that everything they’ve ever had to deal with in regards to the fae, could have be so much worse. They could do so much worse than all this pain they’ve ever wrought - they were once so much more dangerous than this, and now their Court is only ruins. This is what they are when they are weak.

“If I do find anything out, I’ll—”

Phoenix breaks off, rising up slowly from his chair, staring at something past Apollo, over his shoulder. Apollo twists around to look, not sure what he expects to see, but it certainly isn’t Vongole standing in the doorway, her head held high, her body much more solid than it usually appears, and stiller. The wispy fur at the back of her legs and off of her tail does not stir as though she is made of mist and surrounded by a breeze that affects only her; she could almost, in this moment, be a normal dog, but for her glowing eyes and her ears so bright red as though they were dipped straight in paint.

All the color drains from Phoenix’s face. He snatches up the magatama and springs to his feet, hurrying past Vongole to peer into the other half of the office. Apollo rises to his feet; if Klavier was here - if he heard what Phoenix was hiding - how Apollo promised to keep it a secret—

Vongole stares at Apollo. She doesn’t move. Phoenix reappears in the doorway, curling a hand in his hair, but his face has fallen slack with obvious relief. The claws curled into Apollo’s heart unclenches. “So then what are you doing here?” Phoenix asks the hound, whose ears fold back flat against her head, though her snout does not turn to shift her attention to Phoenix. She stares Apollo down like she will pounce. “Does he send you places or did you just wander here yourself?”

“You don’t know?” Apollo asks.

“You think I’ve ever had the chance to ask either Kristoph or Klavier about the logistics of their spectral hellhound?” Phoenix asks. Apollo tries to remember when he first started seeing Vongole. Whose ownership she would have been under. How soon after Kristoph’s arrest did Klavier come back to Los Angeles?

Despite her weirdly lanky proportions, like a regular dog was put on a rack and stretched out, Vongole always moves with grace, a predator’s prowl and elegance. A monster, but a beautiful one. She circles Apollo like she intends to herd him somewhere, like she is a shark smelling blood waiting for the moment to strike. “What—” Apollo spins too, trying always to keep her in his sight. She moves just slowly enough that he can keep up, but just quickly enough that he becomes slightly dizzy in his efforts. “What do you want?”

She stops. Apollo steps forward, trying to escape her circle, but she swings suddenly to the side, throwing her body up against Apollo’s hip. He expects her to fade through him, as she does walls and doors, but when she hits him he staggers with the force of her weight. And the cold - her body is cold and it reaches straight through his clothes, cold enough to burn, ice on bare skin type of burning, and Apollo doesn’t understand. He’s touched Vongole before, without problem, hasn’t he? Surely he has. What’s wrong with her? Or is something wrong with Klavier?

She trots over to the door, standing on the threshold, staring back at Apollo with her head aloft. He can’t bring himself to move, can’t unfreeze his feet from where they are riveted into the ground. Vongole presses her ears back against her head, lowering it so that her neck is level with her shoulders, prowling again, and she makes another circle of Apollo before again stopping in the doorway.

“I think she wants you to go with her,” Phoenix says.

She wags her tail, much faster than the usual low, wide swishing path that it takes. Apollo wrenches his foot from the floor and takes one step forward. Vongole bounds through the front room of the office, weaving between magic props tossed carelessly on the floor as though she couldn’t pass through them. And she stops and waits at the door, glancing expectantly back at Apollo. He fumbles his phone free from his pocket, finding no messages waiting for him; why would Klavier do something as cryptic as sending his faery dog to collect Apollo, rather than just calling or texting him?

Unless it isn’t Klavier instructing Vongole. Unless she’s acting on her own. Or unless Klavier is in trouble.

“You’d better go,” Phoenix says. “I can lend you the—”

“It’s fine,” Apollo says. He’s pretty sure that Klavier hates the magatama, and he found him fine without it last night. And he didn’t have Vongole guiding him then. 

“Let me know that everything’s all right,” Phoenix says quietly. Apollo opens his mouth to ask what Phoenix knows, why he’s so sure that this means something is wrong - remembers what Phoenix said about himself and how Klavier reminds him of himself, long ago. Closes his mouth. Knows why Phoenix worries.

Phoenix always worries. He means well. His road is paved in well-intended worry.

“Yeah,” Apollo says. “I’ll - I’ll let you know.”

Vongole waits for him only to reach the door, diving through it as his hand reaches for the doorknob. He next finds her waiting beside the bike rack, her smoky fur drifting independently of the chill breeze, and as soon as he mounts his bicycle she lopes off down the sidewalk. She never looks back at him but is obviously monitoring him in some way, her pace changing depending on obstacles and traffic so that she always remains in his sight. He follows her through the quieter (relatively, anyway) city of weekend mornings, through his usual stomping grounds, to end up on the stoop of an apartment building that is - quite frankly, not as grandiose as Apollo would expect. He presumes this is where Klavier lives.

(If it’s not, then he’s far too deep into something that it’s also far too late to back out of.)

Vongole noses one of the buttons on the buzzer at the entryway and disappears through the door. Only seconds later, too quickly for her to have physically covered the necessary amount of ground, the door clicks to unlock. Apollo enters the lobby and before he has time to take in his surroundings, she appears in front of him. Literally appears - not bounding up to him out of a wall, but materializing out of the air, white fog swirling in circles around her ankles. She directs him to the elevator, pressing her nose into the button for the fourth floor and then several times in quick succession slamming her nose into the close doors button. “So were you always like that, or did you pick up your impatience from him?” Apollo asks.

She sits down and fixes her eyes on him. He doesn’t know what that means. He’s not sure why he bothered talking to her. She can’t respond - can she understand? Does she have some way to communicate information she hears to Klavier? Surely not - hopefully not, depending how long she was in the office.

She does not move until the elevator halts at their destination, and she springs to her feet and slips through the doors before they have opened wide enough for a fully-corporeal dog of her size to pass through. But when he makes it through, she meets him right at the other side, her impatience not taking her any further down the hall until Apollo can follow right at her tail. The walls are not cracked and peeling as in Apollo’s building, but they are certainly plain - again, very much not the kind of place he would imagine Klavier to live.

Vongole throws herself through the door of Apartment 404, and Apollo waits in front of it. A moment passes, and then another. Right. Even a faery dog doesn’t have opposable thumbs to grip a doorknob. He fails to swallow his apprehension but knocks anyway. There has to be a reason Vongole brought him here. He can’t just run away from it. 

The seconds crawl past. Apollo reaches up to knock again, but the door swings suddenly open, and he flinches back.

Klavier’s hair is barely held together in a ponytail, strands falling loose around his face, and he looks even more like he hasn’t slept, going by the shadows under his eyes. And Apollo never thought there would come the day that he sees Klavier in sweatpants, but - he’s still alive. He’s still intact in one mobile piece, and he’s lucid enough to look annoyed. Apollo fumbles for words, any at all, but none arrive on his tongue. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. He starts to raise his arm to point at Vongole, to blame her, and before he can, Klavier sighs, shaking his head, his apparent annoyance sliding into exhaustion, and he steps out of the doorway, pulling the door open wider, and gesturing for Apollo to come in.

-

[notes on the chapter]

[ladyloveandjustice]

The Great Ace Attorney Replay, Dual Destinies Case 5, THE FINALE

Apollo: You know, this is the first time we've been at the defense bench together since I debuted.

Apollo: MY DISASTROUS DEBUT. A DISASTER BECAUSE OF YOU. 

Phoenix: yes i get it Apollo.

Phoenix: Not that you mention it... (Although, back then, I thought you were more loud than you were reliable...)

 RUDE. Also, I’d say he’s less reliable now than then, considering he just got back from randomly quitting his job and accusing his coworker of murder.

Phoenix: You've really come a long way since then, Apollo. You've grown a lot.

awww

Apollo: Well, there have been some hiccups, but I guess I've done pretty well.

Phoenix: (He's still got that ego of his, though.)

That wasn’t really particularly egotistical, but okay Phoenix

Anyway, time to take on Fulbright.

Fulbright: Ngaaagh! I-I guess you're right. But you can't define justice with evidence. Who can define it, anyway? Justice... just is!

Apollo: OBJECTION! D-Don't make me......... break out a dictionary on you!

Oh my god Apollo could you be more of a nerd

Fulbright: Ngaaaaaaaaaaaaagh! Please, don't throw the book at me!

Apollo: Ugh... Tell me the phantom didn't just make me set up a stupid pun for him.

STUPID PUNS ARE KIND OF EVERYONE’S THING IN THIS SERIES, APOLLO. also you kinda did that all on your own.

Anyway, after Apollo and Phoenix back Fulbright into a corner, he claims the Phantom was actually blackmailing him and he’s not the spy. Apollo and Phoenix are unable to prove he really is the spy! He’s going to get away. BUT GUESS TO STEPS UP TO SAVE THE DAY!

Athena: OBJECTION! The defense-- No, wait... Not "the defense"... The defendant feels it's not time for a verdict yet, and would like to see this trial continue.

Judge: Wh-What?! But I was just about to declare you innocent of all charges!

Athena: ............Hmm... It just doesn't feel right to be standing here. Hey, Apollo! Think you could scooch over?

I WILL ALWAYS LOVE HOW ATHENA JUST ELBOWS HER WAY INTO THE DEFENSE’S BENCH. FUCK BEING A DEFENDANT. SHE IS THE DEFENSE, ALWAYS AND FOREVER.

Athena and Simon teamed up for great justice:

Blackquill: I knew you would catch on, Athena.

Phoenix: Huh? Mind filling me in here?

Athena: Hee hee. Guess we left you in the dust, huh, Mr. Wright? Simon was only pretending to believe Detective Fulbright... Because he knew I'd notice if there was a lack of emotions, like joy or relief, in his response. So he gave me the chance to take a listen. And listen I did to the voice of Detective Fulbright's heart!

Phoenix: Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?! You two were working together just now?!

Blackquill: Come now, Athena! Show us what's inside Fool Bright's heart!

Athena: You got it! Time to check the instant replay! Widget, mon ami! Let's do this!

I love that Simon just knew Athena would notice.

Fulbright tries to psych Athena out and scoffing at the idea of feelings having any place in court:

Athena:  But all humans beings have hearts and experience emotions. Sometimes analyzing a case from the psychological perspective... ...is the best way to find the truth!

Fulbright: ............It's all just a waste of time. All your efforts at analysis serve no purpose. And now, in this dark age of the law, nobody would believe your claim that it's effective. In an era when evidence is fabricated, do you truly expect feelings to be accepted as proof? 

Athena: Ungh! ...W-Well, I admit, I don't have any conventional proof... But I still say that examining a person's heart has its merits!

Fulbright: Oh, really? Then why don't you listen carefully with those special ears of yours. Listen to the voices of the hearts of the people in the gallery.

Athena: All I hear... is distrust...?

Fulbright: As you can see, the people are on my side. Because all they see is a strange little girl using a weird little machine.

Again, Athena’s story resonates with me a lot because it’s definitely easy to read a gender component into the fact she struggles with not being heard- and it comes across especially clearly hear, with Fulbright demeaning her by calling her a “strange little girl” and being dismissive. And the fact it’s her emphasis on “feelings” that’s being dismissed by men around her, but she presses on anyway- like i said, I feel it’s a very effective story that works on several levels.

Athena: But it's not like I use analytical psychology to falsely accuse people!

Phoenix: (Uh-oh. He's got Athena doubting herself.) Ms. Cykes's analytical psychology has breathed new life into the courtroom. It has freed the hearts of many witnesses, and has been key in getting to the truth.

Fulbright: Ha ha ha! What nonsense! !

Judge: ...........Hmm, I see. Very well. I will give the opinion of this court. In a trial, I don't feel that a person's emotions are quite as compelling as actual evidence is. ....However, I do believe Ms. Cykes's analyses can contribute to making the truth clear. I have seen her do this firsthand several times already.

Fulbright: Surely you jest.

Athena: So does this mean............ you will accept my findings in this trial, Your Honor?

Judge: Yes, I believe your claim, Ms. Cykes. I think there is merit in examining why the witness feels fear in regard to the moon rock. That is the court's opinion on this matter.

Athena: Then that's a win for me-- No, a win for analytical psychology! Now, Mr. Phantom, you will tell this court the reason for your fear!

But as we can see here, in the end Athena is heard! And it’s all because she proved herself through determination and smarts! She succeeded in revolutionizing the courtroom. REVOLUTIONARY GIRL ATHENA.

The part where the Phantom just keeps switching masks and Phoenix is arguing with HIMSELF is peak weird wacky Ace Attorney. The TRIPLE OBJECTION POINTING where Apollo, Athena and Phoenix all take down Bobby is so good:

Athena: OBJECTION! Every human being feels fear! You simply can't face the emotions inside you. You can't face them because you have nothing. No love, no trust..

Phantom: And I suppose you do?

Athena:I didn't have anybody to support me at first, either. I couldn't face the fear inside me, couldn't get over the trauma of my past.

Phantom: Like I said, I don't feel fear.

Apollo: OBJECTION!  Then you're just a coward for running away from yourself! When I had my doubts about Ms. Cykes, I felt like I would collapse under the weight. But I wanted to trust her. And I knew I could trust Mr. Wright to uncover the truth. That's why I was able to face my suspicions without hesitation.

Phantom: Running away from myself...? Ha ha ha ha ha! How can I run from myself...?! When there's NOTHING inside... Nothing at all...!

Phoenix: OBJECTION! I know it's hard for someone as unwilling to trust others as you to understand... But people have emotions. It's just a fact of life. And so, people can be weak at times. But that's exactly why people need to trust one another... ...so they can gain the strength to face themselves when things are at their bleakest. Without trust in others... ...how can you ever hope to face your fears?

Athena: You can't outrun yourself!

Apollo: Remove that mask and unleash your emotions!

Phoenix: Confront your guilt head-on.

All: .....with your own, true face!

DREAM TEAM. 

The ending is a bit of a cop-out in some ways, but I don’t think seeing the Phantom’s face would have contributed much to the narrative- I do like the idea of Athena’s ultimate opponent being someone who completely denies emotion, and someone who’s taken so many identities and been so deep undercover they don’t know who they are anymore. He literally has no self, and that’s an interesting concept- though it could have been executed better.

ANYWAY ATHENA IS INNOCENT HURRAY. Time for the wrap-up!

Luv that Pearl stood by Athena and comforted her :’)

MILES PULLED STRINGS TO GET PHOENIX HIS BADGE BACK CUZ OF COURSE HE DID

Phoenix: Besides............ ...it was you that saw to it I got my attorney's badge back, wasn't it?

Edgeworth: ............So you figured it out, did you?

Phoenix: Yeah. Getting my license back went just a little too smoothly, you know? It should've been much harder after that evidence-forging scandal.

Edgeworth: Well, I owed you a few favors.

THESE TWO I CAN’T DEAL WITH THEM

Phoenix: You know, you could've said that with a bigger smile, Edgeworth. It won't kill you. Instead, the furrows in that brow of yours just keep getting deeper and deeper.

Edgeworth: So I should smile more, huh? ............I'll think about it.

Athena: Ah, the complicated love-hate relationship between life-long rivals!

Athena rn: GAAAAAAAY

Simon’s here to thank Athena for saving him, as he SHOULD.

Blackquill: ..Athena. I'm forever in your debt. You went to all that trouble... even taking the bar exam while you were overseas...

Athena: Well, I knew that if I didn't get your sentence overturned fast, you'd be executed! So I studied and studied. I was frantic! I'm so glad I made it in time! ............ Just barely... but I still made it!

AND SHE ACTUALLY CRIES IT’S SO CUTE.

Phoenix: (............Thatta girl, Athena. It's good to see you finally let your tears out.)

phoenix is so SUPPORTIVE OF PEOPLE SHOWING EMOTIONS I LOVE HIM.

Blackquill: ............Yes, I survived by the skin of my teeth, thanks to you.

Athena: Sh-Shame on you, Simon... for trying to throw your life away like that!

Blackquill: ..It was never my intention to just throw my life away. But some things in this world are more important than your own life.

Athena: Like what...?

Blackquill: My honor-bound duty to protect with my life... ...my mentor's most beloved treasure.

awwwwwWWWWWWwww. Seriously it’s such a good resolution and their relationship is so good. It’s sweet and it’s fun. Simon is rough around the edges, but you can tell he truly does care for Athena through it all, and he properly thanks her. Which makes it more baffling they dropped the ball so hard on Nahyuta cuz seriously BUT HEY.

(also i like that this game added a bunch of dudes with lady-mentors to the ranks. Phoenix and Mia are not alone! Klavier’s mentor was a woman, and so is Simon’s. AND THEY ALL GOT MURDERED. NO ONE SHOULD BE A MENTOR IN ACE ATTORNEY LAND. but still, so good that this series goes so hard on guys openly looking up to women and carrying on their legacies.

Phoenix: Apollo, Athena, thank you both. It took all of us together to pull it off.

Athena: You bet, Boss! What a team we are, huh?!

Phoenix: I'm a lucky guy... My office has the best, most capable lawyers around!

Apollo:Thanks, Mr. Wright. I'm going to work extra hard to make up for all the worry I caused. Apollo Justice is fine and ready to go! Let's hear it for the Wright Anything Agency!

Athena: Well, nobody's going to try harder than me! So you'd better watch out, Apollo! 

CUTIES. I love how competitive Athena is always. Seeing female characters whose ambition and competiveness is treated as endearing and positive by the narrative is always good.

AND THE CREDITS ROLL. I know we’re supposed to take Junie’s comment about red peppers as referring to her crush on Apollo, but it’s ambiguous enough i can still headcanon away her crush is over. IT ENDED WHEN HE SUSPECTED ATHENA. NOW SHE ONLY WANTS TO MEET HIM IN COURT SO SHE CAN BE SUPER HARD ON HIM. MY FIC WILL GO FORWARD.

Miles is like “it seems I owe Wright another debt of gratitude I have yet to repay. But I will repay him someday, you can be sure of that.” Repay him SENSUOUSLY AM I RIGHT.

I’ve finished the main game! all i have to do is play the DLC bonus case and then I WILL BE DONE WITH MY GREAT REPLAY! SO CLOSE! So close to PLvAA time! But since I’ve finished the main game series basically, I’ll be giving my thoughts on my rankings and my Unpopular Opinions on DD in general in a separate post! COMING SOON I GUESS

[askaceattorney]

Dear askrikkaiandhyotei,

The...entire cast!?

Well, Turnabout Time Traveler happens to be favorite case anyway, so why not?

Our first guest is the crooked head servant, Mr. Dumas Gloomsbury.  (Might as well get him out of the way first.)

Of course he isn’t.  He’s just a disgruntled servant of the Sprocket family who secretly hates them all for what they’ve done to his reputation, even to the point of being willing to murder someone who would become the newest addition to the family, as well as destroying a prized possession designed by her groom-to-be.

So..........yeah.  Very likable guy.  Thankfully, he’s only on the scene for a brief moment before the titular “time travel” occurs.

That brings us to our next guest, Ms. Ellen Wyatt, soon to be Mrs. Ellen Sprocket, except for the fact that she’s been accused of murder.  Like most defendants, she doesn’t seem like the type to kill someone -- she’s calm, mild-mannered, and well put together.  Well...usually.

You didn’t expect 100% normalcy in a new character, did you?  Heck, we’re lucky to get 50% in this series.  Thankfully, the emotional Ms. Wyatt knows how to pull herself together in an instant.

Quite the enviable skill to have, isn’t it?

This beautiful bride-to-be wants nothing more than to be proven innocent so that she can be married to the one and only Sorin Sprocket of Sprocket Aviation.  Instead of seeking help from the Wright Anything Agency on her own, however, she’s brought to them by someone else.

That brings us to an unexpected guest from yesteryear (and an uninvited one):

Before getting to know Ellen, we’re abruptly introduced to a brand new Larry Butz with a brand new look!  ...And the same old smell, unfortunately.

He introduces “Elly” as his brand new fiance, much to Phoenix’s surprise (and everyone in the known universe’s), but it turns out to be another one of his usual romantic escapades.  What is true is that he helped his beloved Elly escape the room she was confined in, and even shook off the police for her.  Some might call this heroic...if they don’t know the Butz.  As someone who does know him, Phoenix delivers a line from his former mentor:

On the plus side, Larry’s been doing more than chasing women since we last saw him -- he held onto the name he borrowed from his late mentor and became a picture book author.

Not exactly what I’d expect someone in that field to look like, but progress is progress, I guess.

Moving back to “Elly,” she claims to be as clean and pure as her pure-white dress, as well as something else -- something that’s a bit harder to believe.

Like I said, normalcy doesn’t seem to come naturally to new Ace Attorney characters, but her explanation of how she was almost killed, traveled back in time, and saw history rewritten takes the abnormal cake, especially coming from someone as sound-minded as Ellen.  Or is she really as sound-minded as she looks?

We can only hope.

I love how she keeps everything she needs for housekeeping in one place, by the way, almost Mary Poppins-style.

Fast forwarding (no pun intended) through some re-introductions to Maya as our co-council and Edgeworth as the case’s prosecutor (something us long-time Ace Attorney fans can’t help but love), we’re eventually introduced to the master himself, Mr. Sorin Sprocket, who has his own personality quirks...or rather, a severe lack of personality.

Like many genius inventors, he isn’t very social (his preferred method of communication being the paper airplane message), and always seems to be lost in his thoughts until someone pulls him back into reality.  Even stranger than that, he doesn’t seem the least bit worried about his fiance’s trial.  In Phoenix’s his words, he isn’t the easiest guy to wrap your head around.

On top of that, he has his own thing to say about time travel:

He and Ellen apparently both believe in time travel, but apart from that, they don’t seem to have much in common.  In fact, having met the two of them, one might think they’re polar opposites of each other, and...well, they’d be right, but as we learn later on, there’s more to Sorin’s silence than just an obsession with his work.

And speaking of obsession...

Our next guest, while also quite abnormal, is a bit more level-headed than the previous new characters.  He’s well-mannered, detail-oriented, shrewd, and takes the utmost care of Sorin.  Not to mention he's tech-savvy enough to fix a broken radio in a matter of seconds.

I’m surprised Phoenix and Maya didn’t consider the possibility of him being a machine himself, like they did with Lisa Basil.

He happens to have one of my favorite pun names, by the way.  Besides being clever and describing him perfectly, it almost sounds like it could be a real person’s name.

While Mr. Nichody does a good job of being the least interesting character thus far, it turns out that he and his “expensive good luck charm” play one of the most important roles in this case.  Not to mention he gives the biggest piece of foreshadowing in the episode:

Funny he should say that when there’s a spirit medium right in front of him, but I guess he doesn’t have time for unimportant details like that.

As the story goes on and the revelations start pouring in, we learn about Sorin’s older sister Selena, who was originally going to be the next president of Sprocket Aviation.  This, unfortunately, was not to be...

The sudden loss of his sister provides an explanation for his closed-off attitude and interest in time machines, but the mysteries surrounding that tragic day are only beginning.

We also learn that Mr. Nichody believes Ellen is guilty of her alleged crime, and for that reason, he’s strongly opposed to letting her marry Sorin.  Could he be right in doubting her, or is there something else behind is disapproval?  Ellen doesn’t seem that bad, after all.  Just a little...what’s the term?

There you go.

Then comes one of the bigger twists -- it turns out Sorin and his in-laws were responsible for Ellen’s supposed trip through time, which turned out to be an elaborate scheme to make her believe her near-death experience with Gloomsbury was only a dream.  Or so says Nichody, at least.

But once again, this is only the beginning.

Even with the possibility of time travel ruled out, Ellen’s guilt hasn’t been disproved just yet.  The only hope Phoenix has is the person she claims she saw attacking Gloombury before losing consciousness.  Unfortunately, the only suspect he can come up with so far is her fiance, thus introducing the possibility of him having to take her place in prison.

Considering every case up until now has had some form of happy ending, it’d be quite the unusual turn of events for this happy couple to have to be separated whether we win or lose the case...but is it impossible?

As tragic as that possibility might be, it sets up a scene that happens to be one of my favorite kinds -- one where someone is compelled to give up something, even if it’s his or her own life, purely out of love for someone else.

Her words are touching, but soon after saying them, she’s forced to prove just how steadfast her love is for Sorin, even in a cruel twist of fate -- namely, his pointing the blame for Gloomsbury’s death in her direction.

That face alone is enough to break anyone’s heart, but thankfully, that’s where the plot twists just begin.  The first one reveals that Sorin went to rescue his bride-to-be in the most bizarre way possible.

Then it turns out he really didn’t, or so he says.  Then it turns out he was attacked by Gloomsbury along with Ellen.  Then comes one that turns everything he’s said so far upside-down:

It turns out time travel is possible, but not in the way everyone was hoping, or in a way anyone would want -- due to his anterograde amnesia, Sorin “goes back in time” whenever he goes to sleep.  This revelation sheds a lot of light on his personality, his compulsive note-taking, and his feelings toward Ellen.  Not to mention, it turns out (sheesh, I keep saying that) he was responsible for the car crash that took his sister’s life.  But luckily, that's not all his condition reveals.

Someone decided to take advantage of Sorin’s memory being dependent on what he writes in his notebook in order to paint him as Gloomsbury’s murder.  Who might that someone be?  Well, for anyone who’s read the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (or enough murder mysteries involving rich families), it should be pretty obvious -- the butler did it!

But what motive could a close friend and servant have for manipulating Sorin’s memories?  Well, like many an Ace Attorney culprit, he’s not as level-headed as he appears to be.

The rogue butler in this case turns out to be the once-fiance of Sorin’s sister, as well as the one who operated on her after the car accident occurred...or, rather, who almost did.

After some impromptu x-rays and the testimony that wasn’t there, we finally learn the whole truth about Nichody, Gloomsbury, and the plot to exact their revenge on Sorin and his bride.  It turns out Sorin wasn’t the only one stuck in the past.

In a beautiful yet tragic symbolism, Selena’s pocket watch stopped ticking on the same day her heart stopped beating, which, for Nichody, was the day time stopped.

This brings us to our final guest, one who could only be here in spirit -- Ms. Selena Sprocket.  In Ellen’s words, Selena would’ve said, “Leave this ill will behind.  Your time is yours to live.”  To an inconsolable time traveler, these words hold no meaning, but just then...

Whether it’s a coincidence or a message from Selena from beyond (which might actually be believable in the Ace Attorney universe), Pierce is reminded that, sooner or later, time moves on.

And on that note, Ellen and Sorin are finally able to move on from this rough patch in their lives and experience their “First Startup of Love.”

Speaking of the happy couple, the one thing that stuck with me about this episode more than Nichody’s epiphany is how devoted Ellen is to Sorin from beginning to end.

With the knowledge that he might forget everything about her, himself, their wedding, and any other experiences they might share together, her devotion to him is ultimately proven to be the real deal.  His willingness to risk his life for her also proves that this devotion goes both ways.  In the end, there’s nothing, past, present, or future, that can keep them apart.  Why, you ask?

And hey, even Larry found it in himself to move on!  How about that?

Thus ends a beautiful story, a beautiful reunion of the original characters, and a beautiful finale(?) to the Ace Attorney series.  Sure, there was tragedy along the way, but after an ending like that, I’d like to see each of these characters, new and old, take a bow.

Just...don’t throw them any flowers.

-The Co-Mod