#and of course it's an already-posted meresino fic. well. i guess it's technically a culledith fic too

[ziskandra]

Find the Words

Search your works for the given words and post the context of what you find! My given words (from @mxkelsifer) were danger, follow, color and decline.

DANGER

Trucy inched closer to the door, pushing on it gently so she could see more of the kitchen. She could see Daddy then, staring more into the depths of his own cup of coffee than the woman sitting across from him.

“So you’re still staying in contact with the legal community,” the woman asked, and Trucy noticed how the woman’s posture relaxed as she said that, how the grip on her mug was a lot less tight than it had been previously. “Does that mean you be contesting the Bar Association’s decision?” It was Daddy that tensed this time, Trucy noticed. “I don’t have any intention of doing so.” The woman’s face clouded dangerously, and Trucy was sure if she had that whip in her hands, Daddy would be feeling it across his face. The thought made Trucy swell in anger, but she did not run into the kitchen just yet--she wanted to see Daddy take care of himself, now that he wasn’t in immediate danger. “You’re a fool, Phoenix Wright,” the woman snapped. “You come so far, almost defeating me in the process, and you’re telling me that you intend on hiding away like a coward? The media paints you as a hero who can work miracles, but at the end of the day, you can’t even help yourself? You can’t even help the little girl that’s in your care? You disgust me. You’d let one tiny foolish incident stand in your way… clearly, I’d misinterpreted your dedication to the job—”

FOLLOW

While little brother claims he returned to America after his year of epiphany to help me, I cannot help but think that he wanted to help Phoenix Wright instead. I am Franziska von Karma, and I do not need Miles Edgeworth’s help. Those tears I might have shed before my own return to Europe were caused by the stress of not being able to prosecute, nothing more.

So, naturally, when Miles announced his return to the States without even once mentioning it before, I could not help but think that perhaps that Phoenix Wright was involved again. But Phoenix Wright is no longer a practicing attorney, so why would Miles need to help him now?

After two months, when Miles did not return to Europe like I’d anticipated, I decided to follow him back to America. Well, not entirely. I never follow. The cases here in Germany had simply grown stale, and although I despise America and its culture (or, what culture it pretends to have), I cannot deny that whenever I was there, I felt different. Challenged. Alive.

COLOR

Franziska's heart jumped, and it was all she could do to not squirm awkwardly under her sister's continued scrutiny. She'd been feeling out-of-sorts all day, but Lisbeth had done nothing but her best to be inclusive.

Alexander got to his feet, standing just behind his wife’s chair. “Go ahead. Open it.”

Franziska’s fidgety fingers finally made a dedicated attempt at opening the present; colourful paper fell away until only a box remained. After looking up at Alexander's encouraging smile, she continued, opening the lid of her present; it was a very pretty broach, the same color as her eyes. She'd once had one of a similar shade but different shape, but had lost it during a challenging crime scene investigation. Of course, Franziska herself had surmounted the challenge, but her broach had not.

Although it did not match, Franziska affixed the broach to the front of her dress. After some scrutiny, she decided that it would go well with her usual court attire. “You're family,” Lisbeth repeated and it was only once Franziska looked up again that she was taken aback by the warmth of Lisbeth's smile. Von Karmas were not nurturing, but it seemed that the years had affected Franziska's sister; Lisbeth was truly a Paffenholz now. Suddenly awkward for a reason she could not quite decipher, Franziska averted her gaze as she let the feeling rush through her.

Maybe Christmas wasn't so bad after all.

DECLINE

They’re careful in public, of course. Oh, Meredith might still manhandle him with wild abandon, grasping at fistfuls of robes when he particularly draws her ire, but it’s only when they’re in the safety of their own quarters that she brings her mouth crashing down against his, pinning him against the wall with one forearm, knee pressed up against his groin. She’ll kiss him hard enough to bruise, to break the skin if she’s not careful, and she rarely is. Meredith is the Knight-Commander, and this is the only space she has to let go, to be with one of the only people in the whole damn city who’s not scared by her, not even a little bit, and if that’s what she needs, then Orsino is happy to provide, because Maker knows, he needs it too.

With every other templar, Orsino knows he needs to watch his back. Even those who have never personally witnessed a mage turn into an abomination (a number that is rapidly declining in the disaster zone that is known as the city of Kirkwall) watch the mages with suspicious eyes, fingers twitching at any whiff of forbidden magic. And even though he knows it’s Meredith who’s at least nurtured, if not planted, these misconceptions in the minds of those under her command, the fear of an untimely death is the furthest thing from his mind when they’re alone together like this. If she actually wanted to kill him, she’s had plenty of chances already. But he knows, just as she does, that she needs him, just as much as he needs her. If somebody were to replace her, he’d have to learn a whole new playbook, and there’s no guarantee that he’ll be able to work together this … intimately with the next Knight-Commander. And there was always the chance that they could be worse.

Tagging: @genedar, @musashi, @squadron-of-damned, @princefado, @jake-marshall and anybody else who'd like to do this one! Your words are: roast, love, shade & inclination!