#anyway they should have faced off against each other again. dual destinies did many things poorly but having them appear in the same case

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

the Klavier-Edgeworth parallels of I Don't Care How You Feel, the Truth Is the Only Thing That Matters™ are very interesting, but the Klavier-Phoenix parallels of nothing bad has ever affected me in my life idk what you're talking about that didn't mean anything I'm not talking about it I'm not thinking about it I'm not acknowledging it they may not be dead but they're dead to me and that's how I like it I'm never looking at them again because they're dead they're gone they're a ghost and this is a perfectly healthy way to live look at me I'm thriving I'm thriving I'm thriving are also very interesting, do you get what I'm saying.

[lonelypond]

Moonlight Becomes You: Apocalypse Midnight Dance Party, Ch. 9

Love Live/Love Live Sunshine, NozoEli, NicoMaki, KanaMari, YoshiMaru, 1.8K, 9/?

Summary: Most everyone settles in for a quiet night.

INTERLUDES

Pacing, Nico was frustrated and pacing, reminding herself of Eli on growl prowl as moonrise neared, Nico trying not to just throw herself into a wall to see how it sounded. That wasn’t how Nico coped, no, Nico did practical things, so taking a rag in hand she began to wipe down the counters. After that, the sliding doors, then maybe she would start chopping things for a stew or something. Not borscht though, Nico made a face, tongue out, gagging, even though there wasn’t anyone to amuse or tease. Beets, beets you could have too many of, and cream, cloying, heavy sweet cream...Eli’s new Russian food cravings were having too much influence on Nico’s meal choices. Tonight though, Nico was opting for a less cloggy choice. If Nico was eating alone, a crisp, fresh salad from locally sourced produce was the ticket...just the lightest dressing. She opened a cabinet, small bowl, olive oil, mustard, white wine vinegar, whisk, then take the chives out of the refrigerator and start chopping. Lift the knife, let it fall, get into a nice, non pacing rhythm, ignoring the people who were ignoring her by not blowing up her phone with apology texts, that was the ticket. And then, after the sensible salad, curling up on the sofa to watch K-Pop weekly roundups and eat strawberry gelato. That was the best way to spend an evening. Really it was. Nico knows all. That decided, Nico hummed as she assembled her dinner.

###

Kanan fell back into her couch, sighing. Mari flounced out of the bedroom, in her third outfit of the day, a bright --somehow -- gray sleeveless sweater dress that her hair fell off the shoulders of like the molten gold of the sun rising out of the sea. From her first sight of Mari, Kanan had never not been captivated by how that glow reflected Mari’s sunniness, inhumanly bright and impossibly brattish.

“How much did you scare Eli?” Kanan asked wearily, having developed over many years the dual capacity for enthusiasm and cynicism about the ‘helpful’ wrenches Mari in fix it mode would throw into the lives of their friends and acquaintances.

“Mio cuore, I’m not cruel. I did nothing to your dancer, except trying to get Nozomi to acknowledge the fact that she couldn’t take her eyes off the poor girl. And I can see why.”

“Mari.” Exasperated, Kanan closed her eyes, stretching her arm out along the couch, knowing what would come next. And there it was, the softest touch of feather soft strands, then the weight of Mari’s head against her shoulder.

“Ah, but you are the only beast for me, bella. We have always been linked by the thread of destiny.” Mari whispered against her ear with a touch of lips as soft as the slightest swell of the sea.

Kanan’s laugh was a bark, “No matter how much you gnaw at it.”

“KANAN.” Mari’s shock was genuine as she threw herself back across the couch, hand fluttering to cover her betrayed heart. Mari’s shock was always genuine when Kanan refused to let Mari charm her way out of confrontations.

“So Eli wasn’t crying because of you?” Kanan’s suspicions continued. The memory of Eli’s red rimmed eyes wouldn’t fade.

“No.” Mari’s dramatics were eclipsed by gentle concern.

“I wonder what it’s like to be surprised…” Kanan hesitated, caught by a sudden realization.

“Huh?”

“I always knew who I was.” Kanan reached her hands out for Mari’s, always so warm, always so willing to pull her out of fogs.

“Oh.” Mari frowned, scooting down the couch as Kanan reached out. “it must be terrifying.”

Kanan had watched Eli’s meticulous, unvarying warm up routine before every one of their rehearsals, the dancer slowly progressing through exercises and positions, always at the same slow speed, always in the same order. “Yeah.”

###

Dia was standing catty-corner to the fireplace, staring at the ocean. She’d only seen pictures of the Malibu estate like this, before the beach had been covered and the rock stairs useless at high tide. There were favorite corners she’d rather be tucked into, but Maki hadn’t invited her guests into the downstairs suites. The decorating was so strange anyway, complete absence of any hint of Nico, which made everything seem cold. Dia shivered, accidentally timed to a cough from You, who still persisted in flashing unforgettable legs in very forgettable, should be trashed shorts. Was this California in the early 21st century? Because, Dia decided, it could keep its complete lack of fashion aesthestic, before she wrenched her eyes from You’s tanned legs to the very worried blue eyes watching her.

“Weird for you, huh?” You chuckled.

“Can’t you find clothes?” Dia snapped, turning even further out to sea.

“Uh yeah, sorry about these.” You gestured at herself, “Wasn’t expecting Yoshiko to drop you into my day like that.”

“Is it Yoshiko or Yohane?” Dia wasn’t really curious, but these questions allowed her to loop around any looming embarrassments or admissions.

“Both.” You shrugged. “I’m sure she’ll explain.”

“I’m not sure she’ll have a chance. Why in the world would I…” Dia started, irritated.

“Don’t you want to get back home?” You parried with a shrewd question.

Dia sighed and sat on one of the chairs parallel to the window, pulling a leg up to rest her chin on, “Of course I do. But maybe this is a dream…?”

“Ooohh, I’ve never been in anyone’s dream with lighting like this.” You struck a pose, hands under her chin, fluttering her eyelashes at Dia.

“Silly.” Dia forced herself not to laugh but a corner of a smile snuck out.

“Ah,” You bounced dramatically to the opposite chair, “Your face does relax.”

Dia tossed her hair back, rolling her eyes so as to not encourage this friendliness. “You have a home, right? Go and get some clothes.”

“Your mother will never let me back in.” You stated flatly.

Dia thought for a long moment, then smiled and shrugged.

You groaned and threw her head back, “You’re all so cruel.”

“All right, Watanabe, everyone in the family is taller than you are…” As Maki entered the space with that announcement, You dramatically threw a forearm across her forehead. Completely ignoring her, Maki continued “so nothing is even near your size, but here’s a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. There’s a bathroom that way.” Maki tossed a pile of clothes in You’s direction and thumbed in the direction of the hall behind her. Turning to Dia, Maki handed her a much neater stack, “My mother has some casual clothes that seem like they might suit you. There’s a guest suite down that hall if you want to get changed there.”

Dia stood, her arms full of a fuzzy mint, tan and blue check jacquard sweater and a pair of black knit leggings with small slits at the ankles. Very much what her mama would consider casual wear and a little too relaxed for Dia, but not as much as if Maki had raided her own closet. “Thanks.”

Maki nodded. “The driver’s gone to get food. She’ll be back soon.” Maki glanced around the room, “The fire makes it nice here, but we can set dinner out on the table.”

Dia remembered so many nights, her mothers curled up in each other’s arms on a much pinker couch, staring into the fire as music played.

“That’s fine. I like it here.” Dia hugged the pile of clothes a little closer; at least her gandmother's perfume was familiar, berries and pale flowers and a clear musk, “I am a little cold though.”

“Mama’s got a shirt jacket somewhere.” Maki swivelled, “I’ll find it.”

Dia found herself wishing she’d stayed in the hospital room. This situation, here at home, but everything and everyone just a step not right, was becoming too disconcerting and she could feel not a head but a whole body ache starting. Maki, her eyes so kind, so watchful but without the deep warmth of maternal concern Dia was used to. Maki might not be the most demonstrative of parents, Dia and Ruby had Nico for that, but Dia’s first glance had met those loving eyes and she had drawn comfort from them since. Passionately perceptive, fiercely stubborn, endlessly generous; everything Dia had hoped to grow up to emulate. But here, Dia was a stranger, Maki was preoccupied with other concerns, and puzzlement flashed across amethyst more often than benevolence. It was going to be a full body headache, Dia thought, reaching a hand to rub her eyes, forgetting she had an armful of clothes, her knees suddenly failing, and You was right there, in a ridiculously large white shirt with black ink kanji that slid off her shoulders and sweats she was keeping up with one hand. The other seemed to be keeping Dia up. How silly.

“What did you do?” Maki’s voice sounded distant even as it echoed angrily around the room. Dia tried to blink, but her eyes wouldn’t open, sleep suddenly sounded perfect as she felt herself being eased down to the couch.

“I came back and she was so pale…”

“She said she was cold.”

“Is that a symptom?”

The voice that wasn’t Mama’s, what was her name again, Legs, You, right, Dia rambled to herself, You had squeaked with worry, that was nice but Dia was fine, she didn’t need any help, just a nap.

###

Hanamaru smiled at Yoshiko sprawled gracelessly over a chaise at the back of the bookstore. As soon as the fallen angel had returned to a comfortable place, the time displacement lag took over and Yoshiko had proven how affected by mortal failings she was now. But the snoring was cute, and the way her midnight hair splayed out against the warm red of the chair reminded Hanamaru of nights when her wife had had some energy left and Hanamaru could remind her of heavenly pleasures other than the celestial.

With a giggle, followed by a sigh, Hanamaru plugged in the refilled electric kettle. No sense remembering those scenes, until Yoshiko had a chance to recuperate. And then, there would probably still be issues to sort out related to the displaced Dia before they truly had time to themselves again

How could Hanamaru help? Too used to Yoshiko’s refusal to admit she needed assistance, Hanamaru realized this, while Yoshiko was safe in a restful oblivion, was the perfect time to do her own research. Perhaps there were some answers to be found in the future. As the tea kettle bubbled, a bright blue light flashing in the darkened room, Hanamaru moved to the locked cabinet, hidden in a jumble of seemingly random bookshelves. Time for her to consult the Book Of Riko, to see if prophecy held any answers someone less impulsive than Yoshiko could puzzle out.

A/N: Howdy.Cats and furniture have been moved; still trying to get back into some form of routine. How's your October? Any Halloween plans? We're doing scary stories and snacks (probably not scary) by fireside next weekend for our next theatrical adventure. I might read some bits of Dracula. 'Tis the season ; )