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wardencommanderrodimiss · 4 years ago

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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]

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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]

#roddy fanfics #fic: the witches of los angeles

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youngbounty · 4 years ago

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Five Reasons I Won’t Watch the Anime, But Will Watch the Movie

I don't have many good things to say about the Ace Attorney anime and have my reasons for why I refuse to watch it. Admittedly, I have watched a few clips here and there to see how its version of some, if not many, of my favorite scenes from the game compare. As expected, it continually disappoints. Had it been just Manfred Von Karma adopting Miles Edgeworth that I hated from the anime, I would've watched it regardless. Even during the days I was into Yu-Gi-Oh, I was still willing to watch the worst season of that show, Capsule Monsters, because it still felt like Yu-Gi-Oh no matter how poorly done it was. The same can be said for Ace Attorney. If it feels like Ace Attorney, I will watch it regardless.

The Ace Attorney anime did not give me the same type of excitement the game had. Much to my amazement, much of the reasons why I absolutely refuse to watch the anime version of Ace Attorney is the opposite reasons why I am more than excited to watch the live action movie adaptation. Even when watching some of the spoiler clips of the live action movie, including some of the changes made, gives me the joy and excitement I never got when watching the Ace Attorney anime. To understand this, I will give you my list of reasons for why I refuse to watch the Ace Attorney anime and how the live action Ace Attorney movie differs from those reasons.

Changes From the Game

In any medium, changes are necessary in order to fit the medium. The Danganronpa anime, for instance, makes certain necessary changes during the day breaks. Instead of seeing Makoto meeting with each character and being given their underwear, after unlocking five or three friendship events, it mostly cuts to important scenes. Of course, this does mean sacrificing what bond he's made to the other characters, but that sacrifice is necessary in order to keep the story going. Some scenes from the game are cut from the anime for timing purposes. The Ace Attorney anime doesn't do either of those things.

I have complained about the anime's change in having Miles Edgeworth be the adopted son of Manfred Von Karma, but that's just the tip of the ice berg of changes done in the anime. Other changes I've also seen will go from giving Miles a dog named Missile – who was actually Dick Gumshoe's dog in the game, to having Maya gain the bullet from Gregory by stealing it from Von Karma's office – because that is totally not illegal or destroys the sacrifice she made to gain that bullet in the game, to making Celeste Inpax Adrian's older sister – yeah, because that doesn't destroy the symbolism of Miles Edgeworth's suffering, to the biggest disappointment of no psyche-locks, aside from that tease in Farewell my Turnabout that felt like the creator was sticking their tongue at us. There are more stupid changes, besides these, but I'd rather not list them all.

There were changes in the anime that I did like, but they were mostly additions that broadened the story and most of it was from the first season. Come to find out, the first season of the anime was done by a different studio, while the second season changed studios. It's pretty clear that the first season at least was putting love and care into the show, whereas the second season felt more like a lazy cash grab with no real potential. I'm not asking for an anime adaptation of Ace Attorney to be by the books, but I am asking for heart and the anime didn't feel like there was any heart. I felt more love for the show in Yu-Gi-Oh Capsule Monsters and even The Last Airbender live action movie than I did with the Ace Attorney anime. Not to say there wasn't anyone working on the anime that weren't Ace Attorney fans, but the ones that did work their best were not the ones in charge of orchestrating the project. I will say the voice actors and those in charge of the music did put their heart into it.

The live movie adaptation of Phoenix Wright do have changes from the game, but unlike the anime adaptation, these changes do feel like necessary changes in comparison. One of the major changes in the live action movie is the setting of DL-6, which is the Evidence Room and not the elevator. Because the film was low budget, it's understandable why they may've had to change the setting. Also, it would be hard to film in a closed space. While Miles passing out makes little sense in the movie, it also can be left up for interpretation such as maybe the shock of thinking he shot his father by accident. Another change was having Gregory wear his trench coat from Miles Edgeworth Investigations 2, which I find to be an excellent Easter egg. Another change was how Phoenix Wright obtained the bullet shot in Gregory Edgeworth, that being from inside The Thinker clock/statue. While it belittled Maya's sacrifice in the anime, in this one, it creates a connection between Maya's and Edgeworth's trial that is necessary for the film adaptation. A film cannot work in the same way as a game, since a movie needs to follow a single plot line. It also doesn't sacrifice Maya's sacrifice, since the tasing scene is still in the film, but at a different location with different circumstances.

Not to say the film won't have any flaws, but it's clear there was more heart put into it based on the changes. It never tries to change the relationships between the characters from the game, make characters do things they normally wouldn't do in the game or give things that originally belonged to another character. The live action movie kept to the game as much as it could. Because of how much heart was put into the live action movie, I had thought it was a fan movie at first. Heck, there are scenes where we see Edgeworth stand from the Defendant's Bench to defend himself. Sure, the anime had that too, but not until the very end. Even then, it wasn't as good as the live action movie, where Edgeworth is heavily involved and not just sitting in his bench twiddling his thumbs, while Phoenix is cross-examining a bird. Not to say the game had Edgeworth do anything until the end, but there weren't enough graphics to see him respond to anything. Anyone that does an anime or movie adaptation is expected to show more than what the game provides. When you compare the responses from the characters in the anime and the movie, it's clear the movie shows much more responses from the defendant and the entire gallery, while the anime does not.

As I said, changes are sometimes necessary when doing adaptations to other mediums and the movie's changes feel much more necessary, while the anime's changes feel aggrivating.

Semi Futuristic, Conducting Trials and Presenting Evidence

The anime adaptation has a very lazy way of showing us that Phoenix Wright takes place in a semi futuristic world with 2000's technology. It does this by... showing us technology we already have in this day and age? Imagine if someone were to make a Back to the Future reboot where Marty McFly goes to 2015 and instead of seeing a Utopian future full of jaw dropping technology and hover boards, we get technology we use today. Sounds kinda boring, doesn't it? Well, that's what the Ace Attorney anime feels like.

There's nothing amazing or uniquely different about the Ace Attorney anime that catches the viewer's eye. What I liked about the game was that it introduced us to certain kinds of tech that were amazing and made us feel we were in another world. We were introduced to new ways of development and magic. Fingerprint analysis could be used by common people, you could analyze pieces of evidence without touching it, you can record data in a court record before the police arrive and, because magic also exists in this world, people treated it as something that commonly happened. In the anime, we get to see screenshots of evidence on TV, have Phoenix handling evidence even though he's not allowed to do that and watching a not Utopian future that feels too much like the real world today. Yay.

The Ace Attorney live action movie not only makes it known that this is a semi futuristic world, but shows it to us. You have evidence in holographic screens the Defense or Prosecution can pull up and push to the person they're showing it to. When the Defense wins, holographic confetti is released toward the gallery, which I find much more satisfying than Gumshoe throwing it. This makes it to where the Defense doesn't have to handle evidence and present it much more efficiently. Because trials are expected to last no more than three days, you really feel the pressure from Phoenix Wright. It feels like something that exists only in this world and not ours.

What the live action movie did was something asked and expected by the fans. They want Ace Attorney to feel like a semi futuristic world. They want the trials to feel pleasant to look at. The anime did do a good job with adding some wind effects to the objections, but that was the only cool thing done. There wasn't anything fresh and new beyond that. Also, no psyche-locks, which I felt was one of the biggest disappointments. It felt like a missed opportunity with what the anime could do with the animation in using the magatama to break the psyche-locks. Well... that and showing Phoenix throwing his phone to Edgeworth in Farewell my Turnabout in animation. Co'mon, am I the only one that wants to see the epic phone throw in animation!?

Pet peeves aside, with what I've seen the live action movie provide with presenting evidence, I am looking forward to seeing what else they bring to the table. Perhaps hinting the magatama?

Easter Eggs

The anime showing Easter eggs or not is irrelevant, because I see non. I asked someone, who had only seen the Ace Attorney anime if Gregory is ever seen with Raymond Shields or have any discussions about IS-7. The answer was no. We get nothing out of IS-7.

The live action movie gives us Gregory with his trench coat he used when investigating IS-7. It gives us Apollo Justice's Objection song that is used at the end of Phoenix's Objection song. The movie ends with Farewell my Turnabout, letting us know it's not expecting a sequel, but tells us that Phoenix Wright does not end with Turnabout Goodbyes either. The live action movie makes it clear there is no sequel, but shows us there is more to look forward to. This is something I never got from the anime.

The anime only tells the story it wants to tell us and no more. Many people ask for an anime adaptation of Apollo Justice, but I don't want there to be one. There was a huge split in the game, so in order to do an anime adaptation, that would mean the creators will have to put love and heart into it. Unfortunately, I never got that from the anime. Not even a hint of what's to come or even the events of Phoenix Wright Dual Destinies or Spirit of Justice.

You want to talk about change, how about instead of Miles Edgeworth being adopted by Manfred Von Karma, he's adopted by Raymond Shields? Then, when Miles gets older, he leaves to work for Manfred Von Karma and we get a heartbreaking scene of Miles saying hurtful words to Raymond Shields. Heck, how about instead of Phoenix giving Miles a dog named Missile, it's named Pess. Not only would it be showing love for the show, but acknowledging the creator's idea for the character. Another change fans would love is Miles Edgeworth eating a swiss roll with Gumshoe and Kay in Turnabout Beginnings. Maybe have Phoenix read a Newspaper about Miles Edgeworth revealing the Yatagaratsu to being Calisto Yew.

Again, going back to Yu-Gi-Oh Capsule Monsters, the idea 4Kids came up with was based on a game introduced in the manga. While the monsters were replaced by Dual Monsters, the game play was still the same. It may've been the worst season, but it at least was aware of what the fans wanted and looked forward to. The same can be said for The Last Airbender live action movie. Granted, it sucked and the characters were blander than a cardboard box, but it at least kept story and characters consistent with little to no changes in the flow of the plot and characters. I never got that from the anime.

I will admit, I liked how the creators did base many of the expressions from the sprites, but it felt like that these additions were from a simple google search. You can find sprites of the characters. You can also search on wiki for the summery of the game play and walk through. Again, the first season did feel like they were trying to follow the plot and characters, while giving the fans what they wanted. Though, afterwards, the animation and everything just stood on a straight line instead of improving.

If I had to choose, I will always be thrilled to watch an adaptation that feels like it was made with love and care by fans and for fans.

Cheap and lazy

The anime is lazy with its animation and what they can do with it. There was a clip of when Godot threw his coffee at Phoenix, then we see it magically disappear in the next scene. There were some people that thought I was nitpicking when I complained about it, but it had nothing to do with realism. It was because it was lazy. I would have preferred Phoenix turning the coffee into a rope and whipping Godot than using cheap tricks like that. That's aside from the fact that the animation feels cheap when compared to the game.

I know that with animated series, it is treated differently than a cartoon movie, because it's continual, but that's not an excuse when you consider what the live action movie did on a low budget. Cheap and lazy is different from low budget film. Despite being on low budget, the live action movie worked their hardest to make the movie as exciting as possible. Sure, there were goofy moments, but they were done for comedic effects to distract us from the dark elements. The characters showed much stronger emotions when compared to the anime adaptation.

Now, Maya's character in the film was one thing that felt like a fail and I would agree with that, but the rest of the characters showed such strong emotions that worked naturally off each other. Just from the trailer alone, I could see that the actress that played Maya tried her hardest to put so much emotion into her character that lost her sister and dealt with the hardships of a spirit medium. Phoenix Wright deals with the pressure of being a Defense Attorney and shows the emotions of losing his mentor, then is about to lose his best friend he worked so hard to become a Defense Attorney to save. You see the intense emotion and pressure with being accused of murder by his own mentor he worshiped like a god. Again, there's a reason why I thought this film was fan made.

The intense emotion shown in the live action movie reminded me of a stage play done at an Anime Con on Farewell my Turnabout where Phoenix is talking with Shelly De Killer. There's a moment he has with Edgeworth where he is in tears, because of Maya's situation, then hearing words of wisdom from his friend to not give up. That tugs my heartstrings and just watching the trailer of the live action movie did the same to me. Seeing Phoenix watching the ghost of his former mentor pulled on my heartstrings compared to the anime's version of it. Also, no I did not watch the live action's scene of Maya's ghost before the anime's; it was the other way around. Seeing Phoenix in the live action version looking like he's about to cry and struggling not to is much more heartbreaking than watching the anime's Phoenix on the ground in the middle of the courtroom doing the same thing and looking like a fool.

When you see a low budget movie touching hearts by doing their very best with what they have, it shows they're not just showing cheap tricks. I feel the anime could've done much more instead of using cheap tricks. Going back to my no psyche-locks complaint, when you have a two second scene of psyche-locks breaking in an imagery that shows more dimension than the game, it feels more like a middle finger than an Easter Egg. I don't want to see cheap parlor tricks, I want to see the best freakin' adaptation to a beloved game the world has ever seen.

Love VS Money

As I have stated, I do believe that the Ace Attorney anime was originally planned by those that genuinely loved the game. Many of the ideas placed into it like the Signal Samurai and giving Edgeworth a dog feels like something brought by a genuine fan. Though, at some point, the anime lost its way and it makes me wish it was like the Danganronpa anime and just stuck to one season. That being said, I don't think it was full of people that didn't care about Ace Attorney. There were certainly fans of the game in the development team, but there were those that I suspect cared more for money than love for the franchise.

The live action movie felt like it was done by fans. Even those that didn't know the game seemed excited about working on this project. I'm not going to say that people that work on a good movie adaptation are going to be full of fans, but it needs to be driven by fans. It's not going to feel genuine otherwise. The Ace Attorney anime didn't feel genuine and perhaps it's because Season 2 was done by a different studio.

Think of it this way, what if there was a trailer of a live action adaptation of Yu-Gi-Oh? Wouldn't you want to see holographic images projecting from a duel disk or watching the characters going inside a holographic box that projects different climates or environments with monsters that look realistic and 3D looking? What if instead of that, you got TV screenshots of the play cards and monsters in 2D pixels fighting and defeating each other as if you were at a Yu-Gi-Oh game Anime Con? Wouldn't that be disappointing?

I think you guys get the idea. In any anime adaptation of a game, I expect it to feel like it came straight out of the game itself. That's what the live adaptation of Ace Attorney feels like. It feels like they took the game out of its cartridge and placed it in the real world. Sure, there are changes, but they don't feel like a disappointment or missed opportunity. The Ace Attorney anime feel like there were too many missed opportunities and changes no one asked for.

In any case, I look forward to watching the live adaptation of Ace Attorney, because it feels genuine, it feels like the kind of movie I looked forward to as a fan. When I finished the trilogy, I remember nagging about how Ace Attorney would be the perfect movie for Hollywood to adapt to live action, because there wouldn't be many scenes to shoot and the only chapter of the game to focus is Turnabout Goodbyes. If they want to go farther, then Turnabout Sisters and Turnabout Goodbyes with the other ones brushed to the side. Apparently, I wasn't the only one asking for this, because the live action movie did exactly that.

If there is any chance to give Ace Attorney another chance for a live action adaptation, I'd like there to be little to no changes and to give something to the fans that they look forward to.

#Ace Attorney #ace attorney anime #Phoenix Wright #adaptation #Ace Attorney movie

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scarlettlawyer · 5 years ago

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Part 7 of my reaction/commentary to the Phantoms & Mirages fanfic series by @renegadewangs

(Chasing Phantoms): Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

(Haunted Specters): Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Going into Vanquishing Mirages, I’d first like to comment on the title. To the uninitiated, those unfamiliar with the story and the characters, the title can seem pretty vague. Indeed, I’d taken the title to be akin to referring to/describing an abstract concept at first glance when I was not in-the-know, and it’s only upon getting up to the fic that it’s suddenly like “Oh. It’s literal. It’s meant to be taken literally.” The same can be said for the title of the overall series, “Phantoms and Mirages”, which I have already commented on. I’d always thought it was a nice play wherein there are two similar words, but one is referring to a concrete, actual character whereas the other is only for the abstract concept. Only to find out, no, they’re BOTH words that refer to concrete, actual characters. It feels kinda cool how suddenly the title fully “reveals” itself like this and takes shape, but only once you’re far enough into the story.

The transition from Chasing Phantoms to Haunted Specters is one wherein it absolutely feels like you’re starting a brand new story in a series after finishing the first one, not least because of the timeskip. Things are also mostly wrapped up by the end of Chasing Phantoms except for some loose ends. But they stand out as two very separate stories, or separated stories, albeit of course still existing within the same series with many running threads between the two. But as I finished Haunted Specters and began Vanquishing Mirages, I barely took note that I was finishing one fic and starting a new one, as the transition and connection from one to the next felt so seamless. It simply felt like I was continuing to read an ongoing story. This is also aided by how well and truly hooked and onboard I was at that point – I barely took note that the transition was one fic to another as opposed to one chapter to another, because my primary priority was just clicking through to keep on reading! I don’t think I really paused reading at all. I just headed straight from one into the next.

Vanquishing Mirages, Chapter 1

Oh, it’s already so good. It’s already so good. Hitting the ground running.

The way you connect/contrast flashbacks/scenes taking place at different points is. Masterful. For some reason, I hadn’t actually remembered the first two scenes of the fic as being shown one after the other. More phantom hypocrisy, more phantom hypocrisy! Augh. I feel bad for Mirage.

Vanquishing Mirages, Chapter 2

“Hey… Will you still recognize me? After they change my face? After they change it a hundred times over and we run into each other in the street, but you won’t know what I look like… Will you still know it’s me?”

HER SAYING THIS ACTUALLY MAKES ME SO SAD IN A SENTIMENTAL WAY.

Okay, I also love the narrative noting how Mirage’s laugh ALSO stirs Gumshoe somewhat. Because of COURSE it would. Aaaaah.

His mission as Bobby Fulbright was on a need to know basis and the only one who needed to know was he himself.

HMMM! Interesting. I hate that Dual Destinies is kinda… A little unclear on this front. Also. It was so great to see a flashback to the phantom as Bobby in the Dual Destinies timeframe, too.

Okay. Okay. And the thing about these flashbacks is just. The phantom making Mirage laugh. As a consistent running thread. He can always make her laugh. And that’s a consistent running thread that’s shown for good reason! I mean, granted, making Mirage laugh is really, really easy, so it’s no surprise that she basically laughs in pretty much every scene she’s shown in – and these are phantom flashbacks. But STILLLL

PHOENIX’S REACTION TO KNOWING FRANZISKA IS PROSECUTING IS SO GREAT

“You know what’ll help? Running a quick lap around the block!” An excited grin washed over Athena’s face. She slammed a hand down on the table and pushed herself to her feet. “Here, I’ll come with you for support! Vámonos!”

“Hang on, what about dinner?” Phoenix asked. “How long do we have until it’s done?” “Three, maybe four minutes.” “That’s plenty of time! C’mon, Bobby! I’ll race you!”

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH BECAUSE THIS IS JUST, PEAK ATHENA. How is this not a canon exchange. PLUS I just love the mental image of Bobby and Athena racing around the block together because it just feels so them? I never knew I needed this before!! But yesss just let them run together ahaah! The image of it just makes me so inexplicably happy.

HOHOHO PHOENIX PICKING UP LOCKS ON THE MAGATAMA IS SO SO GOOD AHAAAA. GOTTEM

And this scene was intriguing for me simply because the narrative, as it has done so very consistently throughout the course of the series, follows Simon’s POV perspective. Of COURSE it does. Phoenix is a marginal character at best in this series. But it’s just really cool to read because Phoenix is just about the most central character in the ace attorney series, the one whose perspective we see from the most. And yet here, in this scene where the magatama reacts, we are seeing it – him – from the outside. Simon, naturally, is sceptical of the magatama whereas we, the readers, already know that it’s dead-on. As I read through the exchange that Simon and Phoenix have with each other over it… it was so easy to imagine myself holding the DS in my hands, playing through this scene in an ace attorney game AS Phoenix, being on the other side of the exchange and watching Simon deny it and say that the magatama was faulty, and knowing just as much as Phoenix does that he’s wrong. Things like this almost feel like a Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead type deal, where the “plot” and the “main characters” – at least if you are going from how the main games classify it – casually wander in on and interact with the “other characters” every now and then before wandering out of the picture again and leaving them to it – the “other characters” being, in this series, the ones whose perspectives we have been sticking with the entire time, when it almost feels like Phoenix should still be at the centre simply because of how normalised that is in the game series.

It makes me think that if you were to construct an Ace Attorney game (or rather, case?) around the plot of Vanquishing Mirages, it would – obviously – just look so dramatically different, even if the exact same stuff is happening, we’d be Phoenix interacting with the others. Instead of actually getting Simon’s POV as the narrative gives us, the player would have to rely on Phoenix’s interactions with characters like Bobby and Simon to piece together what is going on with them. You could still set up the main kind of plot and demonstrate the, for example, internal conflicts Simon is having, but you’d be getting the information much more “secondhand” – through Phoenix, as is usually the case in the games. It goes to show that you can tell the same story from so many different perspectives, and even in main ace attorney games there is so much else going on that the player obviously never gets to see. You can take a marginal character and just show how much is going on behind the scenes when Phoenix’s plot isn’t intersecting with theirs. But yes, this scene truly made me feel like we were in the midst of an ongoing Ace Attorney game, yet as an outsider – only getting the “side-character” POV through Simon.

Vanquishing Mirages, Chapter 3

yet he was willing to put that paranoia aside for the sake of Bobby’s emotional health. Why was that not the same as caring?

I’m STILL thinking real deep about this whole scene, daaaaamn. You really have the ability to inspire – to make someone really think with your writing.

THE ENTIRE SCENE WHERE SIMON AND FRANZISKA MEET IS

Perfection.

AND I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S… WE’RE ONLY ON CHAPTER THREE??? WE’RE ONLY ON CHAPTER 3 AND EVERY CHAPTER SO FAR ALREADY FEELS ICONIC IN ITS OWN RIGHT. I guess this is a result of me not paying too much attention that this was a separate fic because SOMEHOW this scene just felt like it came later on. Probably because it’s just so damn good it feels like it gets “built up” to or we have to “wait” a bit for it, but no, no, we are only on chapter 3 and already the blessed readers get to receive such an absolute TREAT.

Vanquishing Mirages, Chapter 4

“Ahh, Fräulein von Karma. How nice to see you again. Or perhaps I should say… Es tut mir gut Ihren süsses lächeln wieder zu sehen.” “Halt deine freche schnauze!” Von Karma barked. There was another loud whip crack and a cry of pain before she stormed off.

I love this exchange very, very much because it still works and adds something to the moment regardless of whether the reader understands German or not.

For those who don’t understand German like myself, the brevity of the exchange and the contextual clues are enough to give a clear picture of the gist of what the exchange contained even though we don’t know exactly what it was, so the overall understanding of the scene is not impacted in any way – and it’s not difficult to make use of the internet to find out an exact translation if we want to.

However, this exchange also kinda feels like it says, “if you don’t know German, stuff you. Get good. Deal with it.” And like… as a non-German speaker I 100% respect that. German speakers can read through this seamlessly. But if I want to know the exact translation, I need to interrupt the reading experience however briefly to look it up for myself. Otherwise, it’s just like standing in the scene in reality, wherein whether or not you understand exactly what gets said depends on the reader, personally. It feels so natural that this – language switch/exchange would happen as it does.

There’s many details I enjoy of the Prosecutor Lobby scene that I won’t go into them all. But wow, everything, with the introduction of Franziska and all these other characters brought into the margins of the narrative, makes the narrative feel like it’s seriously ramped up a notch in build-up to the trial.

Vanquishing Mirages, Chapter 5

The brunet looked irritable and kept sending frowns towards his two colleagues, who were both stubbornly ignoring him. Simon suspected it had to do with them being unable to tell Apollo about the true nature of the trial, leaving him to believe that they would genuinely wish to defend the Phantom.

I can’t imagine how the conversation would have gone when Apollo initially found out…

“Anyway…” The judge slammed his gavel down once to call for everyone’s attention. “Court is now in session for the trial of the international spy known as the Ghost.”

AHAHAHA LOVE THIS. A+ Judge. He Would

“Objection!” called a hoarse voice.

PHANTOM OBJECTING PHANTOM OBJECTING PHANTOM OBJ

Okay. In all honesty. I absolutely love the phantom’s objection just getting steamrolled over. Him being so very patronised. By EVERYONE. Yesssss.

It was Lang who interjected next. Lang, who placed a firm hand on the defendant’s shoulder to shove him back into his seat. “I’m afraid so, Your Honor. Like a starving, dehydrated mutt, he could almost be called delirious at this point. Why, just earlier this morning, he attempted to take responsibility for the death of Mr. Presley, also known as The King. He claimed it was a political assassination.” “That is a lie,” the Phantom snarled loudly. He was ignored.

THIS is so unbelievably fun/funny to me, I’m sorry. I don’t know how much we’re SUPPOSED to be amused by it, but I just take way too much enjoyment from the phantom’s situation in this particular scene ahahaha.

Prior to this, through Bobby, the narrative sets up the whole “it’s not right to use the phantom against his will like this.” He had given his consent for it previously. That consent has clearly been revoked. And there is that sense of “:/” about the situation prior to this that Bobby is feeling. BUT. That’s isn’t the primary lens I viewed this particular scene through. I was instead moreso inclined to just cackle evilly at my fave. THE ELECTROCUTION THAT HAPPENS AFTER IS SUPER HARSH THOUGH.

Lang’s words and behaviour just refuse to take him seriously – intentionally set up to strip the phantom from the ability to be taken seriously by anyone else. ROBBING him further of any power he could possibly still have at this point.

Haunted Specters essentially saying “the phantom = Bobby and Simon’s child” is patronising in the best way. This is also patronising, in-universe this time! And it’s just the best!!! Yes!!!!

The phantom just being shut down at every opportunity is something I love way too much. get rekt

The phantom: I AM A DANGEROUS CRIMINAL I AM GUILTY-

Just about everyone else/the narrative to an extent: aww sure you are, sure you are hon. How cute. Little darling simply doesn’t know what he’s saying. Must be a little cranky. You know how little ones can be sometimes.

It’s a sucky and harsh situation but. I guess I’m kinda awful in just wanting to see him suffer up to a certain point.

Apollo Justice looked almost satisfied.

YES YES YEEEEES I LOVED THIS LITTLE LINE, this detail thrown in. HAHA YES. AND THE CONTRAST OF HIS REACTION WITH EVERYONE ELSE’S TOO.

Because there’s actually at least one more line to this effect: love all the references to Apollo NOT being happy with this situation.

By her side, Ambassador Palaeno looked shaken. He kept wringing his hands in a nervous manner. Even more behavior that struck Simon as odd. Why did this turn of events bother the man so?

OKAY FIRST OF ALL, the CONSTANT references to Palaeno’s suspiciousness through Simon’s POV were SO great, and I was like, “Hahahah Simon it’s ok, he’s just Like That. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

BUT THEN THE NARRATIVE SEEMED TO FOCUS ON HIM SO MUCH??? To a suspicious extent. More than necessary beyond merely highlighting “haha he’s so unnecessarily suspicious to Simon.” And YES it’s because it’s Simon’s POV and Simon would be taking note a lot of this Very Odd Fellow but the constant references back to Palaeno’s shiftiness had me narrowing my eyes and going, “Okay, okay, hold up. WHAT’S going on here. There might actually be something to this. Simon possibly might be onto something.”

The suggestion that Palaeno is perhaps “stricken by guilt over something” made me think that, obviously he is not TRULY guilty of anything serious, and is obviously a nice and well-meaning man, but perhaps through his well-meaningness he might have had a hand in accidentally causing something bad and it’s just beginning to fully dawn on him. I was thinking perhaps the narrative wanted to pull a deliberate doubletwist on us – Simon thinks the man is obviously suspicious and perhaps guilty of something. The reader knows that Simon’s suspicions aren’t true, and knowing Palaeno better see him as completely innocent and as Simon just misreading him. But the narrative could totally dupe the audience very effectively, if it wanted, if Simon on some level turned out to be right. But in such a manner that still manages to preserve Palaeno’s true character. Or hey. It’s fanfiction. If it really wanted there could be a sudden “LOL Palaeno turns out to actually be bad” twist snkldsnlsdlnj

Vanquishing Mirages, Chapter 6

“Yes! Yes, that is exactly what happened!” the Phantom called, seemingly awakened from his stupor. Lang silenced him with another electric jolt- if one could call that silencing. It caused another hoarse cry of pain, after which the Phantom fell from his chair with a bang that resounded through the courtroom.

BOOOI U DESPERATE…

“No!” The spy jumped to his feet, slamming his hands down on the wooden rail before him. His eyes were wide, but even so, they twitched. He looked absolutely frantic. Whatever was inside that envelope, it was enough to rouse him from his state of defeat and send him hurtling into alarm. “As you can see, the defendant recognizes this piece of evidence. I ask that the court keeps this in consideration,” Selestia remarked. “I… No, I…” The Phantom seemed disoriented for a moment. As if he wasn’t sure what to say or do. It didn’t matter. He’d already betrayed himself by raising his voice.

CONGRATULATIONS YOU PLAYED YOURSELF PHANTOM

Lang and Fulbright both grabbed him to push him back into his seat, but he continued to stare up at Belvedere with wide eyes.

AAAAAAH MIRAGE… LOOK AT HIM JUST LOOK… YOU’RE REALLY ABOUT TO DO THIS TO HIM HUH

“You’re in no position to offer any sort of advice, Phantom. You’re in no position to do anything but follow the orders I give you. Now be a good boy and stand still for a moment.”

NOW BE A GOOD BOY AND- AAAAH

“You need to understand your place in this world. You aren’t a human being, you’re a heartless monster who needs to be locked away for everyone’s good.”

AAAAAAAAAH. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. SO NEEDLESS TO SAY – AS THIS IS JUST PRIOR TO THE REVEAL – I DIDN’T PICK UP ON THE DOUBLEMEANING OF THIS THE FIRST TIME AROUND?

The Phantom leaned forward, once again placing both hands on the rail before him. His head was bowed, a curtain of jagged blond hiding part of his face. “Don’t. If you have even the slightest shred of decency… The slightest shred of honor… Don’t give that to them.” “Please let it also be noted that the defendant is pleading for me not to show this piece of evidence, adding further truth to the notion that the results indeed involve him, thereby further increasing their relevancy,” Selestia remarked in a rather dry tone of voice.

KINDA HATE MIRAGE. KINDA HATE MIRAGE. WHICH IS, WHEW. I LOVED HER SO MUCH I THOUGHT SHE WAS SO GREAT AND THEN SHE JUST.

AND THE DSKJHF PHANTOM APPEALING TO DECENCY AND HONOUR I just. He’s got nothing left he’s desperately appealing to senses that he does not possess. That everyone knows he does not possess. That he KNOWS everyone knows he does not possess. BUT HE’S DOING IT ANYWAY.

“I will repeat my earlier warning. Once you divulge the information regarding this sociopath’s DNA results, he will attempt to silence you, as well as everyone else who hears it,” Selestia said. She brushed her hair aside one last time and this time, Simon could see it. The trace of a smile, hidden just behind her hand.

MIRAGE WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME KINDA HATE YOU RIGHT NOW. I KNOW it’s fun to watch & make the phantom squirm but aaaaaaaa

All eyes were on him, now. Even Franziska leaned sideways to glance over his shoulder as he tore the envelope open. He could hear the Phantom calling out to him. His voice was desperate, almost hysterical, leaving no doubt that these DNA results were genuine.

Wh- h-

Simon: ok cool [just casually rips it open like this]

“… As per your request, I can hereby confirm it without a doubt. The DNA of the sample provided was proven to be a match with that of Alexander Luster and the late Zerene Luster-Palaeno.”

The characters:

Me, for the most part:

HONIN’ IN ON THAT LITTLE DETAIL LIKE HELLO WHAT

Amazing. Amazing. The – Palaeno and the phantom both have blonde hair. And… And…

Palaeno seems incredibly guilty, but is innocent. The phantom IS incredibly guilty, but in Dual Destinies, “Bobby” is just about the last person you’d suspect.

Vanquishing Mirages, Chapter 7

“You gave me your WORD, Simon Blackquill! You gave me your word that you would DESTROY IT! I’ll get you for this! I’ll make you PAY!”

Buddy. If I were Simon Blackquill in this moment. Chains, interpol agents detaining him, EVERYTHING aside. I would fear for my life to some extent.

Six degrees of separation. A theory that any two individuals could be connected through at most five acquaintances. That everyone was intertwined in one way or another. After all that’d occurred, Simon found that theory must have some basis of truth in it.

Love this phrasing, of bringing the “six degrees of separation” into this… Despite how far-out any of this seemed, this, through the prose and Simon processing it like this, once again just made it feel so grounded.

I was reeling so much… ya made the phantom related to Palaeno… A minor ace attorney character in a totally separate game… You did it… You did that.

Oh gosh, and as the paragraphs outline just how interconnected everyone is… it’s beautiful. I adore it. Well and truly demonstrating the delicately intertwined nature of everyone. Combining both the canon of the games and the canon of this fic series wonderfully to form these intricate webs.

I feel that it was a bold choice to make the phantom’s real name “Lex Luster”. The very same name that we’ve already been applying to the other character. You could have easily given the phantom a distinct name to keep some kind of a distinction there, but you decided to stick to the same one. This “bold choice” aspect moreso comes into play for me during Lifting Spirits, as at first it caused quite a bit of whiplash for me to start associating the name “Lex Luster” with this newly EXTREMELY emotional man as opposed to the super dislikable villain Lex Luster Sr that got killed off. We’re not up to there in the story yet though hahaha.

LANG’S COMMENT WITH THE VOUCHERS IS SO AWESOMELY CRUDE AHAHA. The reactions of the others just absolutely make it.

Indeed, after what happened in the courtroom, Simon was sure their presence would be quite unwanted. Unwanted, yet unavoidable. It was time to see him again and hear his side of the story.

I GUESS I’M JUST MUCH MORE OF A COWARD THAN SIMON IS but once again, if I were Simon, those death threats would still be fresh on my mind and I just. Would not want to be anywhere near the phantom, no matter how securely he was being contained. D:

Vanquishing Mirages, Chapter 8

Okay can I just, I love it. I love everything. The level of uncooperativeness and defeat. The phantom clinging to denial. Just. All of the little things and details.

Palaeno shifted in his seat and wrung his hands together in his lap. He looked rather disheartened. “… Lex…”

OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. PALAENO, NO. NO. I WOULDN’T IF I WERE YOU. I WOULD ADVISE AGAINST IT GOOD SIR. AHAHAHA oh my goodness. Oh my GOODNESS. The level of… THE SHEER LEVEL OF MISGUIDEDNESS HERE. I’m choking.

“What did you just say?” the Phantom demanded in response.

HE DOESN’T LIKE THAT HE DOESN’T LIKE THAT AT AAAAAALL AHAHAAA SUFFER.

I ALMOST KIND OF??? EXPECTED THE PHANTOM TO JUST BREAK AGAIN OVER THIS. Someone actually applying a NAME to him. LABELLING him with a REAL, ACTUAL, PROPER NAME, with a connection to a past, a history, it’s HUGE. He hates it. He hates it. It’s everything he’s fought against. The sheer size of the breakdown he had in court over the revelation – and now – now an alleged relative using it in this context is just - !!! I expected this to be way too much for him to take and he’d just lose again it in anger/denial or what have you, but he did more than enough in court. Aww, little baby tired himself out. Kudos to him for not losing it once again.

I’d also expected the phantom to react in immediate anger & semi-lose it when he saw Simon BUT! Once again, more than enough of that happened in court. There’s only so much that someone – especially a guy with limited emotions like him – can keep that up before basically becoming despondent. Seems he’s basically fallen back into a state of SOMEWHAT calm and the emotions have subsided enough for him to chat and return to his more “normal” state. Even though he’s clearly not fully returned to normal and constantly on the edge like you don’t wanna push this guy ahahaha. SUFFERRR, PHANTOM. Just BARELY keeping it together.

“Leave it to foolishly foolish fools to pretend that everything revolves around their own foolishly foolish problems.” Franziska wagged a dismissive finger at the Phantom.

THIS SENTENCE IS SUCH A BLESSING, YES FRANZISKA PUT HIM IN HIS PLACE. Haaaah! “Franziska wagged a dismissive finger at the Phantom” is such a good sentence. Patronise to him. Condescend. DISMISS. Yeah, yeah!

They made their way to the door. However, just before passing through it, Palaeno stopped in his tracks. He turned and flashed one last grin at the Phantom. One last desperate attempt to make peace. “We’ll see you at the trial tomorrow, Lex.”

SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP THIS POOR MISGUIDED MAN… Palaeno buddy… I understand but… you’re not gonna win this one.

Bobby paused for a moment, then replied with a suggestive hand gesture of his own. Simon immediately made a grab for his wrists to lower them. “Don’t indulge him!”

BOBBY I LOVE YOU.

Vanquishing Mirages, Chapter 9

Simon headed back out the front door, Fulbright by his side, to see that Wright and his two assistants were attempting to get to the steps. Luster’s followers were blocking their path, shouting and spitting at the ground. Some of them were uttering their insults in Cohdopian, others managed to speak English.

This is SO unfair on Apollo to also cop flack like this, considering. Apollo must be so, so done with everything.

“Go back to retirement, Wright!”

OUCH.

“Court will now reconvene for the trial of the international spy known as…” the judge hesitated for a moment and cast a quick glance down at his papers. “The Phantom.”

SDFKBJSDFNLSDKJN that moment of hesitation and needing to confirm for sure is THE BEST

They couldn’t bear the thought that the spy shared his name with the great Lex Luster.

All her emotions were exactly as they should be if she were the real Selestia Belvedere. She was tricking the Mood Matrix. Many years ago, the Phantom had trained Mirage to control her emotions. He’d trained her a bit too well.

I really like this? I really liked this on the first readthrough because whoa, roadblock! They finally, after struggling so hard, got her right where they needed her and it doesn’t work. I’d expected her to slip up slightly but for it to still be an uphill battle to expose her. But not so, not so at all. She’s covered her tracks. I hadn’t been expecting the cast to just run straight into a “dead end” like this! :D And it makes you so keen to read on because HOW are they going to make it out of this one?!

Vanquishing Mirages, Chapter 10

He’d suffered through quite a few ‘jokes’ at her hand already. He’d seen her supposed humor in action. From worms in his sandwich to having his shoelaces tied together, he’d witnessed it all.

WORMS IN HIS S- Okay Mirage you are the best. Thank you. Thank you so much for putting the spy boi thru so many pranks in your youth. What a blessing.

The next day, they were involved in a raid. One unfortunate sap had gotten his hands on the prank gun and as a result, two members of the smuggling ring had died. Nobody had laughed. He’d decided it was in his best interest not to confess to the prank. He’d also decided not to make another attempt at comedy- Not in the way he currently was.

THIS IS. A REVERSE-ENGINEERED JOKE. By that I mean, this would be the snappy, short & seemingly humorous statement that you would extract from this paragraph, or rather, that this paragraph could stem from:

“The phantom tried to pull a prank once.

Two people died.”

Those two sentences put together have a comedic effect about them on the reader.

It’s as if the story instead took the above two statements – a throwaway joke - and spun them into an actual, serious incident that happened and PUT IT INTO THE STORY. THAT’S WHAT IT IS IT’S A REAL THING THAT HAPPENED IN THE STORY I--- Oh my gosh. This is a reverse-engineered joke taken seriously I can’t believe it. I love it.

Okay, so we have a demonstration that the young phantom takes things in a painfully literal manner (consistent with other young phantom flashbacks) and that he flatly lacks a sense of humour…

It makes me wonder… Would a lack of emotions be inherently linked to being very literal? Would it mean one was not able to understand jokes? Even if one would not laugh or truly enjoy jokes, couldn’t one still be able to understand them on some level or learn to understand? The same goes for literal vs being able to understand rhetorical questions and figure of speech. Obviously this phantom had trouble with all of that when young, but I am unsure if there would necessarily be an inherent link among these things. Interesting to ponder.

Also… For all his struggles to understand jokes and humour in his youth, I certainly think that the phantom manages to develop his own sense of humour over time, and that there is evidence of them possessing a sense of humour both in Dual Destinies itself and earlier on in your fic series.

It is albeit a very dry sense of humour. Kind of twisted. BARELY there. But there nonetheless.

I think that the phantom, even if they cannot appreciate jokes, needs to know how to at the very least fake a sense of humour in order to properly impersonate people. Does being able to fake a sense of humour not mean that one would be required to at least possess some sliver of one themselves? The same goes for being able to understand figures of speech. Certainly something that can be picked up and learned, and is a necessity for the phantom to have a firm grasp on to impersonate properly. And of course, he must have become adept at both, given the amount of time he’s had to do so, the sheer amount of people he has impersonated, and how deep into the roles he tends to get.

OKAY THEN WE GET TH

THE PHANTOM TELLING JOKES AND I

I tell you what. On the first readthrough I just… yes, I lost it and I… really loved it. Too much? To the extent that, my “willing suspension of disbelief” wavered purely because of how great it was and how much I enjoyed it. “S-so good… So… fanservicey…!” The issues were not “believability” or “how this fits in the context of this story” but rather, “oh, this is SO good that it feels too good to be true” and my WSOD threatened to crack under the sheer weight of it alone. BECAUSE IT’S AS IF I FEEL LIKE I CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS I GUESS?

When reading a fanfic I suppose Willing Suspension of Disbelief, or what’s deemed “canon” or “out of character" is mapped onto two fronts: the canon of the source material and the canon of the fanfic itself. Some fanfictions of course, readily wave the source material’s canon aside in favour of setting up its own canon, wherein everyone acknowledges the canon of the source material in such cases is secondary and/or does not matter. Other fanfics, such as your fic series, map directly onto the source material (as well as having its own consistent canon) and therefore must appease “canon”, “willing suspension of disbelief”, etc. on both fronts, sometimes/usually keeping the two completely aligned.

And for me it wavered in both realms, which is preposterous. There is no basis whatsoever on which to consider this “OOC” because I cannot claim to know more than the author who wrote it, and I knew this. And besides, I wanted this anyway. I wanted to take this and add it to the canon of the series but because it was just SO good… Too good…! I couldn’t help questioning it like, “can I… can I really have this? Can I take this? This super awesome moment it’s… Can I really? There must be some kind of mistake, it’s way too good, I…!”

And then I pulled myself in line and told myself, You Know What? This is an awesome moment and I refuse to question it. I refuse to ruin my own fun. I’m taking it. I’m taking it because it’s fun. I’m taking it and running with it BECAUSE it’s so good and I love it and I shall not let it be cast aside. And I Shall relax and enjoy this for all it’s worth. Crush Thy Inner Killjoy.

I’M JUST. Not used to letting myself accept & enjoy things like this to this extent I guess, and that’s why…!

Sometimes I think about this scene and just lose it and oh my gosh. The phantom really did that. Awesome. Thank you.

Me: [regains composure after typing all that, continues reading when…]

TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT HIM STICKING HIS TONGUE OUT OK I’M GONE AGAIN BYE AHAH

I’ve written up some stuff already for the next chapters too, but I’ll leave em for the next post~!

#long post #@followers follow the links. read this series.#if u havent

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janedrewfinally · 7 years ago

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Sparkles! Dancing! Fight sequences! Which were also dancing! Not Really Japanese History! Shrine maidens! Sparkles! More dancing! In other words, “Wind over Yamatai-koku,” aka my first chance to see a live Takarazuka performance, followed by the revue “Sante!” (I cannot get this keyboard to do proper accent marks; sorry). (Several versions of this post were basically incoherent flailing) Now, the thing is, my Japanese language skills are… minimal. So I knew going in that this was not going to be something where, um, the intricacies of the plot would go completely over my head. So this is not so much a review as my impressions. But that’s okay, because I have a long history of watching things in languages that I don’t really understand and managing by virtue of keen observational skills, genre-saviness, and flat-out making stuff up!

Me (as the show starts): Okay, I’m seeing why people say to bring opera glasses, because I have awesome visibility but from very far away. Main Character Takehiko (played by Asumi Rio): *enters dramatically, dressed in white and blue with a long coat* Other assorted characters: *also enter dramatically, in white and beiges and some blues* All characters: *introductory singing and dancing* Other group of characters: *dash in dramatically, dressed in black with red accents, and start brandishing weapons* Me: Gosh, however will the audience be able to keep track of who the bad guys are?

Fortunately, the Taka-Wiki page has the official show summary, which is how I knew that we’re dealing with the kingdoms of Yamatai-koku (the good guys) and Kuna-koku (the bad guys). Takehiko, who is a warrior for Yamatai-kou, then goes into flashback mode… Young Takehiko: *runs from Kuna-koku warriors in a forest* Elderly Mentor Character, Clearly a Martial Arts Badass: Small child, why are you running away? Young Takehiko: *hides some more* Warriors from Kuna-Koku: *enter and attempt to fight Elderly Mentor Character* Elderly Mentor Character: Like that’s going to work; you didn’t even bring the main bad guy with you!

After defeating the warriors, the Elderly Mentor Character gets Young Takehiko to share his tragic backstory (his parents were murdered), and Young Takehiko asks to be made his apprentice.

We then get… sort of a training montage? It’s Young Takehiko trying to sneak up on his mentor with a fighting staff, indicating that some training has happened, except it doesn’t work, so, you know, not a LOT of training has happened.

Then there was more training/staff-fighting, and a quite clever shift out of flashback mode by virtue of having Young Takehiko go partly off-stage, so you just see the end of the staff, and then Regular Takehiko comes out.

Elderly Mentor Character: As part of my sage life advice, let me introduce you to Chekov’s Ordeal of Sticking Your Hand Into a Pot of Boiling Water or Possibly Snakes. Congratulations; your training is now complete! Let me give you this sword, and send you off to practice. I’m sure that I’ll be fine; it’s only three more days until I retire. Warriors from Kuna-Koku: *show up again for… some reason?* Elderly Mentor Character: Drat, I see that you’ve brought the main bad guy this time. *dies*

Takehiko, of course, is Distraught to find his murdered mentor, and dashes off into the woods. Meanwhile, a young woman named Mana is being escorted by warriors of Yamatai-koku, because she is either a) going to be trained as a miko, b) the super-special young woman who is/hears the “voice of the kami,” c) both? Basically it means that periodically she falls over into a spotlight and spouts off prophetic stuff, which is doubtless appropriately poetic. Of course, the bad guys show up and kill her escort, and Takehiko (who is still Distraught) runs in in time to injure and/or kill assorted bad guys who are not the main bad guy and rescue Mana. They have a Meet Cute interlude in the woods, she gives him one of her necklaces (it’s magatama, so it’s clearly a Meaningful Necklace- and no, I could not even slightly see that from the stage; it’s in the promotional pictures).

Then the rest of her escort (or another escort?) shows up, and she explains the situation, and they are So Enthused at Takehiko’s clear leading role status that they basically drag him off to make him a member of the Proud and Skillful Warriors of Yamatai-koku, including Mute Karate Guy, Leader Guy, and Spunky Arrow Girl (who doesn’t like Takehiko at all, in the sense that she yells at him a lot but can’t stop thinking about his hair).

Takehiko is super-enthused to have friends! I am super-enthused to recognize the word “nakama”! Yay!

Umm.. some amount of time passes, because Mana is one of the shrine maidens, under the head shrine priestess- there is ritual singing and graceful dancing and invocations, until the head priestess staggers (she is meant to be much older), and then recovers to name Mana as her successor (as near as I could figure, Mana was brought to the main shrine because she has/is the “voice of the kami,” but this seems to be the first time that it’s been clear that she’s supposed to become the new head priestess).

Mana: I will become the head priestess, and change my name to Himiko, because that’s the name of a major ruler/priestess in the earliest Chinese accounts of Japan! Lots of other kings (?): *politics, politics, politics* That One King Who Is Clearly Evil Because His Outfit Is Fanciest: I don’t like this new head priestess, because of Reasons.

One of the reasons is, I think, that Mana/Himiko is not from within the court; another is that there was an Evil Miko who got passed over, who is.. either the daughter of a different king and involved with the Clearly Evil King, or is the daughter of the Clearly Evil King (I think it was supposed to be the first option).

Takehiko: *sees Himiko in full voice-of-the-kami/head priestess regalia*: Wait.. that’s the girl I had the Meet Cute with! This is NOT what I thought she meant by us meeting again! I am lowercase-“d” distraught! His nakama: Shhh! Don’t let on that you know the head priestess; there are Rules about this! Elsewhere: *the main general of the bad guys plots to figure out a way to completely take over Yamatai-koku, supported by his king- and some really awesome scene changes, by the way; very impressive*

At this point, the plot consists of:

1) Takehiko is still in love with Mana, who is the new head priestess and therefore untouchable/unavailable. 2) That One King and the Evil Miko are plotting to get rid of Himiko. 3) The kingdom next door still wants to conquer Yamatai-koku.

At one point, I think that the village maidens (not to be confused with the shrine maidens) straight-up invented sake, and there was a big celebration.

It gets attacked by the kingdom next door, obviously.

Having realized that Takehiko is pining for the head priestess, the Evil Miko pretends that Himiko had sent for him, in order to set the two of them up with Standard Accusations of Lost Honor/Virtue. They do get to have an emotional reunion and a lovely duet first, so there’s that?

Council of Kings: *sings angrily about the state of things today, when head priestesses can just sing duets with handsome young men and expect there will not be dire consequences*

(I think that one of the things that’s also going on is that Takehiko’s position is also affected by the fact that he also wasn’t originally local, but I’m not 100% on that)

Council of Kings: We demand that you prove that you are not guilty through the use of Chekov’s Ordeal of Sticking Your Hand into a Pot of Boiling Water or Possibly Snakes! Takehiko: … seriously? Well, okay, then!

He passes the ordeal, but then!!!! Himiko is ordered to channel the voice of the kami… and can’t!

Council of Kings: *more angry singing* (with a side of confusion, because it’s really weird that Takehiko passed the ordeal, but Himiko no longer gets prophetic)

Evil Miko: *goes to the bad guys in the kingdom next door and tells them about Himiko, hoping to be rewarded* Bad guys: *lock up Evil Miko, and plan to attack* Evil Miko: I don’t understand how my cunning plan failed…

Takehiko goes to talk to Himiko/Mana, saying that since she no longer has/is the voice of the kami, there’s no reason they can’t run away together! More duets! Of course, as they are heading out, she falls over poetically into the spotlight and sounds a warning about the imminent attack.

I… think that the kings either aren’t there, or aren’t listening to a disgraced head priestess, or are too far away?? Anyway, Takehiko heads out to fend off the attack on his own (heroically), but ends up taking his nakama with him.

Um. They all die? So that’s a thing that happens.

The final duel between Takehiko and the main guy amongst the bad guys ends dramatically, with Takehiko being wounded, and the bad guy taking longer to collapse (but then he totally dies… um… I am not sure what happens to the other kingdom or the king or… welll, the war?).

Takehiko seems like he’s dead, but then!!! The spirits of his assorted nakama appear in spotlights and give him a pep talk.

Meanwhile, the Council of Kings is still skeptical about Himiko’s actually having her abilities back, even when Takehiko shows up.

Himiko: I predict an eclipse! Council of Kings: We are very skeptical and don’t believe you and WHY IS THE SKY ALL DARK WHERE DID THE SUN GO?

(I am PRETTY SURE that the swirly lights and other effects were meant to be an eclipse)

Everybody panics about the eclipse, until finally light starts appearing again.

Himiko and Takehiko meet for a final scene in the woods, where… um… I think that the general tenor of the dialoge was that they know they can’t run away together, because they have responsibilities, but then they ended by dancing together in a swirl of cherry blossom petals, so I don’t know if he was leaving, or he was staying, or what exactly the ending note was).

The review, “Sante,” was all about wine and the dreams you have when drinking in Paris (or the dreams you have about Paris while drinking)- it was tons of fun! Can totally see the reasons for being down on the ground floor, because there was a lot of “and now we are going to dance in the aisles,” and the first row had the plastic wine glasses that Asumi Rio actually went and clinked her glass with during one number.

I’m not quite sure if all Takarazuka reviews are required to have at least one number where everybody has those crazy flamenco costume sleeve ruffles (side note: has Takarazuka ever performed “Cuban Pete,” because, that would be amaaaazing), but that was in there…. also a super-cute French chefs number, and a really emotional vocal solo about lost love (side note again: has Takarazuka ever performed “I Won’t Send Roses”?).

Then there was a climactic number that was either an epic battle between the forces of Good and Evil, or an epic battle between the forces of Riesling and Burgundy (the winner seemed to be Asumi Rio playing the role of a very flamboyantly pink Moscato?).

Cast: *proceeds to do a dramatic number involving those stairs* Me: How is that nobody ever messes up on the stairs? I would totally fall down if I even tried. Asumi Rio: *immediately almost misses a move on the steps* Me: ACK NO FORGET I SAID ANYTHING NO QUESTIONS HERE Afterwards, I had to dash to the train station (and also I was not quite sure where the grand exit location was, which I probably should have sussed out earlier if I wanted to stick around for any of that.

#takarazuka #wind over yamataikoku #japan trip 2017 #why can't i figure out how to do a read more cut?

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jokertrap-ran · 8 years ago

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A3! (Act! Addict! Actors!) Matsukawa Isuke April Fools R 【1st Of April’s Prince】『Hanasaki Gakuen’s prince / 2』

*Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Name will remain as my normal ( ラン )

Part 1 / Part 2

Ran: (I wonder how our homeroom teacher is like?)

Itaru: Morning everyone. I'll be starting the homeroom.

Itaru: I'll be your homeroom teacher for this year. I'm Chigasaki Itaru. Let's all have a wonderful school life together.

Female Student A: Eh, isn't he really super refreshingly handsome!?

Female Student B: Uwaa, how lucky of us to be having such a cool homeroom teacher!

Itaru: Come on, don't make noise. I'll be taking the attendance then.

Itaru: Well then, homeroom is over…...And also, Tachibana-san. Could you please come to the staff room during lunch break?

Ran: What? Okay.

Ran: Please excuse me.

Itaru: Oh, so you've arrived. Then, here. Please bring these to the chemistry preparation room before the next lesson starts.

Ran: (Ehhhh!? It's an amazing number of handouts though……!)

Ran: Um, why me……

Itaru: Hm? I thought that I'd be able to use you since you seemed to get along well with people.

Ran: (You’re lying right……!? I thought that he was a kind and gentle person but to think that he had a double face)

Itaru: Ahh, rest assured. I won’t say that it’s for free.

Itaru: …...Do think about what you want for your reward, okay?

Ran: (......! What a teacher he is…...)

Ran: Uu, it’s as heavy as I thought in the end. But I still have to carry it anyway…...wait, huh? Where’s the Chemistry Preparation room anyway?

Tasuku: Oi Freshmen, are you alright? Here, pass them over. Where were you going to carry it to?

Oh, I’m pretty sure that these people were at the entrance ceremony earlier…...Physical Education’s Tasuku-sensei and the one in charge of Japanese, Tsukioka-sensei.

Ran: I was supposed to carry it to the chemistry preparation room but I don’t know where it is.

Tsumugi: It’s over there. I’ll guide you there.

Ran: Thank you very much.

Tsumugi: The chemistry preparation room…...which means that you were forced into this by Chigasaki-sensei?

Ran: Oh, err…...

Tasuku: That guy…...honestly.

Tsumugi: But Chigasaki-sensei very rarely asks people of things, doesn’t he? I wonder if he’s interested in you?

Ran: Is that so?

Tasuku: I bet he just made good use of you.

Tasuku: If there’s anything troubling that happens again, don’t hesitate to rely on us. I can’t let someone like you be in the face of danger.

Tsumugi: Oh, of course,

Tsumugi: I’m looking forward to speaking about various things with you.

Ran: Thank you very much!

Ran: (Hmm, though there are really nice teachers unlike Chigasaki-sensei, this school really does have lots of handsome guys…...)

Ran: Now then, all lessons today have already been concluded! I guess I should return home soon.

???: …...We finally meet.

Ran: Huh?

Masumi: I’ve been searching for you since forever through the space-time. From your past past past past past past lifetime.

Ran: Huh!? I-I don’t really get what you’re saying——

Masumi: This Magatama…...you should have the other half of it.

Ran: A violet coloured magatama? No, I don’t have a magatama or anything.

Masumi: You definitely have it. You just forgot.

Ran: Even if you say that, I really…...

Masumi: You definitely have it…...let me search.

Ran: E-Even if you grab my clothes……! Hey, w-wait a minute……!

???: I don’t really agree to doing things forcefully.

Ran: !

Masumi: …...Who are you.

Asuma: I’m the newly appointed school doctor who arrived today. Nice to meet you. Since I’m a teacher above all else, I can’t overlook a scene like this.

Masumi: …...Tch. A disturbance has arrived.

Masumi: I won't give up. You and me are both bound together by fate…...I'll definitely restore your memory.

Azuma: I don't want to break him up with a wonderful girl like you but it's not exactly good to be aggressive.

Ran: T-Thank you very much, Sensei.

Azuma: You're welcome. Hehe, if anything troubling happens, feel free to pop by the infirmary? I'll leave a bed open for you.

Ran: ……! Y-Yeah, I'll call on you when I feel unwell.

Ran: Haa…...Today seems like a really busy day with things occurring all over the place.

Juza: Hey you.

Ran: Heh!? M-Me!?

Juza: It's not like I want to frighten you or anything…...

Taichi: That's right! We came to check things out since we heard that a reaaaaally cute freshmen had enrolled in!

Tenma: Oi, rather than going to that school without a single star in there, don't you want to have a scandalous love together with genius actor in O High?

Tenma: Come to O high. If it's me, I'll let you experience a love more heart throbbing that what you see in dramas you know? Tachibana Ran.

Taichi: Ten-chan, that's mean! What are you going on about all by yourself! We want to strike her up on a date too……!

Taichi: Ran-chan! Um…... Don't we have a chance…...At all?

Banri: Oi, Oi don't go getting all gloomy before anything's done.

Banri: Everything in this school, everyone who enters it is my property! That includes the cute freshmen over there!

Juza: Bastard…...Don't joke around. You, no, no one…...I'll definitely not hand her over to anyone.

Banri: That's my line. As if I'll let you take away something that I've finally gotten serious over.

Ran: (E-Ehhh!? They're fighting!? What should I do, I have to stop them……!)

Ran: Whoa! What!?

Hisoka: Your life is being targeted…...I'll protect you with my life so…...Come together with me.

Misumi: You can't~~~!

Misumi: I'm looking for Triangles in the east~ in the west~ I'm the treasure hunter Misumi!

Misumi: I've finally met my ideal triangle! That's you! You're my treasure~!

Hisoka: She's coming with me. Because she's an important person to me.

Misumi: But I love her too! I de—finitely won't hand her over!

Ran: (This time, it's an all-out ability brawl!? What's even going on here anymore!?)

Citron: Ye—s! I'm an alien who came from the star, Toron! Humans are very interesting!

Ran: Alien!?

Citron: Moreover, you suit my tastes! I'll bring you back to my star so that you can be my bride!

Ran: I'll be taken by the U-UFO!! Hey, wait a minute……!

???: …...Over here.

Ran: Eh? Whoa!

Isuke: …...Haa, it seems like we've somehow managed to escape from there.

Ran: (......! To think that he'd be the one to save me……)

Ran: Why……

Isuke: I couldn't forget about you even while I'm awake or asleep…...From the very first moment I laid my eyes on you.

Ran: ……!

Ran: (Awake or asleep? …...We've only just met each other this morning. Does this mean that he slept during class or during lunch break?)

Isuke: Don't avert your face. Look over here.

Ran: Oh.

Isuke: …...That gaze of yours is irresistible.

Ran: (H-His face…...His lips are coming closer……)

Isuke: I'll make you MANKAI (bloom)......

Isuke: …...And thus, that was the dream I saw~! How about it? Let's make out next performance a full-cast School Love Comedy!

Ran: I'll refrain.

Sakyo: Rejected.

Itaru: This is terrible.

Isuke: Whaat~ Why~!? A School Harem Love Comedy! Isn't that something that would sell really well!?

Isuke: I'm sure it's definitely going to be really popular you know~!?

Masumi: The Director and I…...Were lovers from our past life…..Is it fate after all?

Tsuzuru: Masumi’s saying something troubling again……! Ahh, for crying out loud, this is a real headache…...

#A3!#Act! Addict! Actors!#A-three #Otome #Translations #エースリー #Matsukawa Isuke

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pinksweatergettingbetter · 8 years ago

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aight

lets ends this

i love that he's still trying to cheer her up with her terrible crossover idea

phoenix is such a sweetie

“...so we may put this dead lawyer walking out of his misery”

hear hear

just kill me already

“she's now slain two high level clergymen...”

one of which was a confirmed rebel but HEY whatever ITS NOT LIEK YOU KILL THEM IN GENERAL ANYWAY

who gives a fuck this trial is janked

“bahlgilpo’kon hell- the realm of eternal agony”

wow eternal agony is the bottom hell??? thats like the first hell in dante’s hells; youre soft as runny shit kooraheenism.

“there she will suffer the endless punishment of ja’gar by the galuun of Puhlmo’ten.”

SUBTITLES PLEASE

he was killed during the rite but they only found his body like two days later?!?!

what the fuck!?

...and wait a fucking second, he wasnt there when we were fucking investigating BULLSHIT

BUUULLLLLSSSHHHIIIIIIT!!!

two consecutive murders constitutes a serial killer??

every time sadmad sighs and shakes his head i lose a year of my life

Rayfa’s voice is so fucking unfitting; she’s got the voice of a 30 year old woman and she’s supposed to be a whiny-ass 14 year old

do these people know anything about casting??

is it really that hard to get a 14 year old to say a few lines? i was voice acting (not professionally obvs) when i was 14. i sucked, but i was doing it, and there’ve been younger kids working on real shows.

anyway

welp looks like this mcfuck is using a fake name

someone get on that

I'm sorry you’re surrounded by such incompetence, Rayfa. and i mean that. i like you now, youre kinda funny.

phoenix: plus, yesterday, someone told me how the divination seance used to work

phoenix fucking sucks at keeping secrets jesus christ holy fuck just SHUT UP ABOUT THE REBELS YOU MORON

if he says let it go and move on again I'm going to fucking scream

“haha! the police overlooked the clergy tattoo on the back of his neck!”

directly below the stab wound. the clergy tattoo. that has significance in their country.

Why do the Kooraheen Police suck so much ass? They can’t catch a running suspect, and apparently they’re all blind.

HOW DOES THE JUDGE NOT FUCKING KNOW A RELIGIOUS SYMBOL FROM HIS OWN FUCKING RELIGION?!?!?

[insert nahyuta eats (peach emoji)ass joke]

“aren't they utterly different shapes?”

...a... peach... and an upside down peach?!

nahyuta

im gonna blow your mind

this is called a handstand, here, do it with me

lazy ass parents naming their kid “real name”

fuck this joke country

this is some ‘who's on first’ bullshit

RAYFA LUSTS FOR BLOOD

yeah it was freezing on that mountain, of course your estimate was wrong.

i knew this was coming...

hebLINDED HER WITH SCIENCE

BEEP BA BOO BA

“this article is small in size but huge in importance!”

just like my d––

How... did this work? They did a great job of hiding that wound...

also no blood at the “scene of the crime”

yeah not suspicious at all

once again the prosecution blames the detective for something they couldn’t have helped :/

GUARD YOUR ASSHOLE EMA, GUARD YOUR ASSHOLE

HOLY SHIT

INSERT REFERENCE TO ABOVE PEACH JOKE

loud ass clock inside a secret hideout? good one, rebels. super well done.

ahhhh

now that is clever. i like that

although, considering the length of that statue’s beak, he should’ve been impaled right through his body, so.....

you were close, SOJ

glad to see more clever twists though.

game ruins everything with blatant hints

there are other cases where they can tell when two weapons have been used on the same wound

why cant they tell now?

stone sharp enough to cut skin??

your hideout is fucking death trap

good going rebels

youre using serial killer wrong... again

thats a lie, nobody likes swiss cheese

LAY OFF CHEESE YOU PIECE OF SHIT

ILL RIP YOUR ASS OUT

“what you said is total bullshit!! heres what happened; this, this this. and since I said it ,its true! without any proof!!! SO THERE”

phoenix: VALID POINT!

sadmad: bullshit excuse

judge: sounds legit, overruled!

“jeez just toss me an Axe if its that bad...”

“plotting your escapee from this sacred hall?”

yeah well just run out

“you would pin a crime upon the dead, who you know tell no tales?”

did you just forget the whole

soul pool thing or

are you just stupid

aw baby here we go

stop saying 30% you dont know shit

oh my god

whoa whats he doing with the magatama

“wait... i think i saw something just now...”

what, phoenix

what did you see, hmm?

“the power of prayer! yes... it uh... helps you... install listening devices in your secrets base uuhhhhhh...ITS NOT WEIRD

“She has a way of putting me at ease...”

(weeps) my babies

(sigh) its the wife, get on with it

“long years of ascetic training have sharpened my ears”

god the training is more useful to Athena than it is Maya. this is depressing.

make like a mollusc and clam up??? who says that???????

boy you sure fuckin suck at this Mr. Inmee

judging by that KAAHHH Tahrust should have a deep voice, and DD had a deeper male voice blip... why aren't they using it? they've already implemented singing blips and tutting blips, did they forget about the extra deep blips?

or are those reserved for demons?

he is a ghost...

...how far along is behleeb anyway? either I'm blind or the sprite artist forgot to give her a baby bump.

hey yeah! she's barely pregnant! her character art shows that! so its not so much of a stretch that she could be running around killing rebels. Plus, she hasn’t been pregnant for two years...

...of course, its not her, it’s rUHEEL NAYMUH, but still. she’s not far along enough to be inconvenienced by her child.

potato potahto tomahto egg salad!!

stop praying at me, nahyuta.

dont you fucking dare...

dont you even fucking dare

THEY DARED

I SWEAR TO FUCK

i swear to fuck

so. youre gonna blame maya. for the actions. of YOUR OWN GODDESS.

WHO’S GREAT AND POWERFUL AND MYSTICAL AND WISE AND PERFECT.... UNLESS SHE’S BEING CHANNELED BY A DIRTY FOREIGNER?

i just i cannot express how angry this makes me. it doesn’t make any fucking sense and it’s complete and utter hypocrisy. it’s even worse than before; before they were suggesting that the person dressed as Lady Kee’ra was killing rebels in her name, if it wasn’t outright her. Now they’re suggesting it was LITERALLY HER, and remember, these people are UBER RELIGIOUS, and they still have a problem with THEIR IMMORTAL GODDESS IN THE FLESH exacting her divine punishment against people THAT ARE HARMING THEIR COMMUNITY ANYWAY???

yes, vigilantism is dangerous. but it gets a little more fucking complicated when you suggest that it’s the legit actions of an ACTUAL GODDESS.

and even if this is the corrupt government just trying to cover up deaths (which it is) why didn’t they just step in and go “Yeah, another Lady Kee’ra murder. All hail the marvellous goddesses. er diarrhoea kooraheen.”

it would be a lot easier and a lot less messy than taking a kid to court. why do they even want Maya out of the way, anyway? She didn’t know any of the rebels, and she posed no threat to their corrupt government. Yeah, Zealot’s dead, but they literally could have just hired another crazy assassin.

Unless there’s a REAL GOOD FUCKIN REASON for all of this, I call bullshit, bullshit bULLSHIT

i think it’s time to let your head go and move on to another room sadmad

at the same time

...plus they legit just forgot their own lore.

maya can’t summon Kee’ra if she doesn’t know what she looks like.

that was so easy i didnt have to even press on statements; thats how easy that contradiction is. thats how easy it is to remember something stated five minutes ago, and how easy it is to remember how your own religion works. you fuckhats.

oh hey i just realized Tahrust really does call Behleeb his “lovely wife”

aw. how nice. if only they didnt decide to scapegoat maya.

doesn't matter your intentions; you die if you scapegoat maya. you die by my blade.

you ok pal. is an alarm clock really the source of an evil laugh.

“indeed! we leave the alarm switched off at all times!”

why would you even have a clock with an alarm on it in a secret base anyway?? and how did phoenix manage to play it in the hideout if the alarm was switched off?

“those distinctive taiko drums”

fuckin’ finally

ive been waiting for that stupid watch to come back for AAAGEES

of course there was a reason maya would mention traditional japanese instruments...

y’know it’s funny that he would even make that fuckup in the first place. if he’s a plumed punisher fan, he should know how the theme song goes. his wife was at least a big fan, meaning he’d probably have heard the opening enough times to know that Taiko drums weren’t part of it. Furthermore, if he was banking on the fact that the two themes sound similar to pass off the deception, then it was a huge mistake on his part to define the sound as Taiko drums; thats just a needless detail that could get him caught out, which it did.

and if he just didn’t know, well... again, useless detail. always bad. always be vague if you wanna get away with shit.

ah... at least in death, Raheel Namer didn’t have to suffer the Plumed Punisher theme song.

i love that phoenix refers to the show by it’s full title. that’s adorable.

now what’s really confusing me is that that Photo of the fam is stated to have been taken during the Feast of whatever. Which is the same time-frame as Reely Real Name’s death. He’s alive in the photo, Behleeb is in the photo, and the Judge and his family are nowhere to be found. But all those things were huge parts of the case, and they couldn’t have eaten before or after because of the whole ‘you can only eat Ghingil for three hours on that one special day’.

am I missing something or going nuts??

that said I'm so glad i can finally present this photo. it’s been gnawing at me as much as the watch thing.

“trademark topknot”

OH PLEASE JUST LET IT END

ffjglk dlg ljlgkd hey Tahrust do me a solid and just tell them how you died ok

please i have a family

i have stomach ulcers

off-brand logic

i totally forgot that was in this game too

wow.

“hmm, there’s really nothing to suggest a murder other than the red water in the spring, which only Maya would see and probably not question (considering this isn’t her religion and she doesn’t fuckin know how that shit works) and said spring probably empties somewhere, since it would be swampy otherwise. let’s see... i can KILL MYSELF TO GIVE THE RED WATER A REASON FOR EXISTING or do literally anything else... WELP, BETTER FUCKIN KILL MYSELF. ALL HAIL THE REBELS!”

...well at least he saved maya from contracted a blood disease.

tahrust must be pissed that his death came to naught when his own rebel pals gave the secret key to a guy who sold them out in five seconds.

never gets to meet his child... never gets to see the revolution come to fruition... never gets to live happily with his family... all because he couldn’t think of any other solution to protecting that shitty hovel behind a rock.

kinda tragic.

wish i was less angry

“there was no weapon at the inner sanctum...”

did everyone just forget the giant bloody murder statue???

pohl’fuckya sadmad

babe... oh no... don’t give yourself up like this

thats sad

dont

i feel the sad now

shit

“abbot inmee!! summon a physician at once!!’

HES DEAD

WAY TO RUIN THE MOMENT WITH UNINTENTIONAL COMEDY DUMBASS

“but murder sanctioned by the crown is still murder”

what’s murder sanctioned by a goddess? apparently you guys are ok with that one. oh unless it’s a goddess being channeled by a foreigner.

soerry im bitter about that one moving on now

he lunged at you from behind the stone slab?? nice trajectory moron

hang on a second he put reereenaymee’s body in the plaza before prayer time... with the dagger still in him??

HOW DID NOBODY NOTICE THE FUCKING DAGGER

“you need not frame the accused for your crime”

for once Sadmad says something smart

honestly... suicide really wasn’t the answer. even if it was to protect your wife there were,,,,, so many other options

for example, realname’s last moments, as we saw, made it look like he was killed in the Plaza of devotion. You could have so easily made it look like he was murdered there, by some rando, during the rite. The kooraheen police fucking suck at their job, so it wouldn’t matter. but no; you had to die, and blame Maya.... because she was foreign. A foreigner who came to you for guidance and shelter.

STOP AGREEING WITH ME SADMAD, I DONT LIKE YOU

“You must use your law powers to make sure no more innocent people suffer under this shitty law!!

...like Maya did!! .......because of me!!

i love that the excuse is like “there’s no way she could prove it was self defence in this government...” to make it all tear-jerking and point out how horrible and corrupt their legal system is...

...and yet, if we remember Reunion and Turnabout, which also included channeling and self defence... It was EQUALLY impossible for Maya to be cleared of the crime on self-defence charges!!

pot calling the kettle black, japanifornia!

“lol sorry for almost getting you killed cause i couldn't think of a better plan than kill myself”

yea thanks tahrust, coo-al

“I ask that you look after my wife”

er she’s... going to jail... she’s... been outed as a rebel... you do get that right

fuck you Tahrust, you made her cry

“now you can watch over me from the world beyond”

he cant actually, since they retconned spirits being conscious in the afterlife. good going, capcom.

oh man that cutscene was goofy. except for the crying

fuck you Tahrust

Maya: :D hOW y'all doin?!

also according to maya Tahrust didnt leave any regrets behind which means that he totally gives no fucks that his dumbass plan endangered Maya’s life and made his wife cry. Dick.

He doesn't even regret missing the birth of his fuckin child. Ass.

Sadmad: I owe a debt to you, one that I will return––

Me: Eat a rotten egg.

Sadmad: Wha-–

Me: Go on, master of putrescence. Eat a whole rotten egg. Consume it shell and all. You heard me. Insert the egg into your mouth and chomp down. Times ticking, I’m waiting.

i forgot about the stupid butterflies

“So I was thinking, Nick, the legal system here is really stacked agains the defence! It’s really unfair!”

YA DONT SAY

listen to this happy music playing as everyone is forced to come to terms with all this sad ass shit. also it appears we just forgot about that tiny matter of the government literally putting hits out. Rayfas dad. is doing this. Nobody gonna address that?? No? Ok

Maya: QUIT BEINA LIL BITCH

wait what

what is this new sprite

eurhg i dont like it put it away

thats not maya thats a husk of evil

wow. rayfa didnt even know why maya was here training. the bullshit continues to flow...

Maya: deciding what is true and what is false for your people...

the actual truth and lies, right? RIGHT? MAYA???

ergh this is so... corny? schlocky? it feels forced

“Sorry for almost getting you killed anyway VIVE LA REVOLUTION”

Yay! It’s vore man!! i kinda missed his stretchy face.

oh well that

thats just a really anticlimactic reveal of Dhurke

like tada! there he is! and he's gone! whatever; he's just been talked about in hushed whispers for the last case or w/e!

awww the bailiff thinks he can catch a running rebel!! so cute~

“The Steel Samurai vs Dhurke the Rebel!”

MAYA. THE LAST FIVE MINUTES WERE DEVOTED TO EXPLAINING THAT THE REBELS ARE THE GOOD GUYS. WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM???

i love that they keep hammering in that “maya has stayed maya”

see guys??? dont you just feel the magic of the trilogy??? ITS THERE GUYS WE SWEAR

Welp, thats it for that case. Now back to America, to visit Athena and BK, and hopefully to read a more enjoyable storyline...

#sulking over SOJ #soj spoilers #soj spoilers obvs]

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allebooklover · 8 years ago

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aa:p4 weaponry

I was thinking about it and maybe Pearls is the weaponsdealer this time round. Ok, to expand on this - I was thinking of giving them an item that would allow them to see clearly in the shadow world. A personal object that would, through spiritual energy, allows them to see clearly through the fogs in the shadow world like teddy’s glasses do for the p4 cast. Something like that.

I mostly got the idea from when Pearl imbued the magatama with spiritual energy, which allowed him to see Psyche Locks. I was wondering how to translate Pearl’s role here, since she’s an adorable little kid and I don’t want to leave her out, and this - spiritual sight clearing device! Which helps them channel certain powers, like Apollo’s Sight, Athena’s Hearing, Phoenix’s Psyche Locks, Miles Logic Chess etc., or help summon their personas. Or both.

My original thoughts were for Pearls to transform the Weapons into the form of their Personal Object, but small innocent Pearls getting access to weapons didn’t really sit right with me, so I changed it to Sight Clearing Object. I think it works better that way tbh.

Weapon dealers could be the detectives (at least for the first part - see this cool post by onyourwings for more details! Although nothing is set in stone yet haha :’D), but idk. hmm. I was kind of hoping to see them as support charas who have to go through their time in the tv world, but I think they could be the Real World Investigation Party Supporters or something. Again, not sure.

I wonder if I could get the Judge to be the Weapon dealer… but in terms of storyline he’s like Igor so… nggh I’ll just leave the slot open for now I guess.

Below lies their personal sight-clearing items and possible weapons Possible (not sure but here just in case) Spoilers for AA1-5.

DEFENCE ATTORNEYS

- Phoenix Wright -

Sight Clearing Object: Magatama | Weapon: Shield (mb with sword)

Magatama because that’s how he’s able to see all those psyche locks (like the fog!), which get him close to the truth. Plus, it is canon he gets his powers from the Magatama, leaving it out would be a gigantic travesty in my opinion haha.

Shield since I vision Phoenix as a very defence-based fighter, due to his ridiculous luck at escaping accidents. Seriously, coming out of a car crash with only a sprained ankle? A raging devil riverfall with only a cold? This guy’s stamina’s and defence is ridiculously high. Also, he just, I dunno, seems like someone who’s a really defensive fighter? Not the type to go all out attack straight off the bat, unlike some prosecutors we know. Not sure why I think that way tbh. So I gave him a shield.

But since he’s the original character, giving him a sword also works, since its unique in that he’s the only one who can switch into another stance, and gives him the chance to go more on the offensive. His defences would go down, but the boost in attack power should help cover for that. So his primary weapon is a shield, while his secondary weapon (which is admittedly not used much) is the sword. Preferably a guan dao or a sabre, since both can be used effectively in one hand and with a shield.

Darkness more than light, fire, ice, electricity, wind, the Wild card has all and protects them and humanity with his shield, sword hidden near his hip for the few cases when a defensive approach is no longer needed, when the time to attack is right.

- Apollo Justice -

Sight Clearing Object: Bracelet | Weapon: Bow

Bracelet! Because his bracelet is actually what he uses to concentrate his focusing power so eyy, too good to pass up. Also, its clearly very important to him. And aa5 proves that he’s unable to really turn it off so in this au I can just pass it off as a side effect that just revealed what was already there or something haha. So much plots I can use it for mwahahaha.

As for why the bow - Originally, it was gauntlets, but it didn’t feel right, and he has pretty much average strength. @onyourwings and @worldbeyondtheworld agreed and provided the perfect alternative - the Bow! Which fits ridiculously well considering that the God Apollo uses a bow. It’d put his sharp eyesight to good use too, and we definitely need more far-ranged members on this team. Pfft imagine him using his Chord of Steel to tell others to get out of the way while he shoots from a distance - it’d be both cute and badass!

Wind that carries his shouts to afar, that caresses his cheeks and ruffles his hair and guides his arrows directly to home, blowing back the enemies in a gale that is as determined as the hurricane of determination in his soul.

- Athena Cykes -

Sight Clearing Object: Widget | Weapon: Gauntlets

Ok, I chose Widget as the SCO because she often uses it to figure out the emotions she hears, which in turn helped her find the truth - and it’s important to her, as well, due to it being a memento from her mom. Plus, Widget is an emotional-measuring device, which can come in pretty handy to detecting emotional distress and helping people accept their shadow selves without another freakout. So Widget it is!

As for why she’s given gauntlets, well, canon states she’s got self defence training, and I still remember that scene where she body throws Apollo over her shoulder in AA5 (lol rip Apollo). She’s strong, pretty aggressive when angered and she’s also got a reaction gif of her smacking her fists together, like she’s preparing to punch someone, so. Gauntlets.

Bright, like fire and energetic, like the electricity that crackles around her body, sparking out of her fists as she slams them together in anticipation, thrumming and humming a tune so fine that only her ears can hear.

- Raymond shields -

Sight Clearing Object: Pink Notebook | Weapon: Hammer?

Ok, I know he only appears in AAI2. But he’s still kinda important (definitely more important than the Payne Brothers even though they appear nearly every game) and he’s a good guy. He’s definitely a key player, much like Sebastian and Kay. Plus, the defence team needs more people and I like him (I like all the charas in this game actually). And so here he is.

I chose the Pink Notebook as his SCO because its the only thing he had with him during the past and the present.

As for the hammer, well. We kind of needed one, and I couldn’t think of what would suit him well enough. So I just went with the hammer.

PROSECUTORS

- Miles Edgeworth -

Sight Clearing Object: White King Chess Piece | Weapon: Spear

Ok, the reason for the White King Chess Piece is because of the Logic Chess Sequences. In it, Edgeworth takes the white part of the chessboard, which is why his piece is White. And the King represents absolute authority and is the most important part of the game - without him you lose - So I figured that a King Chess Piece would work due to the symbolism. As the head Prosecutor and leader of Good on the Prosecuting Side, Miles more than deserves the White King Piece.

As for a Spear, well, I admittedly got the idea from aa1 case 5, the really long one that first introduced Emma Skye. The prosecuting award had the Spear so I thought ‘eyy, why not’ and thus, Spear. Plus it also serves as a good parallel to the Shield of Phoenix Wright - unbeatable Spear vs unbreakable Shield, which is alluded to in the awards in AA1 C5. Also! I forgot to add but World came up with the idea for Spear first - didn't include that bit because I was tired and forgot, sorry!

light and dark, intertwining with each other like yin and yang, centering around his spear and placing his soul to rest, driving him towards the truth.

- Franziska Von Karma -

Sight Clearing Object: Brooch |Weapon: Whip

I had trouble thinking this one up, but while I was looking over her character pictures I noticed a similarity - that blue brooch she wears at her neck. It appears in every single one of her sprites. Not even joking - official art, AA2, AA3, even AAI2 she has that same brooch at her neck. Clearly its an important part of her daily attire, so it serves pretty well as her SCO, I think.

She uses the whip in game as a tool of subjugation, so its pretty much canon for her already. Nine-O-Cat tails is probably the ultimate whip for her to unleash her wrath on the foolishly foolish shadows, although I don’t think she’d unleash that wrath onto people while holding the Nine-O-Cat tail whip. That thing was used as a torture weapon during the middle ages - its pretty brutal. I pity anyone who earns her wrath while she’s holding her normal whip, though.

Ice, so cold that it burns deep inside her heart like true fire, causing frostbite and ice to form wherever her whip struck.

- Sebastian Debeste -

Sight Clearing Object: Baton | Weapon: Knives

Sebestian uses the Baton in his animations, which is good enough for me. It’s probably pretty important to him, and somewhat iconic for him.

As for the knife, well. Originally I thought sword, to rival Edgeworth, but we’ve already got Simon as the Swordmaster. So I tried thinking about something similar to a baton in terms of length and maneuverability, and I came upon Knives. Around the same length as the baton, and serves as a good close-range weapon- although Sebastian with a knife is.... well, he’ll have to go straight up to fight them close range. And he seems a pretty scaredy guy. I dunno. But hey - he ran straight to the dumpster to dig up evidence! And stood up to his douchebag of a dad! So kid’s got guts.

Or alternatively chakra sticks! They’re like sticks, but held in both hands and used for attacking. That could work.

Fire spreading across the blade, heating it into the bright red that comes from the forge, held out determinedly in front of him with one hand like his baton, flames flaring out like the swell of a crescendoing orchestra, like his dad’s lighter, and spreading up and around him like a protective blanket before going for the kill. Alternatively ice, frost freezing onto the sticks and burning everything cold, freezing spots into ice that shatter at the next blow he delivers.

- Klavier Gavin -

Sight Clearing Object: G-shaped necklace | Weapon: String wires

Klavier has a lot of love for music, and since he’s associated with guitar - dude even plays a riff on air guitar when its epic enough in court - it should probably be something related to music. But I also wanted it to be associated with something he wears or is able to carry around easily, like the others, and a guitar is not easy to carry around. Especially when fighting. So I grabbed a look at his appearance, thought for a bit, and chose the necklace around his neck. It’s noticeable and what he wears, and I’m fairly sure its merchandise for his band The Gavinners (nice self promotion Klavier haha), which means its related to music, and so G-shaped necklace it is! An alternative was the chain he’s wearing around the belt, but since I can’t see if its still there in AA5, eh. I’ll stick with the necklace.

As for why not the rings he wears on his fingers, well, its a part of his weapon. Since it is no longer two am in the morning (its 1am in the morning! Good enough!) I’m awake enough to come up with a different weapon for this guy that still fits what I wanted to include - usage of music and range, really. Wire strings are ranged weapons that slice through opponents or trap them, and require strategic and creative thinking - something Klavier has in spades. Ranged, because he seems non-confrontational physically, preferring to hang back and smile it away instead, which would translate into fighting as attacking from afar. They also require deft hands - again, something Klavier has due to years of experience playing guitar for his band - and strings are often used to produce music with the sound of the string’s vibrations. Related to music, requires intelligence and deft hands, ranged - Suits Klavier pretty well, I think.

Heat emininating from deep within him,umming a couple of tunes from the Guitar Serenade as he lifts his hands as if he were thanking a crowd, twitching his fingers as if they were on guitar strings, smiling beautifully as flames pour down the strings like a spiderweb on fire, charring anyone in its snares into ashes.

- Simon Blackquill -

Sight Clearing Object: Taka Feather | Weapon: Katana

FINALLY CAME UP WITH SOMETHING! Granted, it was actually really obvious once I figured it out but eh. So, Taka’s feather, because Taka is important to him.

I do know that he used the same sword to intimidate people. Which totally works, you japanephobile. I mean, he probably attacks with Taka too, but I think he loves the Hawk a little too much to let her lose on dangerous Shadows... but I could be wrong. So he attacks with both? But uses the sword most of the time because he doesn’t want to rely on Taka too much and continue to seem intimidating.

Imagine a katana, intricate designs of darkness curling delicately around the surface of the blade, shadows weaving a delicate pattern and bringing everything dark. Alternatively, imagine that same sword crackling with electricity, the energy jolting up and down the blade like a live thing desperate to be unleashed, thrumming with the desire to electrocute the shadows into oblivion.

-Sahdmhadi-

Sight Clearing Object: *shrug* | Weapon: Rosary

I’m not even sure I’ll ever include him due to how new the game is and that I haven’t even watched SoJ finished yet, but leaving him out would be pretty crappy to those who’ve watched SoJ. So. Here he is!

TBC

#AA:P4 fusion #So tired #screw staying up late #Finally completed this tho #Sorry for making you guys wait so long #Shoulda done this when I was more awake.#Let there be light

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sweetgloss · 8 years ago

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Currently Untitled Narumitsu Fic - Chapter One

Sooo I said that I wanted to write Phoenix and Edgeworth in Khura’in, right? Perhaps an AU where they arrived earlier than the others for the Turnabout Revolution case and end up spending a week in Khura’in together, or they both come for a case and also to visit Apollo. I don’t really know as of yet, but...tell me what you think...this is the first chapter.

The sweet, heady, hazy scent of incense pervaded the air. The air was sharp and cold, mist curling and slithering around the white-tipped, treacherous shards of mountains like coy serpents.

The scene before them was riotous. Blue and red prayer flags fluttered gaily in the biting breeze, and the bazaar was thronged with scores people buying and selling wares. There were the persuasive, inviting calls of salesmen, the furious bargaining and haggling of customers and the playful shouts of children, intertwined with the low, whistling, mystic sounds emanating from a group of street performers – the soft, seductive thrum of a lute-like instrument, combined with haunting vocals and the melancholy moan of an instrument that looked to be somewhat similar to a flute, with the occasional jaunty shake of what appeared to be a stylised tambourine.

Phoenix’s worn, navy suitcase rattled reluctantly over the cobbles as he dragged it behind him, offering a silent prayer that the wheels wouldn’t give out. He paused, scanning the crowd before him with sharp blue eyes, gripping the handle of his suitcase tightly; an anchor, in the chaos.

A sleek black suitcase rolled up next to his tattered one, seemingly effortlessly, devoid of a single scuff mark. Its owner’s glasses glinted sharply, catching the cold, watery sunlight, and he removed them to polish them, setting his suitcase down and opening his expensive-looking leather briefcase in search of the elusive little polishing cloth.

“Come on, Ahlbi,” Phoenix muttered quietly under his breath, fingers drumming impatiently on the handle. He was cold, travel-worn and fatigued, and was itching to shave and change out of the somewhat crumpled blue suit he’d worn for the long plane journey. He ran his fingers through his sleep-rumpled black hair, the stubborn little lock that stubbornly hung over his forehead bouncing back to its place.

“Wright.” His companion also began to scan the crowd with a little anxiety, though his grey eyes were significantly less sharp in the absence of his spectacles, which he was currently polishing, his fingers busily removing every minute speck of dust from the lenses. He was squinting, and probably couldn’t see much more than a very loud, jostling blur. “Was there not supposed to be someone meeting us here?”

“Yeah, there was.” Phoenix groaned a little, pressing his palm to his forehead, feeling the beginnings of a colossal headache. He was irritable and tired and dishevelled. Stealing a glance at his companion, he felt that it was almost unfair – he looked exactly as he always did, not a single silvery hair out of place, the frills at his throat gently moving in the breeze, his wine-red suit perfectly pressed and sharp.

Said companion replaced his glasses and gave Phoenix a sideways glance, intelligent eyes able to see with clarity once more. He pushed them up the bridge of his nose with a forefinger, taking hold of his suitcase handle once more and casting his gaze around. “Could it be possible, Wright, that you gave him the wrong time, or that he is expecting to meet us elsewhere?”

Phoenix was indignant. “Really, Edgeworth, thanks for having so much faith in m- “

“Mr Wright!” A little voice, slightly chiding, called from in front of him.

“Ahlbi! Where have you been? We’ve been standing here for over half an hour! You’re usually right on time. What happened?”

Edgeworth’s eyebrows raised slightly at the appearance of this enthusiastic but slightly bedraggled-looking little boy, who hefted a large satchel over his shoulder and looked like he would have a very cheerful smile. A tiny puppy yapped at his heels. “Shah’do! Down, boy!” The boy looked back up at Wright. “But, Mr Wright, I thought that we agreed to meet in the Plaza of Devotion? I got really worried when you didn’t turn up there, so I came to try and find you here!” He rocked back and forth on his feet, fidgeting a little, a little crease of worry on his small forehead.

Phoenix stopped in his tracks. “Wha – I…?” He thought back to the phone conversation he had had with Ahlbi and suddenly realised that they had actually agreed to meet at the Plaza of Devotion, and that he, tired, stressed and jet-lagged as he was from flying back and forth between countries, had simply assumed that Ahlbi would meet him in his usual place.

He didn’t want to look at Edgeworth, didn’t want to see the I-told-you-so look that he just knew would be on his face, but he caught a twitch of amusement at the corner of his stern mouth, and his eyes travelled reluctantly up his friend’s face, eventually meeting his eyes, which twinkled with dry humour, and Phoenix knew exactly what kind of mockery was going on in Edgeworth’s mind. Sighing, he turned back to the anxious little figure in front of him. “Ah, I’m so sorry, Ahlbi, I remember now. You’re right. It’s all my fault for forgetting.”

The boy instantly relaxed, his face splitting into an adorable, gap-toothed grin. He bounced on his heels a little, reminding Phoenix of his daughter, Trucy. “S’okay, Mr Wright! And hap’piraki to both you and your friend!”

Phoenix laughed, glad that he had been so readily forgiven and caught by Ahlbi’s infectious cheerfulness, despite his fatigue. “Hap’piraki, Ahlbi. This here is Mr Edgeworth, an old friend of mine. He’s a prosecutor back where I come from.”

Ahlbi’s eyes were like saucers as he gazed up at the imposing man, who towered above him, all steely gaze and crossed arms and confidently-tilted chin. “W-Woah! Hey, Mr Edgeworth, so you’re a prosecutor, like Prosecutor Sahdmadhi?”

Phoenix watched them, a small smile on his face. He would once have been anxious about his old friend’s interactions with children, but Edgeworth had softened and mellowed out considerably over the years, though he was loath to admit it. He had pleasant, if quite formal, exchanges with Trucy, and even had had his own young investigative assistant for a while.

Edgeworth’s mouth quirked into what was really almost a friendly, if somewhat strained, smile. It still had trace amounts of his old arrogant smirk, but it was a lot softer. “Hap’piraki – Mr Ur’gaid, was it? Yes, I am indeed also a prosecutor. I have met Prosecutor Nahyuta Sahdmadhi on various occasions and I have found him to be very thorough and serious about his job, values that I can certainly appreciate. He is a fine prosecutor.”

Ahlbi’s eyes gleamed with patriotic pride, his little fists clenched in his enthusiasm. “Y-Yes, sir! And he’s from right here in Khura’in! We have many talented people here!”

“I’m quite sure that you do, Mr Ur’gaid. I wouldn’t doubt it for a second. The Kingdom of Khura’in is a wonderful nation.” Edgeworth, ever a dog lover, looked down with fondness at Shah’do, who was diligently chasing his stubby little tail in circles.

Ahlbi looked mildly distressed, clasping his small hands. “P-Please, Mr Edgeworth, please call me Ahlbi! As your tour guide, good customer service means you feel c-comfortable in my presence! D-Do you, Mr Edgeworth?”

Edgeworth laughed good-naturedly at Ahlbi’s earnest, worried little face. “Of course I do, Ahlbi. I’m sorry, I have simply become quite used to addressing people formally, in my line of work.”

“Oh, phew! Thank the Holy Mother!” Ahlbi’s cheerful grin was back in full force. “Oh! Mr Wright, Mr Edgeworth. I have something for you!”

“Oh yeah, Ahlbi? What’s that?” Phoenix re-entered the conversation, yawning a little.

Edgeworth raised a slim eyebrow, silently inquiring.

Ahlbi was rummaging furiously in his satchel. A couple of stray Khura’inese tourism brochures escaped from it, fluttering to the ground, but Ahlbi eventually produced two warm, steamed buns, in the shape of teardrops.

“Ahlbi, you’re a livesaver,” Phoenix exclaimed gratefully, taking it from him and inhaling its sweet scent. “The plane food was kind of disgusting.”

Edgeworth rolled his eyes, gingerly taking his own suspiciously. “Wright, I offered for you to join me in business class. You declined. The food served there was adequate.”

“Yeah, because I’m not letting you pay for my plane tickets anymore. You did that enough in…those years,” Phoenix retorted, mouth full of the sweet, doughy bun.

“What is this, Ahlbi?” Edgeworth inquired, pointedly turning away from Phoenix, sighing through his nose and wrinkling it slightly at Phoenix’s less-than-refined eating habits. This was an argument that they had had on and off for several years now.

“A-Allow me to explain!” Ahlbi’s eyes lit up. “That is a magatah’man or soul bun! It’s a popular traditional sweet bun here, in the Kingdom of Khura’in, and it’s shaped in the shape of a magatama. It’s very famous and very yummy!” He grinned endearingly up at Edgeworth. “It’s so yummy, it’ll send your soul straight to the twilight realm!”

Edgeworth looked bemused and a little fearful that he might be poisoned, but he couldn’t in good conscience say no to that cheerful smile. He took a tentative, reserved bite, and then, upon finding the taste somewhat agreeable, consumed the bun, slowly, instead of wolfing it rapidly down as Phoenix had.

“How much is that, Ahlbi?” Phoenix asked, digging around for his wallet.

“Forty dharmas,” he replied cheekily, linking his little fingers behind his head and swaying from side to side.

“Ahlbi! We talked about this! You’re selling them each for five dharmas more than the stands right here in the bazaar!”

“But that includes a service charge, Mr Wright,” Ahlbi shot back, still smiling his adorable gap-toothed smile.

Edgeworth chuckled, and pushed his glasses up his nose, reaching for his own wallet. “The boy’s an astute businessman, Wright. Give him that, at least.” He handed the money, plus five extra dharmas, over to Ahlbi, who looked at the extra as if he’d won the world’s largest lottery.

“T-Thank you very much for your patronage, Mr Edgeworth, sir!”

Phoenix rolled his eyes. “Ahlbi, it’s been really nice to chat but…” he indicated his crumpled attire, paired with hooded, tired blue eyes, and rubbed at the faint stubble on his chin. “I’d really appreciate it if you could show us to where we’ll be staying so that we can freshen up.”

Ahlbi looked horrified. “Mr Wright, you should have said something! A tour guide’s top priority is the comfort of his guests! Please, follow me. I’ll take you to your hotel right away!” He began weaving his way through the gradually thinning crowd, as the sun sunk slightly in the pale sky, the grey day yielding to a scarlet-skied evening.

Edgeworth and Phoenix shared a glance.

Phoenix smiled a little, and Edgeworth smirked, before both men grabbed their suitcase handles and began to follow the boy, manoeuvring through the throng of people, watching for the bouncing of his colossal satchel at his hip and the trotting of his faithful dog at his heels.

The white-tipped mountains blushed pink as the sky faded gently to crimson, and the lanterns studded the cobbled streets of Khura’in as evening’s velvet touch caressed the Kingdom, the sorrowful sound of a lone, dedicated flautist diligently playing his instrument, filling the air, the silvery sounds easing the city into the night.

#narumitsu #wrightworth #fanfic #fan fiction #fanfiction #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright #ace attorney #ace attorney soj #spirit of justice #spirit of justice spoilers #khura'in #ahlbi ur'gaid #turnabout revolution

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rhnuzlocke · 7 years ago

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Episode 22

Scene 5:

[Ren and Latios land on a deserted piece of shoreline north of Lilycove and Josh is there to meet them. He climbs up on Latios’s back and holds onto Ren as they soar to Kagari Island. They land in front of the mansion and Ren knocks on the door, but Latios can already tell Zinnia isn’t there. They go in anyway to have a look around and Ren gets Josh talking about her as they search the place. Zinnia didn’t leave anything behind, but there is some subtle evidence she has been living there and recently. There is some food in the fridge and kitchen cabinet, toilet paper and towels hanging in one of the many bathrooms, a book sitting out on the desk in the study, and one music stand suspiciously free of dust. Ren and Josh meet up with Latios outside. Fortunately, it is low tide and thus he is able to fly the three of them into the Magma base entrance without dipping underwater. He once again stays outside as Ren and Josh use the gloves to teleport inside. The lights are on and the hallway looks very much as it did the first time Ren was there. There is a flash of red light behind them and Josh jumps, but it is just Tarahau popping out of her ball.]

Tarahau: Did you find her yet? How long is this going to take?

Ren: No and it could be a while. Sorry about that. I know you don’t love being in your ball.

Josh: When did you get a froslass? How many pokemon do you have?

Ren: A little while after the last time I was here and eleven.

Josh: That can’t possibly be right.

Ren: Some of them retired.

Tarahau: Can I stay out for a bit since you’re not flying?

Ren: Sure, but I’ll have to pop you back in for a second to use the teleporter pads.

Tarahau: That’s fine. Who’s this?

Ren: This is my friend, Josh. He used to work for Magma.

Tarahau: Really? Weren’t we fighting them when I joined?

Ren: Life’s funny like that. Keep an eye out for anyone else, would you?

Tarahau: Sure thing.

[They move off down the hall and Josh watches as the froslass floats ahead of them.]

Josh: She’s really pretty.

Ren: You like ghost-types?

Josh: Not as much as dark-types, but yeah, they’re pretty cool. And ice/ghost is a neat combo.

Tarahau: What is he saying about me?

Ren: He thinks you’re awesome.

Tarahau: Oh! He has good taste!

[They search the open rooms off the hallway, but find nothing. The last door is the one to the living room Josh spent all of his free time in and he pauses at the door.]

Ren: So how come the power is still on in here?

[Josh doesn’t respond and Tarahau taps him on the shoulder.]

Josh: Oh, uh, we have a tidal turbine so that we’re off the grid.

Tarahau: Why’s he staring at that chair?

Ren: I don’t know. Hey Josh, are you alright?

Josh: Yeah. I just used to read in here a lot.

[Ren translates this for her froslass as Josh backs out and closes the door. Tarahau’s first question is what books are and Ren explains. The teleport to the next section and the froslass pops right back out of her ball to ask what the books he reads are about. He tells her that a lot of his favorite books are stories about pokemon and she wants to hear the stories so he tells her about White Fang and Silverwing and Tales From Dimwood Forest and Watership Down and My side of the Mountain and Julie of the Lycanrocs. That takes up most of their time searching through the many rooms and corridors. Tarahau eats up the stories, often prompting Ren to translate as she becomes distracted by something or other.]

Ren: Maybe I should pick up one of these books some time. They sound good.

Josh: You’ve never read any of them?

Ren: I’m from Johto, remember? I grew up with stuff like Kemono no Sōja, Sorairo Magatama, and Brave Story. And I’m not a big reader, much to my mother’s disappointment.

[Josh cocks his head at her.]

Ren: My mother’s an author. She’s really good, but maybe not your speed. What’s this room?

Josh: This is the lab that made the magma suit.

[They snoop around a little and Josh stops in front of a peculiar and empty set of shelves.]

Josh: The other suit is gone.

Ren: There were two?

Josh: Yeah. Maxie had a backup for everything. It was right here.

[Ren walks over to look at the empty shelves.]

Josh: Do you think she took it?

Ren: I don’t know who else would, except maybe Courtney.

Josh: But what would she want it for?

[Ren has to think on that for a few moments.]

Ren: She’s going into space! She told us that her plan was to take Rayquaza into space and destroy the meteor! Wait, will the suit even work in space?

Josh: Don’t ask me.

Ren: Well, it does have a self contained environment and can handle extreme temperatures, so I guess it would help. Looks like we’re on her trail. [heading back into the hallway] Is there anything else in here she might want?

Josh: I don’t know. Could we go back to the part about her riding a god into space to destroy a giant meteor?

Ren: Oh. Yeah, she told us that was her plan to save the world. She destroyed the dimensional shifter because it would have just caused the meteor to destroy the Distortion World instead of our world. Not sure if that’s true or if she’s just crazy. How crazy did she seem to you?

Josh: There was something a little off about her. Everyone noticed but no one could tell you what it was. She’s really smart. Like she was always at least twenty moves ahead of me. It was a little hard to talk to her sometimes.

Ren: But lucid right? Ugh, none of this makes any sense to me.

[They warp into the next hall and start checking the rooms.]

Josh: So this thing with Rayquaza, is there any way it’s related to waking Groudon? Like, they are part of a trio…

Ren: Why do you ask that?

Josh: Well she was working for Magma and after Mt. Pyre, when I found out who she was, I asked her why. She said Groudon had to be awakened. So I just thought, if she knew this meteor was coming and stopping it has been her goal all along, then the two must be connected.

Ren: Rayquaza is supposed to make sure Groudon and Kyogre don’t rage out of control. She said that she failed to summon Rayquaza before, so she must have tried to get their attention by reviving Groudon! Josh, you’re a genius.

Josh: [flushing and muttering] No one’s ever told me that before.

Ren: Of course, that doesn’t answer the question of what her plan is now that the last one failed, but I’ll bet it has something to do with all those keystones she stole.

[Ren opens the door to Maxie’s office only to find Courtney asleep at the desk. Josh and Ren freeze and Tarahau peeks her head around them to see what is going on. Courtney lifts her head and blinks blearily at them. Her face morphs from exhaustion to pure rage and Josh recoils.]

Courtney: YOU! What are you doing here!

Ren: Oops.

Courtney: [eyes falling on Josh] And you! You’re a traitor!

[Josh tugs on Ren’s arm and they make a run for it.]

Courtney: [chasing after them] GIVE ME YOUR KEYSTONE! I need it! I won’t let Azalea—

[Her rant is cut short as they warp to the next section. Ren sends out Tarahau again as they run to the other end.]

Tarahau: Aren’t we going to fight her?

Ren: [stopping] That’s a solid point.

Josh: [stopping just ahead of her] What are you doing?!

Ren: I’m gonna fight her and bring her in. She stole my friends keystones.

[Courtney comes through the teleporter as Ren reaches for her balls. They both send out their pokemon.]

Josh: Does she still have them?

Ren: No, but—

Josh: [He has run back to her and is pulling on her arm.] Then let’s go! She has eleven pokemon and you have six!

[Taraki charges into the fray and Kotai and Pohaku block the half dozen flamethrowers that come his way with earthquake and aqua tail.]

Ren: Maybe you’re right.

[They sprint for the next teleporter and Ren withdraws all of her pokemon before warping away. The hallway they are now in shakes as Josh pulls her along to the next one.]

Ren: Thanks for that.

[Tarahau pops out again as Courtney comes through behind them and sends out her ninetails. It aims a ball of fire at them which is on track to hit Josh in the back head but Tarahau counters with a shadow ball. The two moves collide in the middle of the hall and the ghostly energy sucks in the fire and snuff it out.]

Tarahau: Leave my friend alone!

[The froslass’s crystals light up and she fires off an ice beam that freezes the ninetails to the floor. Ren withdraws her froslass as the ninetails targets it with a flamethrower. She and josh teleport away before the flames reach them and emerge at the entrance where Latios is waiting for them. They both jump aboard, which is a first for Josh given his aversion to flying, and Latios rockets out of the cavern. Flames and incoherent screaming follow them out, but Latios takes them up and out of danger.]

#pokemon #Nuzlocke #oras #running hot nuzlocke #story #episode 22 #Ren #Josh #Tarahau

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 5 years ago

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Witches, Chapter 21: post-trial wrap-up. No, seriously, finally, it’s over. It’s been....3000 years....

[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

[Witches Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

----

It’s all there, on the record, to end the case, to make the next trial go smoother: the victim, Jack Shipley, slipped and fell and Rimes couldn’t pull him back to safety; Orla and Sasha did nothing wrong, and neither did Ora, a year ago. Azura Summers’ death was a heart attack. Two accidental deaths, and Rimes trying to get revenge on the wrong orca for something that never needed to be avenged. All this pain and agony, all because the victim wanted to keep it a secret that there were two orcas.

It never needed to happen this way.

Sometimes Phoenix thinks it’s easier to deal with cases where one of the parties involved was actively a malicious murderer. Because it hurts, god does it hurt, if the victim or killer is someone that they knew, loved, trusted, and Phoenix has both been the one in pain and the one trying to console his clients, but at least there’s a feeling that justice was served. Someone got what they deserved, in the end.

No one deserved this nightmare.

The court officers don’t escort Rimes out right away; Sasha, out of the defendant’s chair, out of suspicion, hurries forward to speak with him. He doesn’t even seem to notice her approaching. He might not have blinked since Phoenix told him about Azura’s heart condition, since Rimes himself realized that everything he did just hurt innocent people, and demanded to know why Phoenix couldn’t just let him be called a murderer and punished as such. Yeah, he’s criminally liable for a lot, and everyone here knows it, the judge has even said it, but - he did not want to kill Jack Shipley, and that still means something. Rimes doesn’t deserve a death penalty like Rimes seems to think he deserves.

“Hey, Marlon,” Sasha says. He jumps, slamming his shin into the witness stand. He really didn’t notice her. “When this is all done, y’know - served out your sentence and rehabilitation - you’d better come back to the aquarium, you hear?”

“But…” He doesn’t even say anything else. He lets everything that’s happened in the past half an hour stand for itself.

“We’re pirates, remember? Cap’n Orla’s Swashbucklers! A pirate crew’s not gonna care about criminal records in hiring!” She seems to be deliberately missing the point. Rimes doesn’t say anything else. “Hey. Marlon. That whole, um, hulking out thing - you didn’t - that wasn’t some kind of catastrophic deal, right? You - you okay?”

And of course he isn’t, not in the broad scheme of things, and of course Sasha isn’t okay in that sense either, but she only means one thing and that’s the thing that Phoenix has been wondering, and Blackquill has already been escorted out of the courtroom but Taka is perched just off to the side, listening in too. What did he bargain away, thinking he’d gained something useful?

Rimes slumps until his forehead hits the witness stand. “Had’ta give up being a vegetarian,” he mumbles.

“Wait,” Athena says, “do you mean you had to give up meat or you had to—”

“I was a vegetarian.” Rimes doesn’t lift his head. The way he’s doubled over hurts Phoenix’s back and neck by proxy. “But I have to eat meat now.”

Whether he was a vegetarian for personal or religious reasons, or health reasons, or something as simple as he thought raw meat was gross to look at and hated cooking with it and had to functionally become a vegetarian (like Phoenix his first year having a kitchen except takeout sushi isn’t vegetarian and ramen and pizza aren’t a healthy vegetarian diet) - whatever it was, going back to meat in the diet is some sort of sacrifice. And that so often is the cornerstone of a deal: a sacrifice. Giving something up. A name, a soul, a skill, a principle, some cash for an all-you-can-eat buffet—

And it could’ve been so, so much worse for Rimes. He’s lucky.

“I made the deal for strength,” he adds, still hunched over, like his spine has been wrenched out of him and replaced with jelly. “I thought - I thought I could be strong enough then to help. But I wasn’t strong enough to hang onto the captain, and all the rest - physical strength didn’t matter. Didn’t help me at all.”

Which, Phoenix wouldn’t be surprised if whichever fae gave him the magatama knew that it wouldn’t. It’s a human thing - and a fae thing, it’s a people thing, to not know what would actually help. What they really need, versus what they think they need.

Sasha steps around the witness stand and pulls Rimes around into a hug, his head slumped down onto her shoulder instead of the stand now. Phoenix hears, and thinks he isn’t supposed to, Rimes’ ragged repeated “I’m sorry”s and “It’s my fault”s.

“Yeah and you’re still my friend, y’know that,” Sasha says.

The magatama slips from Rimes’ hand and hits the floor, shattering with a sound like it’s made of glass. Rimes shudders and trembles and his whole body shrinks, back down to the man he was before.

“You never cease to surprise me.”

Down the hall, at the top of the stairs, Athena is excitedly introducing Sasha to Trucy, and re-introducing Sasha and Apollo. Taka is long gone. And Edgeworth stands next to Phoenix, arms folded, drumming his fingers, and Phoenix can’t tell if he’s angry or begrudgingly impressed or wholeheartedly impressed. “So when Blackquill came to you to tell you that he was going to prosecute an orca, did you regret lengthening his leash at that point?”

Edgeworth shakes his head. “Prosecutor Blackquill was with me at the time. We were discussing - a case.” If it was Blackquill’s case specifically, Phoenix thinks he would have said that, but this just sounds like there’s even more, other cases, behind the scenes, above the security clearance of absolutely anyone. “And then I have a call from Detective Fulbright that he has a case that may be able to go to trial, and Prosecutor Blackquill is of course interested in that.” He shakes his head a second time. “If you think Blackquill is a thorn in your side in court, believe me, he is just as much of one to be outside of it.”

“That sounds consistent with what I’ve seen.” Phoenix glances around again to be sure that the hawk isn’t anywhere around. “Wait, you met with him - at your office? One-on-one? Without Fulbright around?”

“Yes, I have. Several armed officers on the other side of the door, of course - Detective Gumshoe stringently insists—”

“Good,” Phoenix interrupts. He should buy Gumshoe dinner for that. Someone has to keep Edgeworth’s dumb ass in one piece. “And Blackquill knows he’d still be rotting only in prison if not for you, right? And that if he—”

Edgeworth’s pale eyes flicker sideways at Phoenix. “Your concern is appreciated and entirely unwarranted and unnecessary. Prosecutor Blackquill, assuredly, has nothing against me, unlike certain others who you spent significant one-on-one time with.”

Oh. There it is. That gulf always between them, sometimes near closed and then it yawns, and they are here and here is further apart. “Good,” Phoenix repeats, more faintly than before. “Is there anything new you can tell me about him that would help?”

“Unfortunately not. He’s very stubborn in regards to his own murder case - as I said, a thorn in my side.”

“And maybe an ache in your head and a pain in your ass, too?”

Even if Edgeworth is, maybe not mad at him, but frustrated enough with him to bring up Kristoph, Phoenix is pleased to know that he can still make him snort in amusement. “I’m in particular agreement with His Honor about your need to watch your language.”

“Just in court though, right?”

“No.” Edgeworth turns his head to fully affix a glare on him, and Phoenix wilts. “In general. I can only imagine that good things would come of you choosing to fully speak and act like the lawyer that you are.”

The lawyer that he hasn’t been for eight years. The lawyer that Edgeworth pushed him to be, again. “All else aside,” Edgeworth adds, “such as and especially the orca, and that you are an utterly ridiculous man lacking a modicum of good sense and decorum—”

“That’s a lot to throw aside.”

Edgeworth ignores him. “—I am happy to see you standing in court again. You deserve this.”

“I—?” Are you sure? Do I really? After everything I’ve done? Everything that you know I am?

“You do,” Edgeworth says. “And I look forward to seeing what you do next, so long as you do not decide that you will - try and outdo yourself in finding a more outlandish defendant.”

“Hey, if they show up at my office, who am I to turn away clients? It’s not like I’ve ever had enough work to really be choosy with it. You’d said that yourself plenty of times.”

“Though I can’t say I expected an orca to be the logical conclusion of your manner of conducting business.”

They’re an Anything Agency. This was the place they were going to end up. “Would you think better or worse of me if I tell you I didn’t know the client was an orca at first, until we got to the aquarium and Ms Buckler introduced us to said orca?”

“You went all the way out to meet the client without having asked such basic information as name or species - yes, that does sound exactly like you.” He doesn’t answer whether that’s better or worse, just makes it clear that he knows Phoenix well enough to not be surprised. The more Phoenix thinks about it, the more he’s surprised that he didn’t ever get himself into a situation like this before. Maybe it could be said that there’s a lesson here, but he thinks he’s going to deliberately not learn it. “And the fact that from that, you pulled two victories, and cleared up the truth of a guilty man who was nevertheless not guilty of murder - also, very much like you.”

“You don’t need to flatter me,” Phoenix says. “I’m already on board to help you out with whatever, remember?”

He knows it isn’t flattery - or if it is, it isn’t hollow, because Edgeworth doesn’t say anything he doesn’t mean - but he’s still locked into deflect, deflect. Edgeworth knows how much Phoenix feels he doesn’t belong here. He’s not going to address it straight-out - that’s not his style, that’s not their styles, but he knows, and he still thinks that this is exactly where Phoenix does belong.

The one word he wants to say, thanks, sticks his throat shut, but he hopes Edgeworth knows anyway.

“Hey, Boss! Hi, Mr Edgeworth!” Athena waves them over. “Boss, Sasha wants us to come back to the aquarium one last time so Orla can thank us in person, too! And we should probably pick up Pearly, right?”

Not that Pearl is limited in her movements in a way that necessitates them picking her up in a car, but if she’s still hanging around the aquarium, she’d probably be happy to see them and come back to the office with them. “Sounds like a plan,” he says. “Catch up with you later, Edgeworth.” He gives his friend a solid thwack on the shoulder.

“I can give Trucy and Mr Justice a lift back to your office, then,” Edgeworth says. Trucy beams; Apollo, terror-stricken, glances between Edgeworth and Trucy and seems to resign himself to whatever this fate is. Phoenix would like for Apollo to get to know Edgeworth better, but can’t blame him for the fear. Edgeworth’s scary even before he got the title Chief Prosecutor to cement it.

“Oh, Prosecutor Edgeworth,” Athena says. “There’s something I wanted to ask you - can I email you later?”

“Ah - of course.” Edgeworth still glances at Phoenix, raising an eyebrow, doubtlessly wondering what question she has that she isn’t going to the nearest adult in her life, the one right next to her. Probably something about cars or Europe or any of the other gaps in Phoenix’s life experience, something that she figures he’s too much of a mess to have an answer to. Maybe it’s something about Phoenix’s badge, the losing of it, that she wants to know without tipping Phoenix to the fact that she’s digging into his ugly past like this. Or maybe it’s the what the hell about Blackquill she wants to know. There are lots of questions it could be.

Phoenix shrugs back at Edgeworth. It’s sort of like they’re co-parenting another daughter. No real way around that now, and Phoenix follows her out of the courthouse as she hurtles herself down the stairs.

They arrive back in the orca pool room in time to catch the middle-end of a lecture Dr Crab is giving Sasha about taking her health seriously and taking it easy until her condition is fully, properly managed. She sits at the edge of the pool, patting Orla’s nose, her hair soaking wet, like she just jumped straight into the pool upon her return. “I was thinking Orla and I would put on a mini show for you when you got here,” Sasha says to Athena, “but that’s obviously not happening.”

“I’m inclined to agree with the doctor,” Phoenix says.

“He’s a vet, not a people-doctor!” Sasha protests. Jokingly? It sounds like a joke.

“And you, Miss Selkie, are as much seal as you are human.”

“Not at the same time!” She stands up, careful with her footing, no doubt thinking about the victim slipping and falling to his death. “But, really. Phoenix, Athena, I cannot ever thank you enough, and your office, and Pearl, too.” Sasha waves at Pearl, who is sitting with Rifle and the penguin chick, Sniper, over by the wall. “All of you! Thank you, thank you, for what you did for me, and Orla, and the aquarium, for everyone. You found us the truth, you got us closure - made me realize this guy isn’t so bad after all!” She elbows Dr Crab.

“Not sure I’m happy about that one.” Crab steps away from her second nudge.

“You really helped us out a ton, Pearls,” Phoenix says. “Definitely couldn’t have done this all without you.”

“Oh, it was nothing!” She starts to cover her face with her hands and decides to duck behind Rifle instead. “I’m sure you could have won without me, Mr Nick!”

He could have, yes - but not to this same end. He couldn’t have proven Rimes was trying to save Shipley in the end; he wouldn’t have had the time or patience to plaster fingerprinting powder over everything. But he’s not one to look a gift debt-forgiveness in the mouth, either, so he doesn’t point that out. Dr Crab’s eyes narrow, wondering, no doubt, how Phoenix got such a tricky, powerful faery to like him so much that she writes off all this investigation and assistance as nothing. What he had to lose to gain that. Phoenix shrugs back at him, and they watch Sasha and Athena head over to Pearl, Sasha animatedly explaining something to Athena and half holding her back from charging down Rifle.

“And thanks for spilling almost all of the aquarium’s secrets like that,” Dr Crab adds dryly.

“I’m only a little sorry,” Phoenix says. Better to be honest.

Dr Crab waves dismissively. “You said you would, and I was prepared for that. I’m almost glad I’ve got less to hide now. That writer lady, now that she’s not crusading after Orla anymore, said to me that she thinks that the aquarium’s in the right with the TORPEDO, and the law’s wrong, and she’d take up our case to advocate for its legality.” He grins, just slightly. “So we might be able to wiggle free of any serious consequences.”

“That’s—” Phoenix pauses to think over what he was about to say. “Speaking as a lawyer, I shouldn’t say that’s good, but I’m glad to hear that anyway.”

“I’m pretty good at keeping secrets, so don’t worry, I won’t go blabbing on you.” Phoenix laughs awkwardly, while Dr Crab’s face doesn’t twitch. He seems very serious. “Though, speaking of secrets, buddy, if you can keep your mouth shut when you don’t have a case hinging on it, I’ve got to tell you, there’s one thing you didn’t get quite right, back in that courtroom, and I wasn’t about to go correcting you on it.”

There’s a tanuki standing in front of Apollo, saying very similar words, and the blood left both Apollo and Athena’s faces, and if Apollo had vomited right in Filch’s face it wouldn’t have been much of a surprise. But Phoenix - Phoenix doesn’t know what he feels. Not this time. Dr Crab, unlike Filch, didn’t perjure himself willy-nilly all through this trial. If he held something back—

“Go on,” Phoenix says. His voice is strangled even to his own ears. Crab gives him a curious and suspicious once-over.

“The calendar with the meeting with Jack, seven am at the orca pool - that’s mine, yeah, and I did go to that meeting to wait for him, yeah. But.” His silence might be dramatic, or a last assessment of whether Phoenix is trustworthy, and he adds, “That meant the orca pool at Supermarine Aquarium, not here.”

“The Supermarine Aquarium?” Phoenix repeats. “That’s the dolphin therapy place, right?” Athena explained animal-assisted therapy, and that aquarium across town in particular, sometime last evening, while they compiled their last investigatory information, but Phoenix checked out mentally in the middle of it. And something about an open-ocean marine sanctuary too, for whales that had been rescued from bad conditions at other institutions but couldn’t live fully on their own in the wild. He has no idea what relevance Athena thought that had. She just likes to talk about whales. “I didn’t even know they had an orca.”

“They don’t,” Dr Crab says. “They’re just harboring her for us.” It doesn’t click right away. Crab goes on. “When I told you about how I’d fake Orla’s death if I had to - I have full confidence I’d be able to, because Jack and I already did it once. Ora’s been living there the last year - we tried to send her into the wild, but she didn’t want to leave Orla, and Orla didn’t want to leave us, and we couldn’t exactly just have an orca hanging out around in the harbor for everyone to keep running into.”

“And that’s why you and the owner were making those mysterious payments,” Phoenix says faintly. DePlume had some wild ideas about conspiracy involving that, but she couldn’t dream this up.

“Yep. Couldn’t exactly force that on the Supermarine’s budget, since she’s our orca, so we’ve been paying them for all her food and care. And orcas eat a lot.”

“I’d believe it,” Phoenix says, still thinking of someone else, someone who eats a lot and puts a serious strain on his wallet when she does.

“Since you’ve proven now that Ora was innocent all along, I figure we’ll bring her back here sooner rather than later,” Dr Crab says. “Not that I know how to budget and run an aquarium, and Sasha doesn’t, either. It’ll be a hell of a learning curve with Jack gone, but I don’t plan on going anywhere - but for now, I think it’d be better if you didn’t go saying anything about what I just told you.”

“Don’t worry,” Phoenix says. “I’ve been told I’m very good at keeping secrets.”

The bitter bend to the words would be hard to miss, but Dr Crab doesn’t move a muscle in his face. “Good. Hey, Sasha,” he calls over to her. “I’ve got my rounds to make and check in on the rest of the animals. Don’t do anything crazy as soon as I turn my back.” To Phoenix, he adds, “You seem to garner some sort of respect among young women in their early twenties, apparently, so I’m tasking you with making sure Sasha doesn’t start trying to show off.”

The average age is more like late teens, and the amount of actual “respect” he gets is up for strenuous debate. “Guess you have to be some sort of a crazy show-off to go get a job working with orcas when you’re a selkie.”

Dr Crab huffs. “Azura wasn’t like that. And I think your one in yellow is contributing to the feedback loop.”

“Athena’s got a - competitive spirit, yeah.”

“I don’t suppose I’ll be lucky enough that this is the last I see of you,” Dr Crab says. “Sasha’s keen on giving all your crew lifetime tickets, if we don’t run our place into the ground figuring out the management side.”

“I learned to run a law office on the fly,” Phoenix says. “Not really the same, but best of luck to you. And thanks for all your help, Dr Crab. I appreciate you being mostly honest.”

Dr Crab snorts, casting one glance back at Sasha and Orla, and he leaves.

Hell of a fortuitous thing, the doctor’s name. Herman Crab, marine veterinarian, weirdly cool with sea witches and selkies and fae. Phoenix doesn’t think names as given determine a trajectory in life, but the fae pick them deliberately. Courtney comes to mind. Or humans who escape the Twilight Realm and aren’t sure how they’re supposed to call themselves other than after what they are or what they do. Eldoon’s father comes to mind. (He wonders how Thalassa got her name.)

But like hell he’d ever ask. Azura‘s story was something Sasha asked, something relevant to all their questions. Case closed. Phoenix isn’t going to cast around trying to find someone with a more fucked-up story than his own. No one wins in that kind of game.

“Hey, Boss!” Athena calls. “Come feed Orla with us!” She and Pearl and Sasha take turns grabbing a fish from a bucket and tossing it to the orca. Phoenix watches her snap her jaws, full of bright white sharp teeth she doesn’t need to use because she just swallows these little fish whole. Thinks of someone else with a mouth full of teeth, not taking the time to chew. Wants to say no thanks. He could tell his girls it’s time to leave and head back to the office.

“All right, fine,” he says, and Sasha springs up with a fish ready to drop in his hands. “What do I do?”

Trucy is very quiet after Prosecutor Edgeworth leaves them back at the office. Apollo asks her if she’s okay and when she says “yeah” she doesn’t even manage to infuse it with her usual mask of cheer, and her fingers twitch red when she says it, her hand flitting up toward her diamond brooch and stopping. It would be easy to call her on it and she knows it, but there’s an unspoken social contract that has slowly coalesced between them all to let little things slide. Athena going quiet and staring off into space or furiously dragging legal textbooks off the shelves and paging through them; Trucy staring at the portrait of her father above the piano or at Phoenix’s desk and the bottom drawer there; Phoenix poking his head into whatever room the rest of them are gathered in if there’s a sudden silence like he’s afraid something happened, or several moments Apollo watched him studying for the Bar where he’d put his head in his hands and dig his hands through his hair about to pull it out. Apollo doesn’t know what makes Athena tick but the others he knows too well, and they let each other have breathing room.

Close to an hour later - it’s past five but Apollo doesn’t want to leave until Trucy has some company - she comes back and hops up onto Phoenix’s desk. “This is the first time Daddy’s been a lawyer since he’s been my daddy,” she says. “It’s his first trial that I’ve ever seen.” She unclips her cape from around her shoulders and tosses it into what looks like empty air, but it falls draped solidly over a wisp. “I was there for his - his last one, but he wasn’t my daddy then, and I was only paying attention to my other daddy to make a diversion for him to escape if he needed it.”

Apollo nods, silently.

“You know something, now, Apollo? I’ve been here half my life now. I’ve been Trucy Wright just a bit longer than I was Trucy Enigmar, and I’m gonna be Trucy Wright for the rest of my life and it’s only gonna be longer and longer now. And I love Daddy and I don’t want to be anywhere else but it’s…”

“Still weird?” Apollo asks. She nods. “I get that.” When he was sixteen it would’ve been about half his life away from Khura’in, except he didn’t have another loving father to ease the sting. Trucy was luckier.

“Did you ever have somewhere you stayed enough to miss it?” she asks. And then hastily she adds, “Never mind, you don’t have to talk if you don’t wanna.” He must have shown panic on his face, panic or pain, but those don’t narrow the answer to her question down. Panic and pain are responses that fit either meaning, that he spent his whole life never setting roots down to have a home, or he’ll spend the rest of his life aching for somewhere long gone. “You’re welcome to stay here forever, you know! You’re like family now!”

It’s a weird sentiment, all considered, that Apollo knows all about the Gramaryes and absolutely does not want to be a part of that, and he also knows that Phoenix is a mess masquerading as a person, and - and yet. It’s not about Apollo, and what he thinks, so much as it is something for Trucy, figuring out how to build a new family out of the ashes her old one left. The Gramaryes brought Apollo to this law office in some roundabout way, like they sent Trucy to Phoenix. Like Apollo can sometimes manage to think that if Dhurke hadn’t sent him away, he wouldn’t have been there for Clay. Or Trucy. Or anyone else.

“Um, thanks,” he says, and she beams, and though it had already been slipping away, he pushes further aside, for some other far future time, the thought of finding another law office to work at. This one case is not enough to expect he’s being pushed aside. And it would break Trucy’s heart and he doesn’t have enough friends that he can afford to do that.

“Here, come look at this,” she says, waving him over conspiratorially, the moment passed. “Daddy left this picture out on his desk. He must’ve been thinking about old times, too.”

Apollo joins her at Phoenix’s desk. “What am I looking at?”

“Uncle Larry argues a lot with Daddy and Uncle Miles about whether they look any older than they did back then,” Trucy says, holding out to him a photograph that she brought in earlier. “You can be the impartial judge!”

The three of them still wear the same colors, whenever this photo was taken. Larry shoved off behind the other two - did Apollo know that Phoenix’s flighty artist friend knew Edgeworth? - wearing an orange suit jacket thrown over what might be a t-shirt. Edgeworth, smiling, and Phoenix, with a golden badge tiny on his lapel. At least eight years ago. Then there’s a taller man in a dark green overcoat off to the right, and to the left, in front of Phoenix and Larry, a girl with long black hair and big, dark eyes, wearing robes almost identical to Pearl’s. “Who’s this?” Apollo asks.

“That’s Detective Gumshoe,” Trucy says. “He’s one of Uncle Miles’ best friends. They’ve worked together since ever. And that’s Maya, one of Daddy’s friends.”

“Is she—?”

“Yeah.” It’s easy to know the question. “I didn’t know that for a while about her, though. He didn’t say. And she didn’t come around enough for me to notice. Not like Pearly visits us.”

“No?”

Trucy shakes her head. “I met her the day I came to live with him and maybe one or two other times and then - Uncle Miles says she used to be here at the office all the time, helping Daddy with his cases and stuff.”

A fae mentor and why not a fae co-counsel too. “Maybe she got bored after he was disbarred,” Apollo suggests. That sounds fickle enough to be fae rationale.

“Pearly said they had a huge fight about him being disbarred and stopped talking so much to each other. About how he was handling it or something. I don’t know. I think Pearly said that Maya wanted to help.”

“I don’t think I’d be brave enough to give one of the - the Fair Folk, the silent treatment,” Apollo says. But he’s not sure he could brace himself well enough for the repercussions of accepting their help either, and thinking about all of those leaves him to trip and land on a euphemism for their name instead. Only some days is he brave enough to call them what they are.

“I’m not sure I would either,” Trucy admits. “But Uncle Miles talks like he and Maya got along well enough and he liked her well enough and he never sounds like he’s afraid of her when he’s always very weird about magic stuff and all of Daddy’s… everything.”

Apollo looks back down at the picture, into the face of the fae girl, her smile that looks like a human smile. “Do you think she still looks this age?” he asks. “Do the fae age like people do?” Or is their development slow the way humans growing up in their realm are?

Trucy shrugs. “Pearly seems to age the same as me, but I don’t know if she does that because she has me as a model for how people grow up, or if she actually would like that.”

There in the photo, behind the fae girl, Phoenix isn’t quite as gaunt and hollow in the face, and next to him Edgeworth isn’t wearing glasses, but though Edgeworth is smiling they both look exhausted, like they haven’t slept well in days, like they’ve been ground down to ashes. “I don’t think they look that much older,” Apollo says, tapping the picture, bringing them back to Trucy’s original question. “I mean, they look really tired there, and that’s about the same.”

“Is that what being old means?” she asks, eyes downcast, twisting her fingers together. “Perpetual tiredness?”

“Oh yeah. Once you turn twenty it’s over. It’s just wanting to constantly go back to bed.” Trucy whimpers. “Enjoy the next four years because that’s all you’ve got.”

“Nooo.”

“Oi! Apollo!” He didn’t hear the door open but there’s Athena appearing in the doorway, hollering at him. “Are you being mean to Trucy?”

“She’s always being mean to me!”

Trucy exaggerates her pout even further, fishing for sympathy, but when Phoenix follows Athena in he bursts out laughing. “Mr Nick!” Pearl scolds, and Phoenix jumps, literally jumps, away from her, avoiding her smack on the arm and knocking Athena into her desk. “You can’t be so mean to your own daughter!”

Trucy breaks into a fit of giggles. “Hey, so, Trucy, Apollo,” Athena says, hoisting herself up on her desk and dropping down behind it out of the way of Phoenix and Apollo. “Guess who’s got free lifetime admission to the shipshape aquarium now, and for friends, too!”

“Ooh, I know who you should invite.” Trucy kicks Apollo in the shin. He knows exactly the answer she has in mind.

“Vera,” he says.

“Oh you know I bet that would be fun,” Trucy says. “That’s not what I was going to say, also.”

“I know you weren’t.” He can’t really leverage himself to kick her back, so he knocks his shoulder into hers. Phoenix is giving them a weird look - not like he’s mad that Apollo is beating up on Trucy in turn. There’s nothing angry at all. Just kind of fond and kind of sad, and when he notices Apollo’s puzzled expression, his face immediately snaps back to lazy-eyed and closed off, a look Apollo’s seen less and less of in the past few months, but it’s always still there, the poker face underneath everything.

“So the answer is you and Mr Wright,” Apollo says to Athena, “because you’re the ones who defended her, right?”

“Ugh, nein, non, no, no,” Athena says. “I wouldn’t be bragging about it if you weren’t included! Sasha says everyone at the agency, and Pearly too! And whatever friends you want to bring, because I also specifically asked that too!”

Trucy kicks Apollo again. Apollo shakes his head.

“We’ll all go together sometime!” Athena says brightly. “And I was thinking, y’know, Mr Wright, I’m really glad you let me come on board here. I love working with all of you!”

“I - uh, yeah, of course.” Phoenix definitely was not prepared for that. There’s another weird look on his face, hesitation, and again he smooths it away with a bit of deliberate effort. “Glad to have you.”

“Good not to be the new kid anymore,” Apollo says with a grin, and Athena sticks her tongue out at him. “And Trucy’s probably glad to have two new kids to heckle.”

Trucy kicks him again.

“Really, anyone? Just - whenever I want to come back, I can bring anyone with me?”

“Of course! I don’t know when the Swashbuckler Spectacular will come back, with my health, or anything like that, but you all will be the first ones to know! And your whole office is welcome and anyone you want to bring along, I’ll hold the front row just for you! Because any friend of yours is a friend of mine, Athena.”

“I - yeah, of course. But - thanks. When this is all sorted out, for you guys here and me with - and everything, there’s someone who I always wanted to visit with and never got a chance.”

“Then c’mon! I’ll look forward to meeting them.”

“Y-yeah, heh, I - yeah.”

#roddy fanfics #fic: the witches of los angeles

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 5 years ago

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Witches, Chapter 16: congrats Apollo you’re not back in hell. this case, you’re only on the margins of it.

[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

[Witches Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

Among the ethical questions Apollo has pondered in his time as a lawyer, “is it wrong to search for a new job on my current employer’s office computer?” is the least consequential and least dire one. Not that he’s thinking of leaving the WAA, not at this moment, but being stuck spinning in a chair while Phoenix and Athena go out to investigate - it might not become a trend, but it might be, and he’ll need to prepare a contingency if it does. If he, the lawyer who got this place renamed from Wright Talent Agency to Anything Agency by being the first lawyer in seven years to work within its walls, who put the pieces together for Phoenix to let him get his badge back, gets squeezed out of it.

Fine. He’s used to it. Foster home after foster home and before any of them a home in the mountains of Khura’in, Apollo doesn’t fit, Apollo goes away to the next place that will take him for a little while longer.

But Phoenix is only so reliable and some part of Apollo suspects that he’ll get yanked away by the fae and leave the case suddenly on Apollo’s shoulders, and instead of pondering the ethical question - the answer is, he doesn’t care if it’s wrong, but he’s not going to do it because Mia would know and he’s not going to test a fae queen’s patience - he sets to work researching the scene of their crime. The Shipshape Aquarium’s website prominently displays what they call the Aqua Tunnel, a glass tunnel that runs under the aquarium’s largest tank, allowing a full view of fish to the sides and right above their heads. Apollo’s stomach churns just seeing the pictures of visitors standing there, illuminated blue in the dark, water all around them held back only by glass that can’t be thick enough to put him at ease. It looks like drowning feels.

So it’s almost like a good thing that this is the case that he’s been squeezed out of.

Then Athena texts him to tell him that their client is an orca, one of the marine animals on display and performing at the aquarium, and the dizzy lightheadedness that the Aqua Tunnel instilled in him turns to dizziness from the breathless laughter wheezing forth from his lungs.

The woman who had shown up on their doorstep really didn’t say much specific about her friend and her case, did she? Apollo desperately wants to see how Phoenix bluffs his way through this one and is desperately relieved that he’s only involved in this case from the margins. Athena tells him that she wants to hear later about the time Phoenix cross-examined a parrot; their human client (Athena says human, anyway, because she needs to distinguish from their orca client, but they probably can’t say for certain yet, human) mentioned it as the real actual reason she came here looking for Phoenix Wright.

Apollo drags his feet across the carpet to bring the spinning chair to a halt - wait, maybe this is why he’s so dizzy - and heads for the shelves back behind Phoenix’s desk. His oldest cases, and a few that he acted as Mia’s assistant on, and a few of hers even before he was a lawyer at all, rest there, and Apollo had read through some of them again on the really slow, lonely days before Athena was here and while Trucy is at school. He knows exactly where to find that one, the one where Phoenix cross-examined a parrot to defend the future Chief Prosecutor and get a forty-year legend of a prosecutor indicted on murder charges.

(How many legends has Phoenix torn down in the strangest of ways, as a rookie, while disbarred, a force to be reckoned with no matter his personal circumstances?)

The parrot’s name was Polly. Apollo sort of hates that as much as he hates everything else about Phoenix’s chaotically stupid bluffs working out for him, and that this is what he so admired about Phoenix from the start. It’s a lot less fun to be the one behind the bench, bluffing frantically, than it is to follow it in a transcript.

He drops the file on Athena’s desk and sticks a pen in the relevant part so they can review it later. Her last update said that they’re going to do their own investigation to find possibility of a human culprit, so that the orca won’t be put down, and it’s radio silence from there out. Apollo goes back to the aquarium website. Trucy sends him photos from the wrestling match she and Jinxie are attending; she won’t be back until early evening.

The other bookshelf out in the front room is where the fun happens. He’s found the same book there twice, sure, but almost never with the same cover. A weathered leather-bound tome, cracking along the spine, surely a grimoire full of old fae secrets, contains Mia’s taxes. A textbook cover proclaiming this a study of real estate law contains biographies of famed stage magicians. The only ones that stay the same are the thin picture books slipped in between matters of law and magic: Deauxnim, all of them, Elise or Laurice. Bored again, he thumbs through one, marveling at the elaborate illustrations, and the pages are cold to the touch. On reaching the end, a loose sheet torn from a sketchbook slips out, drifting feather-slow to Apollo’s feet. It’s a simple painting, three people and no background rendered in pale watercolor - a man with stark white hair and a visor that makes him look like he stepped out of a comic book, a beautiful woman in a suit jacket with a magatama around her neck, and another, older woman with hair tightly bound up on the top of her head and the same soft smile, albeit wearier and more lined, as the first woman. His eyes keep drifting back to the woman with the magatama, the yellow dot on her lapel that might be an attorney’s badge, her knowing brown eyes. The page, then the book, he slides back where they came from, but he can’t close the cover on the sensation that he’s supposed to know who she is.

Every time he thinks he’s dug into every nook and cranny of this office, turned up every little scrap, there’s always something new. He hasn’t had the chance - that makes it sound like he wants to be doing this instead of being so bored out of his skull that he ends up hunting through decades of paper - to explore the shelves since Athena came to the office. The last notable anything he found before her arrival was an accordion folder containing receipts for what looked like every single thing Phoenix ever bought from September 2016 through the next six months. What neurosis created that habit?

He glances back at the spine of the picture book, still holding the image of the middle woman’s watercolor eyes in his mind. Mia? Could she be? He doesn’t ask, not out loud, and she doesn’t give any hints.

Back at Phoenix’s desk, where the desktop computer is, the overwhelming blue of the aquarium website mocks him and his memories of water rising up over his head, and he spins the chair away and stares at the back wall, the sun-faded movie film poster that doesn’t show a title, and the shelf of case filings. He doesn’t care if Phoenix wants him to man the office tomorrow - he is not missing this case for the world, not because it’s Phoenix Wright back in court for the first time in eight years, but because he desperately wants to know how this orca matter pans out. (And okay, maybe he does want to see what Phoenix is like behind the bench when he’s not backed into a corner, his life on the line against a serial murderer, no other choice in his eyes but to become the thing that Kristoph framed him to be seven years earlier. Maybe Apollo’s still looking to find the legend he admired within the man that he knows.)

His phone, left on his desk, begins buzzing and continues buzzing. Someone’s calling, probably Phoenix, because he’s the only one who calls regularly instead of texting. What sort of trouble has their case run into, or maybe he’s wondering if Trucy’s back yet because she can be somewhat unreliable when it comes to letting anyone know where she is. But the name displayed on screen isn’t Phoenix - it’s Klavier.

They’ve never spoken on the phone before. Apollo’s heart seizes up, beats out a swift staccato rhythm. What the hell is going on that he would call? “Hello—?”

“Tell me your boss isn’t defending an orca.”

Apollo collapses into his desk chair, nearly tipping it off of its wheels. “Where did you hear about that?” he asks. “That’s not - please tell me that’s not a - a timeline constant, or whatever, that you didn’t see it happening, or - tell me you’re not prosecuting the orca!”

Klavier laughs. “Nein, Forehead, I am not sure even you could convince me to take that to court.” His chuckle continues for a few moments after but trails away into silence, long enough that Apollo wonders if the call has been dropped. Apollo inhales to say something and Klavier cuts across him, maybe coincidence that they chose the same time to speak, maybe not. “Herr Samurai told me about it. He’s the one prosecuting that whale of a defendant.”

He starts laughing again and Apollo groans. Determined to not give him any more satisfaction, he simply asks, “Blackquill doesn’t have an office space, does he?” He’d dismiss the thought entirely on basis of common sense, but Klavier has to have spoken to him somehow, and common sense would have a convicted murderer not prosecuting at all. Who’s to say what they’re doing over at that building?

“He does not, but he was here to speak with the Chief Prosecutor over some or another matter, and stopped by my office before he left to tell me that your boss’ first case with his new badge is…” Klavier makes a dismissive, disgusted noise from the back of his throat.

“The client when she showed up at the office didn’t say that her friend who needed defending was an orca.” Apollo has a sudden need to defend Phoenix against Klavier’s disdain, not least because that disdain sounds particularly like someone else. “Though, I mean, when he and Athena found out, yeah, that was a, uh - a choice, they made, to continue.”

“You aren’t working this one?”

“No. I’m stuck back at the office.” Like they’re a real agency that is going to have clients show up more than once every three months. “Missing out on a free trip to the aquarium” - and all the fun drowning phobia that could come with it - “but at least I don’t have to figure out the defense plan for a killer whale.” He doesn’t mind a challenge, finds all the outlandish challenges in the past have made him a better lawyer, but it’s a killer whale. It’s there in the name, and he can’t ask it for its testimony to get its side of the story, put that together with the rest of the evidence, with what he sees and hears. A client who only spoke a little English, and pretended not to have even that, sure. An orca might be taking Phoenix’s “have total faith in your client” mantra a little far.

“Which aquarium is this?” Klavier asks. “There’s the two big ones around here, ja?”

Apollo spins his chair back to his desk, finds that he doesn’t have the computer here, or his laptop up, and racks his brain for the name. “It’s the Shipley” - no, that’s the victim’s name - “Shipshape Aquarium.”

“Ach, the pirate one.”

“You’ve been there?”

Apollo hasn’t - there had been been a middle school biology class field trip that his foster family of the time couldn’t afford to send him on; they had five kids in that house and naught to spare for any class trips. Clay came back with a googly-eyed shark keychain that Apollo still has clipped to his bag, and the proclamation that the aquarium was “totally lame” and if they wanted to see fish they could go to the pet store and walk through the fish section for free.

(And then they did, and then they couldn’t stick to their for free part of the concept and bought a betta fish that lived for four years after they did extensive research on the proper care and tank setup, which caused Apollo to take up a crusade against the store for the little plastic containers they kept the poor fish in, and then Clay said again, not for the first or last time, that he should be a lawyer because he could get really passionate about arguing and his surname made the whole deal better because with a surname like Justice you have to be either a lawyer or a criminal, basically. That was two years after he left Khura’in, after he was starting to realize it might be a long, long time, if ever, until he returned, but he had never stopped thinking about being a lawyer, not because of Dhurke but because of Clay, who never knew Dhurke. He just knew Apollo. And he thought that would be the career for Apollo, not because he was Dhurke’s son, but just because of Apollo.)

“Mhm.” Klavier sounds more subdued than usual. “Ja, I have. Many times.”

“You don’t strike me as a fish person.”

“That could be because I’m a human person, do you think?” He’s laughing again, but again, it falls off quickly. “It was Daryan who so enjoyed the aquarium, not I. You didn’t suppose his shark aesthetic was an accident?”

“I never really thought about it,” Apollo admits. Maybe that’s not quite true - the thought had passed his mind, and then gotten shuffled away as many more important impressions of Daryan replaced it - namely, that he was an asshole, and probably a criminal. And then actually a criminal, another of the people Klavier loved who turned out nasty. “Though I guess that makes sense.” If there’s anything that could make that hairstyle make sense.

“We went there often, even after we were celebrities - every time we’d come home from a tour, less and less as that was, especially as I started traveling for reasons that weren’t tours, we’d visit that or the other aquarium around the city. Hard to sneak through the crowds when you’re famous, admittedly.” He gives another softer, sadder laugh. “The fans coming up for autographs made it harder to play our favorite game of harassing each other about what fish looked most like the other one.” A thoughtful pause, where Apollo thinks he’s dwelling on the times passed with someone no longer around in the same capacity as his memories, mourning a friend turned into a monster - and maybe he is, but the actual words he follows up the silence with are, “I’m not sure what fish I’d call you. Something very small and very red, surely.”

“Ugh.” Just when Apollo wants to be charitable to him, and sympathetic. “You’re hilarious.” He tips his chair back and stares at the ceiling. They’re not in court, but he’ll never let one of Klavier’s statements go unchallenged. “I know exactly what you’d be.”

“Oh?”

Apollo grins as he says it, the one that Trucy always teases him for because she says it’s his texting Prosecutor Gavin look and she’s sort of correct, but it’s more like a roasting Prosecutor Gavin look. “A clownfish.”

His jab is rewarded with a strangled, choking laugh.

Apollo toys with the idea of asking him why he didn’t glamour himself free from the squeeze of the crowds, but decides not to. He’d never told Daryan about his history and the abilities he had - that, Apollo remembers, Klavier saying he never had the words to tell his best friend and then he was gone. (Apollo remembers him saying that because Apollo, without the words to tell Clay about Dhurke, sympathizes.) Maybe he didn’t want to so obviously display his secret in front of his friend. Maybe he liked the attention, the screaming adoring fans, back then before Gavin was the name of a murderer, too. He had nothing to hide from back then.

So instead, the prior part of the conversation that Apollo circles back to is, “So Prosecutor Blackquill came by to let you know, specifically?” Any angle he looks at it seems like one of Blackquill’s manipulations, a stab into that open wound of Klavier’s mistake. Something to use against him, measuring his reaction, assessing the best way to get under his skin - tell him Wright is back in the legal world, tell him that Wright is making a mockery of the legal world with an orca, and watch and wait to see if there are fireworks.

“He did specifically wish to let me know, but it is not as though we have never spoken with each other before.”

“Right. And you thought he was pleasant enough, or whatever.” Should that surprise him? Klavier’s best friend was Daryan, an utter asshole, after all - and Klavier can be a real dick in court too.

“He is not unpleasant, which is something not quite the same, especially not as we are lawyers. I think he may just have wished to see my reaction as I found out about what your boss is up to.”

If he isn’t being manipulative, he’s simply a troll, and yeah, that sounds like the conclusion to draw about Blackquill. “You’re right,” Apollo says. “That probably would’ve been pretty funny to see.”

“Hmph. I don’t imagine you were any more composed - you probably yelled loud enough to wake the dead, ja?”

Yes, he had yelped “What?” to the empty office, nearly dropping his phone as he did, and the longer he takes to come up with a retort to counter that assessment, the more Klavier is going to start laughing at him. “How do you suppose Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth feels?” Apollo asks. “He’s done this thing allowing him back in court for whatever reason and now Blackquill’s using his freedom to prosecute to take an orca to court.” Klavier doesn’t respond, just laughs at that, but Apollo can’t laugh for more than a moment. He rubs at some stray ink marks on his desk and adds, “Do you have any idea why he’s set this all up?” he asks. “Let Blackquill do this? Not the orca specifically, but prosecuting at all”

Klavier goes quiet. “I presume, as do the few colleagues I’ve spoken of this with, that he thinks the verdict was wrong - that he hopes, in some convoluted manner, to clear Herr Samurai’s name and overturn his conviction.”

“You think?”

“I respect Herr Chief greatly and would at least like to hope that there is some reason to his actions.” Right, this is Edgeworth, not Phoenix. Edgeworth’s the one who’s not a cryptic fae bastard. “I could not tell you what I think, myself.” Bitterness coats his words as he adds, “I am not known to be someone good at guessing if someone I know is capable of murder.”

“I…” Apollo clumsily searches for some kind of condolence. “I don’t think anyone is.” Klavier talks to him about these things because he knew Kristoph, too, but sometimes Apollo thinks that Klavier forgets that he did know Kristoph, too. That it wasn’t his brother, no, just his boss, but still blindsided him. The evidence was there but otherwise Apollo never could have guessed - he just chose to believe the evidence. But what if it was a friend, now, a brother, a coworker - if Clay was accused, if - or Trucy, Phoenix again, Athena - if there was evidence to it, what would Apollo do? He doesn’t know.

“You have your Truth, though. I suppose that makes it a little easier, wouldn’t it, ja? You see and you know they are lying - know more than they are saying, are involved, did it.”

“Yeah, but it could be any of those options, like you said. It’s not necessarily just, did a murder.” He pushes off from the desk and starts slowly spinning his chair again. Everyone has secrets, but they’re probably not all murders committed. It’s all context, during cases, and he’s a defense attorney, he’s supposed to trust his client, but everyone else caught up in a thing— “Not that it helps me with Blackquill.”

“Too secretive even for our eyes - ja, he’s a bit of an odd one.”

“A bit? A bit? Do you say that because you’re already so far out there odd that he only seems a bit—”

“Ja, ja, you work for an ‘Anything Agency’ that is defending an orca—”

“I’m not defending the orca!”

“You are an accomplice. All of you are guilty. Blackquill is prosecuting the orca as well, and all of you are a bit odd.”

A bit. Understatement of the decade. “And you’re still a clownfish.”

Athena’s car pulls into the lot before Trucy gets back, which means that Apollo could’ve just shut the place down for the day and gone with them to the aquarium and it wouldn’t have changed a damn thing but that he had time to talk with Klavier. Not like anyone showed up with another case.

“I got to feed an orca!” Athena’s shout begins before she has thrown the door open. “But the penguin hated me.”

What, exactly, is Apollo supposed to say to this? “I’m sorry?” he offers, and behind Athena, Phoenix snorts stifling laughter. “How’s the case for tomorrow looking?”

“Eh.” Phoenix wiggles his hand noncommittally. Athena presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. “We’ve got enough of a possibility to get it to go to trial, but nothing more than that, and that’s probably just in part because Prosecutor Blackquill is a lunatic.”

“Is he really that bad?”

That’s a young woman’s voice asking that question, but Athena has been face-to-face with Blackquill and knows exactly how bad he is, and Trucy heard her and Apollo complain about him for weeks after Mayor Tenma’s trial. Phoenix steps into the office and aside, and behind him stands a girl maybe Trucy’s age, with a soft round face and big gray eyes, her light brown hair pulled up in tight twists. Her clothing looks like Iris’ robes, with a shorter hem, down to the large beaded necklace from which a magatama hangs.

Oh. Oh no. Do all the fae dress like this, or is this one of the relatives that Iris mentioned to them in Nine-Tails Vale?

“I’ll let you make your own determination from the gallery tomorrow,” Phoenix says. “If you’re coming. If not, we can catch you up but I’d rather go over the case again with Apollo and see if we can figure anything out.”

“Of course I’ll be there tomorrow!” The girl claps her hands together. “Your first trial in ages, Mr Nick! I wouldn’t miss it!”

“Who’s this?” Apollo asks. He sounds calm, really, he thinks, and then Athena shoots a quizzical look, eyebrows pressed together and turning up where they meet, at him. Of course. He can’t hide, not from her, but either she hasn’t registered the similarities between this girl and Iris, or she’s been assured, by Phoenix, by spending some time with this girl already if they all came in together, that she’s not terrifying.

Not any more than the fae are, conceptually, for what they all have the powers to do.

“You can call me Pearl!” The girl inclines her head forward politely. Apollo notes that she didn’t say that’s what her name is, just that’s what she goes by. “I’m a friend of Mr Nick’s!”

Her clothing, her careful wording of an introduction, and now an odd nickname (nickname, don’t think the pun, don’t acknowledge it) for Phoenix. Add it all up, and he doesn’t like the sum. “Hi,” he says. “I’m Apollo.”

“It’s very nice to meet you.” Her language is formal but not stilted; it sounds like the most natural manner of speech, coming from her. Mr Nick. She’s just polite, then; polite, refined, almost regal in mannerism, her every movement stepping further into the office made with deliberate care. She tips her head back, her expression serene, scanning the air of the office like she’s looking for something.

“Pearls is an old friend of mine who we ran into at the aquarium,” Phoenix explains, with no indication of whether she’s a human “old friend” or the other sort. “She gave us some help with our investigation.”

“Oh, I didn’t do much of anything.” Her cheeks start to turn pink and she quickly brings her hands up over her face. “It was just good to see you lawyering again! But you haven’t gotten any better at keeping your office clean.” She lowers her hands, one of them falling only to her mouth to chew on a thumbnail, and she surveys Trucy’s magic props spread out on every available surface. “Why doesn’t she just keep everything in the Magic Panties and take out whatever she needs only when she needs it? They’re already enchanted and there’s no cost to using them, and poor Mystic Mia has to look at all this!”

“Huh?” Athena asks. “Mia, that’s - she was your boss, wasn’t she, Mr Wright?”

Which is when Apollo realizes that he hasn’t ever mentioned Mia to Athena, and from the expressions on Phoenix and Pearl’s faces - slow dawning surprise for the former, and narrowing eyes, rising anger, for the latter - Phoenix hasn’t told her, either.

(He feels awful that he feels some sort of - satisfaction? No, that’s too strong a word. Relief, a little bit - that Athena wasn’t told the secrets off the office. That Phoenix isn’t always good at communicating with her either.)

Instead of sitting down and mapping out the case, their evidence, and their plan of attack for the trial tomorrow, as Phoenix clearly still wants to, he sinks into the couch with a long sigh and explains Mia’s continuing presence to Athena, the way he did for Apollo and Vera last year. (“So that’s why the lights did that this morning!” Athena exclaims, and Apollo is really curious what she thought was going on otherwise.)

Pearl sits primly next to him, hands folded neatly in her lap, watching Phoenix without ever blinking. “Mystic Mia is my cousin,” she says when Phoenix has finished his brief summary - nothing in it new to Apollo, but Athena next to him sits hunched forward with her elbows on her knees, her hand cupped over Widget as though ready to start a therapy session based on whatever emotional testimony she finds in Phoenix’s words. “But she left to become a lawyer when I was very small and I don’t remember her very well.”

“Oh!” Athena sits up suddenly. “If she’s your cousin, and she was a faery, then you’re…” She doesn’t finish the statement, either waiting for an affirmation from Pearl before she speaks it into truth, or being extra cautious with the idea of not asking or accusing her what she is. But Pearl nods, and Athena slumps back against the couch and says, “That makes me feel so much better about the smelling blood that you did back when we were investigating! That’s so much less weird.”

“That still sounds kind of weird, whatever you’re saying,” Apollo says, literally biting his tongue a second later as the fear of telling one of the fae that she’s weird - even a true statement as that is - takes hold. A bit odd is such an understatement.

Pearl, though, does not react to that, and Apollo doesn’t hear about the blood-covered coin until later. In the moment, the door violently bangs open and Trucy barges in, a huge grin swallowing up her face, excitedly shrieking, “Pearly!”

The apartment door creaks open and the approaching footsteps stop abruptly. “Bad day, huh?” Clay asks.

“Mmph,” Apollo says, his face pressed into the couch cushions. He considers leaving it at that but knows that Clay won’t let it go, and a second later the door closes and the weight of his best friend settles in on his legs. Apollo turns his head to the side, unable to see Clay but at least able to be heard without yelling. He doesn’t have the energy to yell. “My coworkers are defending an orca in court.”

“Like, a whale? Like that kind of orca?”

“Is there another kind.”

Clay cackles. “Holy shit.”

Phoenix sends the kids off long before he leaves the office himself, pondering a whistle and a bloody coin and a looped fifteen seconds of security footage and a dead man still without an official autopsy report. That’s the first thing they’ll be slapped with at the trial tomorrow, and if they’re unlucky it’s going to turn out to show that the manner of death wasn’t blunt force trauma at all and they’ll be in deep shit with nothing to bluff on from the outset. If he’s really unlucky, they still won’t have finished the autopsy, as late today as it was ordered, and he and Athena are going to get through a good case before the full report arrives and smashes their every conclusion to bits.

He leans his head in his hands, staring down at the surface of his desk as though he can divine the answers from the scratches in the wood. “Mia,” he says, “what am I doing?”

Silence answers him. He lifts his head and looks out the window, to the bare empty rooms of the long-ago closed Gatewater Hotel, that whole damn lot cursed because that’s what happens to a place when it’s used as a staging ground to frame one fae royal for the murder of another. He’d been glad that particular branch of the Gatewater went under, as he’d stopped leaving these blinds open and really did miss the sunlight shining in through, even if he still had to pull them shut when the night became dark and the cold yellow city light cast a pool on the ground that night after night still marked where Mia died.

How does he get over the death of someone who’s only sort of gone?

“I did this for Edgeworth,” he continues, “but now other people want my help - Sasha, and Athena, and - I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I don’t know if I should. Do you think defending an orca is going to make me any less of a laughingstock? Maybe it’ll be better publicity for me. People think orcas are cute, right?” He doesn’t have much opinion, but Athena and Pearl and Trucy all seem to agree. “Maybe that would put some trust back to me after, y’know, having to set up an entirely new legal experiment just to get Kristoph convicted. That really looked good for me, huh, makes me seem real honest.”

He leans back, hangs his neck over the back of the chair. “How long were you chasing Redd White for, anyway? Was that when you left Grossberg’s, when you found out that he was the one White bribed for information about your mother? If you’d been chasing him for seven years and came up with no solid connecting evidence, just a list of names - would you have given up fighting in an honest manner? How many people could he have blackmailed into suicide in that time - is it wrong to stop someone like that, even with—?”

Even with forged evidence. Fudge it here and there for the safety of innocent people because sometimes the guilty are too damn smart to be found out. That’s not why the devil forged evidence, but it certainly is what the Demon Prosecutor’s mantra was. No way to know, so damn them all.

“Or,” he asks, “are you a better person than me? Would you not fall so far?”

He should probably get home soon, make dinner for the girls before they just eat cookies and bagels. Pearl doesn’t have Maya’s appetite, thank god, and hosting her doesn’t send him bankrupt and empty the entire pantry. It’s been so long since she last dropped by that even if he did have to shell out for a five-course feast tonight, he’d do it. Trucy adores her, and vice versa. It’s good for them to get to see each other again.

He makes sure to leave the computer on, cursor blinking on an open document so that if Mia has anything to say, either to the case or the latest installment of Phoenix’s forever-ongoing personal crisis, she can let him know. (Right after her death, Maya left the computer on, slept on the couch, and in the morning before she came to cheer Phoenix on in court found flip reciept and suicde folder compile names. And she had dutifully followed her older sister’s last, typo-marred instructions, cryptic as they seemed at first, but when the surrounding cards were played, it made sense, and Mia saved Phoenix’s life for not the first and not the last time.)

He flips the back room lights off and sees, standing next to the couches, between Phoenix and the door, the Gavin hellhound.

Phoenix lets out a shaky breath. Like he wasn’t doing a good enough job of reminding himself that he’s an imposter walking back into the courthouse tomorrow, spot who doesn’t belong, and the convicted murderer doesn’t either but Edgeworth’s put them both back there because he believes in them. But Edgeworth’s faith doesn’t change the past, only the future, and he’s only one man against the multitude of specters literally haunting Phoenix.

“What do you want?” Phoenix asks the barely-corporeal fae hound. Feathery plumes of white smoke drift off of her tail and the backs of her legs, her edges blurred against reality, the classic archetypal image of a ghost. She opens her mouth wide enough that she could probably fit her jaws halfway around a basketball, pulling her lips back, showing off her teeth.

He has no idea when Kristoph summoned her - at what point his patience gave out and he reached to the magical heritage his blood allowed him, binding for himself a hound bred for the Wild Hunt. He first ever saw her after Kristoph was in jail, and he out, when he and Trucy noticed the beast stalking them, never coming close, never making a threat, but observing, studying, gathering information for someone. And he first saw her teeth when she yawned, and through the Sight she changes just slightly; shining gold tips the ends of her misty fur, and her teeth drip and bleed with the rotting red of death, the kind of curse Kristoph cast. It all snapped into clarity that instant, whose monster this was, and where the dark red marks of teeth in Zak Gramarye’s neck came from.

She didn’t kill him. That isn’t what her kind are bred for; they don’t kill their prey themselves. They flush out their quarry and chase it back to their masters, herd it in and corner it, to let the handler deal the final blow. Zak came back to Los Angeles because of the statute of limitations was about to run out, and magic that lies in contracts often runs parallel to the laws of human land, but he also came back knowing that he was being watched, being followed, being hunted, and Phoenix knew by who but not how. Didn’t know how until he saw the dog whose lineage was dedicated to the hunt and her teeth that left the impression of her pursuit.

Zak Gramarye died by a blow to his head, but the jaws of death were tight on his throat before then.

He tried to play it cool, for a while, what with her haunting his apartment and the office every so often but then more when Apollo was there and then not at all. Don’t let her smell fear, bribe her with human food, the way Phoenix knows to befriend the fae. It took him a long time to understand why she was still around - she wasn’t pursuing anyone, hadn’t sunk her teeth into a new victim, and Kristoph was shut away in iron. He figured she should be gone.

And he really should’ve figured out what Klavier was - a stolen human child, replaced by Kristoph, who Phoenix knew long ago was a changeling - when, after the verdict came down, he watched Kristoph laugh and Klavier flee and the dog followed Klavier. Fae hounds are bound to one master only, always, until they’re set loose or die, and she was Kristoph’s but followed Klavier. She shouldn’t have been able to shift allegiance like that, and she couldn’t have, not to anyone else but Klavier, because the Gavins - they were the same to her.

Knowing that Klavier is the man commanding the hound, or just letting her wander loose to her own devices (however a creature like her, so bound up in the will of one master, makes determination of what she wants to do herself) doesn’t make Phoenix feel any better at her presence. Not today, and not this time of night when ordinarily, no one would still be here.

She pulls her ears back, jaw opening again, but instead of keeping her head level, she turns her open mouth toward the floor and gags. The horrible sound grates down his spine like claws and his throat like broken glass, like he’s the one choking. With a last wet cough, something yellow falls from her throat, and she snaps her long, disproportionate jaws shut, lifting her head back up to look at him. She licks her lips with her long black tongue, weirdly solid against her wisping fur, and smacks her mouth open and closed a few times. Then she noses whatever-it-is toward Phoenix and looks up again, expectantly.

“Fine,” he says, squatting down so that he can get a better look at it without turning his eyes entirely away from her. It’s an attorney’s badge, its gold plating flaking off to show duller silver below. A well-worn attorney’s badge. “Huh? Is this Kristoph’s—?”

Cold to the touch, cold in his palm, he turns it over. Eight years later he still knows that number by heart.

“Why did you have this?” he asks, his words choked out around his heart risen up into his mouth. He’d ask why she ate it, but that just seems to be a thing that the fae do. Why she had it is the same as why she ate it: because she had it. But why? “Did Kristoph take it when I had to turn it back in to the Bar Association?”

He still doesn’t actually know what happens to a badge of someone no longer a lawyer - he decided he didn’t want to know, mourned the ambiguous fate of his badge, whether it was melted down to become part of a new badge for a new attorney who wasn’t a fuck-up, or had the numbers shaved off and gold plating reapplied and new numbers engraved to become a new badge for a new attorney who wasn’t a fuck-up, or just got dumped in a box for record-keeping about attorneys who are fuck-ups. “Did he send you in to take it for him? Like a trophy?”

He has no way to know where her hollow red eyes are focused. She’s nearly nose-to-nose with him and showing no sign that she understands a word he’s saying. Even if she does she probably can’t convey it back to Klavier, as though he would know the answer either. What person alive has spent more time with Kristoph than either of them, and they don’t know him at all.

On the off-chance that Klavier can actually hear what is being said to his hellhound, or if he knew that she had swallowed Phoenix’s attorney’s badge, he looks her in her empty eyes and says, “Thanks.”

She spins about, her tail swinging right into his face and through it and it feels like a faint misting of snow, the powdery top layer gusted up by the wind, and streaks straight through the closed door, out of the office.

Leaves Phoenix sitting on the floor, and his heart in his hand, tiny and tarnished and ice cold.

#roddy fanfics #fic: the witches of los angeles #weekly updates until i get thru my nano buffer is my plan

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 5 years ago

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Witches, Chapter 10: living with the ghosts of who you could have been, a how-to guide.

This is a 13,000 word chapter because that’s just how it is now.

[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

[Witches Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

----

People Park sits right near the office, but even in the time it takes to bike there Apollo always expects to get hit by a car. Something about Phoenix’s experience, and the fear that Apollo is nowhere near as lucky as him, still hasn’t left his head. But as he always has, he makes it safely through the gates and rolls down the paved path. People are always scarce here - though Phoenix said once it’s funny that the park has become less shady now that the mob has a financial interest in it - but the late afternoon sunshine means that along with the people simply passing through it on the way to another destination, there are a few joggers and a few more dog owners.

Apollo steers himself into the grass and hops from his bike, scanning the area for a particular dog. Unless she’s just wandered off - which is always very possible - she should be easier to spot than Klavier. (In what world is a cursed fae dog more visible than a rock star? In this world that Apollo has to live in.)

Vongole is a bright white, vaguely dog-like shape lying beneath one of the trees, but only after several blinks can Apollo figure that maybe, without her, he might recognize the blond sitting on the grass next to her as Klaver. Her red ears snap to attention when she spots Apollo and she rises to her feet, but not with a movement that any animal should or could make. She doesn’t propel herself up from the ground with her legs, which would give her some forward motion, but drifts up like she is attached to strings that were yanked straight upward, with legs solidifying beneath her.

Her tail takes a distinct shape to wag, smacking Klavier in the face on each swing. He doesn’t look up right away, and Apollo falters, not certain that Klavier didn’t catch a glimpse of him and deliberately ignore him. Vongole’s tail continues swishing and Klavier finally puts up his hand to block it and lifts his head, visibly annoyed, about to scold her - and he looks where she’s looking, at Apollo, and brightens, instantly, a surprised-but-delighted grin stretching out across his face. “Herr Forehead! What a surprise to see you here!”

“I work literally a block away,” Apollo says. Klavier can’t actually be surprised, and while he doesn’t see any red, his eye only sometimes pings sarcasm and hyperbole.

“And you could easily have just gone on home,” Klavier replies. That’s true, somewhat; Apollo could look at him and forget he’s a celebrity, right now. Not just because he’s sitting in the dirt in a mafia-funded park with his hair barely brushed and held together with an actual rubber band, but as a glamour. He hasn’t disappeared, entirely, faded like a ghost into the scenery, but he’s projecting the image of someone normal, someone who doesn’t merit a second glance.

Apollo doesn’t like not being able to trust his own eyes, when it comes to Klavier, but the magatama feels like an intrusion, so he’s damned either way. He leans his bike against the side of the tree and sits down near Klavier.

“Yeah, but between the typo-laden texts and you being here right by the office, I wasn’t sure if that was all a cry for help or what.”

Nothing said straight-out, because Klavier is only straightforward professionally, not personally. But the calendar, the bakery, the park, and that Apollo knows from prior conversations that Klavier usually doesn’t leave the office until at least six - the evidence leads to a logical conclusion, one that any jury would agree with.

Klavier raises one eyebrow - Apollo’s never figured out how to move them that independently, but that could be glamour, too - and taps a pink pen against the notebook that sits in his lap. “You mean you thought it was me playing coy about wanting to see you, ja?” he asks. The grin on his face now is different, hollower, not pushing his cheeks the whole way up to his eyes.

“No,” Apollo says. “That is absolutely not what I meant.”

“It’s what I would be asking, were I in your place,” Klavier says, but his grin snaps away. Apollo prefers that, feels less like he’s talking to a mask. He gets that feeling with Trucy too, sometimes.

“That’s because your ego is the size of the sun and just as gaseous.”

“You wouldn’t go wrong having an ego like that.” Klavier leans his head back against the tree and glances at Apollo from the corners of his eyes. “It would fit your name.”

“I didn’t know you knew my name,” Apollo says.

“Of course I do,” Klavier says, though in Apollo’s opinion he’s overestimating himself with the of course.

“How was I supposed to know when you never once used it?” Apollo asks.

“Your name is on the docket for the court cases,” Klavier says. “And in the letter of representation that Fräulein handed me just beyond the gate, there.” He points to the other entrance of the park, the one near which the noodle stand spent three days sinking into the grass, covered in police tape. Frowning still, his eyes return to meet Apollo’s. “I didn’t know what to make of you that day. I thought perhaps you were corrupt, and that by letting you onto the crime scene you would try something, and Fräulein Detective would chew your head off as she had been mine, and I would have my answer as to what happened on that day with my brother.”

The admission doesn’t hurt but does come as a surprise, given the hand of kindness that Klavier offered him so soon at the end of that trial. “And then you proved yourself to be rather honest, and far too normal, and I still did not know what to make of you but I thought I knew what to make of your place of employment, some sort of fae snare - and I was wrong, again.” He closes his eyes and turns his head away. “I suppose I still don’t.”

And Apollo doesn’t know what to say to that, certainly didn’t expect the conversation to take such a turn when Klavier started out by dodging Apollo’s attempt to scratch beneath the surface. “You thought I was normal even though I can see when people are lying?”

“Mm.” Klavier draws out the hum for a while. “I suppose my perception of such things is rather unbalanced. But compared to the Fräulein next to you, and your boss, yes, you seemed mostly normal.”

“I didn’t know what to make of you either,” Apollo admits. “I mean, I definitely didn’t think you were normal” - Klavier laughs - “but that you were the prosecutor and willing to - to help my case, for the sake of finding the truth - that, I didn’t get.”

And he’d been unhappy with it, at the time - unhappy with the flashy fae-seeming prosecutor pitying his case and lending his assistance. Unhappy that he couldn’t win on his own. It’s petty now, remembering, even if he understands where those emotions came from, and so he leaves that out.

Klavier hums again, still looking off at anything that isn’t Apollo. Vongole chews on a rock. Somewhere in the distance, past the traffic, Apollo would swear he hears Eldoon’s harmonica. “It was a fortunate coincidence that you and your office happen to be out this way,” Klavier says quietly. “What I was - it was simply for the bakery. Or not simply, but—”

He’s about to say more but doesn’t, instead pressing his fingers to his eyes and pulling up his knees so he can rest his head on them. “Are you okay?” Apollo asks. He knows the answer when he asks this time, too.

Klavier makes a noise of disgust, muffled as it is by his face in his arms. “Give me a moment,” he says, and Apollo does even while plotting their trajectory to the nearest hospital or just back to the office for easy couch access. When he lifts his head again, there’s something artificial and unnatural about the brightness of his eyes, half glamour and half sick. “I wanted to remind myself that something I did since coming back actually mattered. The defendant was an idiot, ja? But he would not have deserved to be falsely convicted, nor die from negligence, as his darling fiance so hoped. That his whole family learned a lesson about this path they had chosen - that I can stress-eat my reminder that something I did was useful—”

“You don’t think anything else you did was?” Apollo interrupts. “Not for Lamiroir and Machi, or—”

“This was the only one that did not cause me more pain,” Klavier replies. “And sometimes it is hard to see the whole forest when the trees around you are falling toward your head. Like I want to tell Kris about the bakery, that there he would have choices there to eat and minimize his salt and still enjoy it as much as I. Or call Daryan and bitch about how I haven’t prosecuted a case in a week and a half and think this the prelude to Herr Chief finally firing me.”

“I really doubt that,” Apollo says. “He has a convicted murderer prosecuting. I think you’re fine.” He’s glad Klavier kept talking, gave him something easy to respond to. What reassurance can he give to the fact that yes, two people Klavier loved - two people he loved most, even - are murderers, and Apollo did the digging to expose that fact. Take comfort that justice is served. How much does it hurt?

Klavier smiles sadly at him. “That’s kind of you to say, at least.” Clear that he doesn’t believe it, or doesn’t believe that Apollo actually believes it. He pushes some hair away from his eyes. “So you had to face Herr Samurai, ja? How was that?”

“He’s a witch or something worse and I think he tried to kill me,” Apollo says. “He scared the judge into being okay with him having an attack hawk in the courtroom, and even Mr Wright can’t figure out what he is.”

Klavier sighs, his shoulders slumping. “I was afraid I was losing my mind,” he says. “But if it is Herr Samurai, and not me—” They both watch Vongole return with a small twig in her mouth that she drops on Klavier’s shoe. “He reminds me in some way of Kris. The way that when I looked at him I could tell something was odd but - Kris would sometimes be…” His jaw set, he searches for the right word. He tosses aside the twig Vongole left him and she bounds away after it and continues on past it. “Blurry, flickering, with my Sight. Some days I would only get a glimpse of—” He raises a hand and gestures first to the side of his head, around his ear, then to his eyes, and finally pantomiming the curve of Kristoph’s horns that Apollo saw only briefly. Flittering in and out.

“Do you know why that happened?”

Klavier shakes his head. “And he wasn’t always like that, not at first. And I stopped checking, because I know what my brother looks like, shouldn’t I? And then he just—” He waves a hand in front of his face again. “Kris and his obsession with appearances. Perhaps it ate him from the inside out.”

“So Blackquill…?”

“Ach, I suppose the comparison is small to draw, beyond them both being lawyers and murderers.” He laughs once, sharp and bitter. It’s somehow both something and nothing like the laugh that filled the courtroom half a year ago. “Herr Samurai, I can’t even get a hint of what he might be, and he blurs everything around him too. The Twisted Samurai, ja, is fitting, twisting everything he gets near. It seems to make sense until I ask myself how and why.”

“I feel like that’s what happens every time someone tells me anything new about magic.” Klavier laughs. “But that’s not part of the standard fae powers, messing with the Sight and people’s eyes?” Apollo asks. Even Kristoph’s tics were visible and highlighted.

“There would be little point to the Sight for us mere humans if they could so easily circumvent it.” Klavier lays his head back on his arms, but turned so that he still can look at Apollo. “Though that would be better. They would have less use for stolen children that way. Our Sight is different than theirs, did you know?” Before Apollo shakes his head, Klavier speaks again. “That for humans it is at will, a choice, to turn on and off, of course, while they are always to see the true forms of other glamoured fae, to see the chains on a witch and the wings of a shapeshifter. What they don’t see so readily are the blessings and curses they pile upon each other’s heads; for that, they look through a magatama like any unSighted human must.”

Vongole flops down on Klavier’s feet and lays her head on Apollo’s shin. He tentatively reaches out and scratches her head. She is more solid than she looks. “Ach, I think the royalty might be able to see everything,” Klavier continues, not looking at Apollo anymore, head raised and eyes fixed somewhere distant. “But they are - the fae are monsters who steal children, the nightmare under the bed, and their royalty are what scare them.”

(“She could have been queen,” Phoenix said of Mia. Royalty.)

In six months, Apollo has gained no more insight into what is a fitting response to any of this. Or even an awkward, clumsy response. Apollo helps by solving problems, getting acquittals, fixing things. His strategy for sympathy hasn’t changed since he was nine years old, and that strategy is screaming, and Klavier already makes enough jokes about his voice already, thanks. He wants to say something just for the sake of letting Klavier know that he is still mentally present in this park and listening. (He is also mentally back in the office, remembering times that Mia had thrown a blanket at him. The terrifying queen of the faeries, everyone.)

“So those human children who are not artists - the entertainers - they are spies, weapons of politics, to check the curses and blessings on your enemy, tell you everything you can exploit, and maybe in return you try to keep that valuable tool of yours from being destroyed in the crossfire.” Klavier’s voice is soft and even-toned, as though everything he says isn’t so viscerally horrifying that Apollo feels nauseous.

“And the rest, like me, nameless, underfoot, attached to no alliance, no - keeper, I suppose you could say - I learn only by guessing what blessings and curses look like. Sometimes I see someone and still don’t know. And I learn to keep my mouth shut, because I am no one’s favorite toy, I am no useful piece in anyone’s ambitions in that Court, and they all hold their cards close, divulge no hidden vulnerabilities or secret assets, and should anyone else do so—”

He snaps his fingers.

“Oh,” Apollo says.

Even before this he never wanted to wonder what might have happened to a little human girl who could grow up to look just like Vera. He hopes they just left her alone to paint.

Klavier doesn’t look back at Apollo for any more of a reaction. “I remember so very little of the Court,” he adds, like an afterthought, too breezily for his prior words. “I suppose they took it from me when I left, to keep their secrets - but this I remember. And I - do you know how jealous I was of Kris?”

Something congeals in his voice, something that sounds to Apollo like the intersection of grief and anger. “That he got to grow up human? That more than that, that our parents were loving ones who cared for him, that he had a name and a voice from the start? That I named a band after myself trying to make myself someone! And still that is not just my name, it is ours, because everything I could have been, he had! From the start!” He presses his hands to the sides of his head. Both are shaking as he raises them. “And he threw it all away!”

Apollo wishes he had words to say, anything to help, that they were in court in a trial and he had evidence and a jury that would put an end to this, usher Klavier back out of the darkness and the skeletons from the closet. There’s no one to save them this time, nothing but the two of them, Klavier trembling, Apollo silent, a silence he could break if he wants to put his foot in his mouth soon after. Because of course that’s what will happen, and maybe if he’s lucky his fumbling would at least make Klavier laugh for a moment.

“He murdered two men, tried so many more, ruined lives, and I am angry at him that his own life was one of those ruined,” Klavier says. “He deserves it, surely, and it is his victims I should concern myself entirely with, but I…”

“I’m not judging you for that,” Apollo says.

“And what are you judging me for?”

“Your fashion sense, mostly.”

Klavier laughs, sudden but not sharp, more surprised than anything, his head snapping toward Apollo. “For the first thing, Herr Forehead, there is nothing wrong with my fashion sense.”

“Do you even know how to tie a tie?”

Klavier doesn’t answer, which Apollo finds suspicious, but he laughs again and elbows Apollo in the arm. “Rude,” he says.

“Hit a sore spot, clearly,” Apollo says.

“Hardly. I am unshameable. I’ve never been embarrassed in my life.”

“That does sound like you.”

Klavier tilts his head. “Now why do you make that sound like a bad thing?” His smirk stops it from being a genuine question.

“Look at your car,” Apollo says. “Look at those deliberate design choices you made.”

“I see we have a rather different perception of what we could consider my flaws.” The smile falls off his lips, makes Apollo realize again how sad his eyes are.

Which reminds Apollo how they started down this road and that something much heavier precipitated it. “Well,” he says. “It’s not exactly like, um, there’s a guide you’re given to follow when someone close to you turns out to be a murderer. I don’t think anyone can tell you how you’re supposed to respond. Especially since this is your brother. And everything else with - with everything.”

Klavier hums, examining his hands. Vongole noses her way into his vision and he starts to push her away before changing course and patting her nose. “My brother,” he repeats. “After all that I admired and trusted him, after all that he had - I would not want someone to be able to tell me how I am supposed to feel. There is no one I would wish this on.” Vongole licks his hand. “Do you mind me asking,” he adds, softly, and Apollo braces himself for anything. “Did you ever have any foster siblings or others your age in the homes you grew up in?”

To gauge whether Apollo can even begin to imagine. To guess on whether he has the chance, however slight, to feel that pain more personally than a mentor he respected. And the answer - how is Apollo supposed to answer that? “None I ever kept in touch with once I left,” he says.

It’s true in the way the fae speak to truth, if it isn’t true to what Apollo knows in his heart. What he knows he should say, what he wants and doesn’t want to say, is “Yes, I have a brother. His name is Nahyuta. He’s a year older than me and I grew up with him for the first eight years of my life, the longest I ever stayed with one family. We lived in the country of Khura’in, a kingdom so small that if I ever look for news about it, I have to remember how to read Khura’inese, because I never find its modern going-ons reported on in English. And I would have stayed in contact with him if I could.”

(Because that’s why Apollo first started keeping a journal, isn’t it, when he came to America: to have all of his new adventures easy at hand to recall and share with Nahyuta again when he went home. It helped him practice his written English, too, which started out a hundred times choppier than the spoken. And he kept recording everything, long after hope died, thinking as a lawyer to have records of everything and have his own memory of a case and not just a transcript. It was for him, then, not for his brother, even though if he ever said the full truth, those words would be, “I have a brother; have, present tense, if he hasn’t been killed. I have a brother, present tense, even if I’ve now lived nearly two-thirds of my life away from him and I’m not quite sure if he’s human.”)

And for once Klavier is the one with no way to respond. They both know why he asked; no need to clarify. How many ways to bleed do they share? Not that one, or maybe still, and that’s Apollo’s secret - if Nahyuta were to—

If Nahyuta—

No.

(Dhurke wanted to overthrow a corrupt queen without shedding blood, but it’s been fifteen years, and when Apollo checked last year, the first time looking up anything about Khura’in in seven years, the queen was still the queen. Maybe they’ll get tired. Does the proper end ever justify the route to get there? Phoenix wants to reform the courts, expose murderers and forged evidence, and he himself faked decisive evidence. What is just in pursuit of justice? Blood on a playing card - blood on rebel hands.)

If Nahyuta.

End thought.

Apollo leans his head back against the tree.

“Daryan has a little sister,” Klavier says, his head ducked again and his hands over his eyes. “Nineteen, maybe, now? She plays the cello, has since she herself was smaller than the instrument. Rock and classical, we all thought it was funny. She was going to university for teaching music. Dropped out, I think, after Daryan’s conviction. I think, only, because I did not hear it from her.” He sighs, his hand now propping his head upright, his eyes closed. “We spoke only after his arrest, when she told me that this was my fault, because had I not gone to Borginia, met Lamiroir and Herr Tobaye, put them in contact with my band - had I not done so, Daryan would not have been tied up in smuggling, would not have committed murder, and she would not have lost her brother.”

“Way to shift the onus of the blame,” Apollo says. He understands the impulse, he’s sure Athena would probably have something to say about it, but of all the people to blame - Klavier, who was losing a friend, too?

“I did tell her such, that Daryan is a grown man who could have chosen not to be involved, and that I empathized with such a loss, with my own brother.” Klavier sighs again, louder this time. “And then she threw a violin at me and told me to fuck off and that was the last I saw of her.”

“An entire violin?” Apollo asks, which is so far from the main point but remains remarkable in the wrong way.

“She had been refurbishing it,” Klavier says. “I did not stick around to see how much extra refurbishing it would need after that.” He looks pained, what little of his face he’s allowing Apollo to see. “Though strictly speaking she isn’t wrong. Had I not been to Borginia—”

And he pulls up his other arm half around his head, his fingers curling into his hair at the back of his head. Vongole lays her head down on her paws. “Seriously, are you okay?” Apollo asks, pushing himself up onto his knees, his hands hovering over Klavier’s shoulder and back, because despite everything, there still feels like a gulf between them that hasn’t been crossed, all of the times Klavier has poked his forehead aside. “And this time don’t just avoid the—”

Klavier groans. “Herr Forehead, you are yelling in my ear.” Apollo sits back on his heels. That can’t actually help, can it? “You shouldn’t be worrying about me.”

“That’s not ‘yeah, I’m okay’,” Apollo says. “That’s avoiding the question.”

Klavier shakes his head, the movement limited by the position of his arms, and he makes a disgusted noise from the back of his throat. “It’s nothing you can help with.”

“That just sounds like you’re dying!”

“We could hardly be so lucky,” Klavier says dryly. He shifts, his hand still clutching his hair, his cheek resting on his other arm, to look at Apollo from one eye. “Do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if some certain or another thing had not happened?”

“Huh?” And what the hell does that have to do with this, them, now?

Which is a question Klavier expects. “It will make sense in a moment, ja? I promise.”

Somewhere there’s got to be a connecting thread, but it’s like they’re in court, Klavier two steps ahead and setting out the pieces for Apollo to catch up. “I didn’t used to,” Apollo says slowly, because even though he doesn’t understand the groundwork being laid, it matters to Klavier, and he might as well answer honestly. “But now I find myself thinking about it a lot more.”

Sadness, not anger, knits Klavier’s eyebrows close together. He must suspect Apollo to be saying, in a veiled sort of way, “I keep wondering what would have happened if my boss your brother didn’t turn out to be a corrupt murdering fae.”

And that’s not it. That’s not the quandary on Apollo’s mind. But he’s got no way to say, “This isn’t about your brother; it’s about mine.”

(If Dhurke hadn’t sent him away. If Apollo grew up knowing what he and Nahyuta were. If Apollo’s father didn’t die, or Apollo wasn’t stolen away - if he remembered who told him the story of how he came to be raised by Dhurke, because the fae can’t lie but was it Dhurke or Datz who talked about a fire killing Apollo’s father?)

“So what does that have to do with anything?” Apollo prompts. Klavier isn’t going to keep going on his own; he looks like he’s half somewhere else, dazed and glassy-eyed.

“I don’t have to wonder,” Klavier says. “I know where I would be had Kris and I never been switched. I, ah, see it sometimes. Like I imagine seeing the future would be, except.” He frowns. His frowns are always very pronounced, more like a pout, that on other days Apollo has been tempted to laugh at. (Or that’s the thought that Apollo most allows himself to entertain regarding Klavier’s lips, anyway.) “Except nothing like the future; I don’t know why I’m saying that. It’s quite more like looking sideways, I suppose.”

This time he waits, watching Apollo keenly for a reaction. He’s not going to get one, given that Apollo is still figuring whether this means sort of what he thinks it might, and he’s only part of the way through it. “Like visions?” he asks.

Klavier nods. He starts to unfold himself, stretching his legs out and uncurling his arms from around his head to cross them across his chest, still defensive. “Visions, ja. Of where I would be, what I am doing, having gotten to grow up human. And an only child, as well.” He picks up from the ground the journal he was writing in when Apollo first approached. “I take notes, when it happens - a diary of the life I’ve never had.” He flips through it quickly, too quickly for Apollo to read any of the words, and rather he watches pages and pages of different colorful inks flap past.

“How long has this been happening?” Apollo asks.

“On and off through Themis and my first year as a prosecutor.” Klavier snaps the journal shut again. “Almost never for all those years traveling and touring with the band. And then I came back and it’s worse than ever. If there’s a pattern I’d love to know it.” He glances around, finds the pink pen he had earlier, and begins tapping it against his leg. “I let my mind relax for a moment and there’s always a new piece working its way in. I can usually push it back out with something else to focus on, except now today it feels like someone taking a jackhammer to my skull from the inside out. An injury to insult for this particular occasion. I can’t even enjoy the quiet day at the office my other self would have had today.”

The pen flings loose when he abruptly stops moving his hand and Vongole, with a heavy exhale, rises up off the ground to retrieve it. Klavier’s mouth twists.

“Are you still a prosecutor?” Apollo asks. “Or, how do you phrase that? Is it hypothetical? Would you have been?” If he’d stayed with Dhurke, he still would have wanted to be a defense attorney. But if not for Dhurke, if Apollo had grown up with his birth family, whoever they were, would he still? What could he have been instead? Was Kristoph the catalyst for Klavier? Who would he have been without his brother? (Who would Apollo have been without his?)

“It’s the least hypothetical hypothetical scenario,” Klavier says. “Which is to say it absolutely does not matter in the slightest.” He grins and it takes several seconds to fade. “But yes, I am. Still. Would be?” Apollo snorts. Klavier glares at him. “Verdammt, now you have me confused. - I wasn’t a prosecutor at seventeen, though. Didn’t go to Themis, wasn’t trying to catch up to Kris as soon as I could. I was Kris, after all. Or not him, but that should have been my name, except I went by would-have-gone-by Kris, and he never tolerated anyone but me calling him that.” Klavier squeezes his eyes shut and brings a hand up to rub his temple. “Does any of this make sense?”

“Relatively,” Apollo says. “The whole concept doesn’t make sense in the first place, but within the overall ‘what the fuck’” - Klavier laughs - “I’m mostly following it.”

“There is a reason I did not tell you about this with everything else, back when.” Klavier waves his hand, unsuccessfully feigning casual dismissiveness. “It’s a bit of a stretch even from ‘my older brother is my changeling doppelganger’, ja?” Another attempt at being casual, glancing at Apollo from just the corners of his eyes, but the worried downturn of his brow and mouth continue to betray him. “And the disconcerting philosophical questions, if this implies that some things are destined to happen - that it all always would have turned out as I see if I had not been taken, that there are choices we are bound to make.” He shrugs. “Or perhaps this is not magic at all and is just my mind trying to make sense of all that happened in the worst way possible. I should ask Herr Samurai for his opinion. You know he studied psychology, ja?”

“Please do not try and use your coworker the convicted murderer as a therapist,” Apollo says. “Based on all the stunts he pulled in court, all his manipulating and twisting people - he would take all that information you gave to him and use it to destroy you.”

“I would be asking his opinion on one matter, not offering him my entire life story.”

“You entire life story is kinda tied into this one matter!”

“Besides,” Klavier says, at the same time Apollo is objecting, “he and I are both prosecutors. What reason would he have to want to destroy me? It is not as though he could use it to his advantage as my opponent in court.”

Who knows why a murderer like him might do anything, Apollo thinks, about to say it, and then Klavier’s actual words, “my opponent in court”, fully register. He squints at him. “Are you saying I would use it against you?” After everything they have been through - after everything Apollo has helped him with?

“I’m saying that I would have less concern consulting with him than some others,” Klavier says darkly. Apollo isn’t sure what he’s implying with this but doesn’t really like the options. “And while I do not doubt your experience in court, when I spoke with Herr Samurai he was not unpleasant. He quite liked to talk about his bird, and his bird quite enjoyed terrorizing Vongole.”

“That bird would fight god if given the chance,” Apollo says. “And I’m not sure I would want to spend time with a murderer anyway.”

“I seem to end up at that point anyway,” Klavier says bitterly, “and at least on this occasion I am forewarned.”

Apollo swallows the lump in his throat. There’s no good response to that. Klavier’s eyes meet his again, and he lets the silence drag on several more seconds before very softly he says, “But I do like to think I know magic, and I do think that this is more than solely my mind. A last mocking joke from the Winter Court, ja? I won my way home and they taunt me with the knowledge that I am not truly free by dangling ahead of me the life they stole from me.”

“Wouldn’t it really be Kristoph who stole it from you?” Apollo asks. Klavier’s eyes narrow. “That the Court took you, and your brother took your life?”

His expression relaxes. “I was jealous, like I said, but never angry, not at him. He did not ask for it any more than I. We were - I presumed we were in agreement that it was they who were to blame, not each other.” But not sure. Not now, not after everything. Who could blame him? “And I am angry that he squandered the life he had, but not that he had it.”

Apollo watches for lies and waits. And waits, and waits. And accepts that even if Klavier did mean that he’s not sure if Apollo won’t use any of this against him, he’s still continuing to be honest with him. “It would have been a much easier life,” Klavier says. “From everything I…” He motions to his journal. “Many less lows, this past year. Though also some other less.” He tilts his head toward Apollo and shrugs one shoulder. A question, shall I go on? Apollo nods.

Klavier begins ticking off points on his fingers. “I am a prosecutor still, but never the rock star. I did not meet Daryan - I am eight years older than him, so how were we to? No Gavinneers, no tours, no songs on the radio. Music just does stay a hobby.” With a wry grin that falls immediately into an unhappy one, he adds, “Though I never gave up the piano. It’s - how am I to weigh it? I never have a second career I so loved - I am not at Themis to meet my favorite professor - I never know Daryan, but that means, I imagine, that he does not get caught up in smuggling. Maybe he finds trouble on his own, or maybe his sister gets to keep her brother.”

“You don’t know for sure?”

“It’s like looking through a one-way mirror. I know what is changed with this me-I-could-have-been, but he - I - cannot know what’s happened here.” He spreads his hands wide, palms up, gesturing to the world. “I can’t change what I know there. I can’t get a message to myself to say, go look up Daryan Crescend, see how he is doing. I never met him. There’s no reason for me to pay attention to that name.” He shakes his head. “I know Phoenix Wright only because we have faced each other in court every so often over the past eight years.”

The number stings. It would have a bite on its own, but Klavier gives its teeth extra force, extra sharpness. Without Kristoph, no diary page, no disbarment. Phoenix Wright remains a defense attorney. “Does he still adopt Trucy?” Apollo asks. With no diary page, is Zak Gramarye acquitted, or does he vanish anyway? What happens to Trucy if she stays a Gramarye? The concept isn’t one Apollo likes.

Klavier shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says. “He and I only cross paths in court, and he still does not exactly like me, at all.”

“I’ve told you I’m pretty sure he has nothing against you,” Apollo says. He frowns. “And what happened that he doesn’t like you in—” What to call it? A parallel universe, another lifetime?

“It is - hm.” Klavier eyes him suspiciously. “Something that happened, yes.”

“That bad?” Apollo asks. Klavier fiddles with his hair. Apollo takes a shot from a different angle. “Or that embarrassing?”

Klavier elbows him in the side. “That’s quite enough from you, Herr Forehead.”

“Didn’t you say you don’t get embarrassed?”

“I am not embarrassed. I am ashamed on behalf of - of—”

“Of yourself,” Apollo finishes.

“Yes.”

Apollo raises his eyebrows. Klavier stares back, an attempt at a glare that slowly cracks apart into laughter. “That sounds ridiculous,” Apollo says. “You sound ridiculous.”

“I’m aware,” Klavier says. “That happens. I actually only have a suspicion about what happened between myself and your boss in—” He waves his hand vaguely. “Which reminds me that I have meant to ask you, for several reasons, do you have any idea what on earth it is between your boss and mine?”

“What?” Apollo asks. Even if Klavier is leaping from topic to topic this quickly to keep his mind and visions at bay, he’s abandoned the linear path between anything.

“This is not to say that there is an office pool on if-when they are dating, but I am not to say that there is not such a thing, either,” Klavier says.

“You’re betting on your boss’s love life?” Apollo asks, aghast. Did he ever harbor a delusion that the Prosecutors Office is more functional than the Wright Anything Agency? He definitely hasn’t since spending New Years with Faraday and Debeste. Which, now that he thinks about it: “Wait, that wasn’t a thing that Detective Faraday started or something?”

“I am not part of it,” Klavier says. “I don’t gamble anymore unless I know I will win. But yes, it was her, up to nothing good, as ever.”

“I don’t know anything,” Apollo says. “I mean, I know Mr Wright is friends with him, but not like - well, today Mr Wright left and said he was going to study for the Bar somewhere else, and Trucy just guessed that he was going to see Edgeworth and he didn’t say he wasn’t.”

“If you can get any information out of the Fräulein I will split the winnings with you,” Klavier says. “And I will tell you the ill-advised decisions my other self has made if you promise to keep your mouth shut.”

Apollo blinks. “Yeah?” he says, not meaning to sound hesitant, but doesn’t Klavier know that he hasn’t talked about anything he told him last October? Why would that change now? (Though maybe if it is actually embarrassing, Apollo won’t pass up the opportunity to mock him about it directly to his face.) “Of course.”

“I am reasonably sure that - you know, hypothetically, looking sideways, all of that - that in that hypothetical lifetime, I seem to have unwisely walked myself right into some romantic entanglement of theirs and earned Herr Turnabout’s ire, I believe perhaps out of jealousy, that I asked out Herr Chief.”

Klavier twists some strands of his bangs around his fingers, lips pursed tightly together, waiting for Apollo’s reaction. It arrives delayed and more confused than Apollo has been in a while, though he keeps thinking he’s hit peak confusion and keeps being surprised. “So you’re a homewrecker?” Apollo asks dumbly.

“Nein, I am not!” Klavier smacks Apollo on the shoulder with his journal. “They were not dating! I would not have - I assume it was anger that before he would get himself together, someone else would—”

“You asked your boss on a date?” Apollo asks, louder than the last question, loud enough that even in the half-barren park it might carry. Klavier slaps his hand over Apollo’s mouth with too flat a palm and enough force that it’s a bit like a slap in the teeth.

“He was not Chief Prosecutor, and so not my boss at that moment,” Klavier says, half defensive and half apologetic, pulling his hand back away. Apollo runs his tongue over his teeth; they’ve stopped stinging now. “And furthermore, I am about their age, ja? Or I would have been - my brother is a year younger than them.” Klavier tilts his head to the side, and a slow, lopsided grin spreads across it, wicked and mocking both. “And Herr Chief is a very handsome man, you must admit.”

Apollo covers his face with his hands. “I don’t have to say anything,” he says.

“You were curious, as I recall. You asked.”

“Right,” Apollo says. “I’m good now thanks. Don’t need any more.”

“There’s not much more to tell,” Klavier says, propping up his chin on his hand. “It went nowhere and was not an avenue I chose to dwell on.” With his other hand he picks at the corner of his journal. “I shouldn’t dwell on any of it I’m sure, but there’s some part of it that’s fascinating. Such a quieter life with so many less griefs and my coworkers don’t resent me. I have a dog, a golden retriever. And other parks to take her to, nowhere near kitsune mafia fronts and defense attorneys who know too much about me.”

That’s certainly a statement to unpack. Klavier, as ever, doesn’t linger on it. “Muffin?” he asks, picking up a paper bag from his other side and offering it to Apollo. “I overestimated how much I wanted to stress eat while I was at the bakery.”

“I didn’t know rock stars are allowed to stress eat,” Apollo says, taking the bag and glancing inside. “Are these the regular ones or the, uh, fae ones. Trucy and I get them for Vera whenever she comes to hang out, but I don’t like them as much.”

“I refuse to forsake salt, ever,” Klavier says. “Those are regular. How is Fräulein Changeling doing, anyway?”

As always tends to happen, he asks the question of Apollo once Apollo has a mouthful of muffin. “She’s pretty good,” he says finally, after a perilous second where he thought he might choke to death. “She’s got an apprenticeship, kind of, I guess, with a friend of Mr Wright’s who’s a children’s book author-illustrator. Since November or December, I forget. She’s been talking lately about wanting to sell her house to leave all the bad associations in the past.” Phoenix promised her he would help her with that, even though he isn’t that kind of lawyer. Or any lawyer, right now.

“Ach, I understand that feeling quite well,” Klavier says. Apollo takes another bite of muffin. Klavier watches Vongole chew on a rock again. “This ‘friend’,” he adds. “Do they know what she is?”

“Oh, yeah. He knows a lot about all of that. Mr Wright said he accidentally became a witch once.”

“He accidentally…?” Klavier is rarely struck speechless. His mouth opens and closest several times. “Of course that is possible, but…” He clicks his tongue several times. “That is not a thing that someone just easily comes away from. Your boss knows the strangest people.”

“No kidding.” And it wouldn’t be any less weird if Kristoph had never been, would he? Trucy might not be around, but Larry - Mia - Iris - they come from before. The biggest difference in the office besides Trucy would be - would be. “Do you know if I still work for Mr Wright?”

He wouldn’t need a badge. He wouldn’t need a bloody ace. Apollo never would have never worked for Gavin Law Office. He surely would have admired Phoenix just as much, maybe even more if he had seven extra years of stellar and befuddling cases, and working at Wright and Co. would be an option - provided Phoenix would let him. And would Phoenix, not needing someone with a badge to make his plans work, even bother?

Klavier shakes his head. “I don’t know.” He opens his journal and pages through until he reaches a dog-eared corner. “I marked some of the cases against him and once I wrote it down blocked it all out. He had a young woman with him in court that time, rather pretty, black hair, dressed something like—” He shrugs. “A monk, I wrote. Whatever that is supposed to mean now.”

That sounds familiar.

“But it is like what I said about Daryan, ja? That I am looking sideways through a mirror, and he, this other me, he does not know anything I care about. He doesn’t know what he’s passed by, what he’s lost, what he’s missed. I’m afraid all I know is that we never met.”

And if they did, would they care? They would have no Kristoph in common, no shared trauma of betrayal, with ten extra years between them.

Maybe it’s a different life for Apollo, too. Maybe in the lifetime where Klavier is never taken away and grows up entirely without his brother, Apollo is never sent away and grows up with his.

“Oh,” is all he can think to say, and then to save himself from looking like he should have something to say, he finishes eating the muffin. They watch two joggers and their dog loop past on the path. The wind rustles some leaves loose from the tree and Apollo tries and fails to catch one as it flutters past his face. The time to breathe is welcome; there has been so little of it in the course of the conversation. Time to grapple with all of it or maybe none, focus on this that they have now. They can’t escape one way through the mirror.

When he glances back at Klavier he feels immediately guilty for the chance to relax. Klavier has folded back into himself, knees to his chest, head resting on his arms, his journal carelessly abandoned, still open, on the ground. “Are you sure there’s nothing that helps?” Apollo asks. Give him a way to fix it. It’s the only comfort he knows how to provide.

“When I was still considering going into work this morning, I ate a whole bag of pretzels and got nearly an hour’s reprieve.” Through his arms, his voice is a mumble. Apollo tries to picture it: Klavier, some sort of mess in the morning, with a party-size bag of pretzels, shoving them into his mouth by the handful. A dignified image for either a celebrity or prosecutor, it is not. “Unreasonable amounts of salt is my attempt, and that has its own very large issues.” He lifts his head, hair falling into his eyes, to offer Apollo a very weak grin. “Rock stars die young all the time, but how many have high sodium as the cause?”

Apollo doesn’t laugh, can’t even bring himself to try. Klavier surely notices but doesn’t seem to care, doesn’t cease the light, ugly chuckle that followed his words. “Speaking of unreasonable amounts of salt,” Apollo says, because now that Klavier has given him one piece of the case, one fractal of evidence, he’s got a shot at solving it, “have you ever tried anything from Eldoon’s noodle stand?”

“His is the stand from that case?” Klavier buries his head back in his arms, and Apollo nods before realizing that doesn’t work and audibly confirming it. “I have not. Why?”

“It’s the saltiest ramen I’ve ever had in my life,” Apollo says. That still can’t actually fully impress upon him the true understanding of Eldoon’s Noodles. “It’s the saltiest anything I’ve ever had in my life. Mr Wright says nobody’s ever managed to eat more than two bowls of it in a day, so when we went yesterday after court, the new kid, Athena, took it as a challenge.” Of course she did. She takes everything as a challenge. She makes competition where it doesn’t need to be. “She made it a bowl and a half and then spent the rest of the day lying on the couch saying she’s probably dying but if she survives this is her first step to building up immunity and beating the record.” Trucy promised to assist Athena in such an endeavor, and Phoenix had looked over her head at Apollo and rolled his eyes. Death by noodle stand, the next step forward from being shot dead while pulling said noodle stand.

“That sounds quite promising,” Klavier says. “And like a challenge I should like to attempt. Tell me we don’t have to walk far, though.”

“He’s only a block past the office,” Apollo says. “Sometimes you can hear his harmonica from here.”

Vongole lifts her head, pointing her nose to the sky and swiveling her ears about. After a moment she springs to her feet, a single motion that nonetheless looks jerky and wrong, like a frame has skipped in the middle that should have showed her picking herself up from the ground. Klavier hasn’t moved. “Or I can just bike down there myself. Meet in the middle at the office if we want to sit somewhere that isn’t the dirt.”

Klavier mumbles something that he must also realize is incomprehensible, and he raises his head and repeats, “How much am I gonna owe you?”

Apollo stands, dusting grass and dirt off of his knees. “I can’t in good conscience accept payment for something that you don’t fully understand how actually awful it is,” he says, lifting his bike back away from the tree. “Besides, Mr Eldoon gives a little discount to everyone who works with Mr Wright, anyway.”

Which definitely implies something about their collective tastes.

He doesn’t think he’s ever gotten Eldoon’s two days in a row and even telling himself that these are extenuating circumstances, he doesn’t like the precedent it sets. His standards have never been good but they’re not so much slipping now as they are plummeting down an elevator shaft. Mr Eldoon does not remark on it, to which Apollo is grateful. He knows no one in the office would let him live - the real and alarming but also conceptually hilarious question would be whether Trucy would approve or not of a “date” with Klavier to Eldoon’s of all places.

She really would not let him live if she ever finds out about it.

Apollo orders his usual and tells Eldoon to give him two more of whichever, because Klavier said he didn’t care as long as it was salty, and Apollo is not about to ask Eldoon to give him his saltiest. At that point that would be manslaughter, at best. He’s paying for it when he gets a text from Klavier, slightly less typo-laden than before, saying that he has decided after all to relocate to the office. And a minute later:

-do you not lock your office ever??

Mia, welcoming him in. Should he tell him about Mia? Is that even something he would want to know, the lurking ghost, privy to their every word? But for the moment he shoves his phone into his pocket and walks his bike and the noodles back up to the office.

“Mess as it is, there’s probably something worth stealing in here,” Klavier says when Apollo enters. He looks uneasy, wary, like he’s been pacing the room before Apollo arrived, and he doesn’t sit down until Apollo sets the noodles down on the coffee table and sinks into one couch. Even then, he lowers himself awkwardly, his eyes swirling between shades of blue as he glances about. “I certainly wouldn’t just leave anything unlocked in this part of town.”

Apollo wants to argue that it’s not bad, all considered; Phoenix says the Kitakis keep it orderly, and the only cursed locale for a square mile around is the run-down hotel across the street from the window behind Apollo’s desk. (And Apollo had asked how worried he should be about that, and Phoenix said not at all, because he and Mia both hated that people staying in some of the hotel rooms could just see straight into the office. Which then gave Apollo reason to wonder exactly who cursed it, along with reason to never walk past the building on the same side of the street as it. Typical Los Angeles sort of thing. Who in the city doesn’t have a place like that?)

What he ends up saying is, “I don’t think we ever have to worry about getting robbed,” and that is a statement weird enough that he knows he is going to have to explain and he regrets this. Klavier raises an eyebrow and accepts the two takeout bowls that Apollo has indicated are his. “Since the office is, uh, haunted.” Apollo waits, grimacing. Klavier looks at him, expression still unchanged. “By Mr Wright’s mentor. I have an office key but I’ve never actually needed to lock or unlock, because she does it. And I don’t think she would just allow anyone to come in.”

“I knew it,” Klavier says.

“What?”

“I suspected as much,” he amends. “That there is something wrong in here, about here. It’s felt a different kind of wrong every time I’ve been.”

Apollo glances up at the lights. They don’t flicker. He might have expected her to take offense at Klavier’s description, wrong, wrong. Klavier talking about the royalty. Apollo won’t mention all he knows about Mia. “She spent the winter throwing a blanket at me whenever I got cold,” he says. “It’s not really that haunted-haunted.”

“And I haven’t been smited yet,” Klavier mutters. “Still, I would not - I would be careful, is all, ja? You never know what may happen, if you were to fall asleep on the couch here and wake up to have your body puppeteered by a fae spirit.”

“Can they do that?” Apollo asks. Klavier shrugs. “Mr Wright says he got amnesia from sleeping on one of the defendant lobby couches but I think he left out a few pieces of that story.”

“Knowing him, that was actually all there was to it.”

Apollo cannot find room to object. Instead, he waits for that smug look to disappear from Klavier’s face with his first bite of noodles. No one adequately braces themselves for it - Trucy laughed at Apollo, Apollo at Clay and Ema, and Apollo and Phoenix at Athena, though they didn’t have long to laugh before they were horrified by the way she, still spluttering from the first mouthful, immediately went in for more without finishing chewing. Prodigy in some regard, worryingly dense in others.

But Apollo watches and Klavier’s expression doesn’t change; he doesn’t flinch. His eye twitches. Is this a glamour that he’s almost holding together? Apollo turns his attention to his own meal, some ever-growing part of him already filled with regret, and Klavier laughs suddenly, brightly, a welcome change from the bitter amusement that threaded through their conversation. “This is how I used to make ramen at Themis,” he says, his grin wistful but sharpening. “Back when I was first discovering salt.”

“You didn’t have salt before them at home?” There were several years between the faery ring and Themis, several that should be accounted for in here.

“Our parents wanted to avoid it as much as possible for Kris and stopped me from dumping the excess I truly wanted on my plate, and then—” Klaver stops to take another bite and to try and rein in his grin. He doesn’t succeed, and still with his face torn between reminisce and wickedness, he continues, “And then we drove our parents to the point that they didn’t keep any in the house for safety’s sake.”

And still grinning he waits for Apollo to ask him what the hell that means. Which Apollo does, but only after half a minute’s pause where the only sound is the slurping of noodles and broth. “What did you do?”

“It was Kris’ idea, to start. All very thorough of him, of course, as he is.” There, again, sadness that glamour can’t hide or maybe doesn’t try to. “He needed to know what it was to be a changeling, to be fae - what it meant for him in regards to iron and salt and all the superstitions he heard and scoffed at.”

“He hadn’t ever noticed something that he thought was, like, metal allergies, or food, or something?” Apollo twists the ring on his hand and thinks of Clay’s horseshoe amulet.

(It’s easy to know, with a friend like Clay: the first time Apollo went over to play at his house, Clay had lightly knocked him in the forehead with first it and then a crucifix, just to be sure, because he’d been up late sneaking movies on TV and had seen some version of Dracula and ended up extra paranoid for a few months. They’re still not actually sure where the crucifix came from, because no one in any part of Clay’s family is Catholic.)

“Or is that something that runs on belief, too?” Apollo asks. “That since he didn’t know he wasn’t human, he had no reason to think that it would harm him, so it didn’t?”

“A self-fulfilling weakness,” Klavier says. “I suppose that is possible, though pure enough iron is not precisely common unless you are seeking it out, and salt’s effects not enough to assume…” He rubs one thumb over the ring on the other. “Kris never mentioned anything he did or didn’t notice before he knew, but after, we had it in mind to conduct experiments. After all, he was fae but raised human, and I was human raised with the fae, and we wondered how each of us might be affected.

“I gathered up everything that I thought could be iron, not that I in my life had ever known iron. They do not exactly have it and salt on hand in the Twilight Realm. Some pots and frying pans, some scrap metal and nails from the shed, there was at least one ordinary rock in there and Kris took it like ‘you know nothing about this is any kind of metal?’”

Apollo is still surprised when he changes his voice, drops the accent, to imitate Kristoph, and if Klavier’s surprise in return is an indication, he hadn’t even realized this time that he was doing it. They both look away from each other, concentrate too long on their ramen. “And somehow it all went so much worse than you would expect,” Klavier says quietly. “We didn’t get to the salt step before Kris had a broken toe because I dropped the frying pan, and I had to go to the hospital for a tetanus shot because I had a rusty nail through my foot.”

Taking in Apollo’s horror, Klavier adds quickly, “Oh, that was not something Kris did, no, no. I had been poking him with the non-pointy ends of each of the collection of nails I had scrounged up, I dropped a few, I did not find them all, and I did not believe in shoes at the time because I saw no reason for them, and you know how that ends, ja. So our poor suffering parents confiscated all the salt before we found a way to hurt each other with that, too.”

Apollo lets out his breath. He hadn’t wanted to even consider that prospect, but since his method of reassuring himself was thinking that Kristoph, the man whose plans to kill were to lay poison and curses, wouldn’t ever stoop to physical violence unless he was completely out of options - well, at that point, there wasn’t any keeping that thought off his face. “Your poor parents,” he agrees.

(For just a moment he thinks that he and Nahyuta weren’t able to drive Dhurke to something like that, because of how hands-off and otherwise busy he was, but he still had to dive in a river to save them from drowning. And then there was Datz, who provided the opposite of help whenever he was around, forcing Dhurke to, on one occasion Apollo can dredge back up from the pits of attempted forceful repression, retrieve a knife from Nahyuta. Nahyuta had cried when Dhruke took it away, because of course he had, and then Apollo cried because on the worst days they were a stupid feedback loop of emotionality and not knowing what was and wasn’t worth getting hung up on.)

“They did their best and we did not make it easy.” That they are eating while talking means the silences in between feel more natural, but that in itself gives Apollo less warning that Klavier is about to drop something heavy on his head again. “I’m grateful, in some way, that they never had to see how it turned out. All their work to stop us beating the hell out of each other.” He grimaces. “Did I tell you that the scar on Kris’ hand was one I gave to him?”

“You did.” The last time they were here together in this office.

“It was after our parents died,” Klavier says, watching the noodles slide from his chopsticks with no apparent concern and stabs them back into the bowl. “Kris was twenty-four, I believe - he’d moved into an apartment here by then, and I was dorming at Themis. I had just bought one of these” - he spreads his fingers out, examining the rings he wears - “or maybe that one” - he points at Apollo’s hand - “who knows, and we were arguing about something stupid. It could have been about the ring, why I so felt the need to keep iron literally on hand when he was… I suppose he felt slighted, or like I did not trust him. He put a finger in my face and I smacked his hand away and the iron left a burn that turned into a scar.” Klavier picks up his chopsticks. “And we never talked about it again, because why would we?”

“I can understand that impulse,” Apollo says. “Why bother having the awkward conversations if you can just repress everything?”

From personal experience. Why try explaining his childhood when he can just never bring it up? What’s it matter anymore?

Klavier snorts. “You know, Herr Forehead, I’m not sure I like how easily you’ve summarized my methods.”

And Apollo likes that they’re focused enough on Klavier for him not to guess that Apollo is speaking for himself, too. “Except I’ve figured you out because of all these awkward conversations we keep having.”

“My tried-and-true coping mechanism failed me at the worst time,” Klavier says through a mouthful of ramen. Hilarious, really, to look at this man and remember what a dazzling celebrity he can pretend to be. “But salt has not yet let me down.”

“Did you really make ramen like this?” Apollo sets his down. Halfway through and he doesn’t think he’s going to get any further. The memory of yesterday’s salt still lingers. This is not a sustainable diet.

“I made everything like this,” Klavier says, grinning. “If I can think of a food I did not put salt on, I will tell you.”

“No, I don’t think I want to know, because that exception is going to prove the rule, and the rule is that you are terrible.”

“Nein, you are not running from this. This is the least distressing can of worms we have opened all evening and we are going to lie in it.”

“That’s not the saying,” Apollo says. “Do you mean, like, you put salt on - on—” What’s the worst thing he can think of? “Like, cookies?”

“That’s amateur hour, really now. I poured salt in my coffee.”

“No!” He isn’t lying, and Apollo is gagging already on the mere thought of salted coffee. “What is wrong with you?”

“You know how those little sugar packets” - he holds up his forefingers about an inch and a half apart - “that are sitting around for coffee? And there are little salt packets, similar size, abouts, often near them? Why shouldn’t they be used for the same thing?”

“No,” Apollo repeats. “No, you can’t do this to me.”

With the biggest shit-eating Apollo has seen, Klavier continues, “Our parents had never allowed me to drink coffee! How was I to know what to do with it? I did what seemed reasonable!”

“And you didn’t think, I don’t know, ‘this tastes horrible’!”

“It was dining hall coffee at a pretentious boarding high school! It was always going to taste horrible!” Klavier seems more alive than he has all day, and Apollo finally feels like he’s more than simply a pair of ears, even if another pair of ears is what Klavier needs. They are lawyers through and through, and a good argument does wonders. Or a bad argument, an inconsequential argument, something with as much messy laughter as yelling, for the sake of nothing but not wanting to relent. “I poured extra salt on bags of pretzels! It was about the salt, and I was perfectly pleased with any kind of salt-delivery vessel. Applesauce, yogurt - extra flavoring to cereal and milk.”

Apollo pantomimes vomiting on the floor. Klavier presses his lips together and thoughtfully ponders the coffee table. “I wonder if I still have any of the salt shakers I stole out of the dining hall,” he says.

This time, Apollo’s choking is not feigned, and he spends several very long seconds coughing and praying that he doesn’t die this way, which would be even stupider than dying from eating too much of Eldoon’s ramen. “So you could - could—” He wheezes in between his words. This is definitely the stupid way he dies. “—Could have a steady supply of sodium straight into your veins at all times?”

“See, you understand,” Klavier says. Apollo coughs again, both a decent way of expressing his disbelief and necessary because he’s still choking on a bit of air. “For everything I kept stashed in my room. Candy bars, pudding cups—”

“I am begging you to stop,” Apollo says. “I am actually begging you. I will grovel if it means I never have to hear you utter something like ‘salt in milk’ ever again.”

He lost this round of pointless arguments, and he knows it, and Klavier, smirking, knows it, and that smirk still leaves Apollo with the impulse to smack it off his face. Insufferable, insufferably pretty, and they both know it. “How else were you to properly empathize with my suffering?” Klavier asks, his tone light enough to make it a joke.

“I think I am suffering in a very different way than you, now.”

“Perhaps.” Klavier props his chin on his hand, his first bowl of noodles finished, and he either pausing before or reconsidering the wisdom of the second bowl. “There was an actual reason I ate like that, and not just not knowing what to do with salt and relishing the chance,” he adds. “One of the professors at Themis - she was not the head of my course, she had been a judge not a prosecutor, but I took several classes from her anyway because I liked her - told me that it is a very common thing, for humans returned from the fae realm, to have horrific salt cravings. The kind that compels you to try putting it in orange juice.”

“Please.” Apollo puts his face in his hands. “Please.” The actual meaning of Klavier’s words, the implication, sinks in a moment later. “Have enough people even come back from the Twilight Realm for anyone to be able to say something’s common? And how would she even know that?”

Klavier shrugs. “I never asked her. I was too afraid to.” He shakes his head. “These were the secrets that my family barely spoke of even behind closed doors, that my brother and I buried, and here she was speaking so openly of such things because she noticed that I kept pouring salt on every meal. And I think she was human, and that she was talking about it should be an invitation that I am - ‘allowed’, I suppose” - he makes quote marks in the air with his fingers - “to ask her, ja?” He lowers his hands very slowly. “But information like that is a weapon in the Court whether you mean it to be or not, and I was afraid to know anything that would make me armed. So even though she became something like a mentor to me we only ever spoke of academics and the legal system and my music and her art projects. Things of consequence here, not there.”

“She’s an artist?” Apollo asks. What was it, exactly, that Phoenix said about artist types and changelings, the moment before he and Apollo both realized?

“She is. Almost any kind of visual arts she could - sculpting, pottery, painting, papercraft, certainly more I am forgetting.” His mouth twists in a scowl. “I suspected that could mean she is like me, but she did not look like what I now am sure that being stolen away looks like.”

“You did say once that you’d met someone who was like you.” And only one; how rare to escape. No surprise that he was afraid of what his professor could be if she knew. “Who was that?”

Klavier freezes, about to take up the second bowl of ramen. He looks like a witness under pressure on the witness stand, Vera struggling to put a name to the man who forged the diary page, Jinxie terrified of the swath of yokai before her. “Oh,” Apollo says. Asking that question immediately after Klavier had just explained to him why he won’t talk about it. “Right. You don’t talk about those things.”

Klavier loudly slurps his noodles and shakes his head. “Some part of me got left behind when I bargained for my freedom and is still sure someone will kill me for speaking to anything.”

Not a lie; visibly not a lie to anyone who could see the fear lingering in Klavier’s wild-eyed expression. Apollo files that away, not to ask, not unless it’s of dire importance, not to put Klavier on the spot like that when it still eats away at him. (Apollo has a magatama he can borrow; Apollo has Phoenix around sometimes. Phoenix is secretive because he’s an asshole, not because he’s neurotic from trauma. He’s the person to wrangle the truth from.)

But a lump sits heavy in Apollo’s throat, and he can’t swallow it, finds it grows bigger as he tries. Klavier went so long without mentioning the blessing on Apollo; Phoenix goes without mentioning anything. “That other person - that isn’t me, is it?”

He’s shocked he manages to get the words out at all.

Klavier jerks back and then he sits forward, squinting suspiciously at Apollo. “What? No. You’re not.” Apollo scans him, waiting to see red, waiting for the worst to be confirmed after all, but there’s nothing, nothing that he sees, and he knows Klavier and he knows Klavier isn’t like Blackquill and he hopes there’s no one ese in the damn world who’s like Blackquill. He likes to be able to trust his own eyes. “Why would you even suspect…?”

His bright blue eyes linger on Apollo’s face, where last year he first pointed out the dragon scales marked on Apollo that he’ll never be able to see himself. And he’s answering his own question, silently, and showing Apollo that answer. If the blessing came from someone who stole him; but a child in the Court would never need Truth as a blessing, because they are among fae who can’t lie. And Apollo didn’t even grow up around here, anyway.

“I dunno,” Apollo lies, forcing his voice to sound casual, to not crack on two words. He can lie to Klavier. He can ask Klavier these things that he can’t ask Phoenix because he can lie to Klavier. “With everything that goes on, you never know. And sometimes I’m not sure anyone would tell me unless I ask specifically, so, just making sure.” He shrugs. He thinks even the that shrug would be illuminated red, if Apollo were watching someone else make these same motions.

Klavier clearly doesn’t buy that, but after several more long moments, he turns his glare to the portrait of Zak over the piano, and Apollo is able to breathe again. What would it be to live like that, as paranoid and suspicious as the likes of Clay, but with full, nearly firsthand knowledge of the exact consequences of crossing the Fair Folk. To have that compulsion to keep silent, especially in a profession so concerned with the truth. As a person so concerned with the truth as Klavier is. And then, with all that in mind—

“Er,” Apollo says. Klavier’s eyes turn back to him, still close to a glare. “I mean, I get it, what you’ve said, but then you - you told me about what you thought Mr Wright was. Him and Trucy, you told me. That.”

Klavier growls from the back of his throat but he speaks and interrupts Apollo as he’s about to consider apologizing for bringing it up. “I thought I had won, against him. That it’s all battles and backstabbing like in the Court, against him, ja? And I had…” The growl turns to more of a scoff, more disgusted, and he strips his accent away from the next words, layering them instead in bitterness. “I had beaten him in court and exposed him for what he was, a cheat and a liar, and of course that means I have won against him, ja?”

His voice swings between two people, his and what would have been his in another life, his and the voice of the person who had really hoped to beat Phoenix. “And that I don’t have to be afraid of him” - he snorts, blowing up a few strands of hair on his forehead - “and that because I have won means that what I know is a weapon I may do what I like with. Is a warning I may issue if I so choose. Which I thought, then, the best choice would be to let you in on just enough to send you running, and you shouldn’t have to fear the repercussions of knowing because I’m the one running the show, ja? If this makes any sense.”

“A little.” He thought he was the one in charge, that he could - protect Apollo? Save him? And the way everything fell to shit after, it was Apollo who kept having to help save him. And Trucy’s not the fae-stolen child that Apollo knows - it’s Klavier.

“At any rate, you’re better off asking your boss,” Klavier says. “Knowing how often I have been wrong.”

“Right now I just want to understand anything about Prosecutor Blackquill,” Apollo says. “And you’re both equally unhelpful.”

“As Herr Samurai may very well intend.” Klavier leans back into the couch. “So what all did happen in your trial against him? Was it a case, ach, typical of your office?” He waves his hand with a flourish in a circle, gesturing to the room around him.

“It was atypically awful,” Apollo says, deciding in that moment to leave out the part about Filch’s lie that went uncontested, and the fact that they’re going to have to go wrestle a yokai or something, because even if none of that had happened, the case still would have been a nightmare. It was a nightmare before Apollo knew that happened. “Have you ever heard of Nine-Tails Vale?”

Klavier winces, hissing his breath in through his teeth. “Nothing good ever starts with that question,” he says.

“Yeah, you know what to expect already. So Trucy has a friend who works up there—”

“Apollo,” Clay says, from the couch, where in front of him on the coffee table an empty carton of Chinese food lays. Apollo has not even finished closing the door behind him. “It is nearly eight. Why are you just getting home, without groceries, and if you have a good answer I might not stab you with these chopsticks.” He raises the arm that was hanging off the couch and brandishes the aforementioned improvisational weapons.

“I met up with Prosecutor Gavin after work and we went to Eldoon’s,” Apollo explains.

Clay narrows his eyes. “You can’t go to Eldoon’s on a date with someone. Haven’t I taught you better than this?”

“It wasn’t a date,” Apollo says. “What, you think I asked him out on the anniversary of me getting his brother arrested for murder? Who do you think I am?”

Someone actually brave enough to ask out Klavier Gavin at all, for starters.

“Well, if it was a date I was going to let you off without being stabbed,” Clay says. “But you’ve unfortunately done this to yourself.”

“Uh huh,” Apollo says, grabbing the chopsticks out of his hand as he passes by the couch. “I’m terrified.”

“You should be! Hey!” Clay drapes himself halfway over the back of the couch. “Don’t walk away! I’m telling you that you need to stop your stupid pining and—”

“I am not - I have never been—”

“I can tell when you’re texting him because you get this look on your face—”

“You guess when I’m texting him because I text three people, besides you.”

“Wait, you have three entire other people besides me?” Clay asks. “I’m impressed. But also I’m right about your stupid face and—”

“Just because he’s pretty and I willingly talk to him doesn’t mean that he’s not insufferable or that I’m in love with him. What are you saying?” Apollo throws the chopsticks back at him.

He is not and has never been pining, especially not for Klavier, who’s even more of a goddamn mess of issues than Apollo knew yesterday. Pining implies, to him, that if there was the opportunity to be in a relationship with Klavier, he would take it - and the problem with that concept, one of the problems, is reciprocity. Is the fact that Klavier can say that he wants to repress it all, but he’s talking. He’s talking and exposing the roaches to the light and Apollo, won’t, can’t, has repression figured out so much better because Kristoph might be here in a prison nearby and Apollo knew him but Nahyuta is a world away. Apollo could bury him.

And if - if, if - they were - he and Klavier - if Klavier keeps trying to grapple with the past, keeps asking Apollo’s help, one day he’s going to say something that hits too close, hurts too much. Another something about brothers, about lives that could have been. And he’s going to see it written on Apollo’s face and he might ask Apollo to open up to burn out the dark, to have the awkward conversation.

And that’s the one thing Apollo knows he can’t do, not for anyone, not Clay or Trucy or Klavier, not for the world.

#this chapter is So Much y'all have fun now #fic: the witches of los angeles #roddy fanfics

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