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mortallychaotickingdom · 2 years ago

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I don't want to rage on Clive supporters but my dear precious friend @narumitsu-lawlu wrote this little thingy here and I wanted to share it with you eheh (I only did the illustration at the end and actually we began that drawing with another purpose and we got to finish it right after finding out about Des’ victory but I'll just shhhh). Enjoy this little text! (and go follow her, she’s an amazing writer!)

The masked man sighed when he finally came back at the Bostonius. That little tournament was... endaring if anything, but also pretty tirying. He was eagerly waiting for a tea cup from Raymond after all of this.

When he got two invitations, one for Jean Descole and the other for Desmond Sycamore he wasn't surprised. Few people knew who he was and it was for the best. Though what the invitation was FOR made him do a double take.

Just to be sure he re-read it but it still said the same thing: An invitation to a tournament... but a "sexyman" tournament? When he read that he exploded of laughter. He knew he wasn't bad looking but he wasn't expecting THAT!

Anyway, the curiosity -and amusement too- took the better of him and he went. Notifying the staff that Desmond Sycamore was... well, he had a letter from him saying that he politely refused to participate. Upon hearing that the staff wasn't apparently surprised and said he was directly moved to the next round.

Well that was a first round easily won. he thought.

Noticing Layton too -uh. Didn't they know that his brother wasn't made for such a competition? He's too much of a gentleman for that.- and... oh yikes. Ascot was here too, as well as Henry. Shit.

He made a conscious effort to avoid them, and that inspector from Scotland Yard as well. And was that Luke? In doubts he stayed away from everyone.

Though the engineer couldn't really avoid his brother, -to whom he won against. Well, a victory is a victory; the number of times he swear to won against him, he never specified in what category did he?- nor Emmy (what the hell was she even doing here? And their encounter was more of a physical brawl than a vote from the public) but in the end he got to the finals.

And he was against a certain "Clive"- wait a minute.

Not only did he looked like an older version of his brother's apprentice -so that was who he saw earlier- but he was pretty sure he remembered him being in jail for almost destroying the entierty of London. (What a lack of style. A moving fortress really? Plus, innocents getting into this? Have he ever heard of collateral damages? For fuck's sake deaths aren't helping your cause!)

Needless to say, he also won against him.

Then again, Descole admitted the young man had talent -well as much as there was talent needed for this thing; he still had a hard time getting what the hell he was supposed to do- and potential. He was still young; he had all the time in the world to learn. So after a quick handshake the masked man offered him some advices for next time -if there was one-. The swordsman had more experience, but then again that's a thing Clive -if he remembered correctly- corrected every day. That kid got theatrics already memorized at least; that was a thing less to learn.

Maybe another time he will win who knows.

Anyway after all that was done and dealt with he was finally back. Putting away the cloak, mask and hat he finally allowed himself to relax -and with a glass wine to celebrate to boot. After all, why not? It wasn't like he had a lot to celebrate these days. However...

"Professor? You are back?"

He wasn't alone here; he put his glass on the table and turned around.

"Indeed I am- uh?"

Who he had before him was Aurora, there wasn't any doubts about it. But she was looking... different. She smiled softly.

"Do... you like it? Raymond and I went to the shop when you were gone, and we came back with this. -Really. he turned to Raymond amused before concentrating on the Azran girl again. It looks good on you. -T-Thank you. she offered a sweet smile. I heard there was... something to celebrate...? she asked. -Hm? I suppose there is. I was gone to a... tournament. And I won."

Better not go in the details of what that tournament was. However, the Azran emissary's expression lit up at this.

"Really? Well congratulations for your victory then!"

He smiled softly.

"Thank you Aurora."

#pl #professor layton #professor layton and the true sexyman #azran legacy #azran legacy spoilers #aurora azran #fanfic #fanart #collab #precious baby in a pretty dress #finally an Ipad drawing I don't hate too much #GO FOLLOW MY FRIENDS <3 <3 <3

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softedgeworth · 8 years ago

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Surrender the Land

Oneshot of a canon divergence from the 1001 times AU of @matsuorka . Word of God says it’ll never happen, so, enjoy this narumitsu pocket universe. You can find it here on AO3. My thanks to matsuorka for letting me share in her story adventure, being ever enthusiastic and supportive, and for letting me touch her stuff.

Characters: Phoenix Wright, Miles Edgeworth

Summary: “I suppose that friends should expect to know about things that are significant to each others’ lives, things that shaped their lives.” He looked to the fire, the ceiling, the priceless art on the walls, anywhere but to his friend standing silhouetted by the fireplace. (Words: 2,681)

It started one evening as they sat beside the fireplace.

Phoenix had appeared in the cold spring dusk to knock on Edgeworth's door. Edgeworth opened it to the monochrome purple twilight outside, and Phoenix with his arms crossed against the chill on his doorstep.

"It's me again!" said Wright in that corny absurd way which made Edgeworth want to snicker. Instead, he rolled his eyes and fought down his smile. "Is now a good time to visit?"

Edgeworth regarded him, and stepped aside to let him in. "Wright, of course I knew it was you. That was why we agreed upon the knock, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," he answered, coming inside. He uncrossed his arms and took off his jacket as Edgeworth closed and locked the door again. "It's nippy here in the evening, isn't it?"

Edgeworth was accustomed to these inane comments of Wright's, his statements that didn't really make sense or serve any purpose. Wright had told him they were called 'small talk' in the slang of the future. Though he disliked the pointless exchange of information, he also had to admit that it was pleasant.

"Winter's cold still hasn't surrendered the land," Edgeworth said. "And you never seem to dress sensibly enough for your travels."

The two made more small talk as they went over to the hearth and took their comfortable places. Edgeworth slipped the book he'd been reading into the pile on the side table, and added another log to the fire. When he was done, Wright moved his chair closer to the fireplace, facing it at an angle.

Edgeworth stood at the center of the hearth, making sure the log would take. Wright stood behind his chair, waiting for Edgeworth to move so he could sit. Phoenix studied the sight of Edgeworth gazing into the fire, eyes calm and elegant, his immortal face still.

Edgeworth glanced over to him, then back to the fire. "Ah, my apologies. Excuse me." He stepped aside.

"Sorry, it's okay." Phoenix went around the chair, closer to Edgeworth, and put a hand on his shoulder as he moved past him to sit down.

Edgeworth froze at the touch, and couldn't seem to produce a single coherent thought in the long seconds it was there. When Wright's hand was gone, Edgeworth felt its absence. His mind was uncharacteristically blank as Wright warmed those same hands by the fire and sighed happily.

"Unfortunately, chamomile tea is all I have at the moment," said Edgeworth finally. "Would you still like some?"

Wright looked up to him and smiled. "That would be perfect, thank you."

"Please move that chair back when you're done," he said over his shoulder as he left.

With the space between them and a task at hand, Edgeworth was able to recover himself by the time he returned with his tea tray. Once he'd poured their cups, they talked per usual about the time from which Phoenix had come--a distant place, with what seemed like a riotous variation of people and strange, impossible inventions with functions Edgeworth could just barely conceive.

This evening, they got on the topic of personal accessories. Wright explained all the variety of purses and bags, that everyday hats and gloves had fallen out of fashion (which Edgeworth considered an unfortunate development), improvements to eyeglasses and contacts (barbaric and genius, Edgeworth decided), types of makeup and nail polish, how people cared for their skin and hair. He was explaining how men would buy products to restore their hair loss when he burst out laughing.

"Wright, what is it? I know our conversations usually tend to the substantive, but it is not that ridiculous to learn of personal grooming and care of the future."

"No, no, it's not that." Wright laughed a little more, then looked to Edgeworth with his laughing grin. "I told you I am a lawyer, yes?"

"Correct."

"Well, this one time…" he snickered at the memory. "Sometimes, older men cannot get their hair to grow back no matter what kind of product they try. So some of them wear false hair called a toupee which blends with their remaining natural hair, or covers it, which is smaller than a wig. I had a witness who wore one that was glued on."

"Gracious. I did not think wigs would last based upon what you've told me, however… Glue? My word."

"You might imagine it's very hard to maintain. Well--" He laughed to himself again. Edgeworth sipped his tea.

"My witness was not a good person. He was in fact the true murderer. When I found him out in trial, he ripped off his toupee and threw it across the courtroom. It hit me right in the face!"

There was a coughing splutter from behind Edgeworth's tea cup, and then, the most beautiful sound--Edgeworth laughing.

Hands dripping, he set the teacup and saucer down on the tray and picked up a napkin to dry his hands. He rested his right elbow on his crossed knee and continued laughing, hiding his face behind his hand with the napkin in it. Across from him, Phoenix continued to laugh as well, but softer, listening to the miracle that was this solemn, wearied man's laughter.

"Oh gosh, Edgeworth I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to spit out your tea!" said Phoenix after a few moments of that wonderful sound. He set his own tea down and stood to give Edgeworth the rest of the napkins from the tea tray.

His host took them, still laughing but now softly under his breath. "Thank you, Wright," he said, and looked up to the time traveler.

Their eyes met, and it was Phoenix's turn to pause. Humor still sparkled in Edgeworth's grey eyes, and he was captivated by their ancient richness--like moonlit clouds passing swiftly on the wind across the starry sky.

Edgeworth took the napkins gently and without looking. Their hands brushed. Neither could seem to manage to look away.

"What is it?" asked Edgeworth.

"You're… I…" Phoenix tore his eyes away, and they lowered with difficulty down Edgeworth's face and neck to his chest. "Oh, your jabot!"

"My…? Ah." Edgeworth looked down to his white jabot, which had been spattered with the faint golden drops of tea. He began daubing at the white cloth with a napkin, but from his angle, it was difficult to see how he was doing.

Phoenix watched him try, feeling badly. "Maybe it'll be easier if you took it off? I could try to clean it then while you get the water."

Edgeworth paused, then lowered his hands. "No, that's quite all right. I will simply change it for another one."

"Oh, it's okay, you don't need to go get another. It's fine if you dress more casually with me." Wright gestured to his own clothes, which were fairly casual by the standard of the time he was now in. "I never wear a vest or button my jacket or anything…" He trailed off.

Edgeworth was still, a fixed expression creeping onto his face. Phoenix could feel his tension. The emotion Edgeworth had shown so far this evening in his laughter had been unusual already, but this tightness, perhaps even fear, was just as exceptional.

Phoenix was used to the subdued expressions of his friend, and had seen for himself just how much control Edgeworth required to remain as stoic when emotion sometimes welled inside him. But this was nothing like those times. Edgeworth usually recovered quickly in those situations, yet here under his studied, neutral expression, he was struggling.

"Um… it's--"

"Not to worry," said Edgeworth, coming back to the present again. "I keep many in my wardrobe for my daily needs." He stood, and Phoenix backed off to let him.

"Edgeworth, uh, is ev…" The immortal went past him. "Is--are you okay?"

Edgeworth paused, and turned back to face him. That awful struggling neutrality was back on his face again and Phoenix felt his heart twist in pain for his friend. He wouldn't meet Phoenix's eyes.

"I am fine, Wright. I will be gone only a moment. Please, enjoy your tea while it's still warm."

Phoenix watched him as he walked out. He stood still in the room for a few breaths before going back to sit down. He naturally looked to the empty chair opposite him, and then damp napkins on the side table next to it.

The typically neat and conscientious Edgeworth would not want those napkins left there. Phoenix picked them up and folded them to fit on the lacquer tea tray.

His gaze rested on them, then on the chair opposite him, then he took his tea cup and turned to the fire.

There he sat looking into the hearth, his hands encircled around the mild golden tea, when he saw Edgeworth return silently from the corner of his eye. Edgeworth stood at the entrance of the room without his jabot, and instead his left hand covering the base of his neck and fingers covering the right side of his lower neck, and the arm crossed over his chest. The immortal looked paler than usual, a little frightened, and like he had made a decision.

"Wright. There is…" He paused to get his voice back from the whisper it had descended to. "Wright, there is something about me that I think you should know. I believe we are friends, after all, and I suppose that friends should expect to know about things that are significant about each others' lives, things that shaped their lives." He looked to the fire, the ceiling, the priceless art on the walls, anywhere but to his friend standing silhouetted by the fireplace.

"I agree," said Phoenix, soft and neutral. "If there is something you think is important for me to know, then please. I would be honored know I am considered so trusted by you."

"Mmm. Well." Edgeworth cleared his throat.

Phoenix stepped back closer to the fireplace, inviting him to come closer.

His eyes darted to the time traveler, and away, and he did not move. "This… what I have… what I would show you is not… pleasant. I'm afraid it's perhaps… gruesome. From that you will understand why I reacted as I did when-- at the prospect of removing my jabot before you. And from that I will also extend my understanding if you do not want to… see it."

"Thank you, Edgeworth." The immortal swallowed tightly as he heard his name. "It was good of you to tell me what I would need to know to decide. But I would like to know what this is, if you still feel comfortable telling me." Again, Phoenix gestured for Edgeworth to come closer to the fireplace.

This time, Edgeworth crossed the room, moving as unconsciously as if sleepwalking. All his attention was burning on the clock on the mantelpiece. Phoenix led him by nonverbal suggestion past the chairs and to stand next to the hearth.

Once he stood in its light, there was nowhere else his gaze could escape to. He looked to Phoenix, who bore the intense emotions in his eyes like a weight hitting his chest.

"Are you faint of stomach?" asked Edgeworth.

Phoenix shook his head slowly. "Not especially."

"What is under my hand and arm is a scar," said Edgeworth, speaking slowly. "Sometimes, even I cannot look at it, and I keep it covered at all times. Would you still like to see?"

Phoenix nodded, and Edgeworth lifted his left arm away. As he'd said, there was a long, twisted line raised from his skin, pinkish-brown, which trailed from a little up the right side of his neck and down across its base to his chest, and disappeared into his shirt. Phoenix's vision went white around the edges, and he took a deep breath.

Edgeworth covered the scar again. "Are you all right, Wright?"

"Yes, I'm fine." He closed his eyes and breathed again. When he opened them, Miles was looking back at him with an awful tangle of emotions. The only response Phoenix could give was to lay a hand gently on Edgeworth's left shoulder. "What was it? What happened?"

"I received it under mysterious circumstances in my childhood. I do not remember much about it, but I do remember the sword and, of course, the pain and... blood, before I fainted." Under his hand, Phoenix could feel him beginning to shake.

"It's okay," said Phoenix, and went closer to put his other hand on the other shoulder, the one beneath the scar.

Edgeworth made a small step forward to Phoenix, and let him embrace around his folded-up arm. The immortal didn't shake more, but Phoenix could feel it clearly as he rested against him. Phoenix circled his arms all the way around Edgeworth and held him gently, not wanting to hurt his arm or the scar it covered, pressing him as close as he dared.

Edgeworth did not let the embrace last long, though, and pulled away after a few breaths. "It… I'm… " he stammered.

"Edgeworth, it's all right. It's important to you. May I see it again?" asked Phoenix.

He inhaled sharply. "Again? Why on earth would…" The tension in his body stopped his throat.

"It's all right. Now that I know, I'd just like to see it again."

Slightly disbelieving, Edgeworth uncovered the scar again, watching Phoenix's face.

"I'm sorry, but, may I touch it?"

Edgeworth stared at him, his incredulity less subtle this time. "Wright."

"I'm simply curious. I don't have to, I understand if it's uncomfortable."

Edgeworth shook his head slightly, then took one of Phoenix's hands. Despite himself, Phoenix flushed. "Only if like this," said Edgeworth, guiding Phoenix's hand up protected in his, in case he wanted him to pull away.

Phoenix nodded, and with the pale hand holding his, brushed the back of a finger across the scar at the base of the neck.

"That didn't hurt, right?"

"No. This scar is many decades old."

"I see." His fingertips came back to touch the scar lightly, and then again to run a small ways along it.

Phoenix was aware of Miles staring into his face while he looked at the scar he was touching.

Phoenix looked up, and saw how close they were. He turned his hand in Miles' so that he was holding it.

"There's something else," said Phoenix.

"What is it?"

"May I kiss your cheek?"

Miles went a little paler, and stared. Then, he nodded. Phoenix gave him a featherweight kiss beside the mouth.

When he looked at Miles again, his grey eyes were wide, and nearly blank. Then, he looked to the clock on the mantle, and back, and ever so tiny, a smile appeared in them. Then, he nodded again.

Phoenix kissed him on the same side of the mouth. Miles nodded again.

Phoenix brought in his hand to kiss the back of it. Miles nodded again.

Phoenix let his hand down and hugged Miles close. Miles held him closer too, and Phoenix felt his next nod slide on the side of his head. Phoenix gently pressed his lips against Miles' neck, then against the beginning of his scar.

When Miles nodded, Phoenix squeezed him gently, and let go.

Miles wouldn't let go, and stared into his eyes as a flush began to wash over his face. Seeing it made Phoenix flush too.

"Wright."

"Edgeworth…"

The fire crackled beside them.

"I suppose I should be… I think I need to return to my time now," said Phoenix. Miles reluctantly released him, his hands lingering, the scar visible in the fire's light. "Thank you, Edgeworth. I'm- I'm lucky to know someone like you."

"I…" Miles began hoarsely. "I feel the same."

"I will be back. You know me," said Phoenix, a playful smile beginning to appear. "I'll be back."

This seemed to begin to wake Edgeworth from his pleasant stupor. "I know. Ah, until then."

"'Bye."

"Goodbye."

The strings appeared around the time traveler, and he vanished. Edgeworth stood staring at the spot, unconsciously feeling along his scar where Phoenix had touched.

#fanfic #narumitsu #even a year ago i would have never ever imagined i would be writing #fanfic for someone's fanfic and having a great time??? well here we are #scars #brief violence mention #au #friends #i spent all day on my day off writing this and i have 0.00 regrets #they are soft and i cant stop writing about it im sorry

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