darkageofthelol: (You really are a piece of work.)
[personal profile] darkageofthelol
Initiating neural handshake in 30 seconds. 29... 28... 27...

[They must be desperate, Phoenix thinks as he glances sidelong at Klavier. This is the third time they've thrown the pair together since learning they were drift compatible. (And boy, wasn't that a surprise, not least of all to Phoenix and Klavier themselves. Phoenix recalls their first sparring session, which he assumed would end in disaster, or at least mutual frustration. Instead, it ended in mutual bewilderment. The only other times Phoenix had been able to not only predict someone's every move with such accuracy but have his actions anticipated in equal measure were his training sessions with Edgeworth, who'd since climbed the ranks to Marshall.)

With two failed attempts under their belts, one would think the field division would be focusing its attention on pilots who at least get along, thus ensuring a chance at completing a neural handshake.

The fact is, though, they are desperate, and everyone knows it. The last battle came at a high cost, killing two and injuring several more. It would be ridiculous not to exhaust every resource, even at the risk of a third failure.

23... 22.... 21...

Phoenix lets out a lengthy sigh and turns to Klavier with a resigned smile.]

So... Here we are again.
attorneyatlol: (care bear staaaare)
[personal profile] attorneyatlol
Who: Phoenix Wright, Miles Edgeworth
What: Non-canon AU; Edgeworth mourns the loss of his friend, Phoenix Wright, who died several weeks ago. (OR DID HE?)
Where: Edgeworth's home, deep in the south
When: Night time, late 19th Century

- - -

Phoenix was well aware that he shouldn't be there. He'd been told several times--warned, even--to forget the life he'd had before, that even if he sought the people who once knew him, nothing would or could ever be the same. What they didn't understand, however, was that Miles Edgeworth was not a man one could so easily forget.

It started three nights ago. Phoenix had stood outside the other man's window, trying to drum up the courage to face him, even at the risk of being reviled, possibly pursued. Such a gamble, he reasoned, was as much for Edgeworth's benefit as Phoenix's own, selfish desire to see his old friend again. Edgeworth had had one too many people unexpectedly ripped from his life with little to no closure; Phoenix decided he would not be another.

So it was now, on the fourth night, that the once defense attorney stood outside Edgworth's window, staring at the drawn curtains on the other side of the glass. He didn't know if the window was locked, and he didn't intend to find out through any underhanded means. Instead, he lifted his hand and knocked four times at a very practiced, specific tempo. Hopefully, Edgeworth would remember the code from their younger days.