magic_act: (wow! it's like you have a real job!)
[personal profile] magic_act
[there's a sizable crowd at the Wonderbar tonight. Trucy has just wowed them with her latest trick, which involved turning a pair of bunny slippers into actual, live bunnies, using the magic of her famous panties. as the show draws to a close, she takes the stage for one last trick]

Alright, ladies and gentlemen! For my final act, I'm going to need an assistant! Are there any volunteers?

[she makes a show of scanning the tables, looking for that perfect someone]
magic_act: (professional magician and CEO of the WAA)
[personal profile] magic_act
Trucy takes a final bow, having just completed an encore performance. (She had returned to the stage, declaring that her magic panties had gone missing, and a random audience member was selected to help her find them. She'd handed him her hat, from which he pulled all manner of object that had no business fitting in such a small space, yet not one was the item in question. Next had been her cape. It appeared to hide nothing, including the wooden man dubbed Mr. Hat, who had made an appearance earlier, or the elusive panties. Ultimately, Trucy had found them herself, hidden deep within the pocket of her red-faced volunteer, much to the delighted cheer of the audience.)

The crowd cheers anew, as Trucy disappears from the stage in an explosion of confetti. They continue to cheer well after she's backstage, packing her things to head home for the night, satisfied with another job well done.

Satisfied... and a little sad. It's not really home she's returning to, after all.

While she'd done her best to make a life for herself in this strange place, she still feels the absence of her dad very keenly. Time heals many wounds, of course. Most days, she's fine, and the days she isn't, she pushes herself onward with thoughts of what Daddy would say.

Buck up, kiddo. She smiles to herself, hearing his voice in her head. When life hands you lemons, you make lemon meringue! (The original saying had been altered at her insistence, since she hated lemonade.)

Realizing the noise from the audience has died down and that she's been staring into her prop bag for far too long, she snaps herself out of her funk, zips the bag closed, and slings it over her shoulder. It's late, and Uncle Miles will start to worry if she doesn't get back soon. She heads out the backdoor, making sure it's locked behind her, and begins the short trek home through the backstreets.
magic_act: (come on polly! we got this!)
[personal profile] magic_act
[hope you aren't in the middle of anything important, Edgeworth, because there's an insistent knock on your door]
dcupsofjustice: Mia Fey, smiling at the viewer. ([o] d cups full of justice)
[personal profile] dcupsofjustice
Who: Edgeworth, Mia
What: DDD-inspired. During a virus, the community decides to bring Mia back for a few days--and drops her in Edgeworth's apartment
Where: Los Angeles, CA - Edgeworth's apartment
When: A good while after Phoenix and Edgeworth got together in DDD.
Warnings: None that I can think of! The silliness of the situation?

If Mia hadn't looked in on her friends and family from time to time, she might have been alarmed by her current surroundings: the kitchen of a gaudy apartment that she'd never seen in her life, being watched like a hawk by a dog she'd never met. The fact was, however, that she had been checking in on her friends, and she had seen enough to know that this was Edgeworth's apartment, that the dog giving her the stink eye belonged to him, and that her reason for being here now was likely due to the strange "community" that occupied most of Phoenix's time these days.

From behind a cup of freshly steeped tea, she smiled at Sigi. Phoenix. Maya... It had been a while. Too long, in fact.

She sat, waiting.
samuraiprosecutor: (Dear God...)
[personal profile] samuraiprosecutor
Who: Edgeworth, Tomoe Mami
What: Miles Edgeworth chose death, then something inhuman chose death for him. This time it won't be Phoenix Wright who comes to his rescue.
Where: Paris, France
When: Post case 1:5
Warnings: Attempted suicide

[his suicide note had been sincere. the Miles Edgeworth that left Los Angeles couldn't be allowed to survive. he would come back a new man...or he wouldn't come back.]

[for a while his resolve seemed to hold. he fled to Paris and buried himself in the comfort of the great city's libraries, surrounding himself with the touchstones that had once provided so much guidance. but the more he immersed himself in the world's greatest works on philosophy and social justice, the less meaning they held for him. he struggled to reconcile their contents with the tortuous reality he had lived, struggled to tear down everything he thought he knew, hoping against fear that he would find buried underneath it all something true; something right. he fought for it, forsaking his physical needs with the same frenzied, obsessive energy he once devoted to trials, now focused tenfold on destroying himself.]

[in the end, he failed. in the end, he found himself on the Eiffel Tower, leaning far over the railing and looking down on the glistening city he loved so dearly. the buffeting wind brought moisture to his eyes and a gruff, mocking whisper to his ears. somewhere, someone was laughing, the sound high and cruel. he shuddered as he slowly climbed over the railing to perch precariously on the wrong side. numb fingers gripped cold metal. Edgeworth leaned forward and looked down.]
[identity profile]
Who: Gamzee, Tavros
What: Voice testing for [ profile] ilpromenade!
Where: On the computer :x
When: Whenever
Warnings: None.


-- terminallyCapricious [TC] began trolling adiosToreador [AT] --

HeY, bRo. WhAt'S a MoThErFuCkEr AlL uP tO?
tobeproud: (please don't drop the cake)
[personal profile] tobeproud
Who: Quatre Raberba Winner, Miles Edgeworth
Warnings: LAZINESS




A boy of about 16 approaches the buffet table!]
[identity profile]
Who: Methos, Rachel
What: A random meeting, different worlds and time periods be damned. Mostly an excuse to test out the muses.
Where: Some bar somewhere, circa I don't know. 8D
When: Mid-evening
Warnings: None

[The bar is dark and small. There are barely enough people in it to make the evening worthwhile for either the neatly dressed bartender or the singer crooning old standards from the miniature stage in the corner.]

[Methos surveys the clientele briefly before slipping his lanky form into a booth in the back, one whose tall cushions ensure that his back is guarded. He nods to the bartender; there’s no response, but a few moments later a girl appears from the back and comes over to take his order. She smiles, he smiles back, languidly, crookedly, and the process of taking down a drink order somehow takes several minutes.]

[She returns a short while later, carrying a frosty glass topped with a head of foam and a slip of paper with numbers jotted down. Once she’s gone he sits alone, sipping his Guinness and listening to the singer’s sultry voice, and keeping a discreet eye on the entrance.]
[identity profile]
Rachel had become accustomed to the dangers that involved working as an information broker, especially having spent so much time watching the mafia. Bloodshed and death weren't uncommon occurrences, and tonight, as she sat in on a Gandor party in a downtown hotel, was no exception.

The minute the ballroom doors burst open, Rachel had slunk out onto the balcony and perched on the ledge. There she remained, poised and ready to climb the side of the building if she needed to, listening to the commotion inside.


Aug. 31st, 2009 08:42 pm
samuraiprosecutor: (Default)
[personal profile] samuraiprosecutor
Who: Miles Edgeworth, Sokka
What: The community decides Edgeworth could use a short vacation.
Where: Avatar-verse
When: Random date, pre-The Library episode of Avatar: the Last Airbender.

Since Edgeworth joined the community, waking up in strange locations (or strange company) had become an all too common occurrence. The last two times he’d suddenly found himself in a forest had resulted in a (recurring) case of Typhoid and a short, terrifying stay on Jurassic Park, so it's with a healthy measure of trepidation that he pushes himself into a sitting position and stares around the moonlit campsite he’d been dropped into, struggling to make out details in the limited light.
magicalhalfpint: (can we please!?)
[personal profile] magicalhalfpint
[swings the door open]

Welcome to the Wright Talent Agency!