boxolawyers | (no subject)

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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[After a nod of thanks, she listens to what he has to say and then responds, simply:]

It was a witch.

[He looks at her as if he thinks she’s mad. If he hadn’t witnessed that whole scene for himself, he would think she was mad.] That didn’t resemble any witch I’ve ever heard of.

[nods again] As I said, it's a bit difficult to explain. Normally, people lose consciousness or deem the experience a hallucination, but it is a matter of fact: she was a witch, and you were being influenced by her curse. It's my duty to stop such things.

[There's a beat before Edgeworth shuts his eyes and leans back in his seat, grimaces and rubs his forehead.] You know how ridiculous that sounds, correct? Beyond the obvious, you don't look like... You're a child. Studying should be your duty, not fighting, for God's sake.

[She watches him for a moment, and then a smile that's beyond her years graces her features, soft and somewhat sad, yet appreciative of his concern.]

It's the choice I made. [and then, with a chuckle, the look is gone] Studying is still a duty, though balancing the two can be difficult, at times...

[The server returns with the pot of Darjeeling and sets it in the center of the table. Mami gives her thanks in French--one of the few things she knows how to say--and then begins pouring tea, first for her companion and then for herself.]

[She beats him to the punch, leaving him with nothing to do but watch as she gracefully serves not just herself but him as well. The awkwardness of this meeting settles in on him, punctuated by the lingering ache left by her smile.]

[After a long pause, he speaks, his tone much more subdued.] Is your guardian aware of your…extracurricular activities?

I live alone. [She blows on her tea and then takes a small, careful sip.]

[The announcement doesn’t surprise him much. There’s something about her, a maturity that he’s seen often enough in other children (and, in times past, in the mirror) to recognize. It’s clear she’s carrying more than her share of responsibility, but he had hoped that was the result of the bizarre work she was apparently doing, not… Bearing aside, she doesn’t look old enough to be on her own, even under normal circumstances. He takes a sip of his tea as he mulls it over.]

You aren’t a local?

Oh no. My class is taking a cultural tour of Europe.

[He heaves a sigh and leans forward, eyes downcast and elbows resting on the table.] And you just happened to stumble across that little scene.

[She studies him for a moment, taking another sip of tea. It’s obvious this man is troubled beyond a witch’s curse; he’s defensive and closed off, only asking questions and actively avoiding Mami’s offers of comfort. Furthermore, he doesn’t seem surprised or disturbed by the fact that she found him in such a dangerous position. Perhaps it had been his intention…]

[She rests her cup in its saucer and asks him, concernedly:]

How are you feeling now?

[He glances up sharply at the question, giving her a cagey look from behind the rapidly cooling tea cup.] Well as can be expected after such a fiasco.

[He takes another sip of his tea. He sounds calmer when he speaks again, but won’t meet her eyes.] I’m confused, of course…and not entirely convinced that whole thing wasn’t some elaborate hallucination.

But wouldn't that make this conversation a hallucination, as well?

[Cocks an eyebrow at her.] Or a lie to support it.

[After a beat, he shrugs and drops his gaze to his cup again.] But if that’s the case I don’t know what it’s meant to accomplish. None of this makes any sense.

No... No, I know it doesn't.

[She drops her gaze to her cup, as well, staring at its contents while she continues:]

I promise I have no reason to lie to you. There’s nothing to gain by trying to convince you what did or didn't happen, but.... [looks up] ...but whatever it was, perhaps it was only meant to keep you from making a mistake.

[For a moment he looks as if he’s been struck, grimaces then shoots her a steely glare. His voice goes cold.] My mistakes are mine to make. I don’t need a child passing judgment on them.

[She seems genuinely surprised by his ire for a moment, but the look is soon replaced by a melancholy smile.]

...You're right, of course. I apologize. It's not my intention to pass judgment. [reaches for her tea again] I don't like watching people hurt.

[If he needed any other evidence that she was not a normal girl, that calm reaction would have been it. Some part of him shrinks from the understanding he sees in her smile. He wants to deny it, tell her she was mistaking his intentions when she found him on the Tower.]

[He can’t lie again. Not after everything his lies and half-truths have done all these years. There’s a familiar pang in his chest. Afraid that it might be reflected on his face, he drops his gaze to the ground and starts to reach for his wallet, preparing to drop a few bills on the table and flee the scene.]

[coolly] Then perhaps we should cut this short.