Miles Edgeworth (
cantacquityou) wrote in
paradisa2012-02-11 11:19 pm
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[Backdated to around midnight. Action]
[It was after midnight. Edgeworth was clad in a pair of deep-red pajamas, placidly enjoying a cup of tea in his kitchen, alternating between reading a chapter of the Steel Samurai manga, playing a digital game of chess, and idly researching comparisons between alternative medical treatments and conventional methods of medical practice of certain maladies on his tablet, when the Valentine's Day decor suddenly exploded into being all at once
Symphony No. 8 in B minor 'Unvollendete' by Schubert, he doesn't notice the sudden change in decor until he looks up moments later.
He sighs. Another one of the castle's shenanigans, no doubt. He takes a few moments to check the Paradisa feed and notes that everyone else seemed to have the same 'problem,' so he realizes that it's probably unnecessary to make a castle-wide post inquiring about it.
He rises from the stool that he was sitting on, and walks about, surveying the place. As he descends the stairs towards his bedroom, his head turned upwards, studying the gaudy bedizenment of every nook and cranny of the place, he is certainly not prepared for the other part of the castle's surprise...
He is, needless to say, very startled to find Phoenix Wright standing near the foot of his bed. His body tenses in fright upon seeing the unexpected visitor in his room, nearing dropping the tablet in hand. He begins to exhibit an array of speechless gestures of aggravation, including face!palming, clenching his fist and such, before he yells:]
...What the hell are you doing here?!
[/Edit: Room now looks something like this: Bed, Ceiling, Kitchen, and various elements from these rooms. And when the lights are off, the walls of the room glows like this, this, and this. Others: Couch, Toilet, Misc1, Misc2, Misc3.]
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...it just hurts, for some stupid reason, that I can't ever seem to help you. I want--
["to make you happy" sounds too
gayweird in his mind, so he pauses]--I should stop being so emotionally invested in the happiness of my friends, but I can't change that about myself. I'm also positive you don't tell me the truth, ever, about what you're feeling, so I have to make these wild stabs in the dark about how to try to fix it.
[He's babbling now. Really quickly.]
You know how I am, right? I mean, you know that I can't just let it go when I see someone who could use my help. And I don't believe you when you say you don't need me--my help. You're my friend, after all.
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...And as my friend, I hope you realize that I am not very adept at expressing certain sentiments, and for the most part, I'd prefer not to. I find it easier to process such things on my own. Perhaps I derive a sort of morbid comfort from keeping such things to myself...But I believe that in the past, I have told you enough for you to understand... I trust no one.
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[sigh]
I know. You're my polar opposite as far as emotions are concerned. I just want so much to help you feel better when you're obviously sad. I don't think bottling everything up makes you feel very good at all... but if you really do want me to leave you alone, I'll... make more of an effort to do that in the future.
When we aren't trapped in a room together.
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I am going to present to you a hypothetical situation.
Let's say you have ...[he thinks for a moment]...a vase. You have something very precious in that vase. Sand, perhaps. [he gestures as he speaks]
...And let us say that this sand represents your life-force.
Now, you gather all of that sand into your vase. You guard this vase unflinchingly, and yet...at some point, this vase breaks. Someone comes along, when you least expect it, and breaks your vase. Of course, as a result, some of this sand is lost in the process. Some of it blows away, some swept into some unreachable crevasse. Obviously, since it's your life-force, this causes you immeasurable agony. You gather whatever remaining sand you are able, and trustingly transplant into a new vase. This time, you select an even sturdier vase, and place a great deal of faith in it. Sure enough, someone comes along and finds a way to break it again. Over time, this happens repeatedly until you are left with the faintest amount of sand you can salvage from the the cracks of the floorboard.
What would you do? Would you dare risk placing your last bit of sand into a new vase, knowing very well that it may break again? Or would you clutch onto it, in your fist, for dear life?
...It is not the perfect metaphor, but perhaps it might give you a better understanding...
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...I'd put the last bit of sand in another vase, because that seems like it'd stand a better chance than my fist! After all, the tighter you hold sand in your fist, the more likely it is to spill through the gaps anyway. [GRIN. It was a nice effort, Edgey.]
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/waves! =D
HI I MISSED YOU xD
FO SRS
/REACHES FOR
REA-- WAIT, WHICH LIMB SHOULD I USE
ALL OF THEM
[He shrugs.]
I don't plan to give you a reason to stop, you know.
/CLINGS TO YOUR FACE./ I'M A HEADCRAB
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...I could never begin to tell you how much you terrified me the day you flew off that windowsill. Let's not forget to mention the bridge...
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I said it before, Edgeworth--you're not getting rid of me.
/had to renew paid icons. Psh.
Bounce as you please, Wright, but please refrain from traumatizing me in the process.
/needs to be doing some of that soon
Just... maybe you'll believe me someday. I'm not leaving, I'm not giving up on you, you can't get rid of me, and I like you. I'll keep repeating all that as long as I have to.
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is your AIM still broken forever D;
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yes. this icon.
LOLWUT
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this time it's the right icon ;D
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/internet fail
NO, COME HOME /MORE REACHING xDDD
Dx My arms are not long enough!
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WTF PHONE
I DIED OF LOL
Stupid swype
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