Obstacles and Demons
Sep. 7th, 2017 11:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Main Points:
Ace Attorney AU
Chapter Summary: Klavier runs into some uninformed knights and a demon he used to know.
Word Count: 999
Rating: K
Note: Apollo Justice spoilers. Probably spoilers for the rest of the series, too.
Now here he is, with potentially competing loyalties. Kristoph, yanking his chain, preventing him from thinking about, talking about so many things. The illusion of freedom, but not the reality. Nothing like the reality. With his weapons again, which whisper to him of blood, of pain, anticipated, welcomed, which makes it that much easier to slip into his fighting instincts, and yet, that is something he cannot—must not—do. Not if he is to complete his primary objective, which is to keep Thalassa’s son alive, unharmed.
He misses the music that thrummed through his veins, through his soul. If asked, he would have said he could not have lived without it. Here he is, and, well, he still exists at the very least, even if he feels hollow, unbalanced, a parody of the man he’d been.
Now it’s just the violence, calling his name, haunting him. He can feel the wings in the back of his head, begging to be allowed free, but it would draw the bad kind of attention and it would hurt, thanks to Kristoph’s spell. Not that he doesn’t have extremely high pain tolerance, higher than any human, but it’s a last resort.
The music would probably make him feel normal again, which is probably why he can’t sing.
The reminder that he’d be here, anyway, without Kristoph’s intervention, that he has to follow the sorceror’s every whim, that he can’t actually answer any questions, that he can’t talk normally to any of the people he knew beforehand…it raises his hackles. It makes him pout, makes him angry.
He sleeps on the floor in the room they’re given, insisting Apollo sleeps in the bed. He’s used to pain, and it’s enough to remind him of his place in things.
Still, he’s enjoying teasing the prince, and it’s harmless enough so he allows himself this little diversion as he eats breakfast.
“Hold it right there, pal, we’re bringing you in.”
Klavier sighs. Apollo’s in the room repacking the bags for the horses, which means that this is likely some sort of distraction to keep him out of the way while the Crown Prince is taken. He stares moodily into his drink. The fact of the matter is, he likes Gumshoe and doesn’t want to hurt the man. What he lacks in everything else, the Knight makes up for in loyalty, which is a rare commodity these days.
There were…others…who specialized in more subtle measures. Klavier had never been one of them, other than his music, and that’s out of the picture. In general, he’d always been straightforward during combat, despite how he’d play around in a fight. It would be hard to keep them alive.
And—Scheiße—why would the city guard be sent to capture him when he was on Kristoph’s little errand? Why wouldn’t they have been sent to escort Apollo in his place? He spares a thought for backstabbing traitors and glances up. “I don’t suppose you have talked to Kristoph lately.”
“Are you confessing to having killed him?” Gumshoe yells, and for a moment Klavier feels rage, hope, sadness as he concentrates, reaches, but no, his leash remains as potent as ever. It’s just the Knight jumping to conclusions as usual.
Fortunately, a lot of the patrons seem to be getting the hint that they shouldn’t be here, considering how loud the Knights are being about their work, and are leaving or have left. That’ll make this battle easier.
“Nein, but then, it is not as if you would take any word from my mouth as the truth, would you?” In one smooth motion he stands, knocks one Knight through a wall, armor and all, knocking the man out. He picks up the stool on which he’s sitting and hurls it at another, who falls. Hopefully, he’s only gotten concussion and not died.
Gumshoe’s sword goes through his arm, filling his nostrils with the scent of blood, and it’s all he can do to hold his Song of Lightning back. He twists, pulling the sword out of the man’s hands. He doesn’t have the time to waste in this, so, silent, angry, he runs.
Another Knight’s axe chops at the back of his leg, so he stumbles, but he continues to run upstairs rather than for the door, faster than a human being could ever be. He thanks everything he knows that the Knights had nothing targeted directly at devils.
When he reaches the room, he sees a scene that freezes his blood—the disguised royalty, snoring, and a certain red-haired temptress standing above, playing with Apollo’s unruly strands of hair.
“You took your time, Undying One,” she states, mocking.
“Dahlia—if that is still the name you use, Siren.” He ignores the sword stuck in his arm, pulls out his own. It crackles with lightning, contained fury riding the winds, but he doesn’t make any sudden movements, aware she could easily slit the prince’s throat before he makes it to Apollo’s side. “There are Knights downstairs, mit which neither of us want to tangle and earn scrutiny of more dangerous forces, ja? Und I rather doubt you have a use for one such as Herr Stirn. Perhaps I could offer you something…more tempting?” He finishes his sentence and waits with as much patience as he can muster. The only sound in the room is the respective breathing, quiet accentuating the stalemate.
Ace Attorney AU
Chapter Summary: Klavier runs into some uninformed knights and a demon he used to know.
Word Count: 999
Rating: K
Note: Apollo Justice spoilers. Probably spoilers for the rest of the series, too.
It’s almost overwhelming, having something resembling freedom again. Klavier finds he can’t even think about certain subjects declared off-limits thanks to a bastard sorcerer. He alternatively terrifies and reassures his charge with his enthusiasm. The devil’s bloodlust had been easy enough to keep down, years ago, when he’d had fair targets, but now…now he feels half-insane. He would certainly not have described himself as a social creature, before, but years in a dungeon, not knowing what was happening to the House of the Sun, with only his most awful thoughts for company…the solitude certainly hadn’t done him any favors.
Now here he is, with potentially competing loyalties. Kristoph, yanking his chain, preventing him from thinking about, talking about so many things. The illusion of freedom, but not the reality. Nothing like the reality. With his weapons again, which whisper to him of blood, of pain, anticipated, welcomed, which makes it that much easier to slip into his fighting instincts, and yet, that is something he cannot—must not—do. Not if he is to complete his primary objective, which is to keep Thalassa’s son alive, unharmed.
He misses the music that thrummed through his veins, through his soul. If asked, he would have said he could not have lived without it. Here he is, and, well, he still exists at the very least, even if he feels hollow, unbalanced, a parody of the man he’d been.
Now it’s just the violence, calling his name, haunting him. He can feel the wings in the back of his head, begging to be allowed free, but it would draw the bad kind of attention and it would hurt, thanks to Kristoph’s spell. Not that he doesn’t have extremely high pain tolerance, higher than any human, but it’s a last resort.
The music would probably make him feel normal again, which is probably why he can’t sing.
The reminder that he’d be here, anyway, without Kristoph’s intervention, that he has to follow the sorceror’s every whim, that he can’t actually answer any questions, that he can’t talk normally to any of the people he knew beforehand…it raises his hackles. It makes him pout, makes him angry.
He sleeps on the floor in the room they’re given, insisting Apollo sleeps in the bed. He’s used to pain, and it’s enough to remind him of his place in things.
Still, he’s enjoying teasing the prince, and it’s harmless enough so he allows himself this little diversion as he eats breakfast.
“Hold it right there, pal, we’re bringing you in.”
Klavier sighs. Apollo’s in the room repacking the bags for the horses, which means that this is likely some sort of distraction to keep him out of the way while the Crown Prince is taken. He stares moodily into his drink. The fact of the matter is, he likes Gumshoe and doesn’t want to hurt the man. What he lacks in everything else, the Knight makes up for in loyalty, which is a rare commodity these days.
There were…others…who specialized in more subtle measures. Klavier had never been one of them, other than his music, and that’s out of the picture. In general, he’d always been straightforward during combat, despite how he’d play around in a fight. It would be hard to keep them alive.
And—Scheiße—why would the city guard be sent to capture him when he was on Kristoph’s little errand? Why wouldn’t they have been sent to escort Apollo in his place? He spares a thought for backstabbing traitors and glances up. “I don’t suppose you have talked to Kristoph lately.”
“Are you confessing to having killed him?” Gumshoe yells, and for a moment Klavier feels rage, hope, sadness as he concentrates, reaches, but no, his leash remains as potent as ever. It’s just the Knight jumping to conclusions as usual.
Fortunately, a lot of the patrons seem to be getting the hint that they shouldn’t be here, considering how loud the Knights are being about their work, and are leaving or have left. That’ll make this battle easier.
“Nein, but then, it is not as if you would take any word from my mouth as the truth, would you?” In one smooth motion he stands, knocks one Knight through a wall, armor and all, knocking the man out. He picks up the stool on which he’s sitting and hurls it at another, who falls. Hopefully, he’s only gotten concussion and not died.
Gumshoe’s sword goes through his arm, filling his nostrils with the scent of blood, and it’s all he can do to hold his Song of Lightning back. He twists, pulling the sword out of the man’s hands. He doesn’t have the time to waste in this, so, silent, angry, he runs.
Another Knight’s axe chops at the back of his leg, so he stumbles, but he continues to run upstairs rather than for the door, faster than a human being could ever be. He thanks everything he knows that the Knights had nothing targeted directly at devils.
When he reaches the room, he sees a scene that freezes his blood—the disguised royalty, snoring, and a certain red-haired temptress standing above, playing with Apollo’s unruly strands of hair.
“You took your time, Undying One,” she states, mocking.
“Dahlia—if that is still the name you use, Siren.” He ignores the sword stuck in his arm, pulls out his own. It crackles with lightning, contained fury riding the winds, but he doesn’t make any sudden movements, aware she could easily slit the prince’s throat before he makes it to Apollo’s side. “There are Knights downstairs, mit which neither of us want to tangle and earn scrutiny of more dangerous forces, ja? Und I rather doubt you have a use for one such as Herr Stirn. Perhaps I could offer you something…more tempting?” He finishes his sentence and waits with as much patience as he can muster. The only sound in the room is the respective breathing, quiet accentuating the stalemate.