Never Brought to Mind
Dec. 31st, 2020 03:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerI just created Alice Well, and already I love her. Secretaries and butlers are awesome.
also i am running late and need to start making food and am late on everything and still felt the need to write this today rather than posting something prewritten.
also the fact that this is the year Dual Destinies takes place...now it makes sense, of course the Dark Age of the Law would happen in 2020
Main Points:
Ace Attorney universe optional, kind of angsty to begin with but it ends on a high note
Summary: Klavier's probably depressed.
Word Count: 1098
Rating: Gen
Notes: Follows off In the Wake, though you don't need to read that to understand this.
It had been a relief, coming to America. There, the schoolchildren had been in awe about his foreign name and not wondered if his parents had hated him (they had, he knew that now, but it was miserable enough trying to defend himself from the hateful words with little to no conviction). There, his Bruder he believed had loved him was his guardian, not his Eltern, with disapproval and frosty words. Only it turned out that this brother’s approval was just as conditional.
He was at work because at least it might be a distraction. His own solo projects were going well enough, but he couldn’t muster up the energy today, and anyway, he could write at the office, if he could find any motivation. It’s not like crime took a break, after all—some of the most famous legal cases happened during the holidays.
Alice’s sad smile is sympathetic, but she doesn’t try to flirt, which is a refreshing change and one of the reasons his smile is always genuine when he greets her. She listens to the Gavinners, but she’s not one of his crazy fans—she only started listening when he became a prosecutor at the office, and she doesn’t treat him like a rock star but asks him about the lyrics or a particular chord choice. She’s the consummate professional in everything, he’s noticed, stocking Edgeworth’s office with his favorite teas during December and feeding Taka when most others fear to get close to the bird. She’s even cooly respectful to the Paynes, which takes superhuman restraint.
She gives him a bar of imported chocolate, which he knows is both intended for real hot chocolate and is a personal sacrifice. He appreciates it. At least his morning’s looking up, just a little. He gets an ounce of comfort from the indulgence, and while it’s a sweet relief, it’s not nearly enough to bring him the respite he so desperately craves.
He’s restless and unproductive, and desperately wants to complete even the most mundane task, but can’t find the motivation for any of it. The paperwork would be the best bet, but even that is dull, even paired with some of his favorite tunes. At last, he decides on a nap (he is, after all, exhausted and can barely keep up with his own thoughts), but he merely has to close his eyes in his comfortable chair he’d had personally delivered and installed, rather than the standard office furniture and he sees the disapproving face of his monster of a Bruder, dangling approval out of reach once more. He’s a failure, still. He’s too poor of a prosecutor, of a musician, to achieve all he so desires. Even shifting to a more comfortable position doesn’t make the specter of his faults vanish, doesn’t calm his restless, noisy mind.
He almost shouts, one of the times he opens his eyes, frustrated by his latest abandoned attempt to find Apollo’s face far too close to his own, bent over him and probably within the mental calculations of how best to wake him. “I thought you were asleep.” It’s probably as sheepish as he could expect, given that the lawyer doesn’t like to show vulnerability or weakness, but his antenna still droop, just a little, and why would they not? Who wants to be the big bad wolf scaring others, after all?
“Sorry,” he mutters in apology, trying his best to put the cool, rockstar exterior back in its place.
“At least I didn’t use my Chords of Steel?” Apollo tries, appearing pleased at the slight smile he obtains in response. The lawyer doesn’t grin; he just puffs up and exhudes an air of being smug. It’s strangely endearing.
“I know you’re not my assistant anymore, but I’ve got some papers I need to file with the Prosecutor’s Office, and I figured you’d know better than me how this needs to go. I don’t have much practice with these forms. I tried Mr. Wright, but he was just about as helpful as usual.” Klavier suspects the man finds Apollo far too amusing, but then, the veteran lawyer is not alone in that assessment.
“Alice put you up to this, didn’t she?” He’d have to return the favor. “Though I’ll warn you, Herr Justice, I won’t be much company, today.”
Apollo doesn’t look put off at all. “Eh, I’m making a habit of saving you from your düstere Stimmung, ja?”
Klavier can only stare in disbelief. He’d thought if Apollo ever tried, the accent alone would make him cringe, but while the pronunciation is careful, it’s correct. If anything, Apollo puffs up even more. If he were a peacock, he’d have full feathers on display, proud and beautiful.
“I get told I’m no fun a lot, so we can be no fun together. I’m not much of one for New Year’s parties anyway.” He makes it sound so easy, but it’s hardly simple.
“Danke, to you and your forehead.” The tease is weak, but he’s trying, probably in multiple senses of the word, judging by the eyeroll in response.
“You’re making it sound like you only love me for my forehead, and I told you, I’m not one of your Fräuleins.”
“According to Frau Von Karma, I shouldn’t use the term.” It’s a non sequitir, probably, and Apollo looks confused, but if he’s lucky she’ll teach him all the ways his language lessons with Kristoph had been just another tool of control. “But nein, not in multiple senses. Und this is a good thing.”
Apollo grins this time, but he looks a little touched, which was the point. “Keep being you, too. And help me—what are they looking for here, anyway?”
If Kristoph were here, he’d say that Apollo only wants to use him. That everyone wants something from him. That’s true enough; Apollo’s a good lawyer and could figure this out eventually, but why do it on his own when he could do it with a friend? And why should Klavier refuse, when the things Apollo asks of him—to try to be fine, to be himself—are only selfish insofar as Justice seems to genuinely enjoy his company?
“I would like nothing better,” he agrees and graciously moves to one of the other chairs so Apollo can take the more comfortable one, and while the voices of the critics don’t disappear, they seem more distant, less urgent, and it’s a start.
also i am running late and need to start making food and am late on everything and still felt the need to write this today rather than posting something prewritten.
also the fact that this is the year Dual Destinies takes place...now it makes sense, of course the Dark Age of the Law would happen in 2020
Main Points:
Ace Attorney universe optional, kind of angsty to begin with but it ends on a high note
Summary: Klavier's probably depressed.
Word Count: 1098
Rating: Gen
Notes: Follows off In the Wake, though you don't need to read that to understand this.
It’s a bad day. That’s the only way to describe it. It’s not right, to describe it like that, but it’s how he feels anyway.
It had been a relief, coming to America. There, the schoolchildren had been in awe about his foreign name and not wondered if his parents had hated him (they had, he knew that now, but it was miserable enough trying to defend himself from the hateful words with little to no conviction). There, his Bruder he believed had loved him was his guardian, not his Eltern, with disapproval and frosty words. Only it turned out that this brother’s approval was just as conditional.
He was at work because at least it might be a distraction. His own solo projects were going well enough, but he couldn’t muster up the energy today, and anyway, he could write at the office, if he could find any motivation. It’s not like crime took a break, after all—some of the most famous legal cases happened during the holidays.
Alice’s sad smile is sympathetic, but she doesn’t try to flirt, which is a refreshing change and one of the reasons his smile is always genuine when he greets her. She listens to the Gavinners, but she’s not one of his crazy fans—she only started listening when he became a prosecutor at the office, and she doesn’t treat him like a rock star but asks him about the lyrics or a particular chord choice. She’s the consummate professional in everything, he’s noticed, stocking Edgeworth’s office with his favorite teas during December and feeding Taka when most others fear to get close to the bird. She’s even cooly respectful to the Paynes, which takes superhuman restraint.
She gives him a bar of imported chocolate, which he knows is both intended for real hot chocolate and is a personal sacrifice. He appreciates it. At least his morning’s looking up, just a little. He gets an ounce of comfort from the indulgence, and while it’s a sweet relief, it’s not nearly enough to bring him the respite he so desperately craves.
He’s restless and unproductive, and desperately wants to complete even the most mundane task, but can’t find the motivation for any of it. The paperwork would be the best bet, but even that is dull, even paired with some of his favorite tunes. At last, he decides on a nap (he is, after all, exhausted and can barely keep up with his own thoughts), but he merely has to close his eyes in his comfortable chair he’d had personally delivered and installed, rather than the standard office furniture and he sees the disapproving face of his monster of a Bruder, dangling approval out of reach once more. He’s a failure, still. He’s too poor of a prosecutor, of a musician, to achieve all he so desires. Even shifting to a more comfortable position doesn’t make the specter of his faults vanish, doesn’t calm his restless, noisy mind.
He almost shouts, one of the times he opens his eyes, frustrated by his latest abandoned attempt to find Apollo’s face far too close to his own, bent over him and probably within the mental calculations of how best to wake him. “I thought you were asleep.” It’s probably as sheepish as he could expect, given that the lawyer doesn’t like to show vulnerability or weakness, but his antenna still droop, just a little, and why would they not? Who wants to be the big bad wolf scaring others, after all?
“Sorry,” he mutters in apology, trying his best to put the cool, rockstar exterior back in its place.
“At least I didn’t use my Chords of Steel?” Apollo tries, appearing pleased at the slight smile he obtains in response. The lawyer doesn’t grin; he just puffs up and exhudes an air of being smug. It’s strangely endearing.
“I know you’re not my assistant anymore, but I’ve got some papers I need to file with the Prosecutor’s Office, and I figured you’d know better than me how this needs to go. I don’t have much practice with these forms. I tried Mr. Wright, but he was just about as helpful as usual.” Klavier suspects the man finds Apollo far too amusing, but then, the veteran lawyer is not alone in that assessment.
“Alice put you up to this, didn’t she?” He’d have to return the favor. “Though I’ll warn you, Herr Justice, I won’t be much company, today.”
Apollo doesn’t look put off at all. “Eh, I’m making a habit of saving you from your düstere Stimmung, ja?”
Klavier can only stare in disbelief. He’d thought if Apollo ever tried, the accent alone would make him cringe, but while the pronunciation is careful, it’s correct. If anything, Apollo puffs up even more. If he were a peacock, he’d have full feathers on display, proud and beautiful.
“I get told I’m no fun a lot, so we can be no fun together. I’m not much of one for New Year’s parties anyway.” He makes it sound so easy, but it’s hardly simple.
“Danke, to you and your forehead.” The tease is weak, but he’s trying, probably in multiple senses of the word, judging by the eyeroll in response.
“You’re making it sound like you only love me for my forehead, and I told you, I’m not one of your Fräuleins.”
“According to Frau Von Karma, I shouldn’t use the term.” It’s a non sequitir, probably, and Apollo looks confused, but if he’s lucky she’ll teach him all the ways his language lessons with Kristoph had been just another tool of control. “But nein, not in multiple senses. Und this is a good thing.”
Apollo grins this time, but he looks a little touched, which was the point. “Keep being you, too. And help me—what are they looking for here, anyway?”
If Kristoph were here, he’d say that Apollo only wants to use him. That everyone wants something from him. That’s true enough; Apollo’s a good lawyer and could figure this out eventually, but why do it on his own when he could do it with a friend? And why should Klavier refuse, when the things Apollo asks of him—to try to be fine, to be himself—are only selfish insofar as Justice seems to genuinely enjoy his company?
“I would like nothing better,” he agrees and graciously moves to one of the other chairs so Apollo can take the more comfortable one, and while the voices of the critics don’t disappear, they seem more distant, less urgent, and it’s a start.
