route_1065 | So tell your friends just how you feel.

Entry tags:

So tell your friends just how you feel.

Who: a

recrimination
Where: Violet City
When: Saturday, February 5th
Summary: The two prosecutors-to-be have a small family reunion.
Rating: PG-13 depending on if that riding crop appears..
Log:

[Saturday's weather was better than any Miles had seen since waking up from his nine-day coma. It wasn't clear, the sky wasn't as blue as it could have been, but the sun's bright lights shining down onto the snow-covered streets made Johto seem a lot more cheerful than it had in any of the preceding days. It was refreshing.

Not that it helped the nervous tightening in his stomach as he arrived at the bench sitting outside the Violet Pokémon Center. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his pants - new, and long, as he'd purchased them before leaving Goldenrod, having a hunch that Franziska von Karma would only make snide comments at him if he appeared in his usual attire. His coat was new, as well: the old brown jacket he'd had since arriving in Johto was getting worn, and thus he had folded it up carefully and put it away inside his bag.

Adjusting the blue scarf around his neck, Miles glanced down at his watch. Ten minutes. Ten minutes until the time he promised to meet up with his sister.

.....As he waited for her arrival, he vaguely wondered how tall she would be.]

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[As per usual von Karma, Franziska arrives right on the dot, not even a second to spare as she stops right before their designated meeting place, bundled up tightly in her winter jacket and hair pulled back to keep it from draping in her face.

It's snowing. She wrinkles her nose at that, because melted snow makes her hair wet, and having wet hair doesn't do much for her complexion, which generally annoys her. By her side, her bulbasaur picks up on that and shifts nervously, muttering its name over and over like a mantra.

When she looks up from checking her rather expensive-looking timepiece, she spies Edgeworth.

And then she stops, because she's not entirely sure how she should react to this. He's... small. Tiny, in fact. His face bears resemblance to the image of him she had in her mind, though admittedly it bears more resemblance to the Edgeworth of ten years ago more than anything else. The video screen did not do his small form justice. She noted, however, that is jacket and pants seem to be in good repair -- not a single shred of that tasteless pair of shorts in sight, to her approval -- and that his hair is neatly combed as per expected. It almost irritates her. Almost.

She crosses her arms and strides forward, stalling for time by giving him a very blatant lookover, haughty written all over her face and her gloved finger tapping impatiently against the fabric of her jacket. However, being Franziska, she had to have the first say in everything.

She inhaled.]

Miles Edgeworth. [pause]

You have poor choices in scarves.

[Her voice is crisp, clear and familiar through the snowy silence, and it snaps Miles out of his short reverie without much trouble - he blinks, turning to her quickly, almost not recognize the teenage girl that stoof before him. Almost.

She was taller than he remembered, taller than he currently was, standing a few inches above him, perhaps the same height as Ken Amada (he mentally notes not to tel his friend that) and was clearly much, much older than the tiny toddler he'd been the playmate of back in Germany, 2002. And more haughty, more... closer to her father, and Miles wasn't sure whether that was a good or bad thing, anymore. However, she was still very much the Franziska von Karma that he'd come to know and respect as a sister during his nine months back home.

He grimaces at her snappy greeting, half-appreciating her attitude for making their meeting less awkward, but also feeling peeved by the fact that she was insulting his favorite scarf. It had been a gift, after all, from his closest friend in Johto... but that wasn't something Franziska might understand. He bites down a snappish reply to her scorn and tugs on the scarf again.

He felt more calmer, now, that he wasn't the one who had to start their conversation, and replies calmly.]

I like this scarf, Franziska. [A beat.]

....It's nice to see you.

You always have had poor tastes in scarves. [Edgeworth -- no, Miles -- and his failures had always put her back into her element. She draws herself up and waggles her finger almost subconsciously -- there's something to be said about denial and she could say a lot about it within a single gesture. Miles would simply have learn that the difficult way.] No matter. Now that I am here, we will see to it that your scarf choices become up to standard.

[She doesn't even pause at Miles' next words, already back into the general way of things. Miles may be smaller than what she remembered, but there is still that general aura of Miles shrouding him that made him her worthy rival. Despite his size, she will not underestimate him.

She puts on a smirk.] And of course it is 'nice'. My presence is a good deal more appropriate than some of the other characters that inhabit this world. Of course, while I cannot share the sentiment, I suppose it bears noting that you seem to be doing well.

[Pointedly--] Your clothes seem new.

[All the differences between the Edgeworth Franziska was familiar and Miles might just root back to the pure simplicity that came with their age difference. Precocious and mature as both of them were, while Franziska may have lived the last decade of her life training to be a von Karma, ten-year-old Miles had spent the majority of his life with the care of Gregory Edgeworth. He was simply, almost easily pleased, and the simple fact that this queen-like Franziska would "bear note" of his well being was enough to make him feel rather.. pleased.

He tugs at the sleeve of his new jacket, eyes his pants. Nods.] I purchased them before leaving Goldenrod. The others were a bit worn.

[But then, he eyes her, eyebrows furrowing just a bit. Although he didn't come here to argue with her, he was quite certain that the people in Johto (mostly) were good people. They'd helped him in ways that nobody back home could have, and did not deserve to be badmouthed the way Franziska was doing. The girl had no right to.]

The people here are good, Franziska. You shouldn't say things like that about them.

[She notes the name 'Goldenrod' down carefully, assuming that to be the metropolis of this particular world. Neither the jacket nor the pants seem to fall below customary standards, actually. It's a little reassuring to note that not everything in this world is substandard. However, she doesn't like the sound of the 'worn' bit -- she doesn't intend on staying in this world long enough for her clothing to become worn, of course, but she knows better than to dismiss possibilities. She will have to take funds into account.

Once again, however, Miles is going on about the people here. She shakes her head.]

I speak only of the things I know to be true, Miles Edgeworth. [There's definitely a sense of haughtiness there.] If I say that the people here are subpar, then it is because I have seen many subpar people.

Of course, you are free to attempt to prove me wrong -- in which I will expect for you to introduce me to people of sufficient class. Otherwise, meaningless conjectures are nothing. You of all people should know this.

["That's because your standards, just like your father's, are ridiculously high." But he doesn't say that. Instead, he gives a soft sigh and a shrug. Franziska would be as a von Karma would be, and he'll have to accept that.]

Do you always call him by his first name?

[She raises an eyebrow.]

And who might you be referring to by 'him'?

[Another, lighter shrug, and he points to himself.] Myself, from your time.

[She pauses.] Before we address the matter of your calling, I would like to point how just how foolish it is for you to refer to yourself as a separate entity.

I figured you might say that. [He puts his hand back in his pocket, idly.] There are times when I can identify myself with the things I've been told about my future, but other times he's nothing more than a stranger, to me.

That manner of thinking is entirely unacceptable. 'That man', whom you have disassociated with yourself so pathetically, is your future. Nothing can change that.

I don't believe the future to be set in stone. It maybe be your present, or past - but it is still my future. [He looks up at her, and his eyes have the steady, determined look he gains... much later in life. But for a completely different cause. He can't tell her, yet, what he knows about DL-6, but he won't let her bend him.]

I can't become that person you know, anymore.

[She starts. Pauses. And... she doesn't understand. It's written all over her face in her unamused anger, the way she brings down her crop to crack it angrily at thin air.]

You are a fool, Miles Edgeworth. [Grits her teeth.] The words you speak are born of pure ignorance -- I have seen your future, and despite your foolishly short-sighted attitude, that future is what you will become. Why is it that you insist upon denying such an obvious fact?

[He jumps at the crack, but still keeps his calm.] The Miles Edgeworth you know was born from that ignorance. I know people who've seen the future farther than you or I, Franziska.

And you would dare imply that they have seen something of you that I had not?

....Yes. I suppose I do. [At this point, his gaze flickers to her riding crop. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wonders if she'd actually hit him with it.

He's not too sure how ruthless she actually would be. ]

[There is a long moment in which she grits her teeth and clenches the crop handle so hard that her knuckles turn white with strain. And then, she lowers her crop, slowly, and exhales.

It does not do to lose one's composure, especially over something like... this. While she herself can't seem to find the proper word to describe her situation, she allows for her self-discipline to take over. Consider the facts and refute, refute, refute.]

I see. [She raises her head, flicking her hair back in an abrupt gesture.] And since you have made that claim, then I will expect for you to introduce me to these 'people' you speak of, and allow me to ascertain these claims for myself.

Phoenix Wright. Larry Butz. Kay Faraday. [The names roll off his tongue easier than he'd expected, but he falters at the last one.] ....and Dick Gumshoe, but I he isn't here anymore.

[He steps towards her, and there's an awkward shrug.] Would you like to go inside? It's getting chilly out here.

[If she notes the falter, she doesn't comment on it. Merely nods, as though satisfied, and then blinking at the suggestion of going inside. Well, it is a little chilly--]

That sounds satisfactory. Where will we be headed?

The Pokémon Center is here, but there's also a café a short walk away. I think you'd prefer tea over hot chocolate.

[She makes a face.] I highly doubt that any tea this world has to offer will be suitable for my tastes. Since my arrival, I've yet to taste a single cup that has been brewed anywhere near the proper standard.

Would you rather drink hot chocolate, then?

Is that what you have resorted to since your arrival?

[When they arrive at that café, he holds the door open for her, raising an eyebrow.] I preferred it over coffee, but I've been drinking more tea, recently.

[She breezes through the door without thanks, as though it were only expected of him to do so. Upon her entrance, she gives the dingy shop a look over with the barest hint of distaste, before promptly selecting a table by the window for them. The bulbasaur follows suit, waddling along patiently.] You compromise far too easily.

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... this got lost in my inbox orz

it's okay bb, it happens. <3 ;;

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