it is (not) magic ||
Before their paths crossed, Edgeworth had never considered in love to be a desirable state of being; if anything, all the clichés surrounding romance pushed him further off the path of such endeavours. There was nothing endearing about falling or being blinded or being entranced.
But by God, did those words all describe how one Miles Edgeworth felt about Integra Hellsing. Perhaps the fallacy was in the implication love was an immediate thing, that sparks and chemistry flew between paramours when they met.
The way Miles grew to love Integra was bit by bit, gradually, every day. This connection they share is something that continues to burgeon and blossom between them.
If this is what being bewitched feels like, he does not mind.
a beginning ||
They are the only two people still awake at the Wright Anything Agency New Years’ Eve party (and isn’t that quite the mouthful?). The clock on the table flashes red: it is 6 AM. Franziska yawns with the determination of someone who should’ve gone to sleep five hours ago but refuses to concede defeat.
Larry… Larry’s just been having trouble sleeping, lately. It happens.
“Franzy,” Larry starts, as the woman in question fends off another yawn.
She is not too tired to glare at him, though even Larry can tell her heart isn’t in it. “Haven’t I told you not to call me that?” she snaps, weary in every sense of the word.
As always, Larry ignores her request (demand?). He stretches his legs out in front of him, uncurling like a cat. “When we first met, didja ever think we’d end up like this?”
Her eyes flit over to the window where the sun peeks over the horizon. “Sitting here? Celebrating? With you?” Franziska scoffs, more amused than angry now. “Never.”
“Me neither,” Larry admits with a care-free grin, all teeth. “Guess Nick just has a way with people.”
“Phoenix Wright…” Franziska starts, eyelids flickering, “…is something else.”
Franziska’s head droops onto her chest. She is fast asleep.
It is a beautiful morning.