Hello! This is for Prosecuting Defense, or Kelley, as I know her. :)
This was supposed to be put up the 25th of December, but I wasn't feeling too hot, and so the first part is going up now.
Happy New Year! 2013 will not be as crappy as 2012!
WARNING: I am an amateur at this fandom, having only just started reading the manga. I tried. Let it be known I tried.
In bed, Miles Edgeworth liked to reflect on a long list if things—first and foremost being whatever case he was working on.
And then came mundane tasks, like whether or not he had left any electronic appliances running in his kitchen, whether he should indulge himself in fantasizing of crushing Wright in court, or nothing at all, just staring up at the canopy of his bed.
But today, today was a special day.
This was the sole day he allowed himself to dwell on that event. His weakness, his shame, the source of all his spite.
He scowled and rolled over, burying himself in the silky pillows he rested his head on. A draft came in through the open window, and it pushed the canopy into his knees, which were curled up into his body. It was only then that he realized exactly how close to the edge he was. His face was chilled.
This is ridiculous, he thought, what am I doing?
He was moping, and in the house of Manfred von Karma, such an act of self-indulgence was blasphemous. This was the first year he wasn't allowed to…reflect.
January first was a day most people his age were taking that illustrious walk of shame (that would stay with them forever) from various squares, in various places, talking and enjoying good food.
And Miles was in a place mostly unfamiliar to him. It had been a few months after his father's funeral, with little to no warning, that he had been shipped off to a place where he barely understood the language, didn't know the people, and had law drilled into his head.
Though Von Karma was barely one to compliment anything, Miles liked to think he was doing well. He hadn't said anything particularly bad, and the trials he had been brought to went
Exactly. The way. He. Said. It. Would. Go….
And now, a year since then, since he had gotten off for his father's murder (he didn't deserve it) and that fraud darted to pretend as if she was his father…and the fact that they all believed her…
The ten year old rolled over on his side and scowled, a look he had been practicing, per his guardian's instructions.
He would become successful, just like his father, if it was the last thing he did.
And the second part will be in the future. I'll put it up in maybe a week.
Once again, I tried.