Slightly Disheveled Radiator
Gender: None specified
Location: In a box on a hill towards the west banks of an unknown river.
Rank: Medium-in-training
Joined: Sun Mar 04, 2007 6:27 pm
Posts: 571
I decided to make a part two since I got some great feedback. It gets a little...hopefully not out of character? but I liked my ideas a bit and wanted to try them.
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She made a point not to rub at her ears. No matter how much they stung, even for just the briefest second, Franziska never acknowledged that she had been wounded. It didn’t hurt too much, anyway, and if she failed to react to the whack then it made Miles’ response ever the more sweeter. He didn’t hesitate to reach for his head and nurse at the wound. This gave her grounds to scoff at him.
“You think
that hurts.” She would try to sound more mature than an eight year old, wanting the effect of someone older and more experienced referencing past struggles. Her childish pout, however, always made her real self appear through the façade.
Miles
knew it didn’t hurt that much, when Herr Von Karma would smack them for answering wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be an abuse as much as an embarrassment, and it would never be hard or undeserved. It was just taking some time for the boy to get used to it, was all. He hadn’t been aware that his father was the only one who didn’t whack his son around once in a while.
It was a good thing Herr Von Karma was around to expose him to the real world, or he might have grown up…soft. Sheltered. An idiot. In the states he would be a lowly high school freshman, complete with his foolish friends that would drag him down even further. Here, under Herr Von Karma’s wing, he was flourishing to the point where prestigious law schools were practically begging him to apply, and so soon! Although he had a bruise or two to pay for it, the pain was quickly forgotten whenever Miles held the crisp, gold-lined invitations to universities in his hands.
“Just an instinct, Franziska.” He would normally murmur to her when she chided him, sometimes in German, but usually in English. The little girl had had a field day when the older boy – was she even aware he was older? – had begun his German lessons. No matter how fast he progressed he was still prone to little mistakes that anyone learning another language would make. To most people, a grammatical error or mispronunciation every once in a while would be forgivable.
But a Von Karma was
perfect, Franziska would dutifully remind him, often insisting violently that he study his every mistake for hours after he made it.
Her joy in his errors didn’t last very long as Miles quickly picked up the language that now surrounded him. Day after day his mistakes became fewer and fewer, and when she came to the conclusion that he could speak her native tongue just as well as she could speak his, the tiny girl nearly combusted in her frustration. An hour had been spent yelling at him incoherently, asking him how he dared felt himself superior enough to even try German, when Miles finally interrupted her.
“Franziska?” When he interjected he spoke in such a quiet and serious voice that she couldn’t help but shut up. He had paused, looked directly into her fiery eyes with his own cool ones, and confirmed that she would be silent before continuing.
“Would you prefer me to speak English?”
She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or being sincere. Sincerity would be hundreds of times worse, and naturally, it was what she assumed of him.
The girl’s response was a kick to his shins – something else he was still getting used to – and a storming charge to her room, where she then threw a silent temper tantrum into her pillow.
Since that day, Miles had spoken whatever language struck his fancy at the time. Not to be outdone, his young companion took up doing the same, spouting English phrases at random that proved that she could be just as bilingual as he was. Months passed and he thought she was over the incident until he caught her studying a Japanese dictionary tucked into the cover of a legal textbook.
“Anyone can learn German from English, or English from German.” The girl had said in explanation to his half-smile. “They’re both derived from the Anglo-Saxons. They might as well be the same thing.”
She hated his stupid little knowing grin that he gave her so frequently. She hated his silence even more and promptly filled it. “It takes a real genius to learn a whole new alphabet. I bet you couldn’t do it, Miles Edgeworth.”
He should have known. No one ever outdid Franziska von Karma.
That was something he was also still getting used to. Life with the Von Karma family was so alien to his old life with Father across the ocean, but it became more normal each day. After a while it felt like it had always been him and Franziska answering to her father, every day a new achievement. He forgot about anything more to life than studying constantly and memorizing dates and facts and obscure laws and that made it so much easier to work hard. Miles became firmly convinced that this family, even in light of the tragedy that had brought him here, was the best thing that ever happened to him. Here, he could actually find the success that Americans only spoke about.
The only thing that concerned him, on occasion, was that the boy sometimes had difficulty remembering Father. He had a few cutouts of Gregory Edgeworth, the ones he had meticulously saved as a child from the newspaper, but they were only the professional Father. Miles struggled to remember his Father, the kind-hearted, strong man who he had idolized for such a great portion of his childhood.
Being a teenager he found that he was beginning to look a bit like Father used to. When no one was around, he would stand in front of a tall mirror and peer at himself, making circles out of his hands and holding them up to his face to resemble glasses. Sometimes it worked and Father’s face flashed through his mind for a blissful second.
Usually it didn’t. Then, he would remember how foolish he was – what if Franziska were to find him like this? – and go back to his studies. That was the most important part of being a good prosecutor, Herr Von Karma often emphasized to his students. One must never show emotion. In fact, it was better if one didn’t have any emotion to show in the first place.
Father had said that emotions were too precious to sacrifice and that it was better to lose than not to feel anything. But Father wasn’t the lawyer with a perfect record.
A Von Karma is… “Perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect, perfect.” Was she still telling him off for showing pain? Of course she was. He reclined in his chair, swiveling by his desk, and looked at her with a bemused grin. It only encouraged her to huff and continue more.
She ran out of breath when she realized he wasn’t listening. An angry silence followed as the little girl crossed her arms. “I simply can’t believe you.”
He was contemplative, which never meant anything good for Franziska. Internally she braced herself.
“Do you hate me as much as you did when we first met?”
What did that have to do with anything? She tossed her straight hair back behind her shoulder and scowled at the boy. What sort of answer did he want to that question?
“What do you mean?”
Exactly what he said, Miles thought. “You hated me the moment we met, Franziska. Has that changed?”
The child wrinkled her brow and took very little hesitation. How she wanted to wipe the smirk of his face!
“Why yes, Miles Edgeworth.” Her voice had become even higher with frustration, and it was all the girl could do to keep her composure. “In fact, I think I hate you even more.”
No less than he had expected from her. Without any significant change in expression, the teenager turned back around, shoved his hair out of his eyes, and went back to poring over a book with a highlighter.
Her dress was rumpled from the tension of her little body. How dare he!
“Well?” Franziska stamped as hard as she could with her sturdy shoes against the brown carpeting. Her stubby hand grabbed at his white collared shirt, yanking the cotton between her fingers. “Do you still hate me?” He couldn’t ask her a question like that and then merely act as if nothing had happened!
He didn’t rotate his whole chair around again, only his broad shoulders. She could feel his skin press against her hands through his thin shirt as she grabbed him, and the realization of how close she was to touching him made her drop the fabric with an emotion she couldn’t identify.
“I don’t think I ever hated you.” Of course he would respond with something like that, and in the same innocent tone of voice he would use to talk about the weather, no less! Franziska found herself facedown in her pillow moments later, seething as she emitted screams of rage that would never meet the ears of the boy she longed to target. She might snap at him, but she liked to think herself mature enough to keep her temper tantrums to herself. They were a sign of emotion, after all, and that was something she could not show.
For a while she sulked in her room, hiding unproductively under the sky blue canopy that hung over her bed. She had picked out the canopy herself, insisting on her favorite color as opposed to a gruesome magenta that Papa said most little girls liked. When she complained about the color, Miles had dared asked her what the big problem with pink was.
If he liked it so much, he could have it. He had opened his closet later that day to find a plethora of rose skirts and coral pull-overs. She’d even stolen a cerulean jacket of his to complete her revenge, much too large for her of course, but still very pretty. As far as she knew, he still had all of her old pink clothing in his closet.
The thought of her teenage rival having girly clothes among his suits and trousers made her snicker to herself a bit, and she loosened her grip on her pillow. No matter what Miles said, she could always outsmart him. This comforted her, and she finally started to relax.
A sound like a firework went off and she jumped, nearly falling off of her bed. Curiously, the girl turned around, not too surprised by the sound. Lots of people set off firecrackers in the street; she had done it herself once or twice during the holidays with her Papa.
But it wasn’t a holiday, was it? Had she been so engrossed in her studies that she had forgotten about a holiday?
Before she could get to her window to examine the source of the small explosion, another loud bang penetrated her skull. This one was louder, less familiar, and accompanied by a large shatter.
The girl jumped back, confused and frightened. She had no time to regain her composure when another shot rang out. The glass the window on the other side of her room seemed to fly out into the air on its own, hitting the ground in one swift, elegant motion.
She saw the whole in the wall where the bullet had gone through and it was only then that she thought to scream.
Franziska felt her experience of cold calculation melt off as she rushed to the side of the room, her eyes not leaving the broken window. Her back slammed against the door and she grabbed for the knob, her entire body shaking.
It was only then did she realize she had locked the door in her fit earlier.
Her body was numb as another gunshot echoed through her head and even though the only sensible part of her sanity had heard her lock click open, her nerves wouldn’t let her escape…
“Papa….” Her throat was sore from her rage earlier, and the whole world felt like it was melting right in front of her eyes…
A gentle touch was on her arm and she felt herself being pulled away. It wasn’t Papa’s touch and the last of her functioning mind recognized it with disdain, but the rest of her was too comatose to be concerned.
When Franziska’s head returned to her, the first thing she did was shove out of the web of arms that had entangled around her. The light was dim, but she could make out stupid-looking bangs and a pair of cloudy eyes.
Not that she needed any light to recognize Miles…
When she was free of him she found her voice. “What’s going on?” She demanded of him, and he reached out and touched her arm.
“We’re in the closet, Franziska, in the hallway. There are no windows here. I think your father is taking care of it…”
“But what’s happening?” She knew she wasn’t going to get an answer. He was shaking too, she could tell.
He didn’t say anything and instead reached his thumb out to her rosy cheek, wiping away a cluster of tears that were clinging to her girlish eyelashes. That’s what had made the room look so blurry, the girl realized with a flush, and tore away from him. Her own little fist rubbed against her blue eyes to no avail – she was crying again.
She was terrified and she hated herself for it. She hated it even more that Miles would see her tremble!
“I’m not scared.” She lied. It was an awful lie. “I don’t get scared. Being scared is…is an emotion.” His face was so kind that she wanted to keep on crying. “A Von Karma doesn’t get scared. A Von Karma is…”
His finger touched her lips as she sniffled, cutting off her half-hearted recitation. Strangely enough, she felt no reason to shove his other hand off of her shivering shoulder.
“You know, I get scared sometimes.” Miles admitted in a low tone. He nearly expected her to start into another lecture about how he was a terrible excuse for a Von Karma. At least it would show that she was feeling a bit less nervous.
But all she said was in the form of a childish whisper. “Really?”
Miles hadn’t seen her this much like a real child in a long time. He gripped her arm gently, touching the plastic bracelet that clang to her wrist. Franziska had been wearing the same exact bracelet when they had first met and although her wrist had grown thicker with age and her arms longer, those beads were still the only piece of childhood he could ever really sense in the girl.
“Yes.” He nodded lightly. “Gunshots – like these – scare me a little. But earthquakes…those scare me a lot. So much that I can’t even stand up or think straight. I just start crying.”
Franziska had never seen him in an earthquake, he didn’t think. A few weeks after his father’s death there had been another small one in his Californian hometown. It had taken hours for the boy to stop crying and worst of all he had been alone when it happened. Grimly, he could remember crawling up in the corner of the room and burying his face into his body with the vain hope that if he made himself small enough, the earthquake would just pass him by without notice.
And Franziska thought she was out of her mind now…
“But that’s…that’s silly.” It made him feel a little better to see the hint of her trademark pout appearing on her lips. “Earthquakes aren’t scary at all. They’re just little tremors. Papa taught me all about them…”
“You see?” The teenager replied, giving her a grin. “You’re braver than I am.”
Franziska said nothing.
She let go of his hand only when he cracked open the closet door, giving the room a quick look. When Miles declared it safe she bolted out ahead of him, peering down the hallway as she went. Sirens outside and a lack of any more shots reassured the both of them that the danger was over and the one firing the gun was safely in custody.
A stern-looking police officer had come in to retrieve them and when the pair bumped into him further down the hallway, he explained curtly in German what had happened at Franziska’s request.
“An old criminal that your Father put behind bars a few years ago, Miss Von Karma. Got released recently and was merely shooting without thinking at the house. You were never in any real danger and your Father intends to replace your window...”
He gave a glance to the American boy and exchanged a nod before looking back at the girl. “Are you alright?”
Franziska looked at Miles for a split second before staring the officer back in the eye.
“Yes, Officer, I was fine. But my little brother seemed a bit scared. You might want to tend to him.”
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I guess it's a little uncommon for Fran to seek solace in Edgey, especially since she hates him. But in the first part I tried to emphasize that during a desperate situation (being left behind) she panicked, and Edgey cared for her briefly then. That's kinda what happened again.
Comments loved <3 Same with suggestions and critique. It's a bit of a rush job since it's around midnight and I really wanted to get this up tonight.
Married to Sakuro*And Eximplode07