tvk | ⚔ 016; [video]

I-if anyone has a moment, I'm having a small problem. [This was the understatement of the millennium.]

I'd like to ask how...h-how...er...forgive me, I am having some trouble articulating things today. [Diarmuid adjusted the glasses he wore, seeming hesitant to look directly at the camera at first.]

Imagine one that...has gone through life without anger or hatred. This individual had never felt spite, resentment, or even a shred of those kind of things. He did all he could to put others and their happiness before himself and his own, finding contentment and joy in doing so. But after a certain point, that person...he found someone that did something so deplorable that it left that person filled with rage and spite.

He found someone that he hated. And no matter how he tried, that person could not simply forgive what was done to earn that hatred.

I beg of you, Prospero. Someone please tell me how that person can go back to the way he was. Before he could feel anger and spite, back when he could still grant forgiveness.

[Diarmuid looked away for a moment; he was unsure, even worried.]

Fionn, Grainne-- [Gods, what would they think of him when they knew?] ...there is something I have not yet told you. Forgive me for not doing so until now.

Arturia... [Another pause. She had been there when he had died, she knew the horrible rage he had unleashed that day. Cursing her, Kayneth, Kiritsugu, even the Grail itself. Again he worried that she must secretly detest such a hateful spirit.] When you have the time...I would like to speak with you. Please.

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...not to pry, but if that's a story you're willing to recount then I will listen. I could surely use the help at this point.

Find yourself a purpose other than your hatred. Defy that hatred. Don't cater to it. Don't feed it. Don't take the simple answer.

[She sighs deeply, then, and passes a hand over her face.]

...I wish you all the best. I sincerely do.

I think I can try to manage that much. Thank you--I'm sorry, I don't believe that I know your name yet.

...Diarmuid. Please understand that this is not a story for the world's ears, and that it is one I prefer to leave in the past to the extent that I am able. That being said... it is for good reason that I switched this to a private call, to say nothing of it being only fair that I should speak of this to you now.

Do I really look like the kind who would freely give away others' secrets? Just because I have none of my own does not mean I am incapable of keeping them.

If you don't wish to tell it, then you're under no obligation to. But if you do, then I am very capable of keeping such things to myself.

I am Queen Zeal. Although that title means very little, here and now. [She glances away and hesitates as she considers something.] You may call me Kasimira, if you wish.

And I don't know your name yet either. [A hint of friendly amusement is in her tone, now.] Would you care to share that with me?

Y-you're royalty? I apologize, I'd not realized.

I-it's Diarmuid. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne.

[She looks pleasantly surprised at his reaction.]

I am! I was. But don't overexcite yourself, Diarmuid.

O-of course. It's a pleasure to meet you.

[Edgeworth shakes his head.] Between the graciousness you have shown me since my arrival, what you have already volunteered today, and the insight that it may provide on the subject in question, I have every reason to make the effort.

[The prosecutor takes a breath and puts some effort into putting his emotions back in check. (This is testimony. I am merely providing the expert testimony necessary to allow Diarmuid to understand his own case.)]

...It began when I was nine. Father... Gregory Edgeworth... brought me to the courthouse to observe his work as a defense attorney, as he had promised me days before. My recollection of the trial itself is vague, overshadowed as it is by the events later that day, but only a few details are vital to the sweep of my life. The prosecutor was Manfred von Karma, a man heralded and feared as undefeated -- Father stood no chance against him. However, while Father lost the case, he managed to prove that the autopsy report presented was a forgery, causing von Karma to suffer the first penalty ever to appear on his record.

Likewise. It has been a pleasure and a delight to speak with you. Having spent so long without....

[Is that a sigh, or a laugh?]

...forgive me. Will you be alright for now, Diarmuid?

[Diarmuid couldn't really say he understood how a modern judicial system worked. But he at least comprehended what Edgeworth was telling him on some level--that much wasn't a difficult concept, and so he listened attentively despite the foreign terms being tossed around.]

I understand things so far. [To an extent.] Please, continue.

After the trial, Father and I went to... th-the elevator on our way out of the courthouse. The two of us... and a bailiff -- a guard, essentially -- by the name of Yanni Yogi. [Strain is already present in Edgeworth's voice, but it increases sharply as he continues.] I-it was during the r-ride downward... th-the earthquake... I...

[The picture shakes -- clearly not purposefully, given that Edgeworth himself seems to be losing his composure with normally-uncharacteristic speed.]

[He wasn't sure what to say at first, or if anything he could think of would just worsen the situation. Finally he spoke, hesitant and uncertain.]

...perhaps this is a conversation better held in person?

I think it goes without saying that I don't want your opinion.

[A sigh.]

I suppose I could do that. It's better than being miserable.

...t-... 212.

[A hotel number? (Hint: yes, yes it is.)]

Two minutes.

[You'd be surprised how easy it is to take a ton of flights of stairs after running cross-country.]

[Knock knock.]

I'm hurt.

I'm actually in the mood for a civil discussion for once, and this is the thanks I get.

[A click of a door being unlocked, then a shaky turn of a doorknob, then an equally-shaky prosecutor stepping out of the way.

The room itself is neatly-organized thus far. A black trenchcoat hangs on the coat rack, neatly-stacked papers are arranged on the table, a tea set takes up most of the counter space in the kitchenette, and on a short bookshelf next to the bed, difficult-looking legal books stand in a formidable row. ~~They mock you.~~ On top of the bookshelf stands a plush purple unicorn -- presumably one of the ones Neah handed out -- and a book on medieval weaponry with a bookmark sticking out of it.]

Fine, then talk.

Are you alright? [First things first, of course. There was clear concern on Diarmuid's face as he walked in, sparing a cursory glance to his surroundings before focusing back on Edgeworth.]

[Edgeworth shakes his head before walking with clear difficulty to the well-made bed, sitting on its edge, and burying his face in his hands.]

...I'm sorry. [Hesitantly, he followed; even more so he awkwardly rested a hand on Edgeworth's shoulder.] It was not my intention to bring up such things, and for that I apologize.

Edited 2012-01-09 01:47 (UTC)

[Edgeworth visibly flinches at the touch. At the apology, the prosecutor shakes his head.]

I-I... should be... stronger... th-than this. I... was able to... t-tell Wright...

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