YR S3 things I absolutely loved so far
Sneaking away at the palace to make out (never mind that there’s litigation going on)
Wille openly kissing Simon in front of everyone (also the pink sweater)
Simon drawing a heart on Wille’s hand
Wille, Simon and Felice interacting
Maddie
their little camping in the forest
Rosh and Stella
Marieberg x Hillerska crossover/rave
the girls trying to cheer Felice up
Felice actually bringing up that the Husmor always pointed to Felice and her hair and ignored when other girls wore their hair down
people finally talking about the fucked up stuff going on at Hillerska
Wille finding out that Erik wasn’t as perfect as he once thought (tho what he found out stings to say the least)
Simon’s interaction with the mum and her kid on May 1st
Felice painting Wille’s nails
August? like I actually didn’t feel like skipping his scenes this season
PEOPLE POINTING OUT/BRINGING UP ISSUES - like Augusts obvious ED; i wish there was more time to do it more justice
Sara talking to her dad and him giving her some sound advice? Coming from a person who shares your struggles (or diagnosis) is huge and I’m glad he actually told her she can do hard things and move on from this
Wille letting his parents know how shit his life has been, especially the last year
Simon singing happy birthday to Wille, getting him a cupcake with candles
Nils telling Wille he’s brave
Sara and Felice working together at the graduation dinner
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@fallenlondonficswap @tales-from-the-neath
In which a tailor’s shop has dubious customer service and a child preaches the virtues of slugs. Did my best to capture Nyx’s personality.. Writing them was a lot of fun! For the group swap!
General rating | Éadaoin Blank, Nyx Darkhelm, Arlen Blank | 1369 words
The tailor’s apartment was a cramped little thing, nestled between a soup shop and a millinery, crouched low underneath Veilgarden’s eaves. It was two stories, one built atop the other, with shuttered windows carefully peering into the darkness. A faint light flickered.
Nyx Darkhelm stood in front of the shop, smoothing a fold of their suit. The amber hued light woven into the dreamlike linen glittered, casting a soft glow. Behind them, a hansom cab rattled, shuddering as it stumbled down the clumsily paved streets.
Their friend had recommended the place. Surely it couldn’t be too bad.
The fox took a deep breath, their ever perfect posture stiffening further, before they knocked twice on the blue painted door. It swung open, a girl watching them curiously. “It’s too early,” she said, eyes narrowed. “We aren’t open yet.”
Nyx paused. “I must have been misinformed, my apologies,” they muttered. They glanced about the streets, considering where it would be best to wait. “I wanted to get a gift for a friend.”
She waited for a long moment, studying them. She was young. An urchin? No. She was dressed far too nicely, stood far too tall to be an urchin, even if she leaned against the frame of the door as if she had an army to back her up, as if she had no reason to be afraid, despite the late hour. “Oh, fine,” she snorted, shaking her head. A dark curl had escaped from her arrangement of hair, a few stray pins trailing. She must have been midway through disassembly. “My father won’t mind opening a little early.”
She stepped away, beckoning them into the entry hall. Someone had been drawing on the walls, scribbling in a dizzying amount of fonts. Scraps of poetry or doodles on higher levels, a childish scribble on the lower, nearest to the floor. “Interesting choice, coming here,” she called, deftly stepping over a discarded dolly faceplanted on the floor, little ribbons wrapped around its arms a colorful contrast to its dark skin. “My father isn’t known for practicality.”
Nyx paused, already halfway down the hall, considering what Alisha would like. “It doesn’t have to be practical.” It likely should be. Still, they weren’t above pushing their friend a little.
She laughed. “Your loss or luck, I suppose.” She offered no further explanation. “What’s your name?”
“Darkhelm. Nyx Darkhelm. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss..?” They trailed off, waiting for a name. A flash of their teeth in a smile, sharp rows.
The girl laughed. “Marie-Suzanne. I stick with Suzy, typically. This way.” She pushed aside a curtain of purple fabric, streaked with orange like some distant memory of a sunset sky.
They stepped inside, nearly stumbling back when the curtain fell into their face again, but braving it despite. They grinned nervously, gleaming teeth showing. They stepped inside.
The tailor’s shop was sectioned off by more curtains, making a maze out of what could have been simplicity. Holes had been cut into the sides of scattered lanterns, allowing scattered light to slip out in strange shapes and shadows. A few strips of fabric lay half sewn on a table. A mannequin wrapped in a cape of arms stood amongst a pile of tiny painted blocks.
“I’ll go tell him you’re here,” Marie-Suzanne told them, already ducking behind a curtain of sharp blue. Her footsteps trailed away.
In an instant, they were abandoned.
Nyx hesitated, fidgeting with the golden rose on their lapel, tail swishing back and forth. Doubts were beginning to swirl in their mind. Still, they were nothing if not adventurous on occasion.
“A gift?” The voice came from behind another of the curtains. “Right, of course. I’ll need specifics, of course.” The man who emerged had a child on his hip, one with Naples yellow eyes and a pale blue bow in her curly hair. He set her down and she toddled forwards, eyes focused on Nyx. They weren’t sure who to look at, with the disdainful gaze of the man, the wide eyed scrutiny of the child.
Finally, they settled on the man. The tailor, they assumed, leaning on a dragon headed cane. Strange patches of rippled material trailed up his neck, down the arms exposed from his sheer sleeve. Almost reminiscent of glass.
“Nyx Darkhelm. I’m in the process of acquiring a gift for a friend.” Another grin, their tail flicking back and forth.
“Of course,” he smiled back. It was not a kind smile. “Call me Blank.”
The little girl stomped forward, reaching for Nyx. They froze, looking down at her. Without hesitation, she bumped her forehead into their leg, then looked up at them with a wide small-toothed smile. “Hello!”
They looked down at her, then back to Blank. He raised his eyebrows but said nothing, taking a seat beside the scrap covered table. “Er, hello,” they said, standing a bit stiffer.
The little girl blinked. “You’re fluffy,” she observed, with a peculiar brand of solemnity. Her little hands formed clumsy signs as she spoke, little gestures that they did not understand. “An’ your suit glows.”
“Ah, yes. It does.”
“That’s kinda nice.”
They nodded, considering. “Yes, I do find it quite nice.”
“You should wear some purple. I like purple. It’s the color of slugs Like Bijou! Bijou is yellow an’ purple an’ my best slug ever, but I gave him away because he wanted to go do more adventures. Now I don’t have a slug, but I do have a teeny tiny snake.” She took a breath and did not stop. “I think snakes are kind of good, but slugs are better. Slugs are all small and squishy, but snakes are too tricky and say mean things. Bijou didn’t say mean things. He said nice things. Slugs are always very nice, it’s in their,” a pause and a soft mumble as she sounded out the word, “in their nature.”
They tried to look back, think of if they had ever met a slug, one that was particularly purple or named Bijou. Nothing came to mind. “I see,” they said. They, in fact, were lying. “I am not purchasing anything for me, however.”
“Why not?”
“Well, it is a gift?” They glanced to Blank again. He made no movement to do much of anything, just watched his daughter. “A gift for someone else,” they thought it best to clarify.
The little girl thought about this, taking a seat on the ground and looking up at them, before nodding. “Okay.” Before they could open their mouth, continue their conversation with the tailor, she continued. “Do you have a name?”
“Ah, yes. Nyx.” They offered a shallow bow. Éadaoin did not bow back, just sat on the floor and began to pick her nose.
“I’m Éadaoin. Are you a fox?” Behind her, Blank’s faint smile grew, his gazer sharper than there was right for. They had the feeling they were being tested. They just didn’t know what they were being tested on.
“Ah. Yes, yes, I am.”
“Huh. Okay. I’m not a fox.” She squinted up at them.
“Yes, I could tell.”
“I like your flower. It’s shiny.”
“Ah. Thank you.”
Finally, Blank saw fit to cut in. “I think that our guest may wish to place their order before my scheduled client, little one.” He pulled himself up again, a few short gestures being directed towards Éadaoin before he offered Nyx a gloved hand to shake. His smile was genuine now, if no less sharp. In some way, they had passed. “We can discuss details, payment, and time restraints, of course. If it’s a fitted garment, I’ll need some sort of measurements. We have not technically opened yet, despite Suzy’s decision otherwise, so you have approximately a half hour until my client arrives.”
They took his hand, glancing down to the little girl who had already begun to lose interest, wrapping the pale blue ribbon that had sprung from her curls around her fingers in curving loops. “Wonderful,” they nodded. “I have nearly assembled an idea.”
“We’ll work together then, complete that thought,” Blank nodded. “I believe you’ll find that I am quite skilled in making simple ideas reality.” For some reason, they believed him.
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It's Late and I Have RFtA Thoughts, Let's Do This!
RIGHT THEN, let's talk about Joe Darke shall we? I think he's a pretty overlooked aspect of the SL-9 Incident and the case as a whole. When most people sing the praises of RFtA, they usually talk about the Skyes or Damon or Edgeworth - all solid things for sure, but let's not overlook the man who arguably kickstarted this entire mess to begin with.
To recap rq, Joe Darke was the man suspected of committing serial murder prior to the SL-9 Incident - the ones Angel, Bruce and Jake were all investigating. Eventually they pinned this man as being responsible, but had no evidence to prove it.
Take note of that. It's going to be important to my points here.
Now Darke isn't a harmless man who got caught in the crossfire; he did threaten Ema's life and forced older Marshall to take action. That whole kerfuffle left everyone unconscious for Gant to do his thing - framing Ema for killing Marshall and helping Lana cover it up to make it seem as though Darke was responsible.
Keyword; seem.
We never get any concrete confirmation that Darke actually killed anyone. The only murder he has strong ties to was a fabrication. You could say he was just good at covering his tracks, but there does exist the grim possibility that Darke was an innocent man. It's possible that he was caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, when the police (GANT) were beyond ready to finally put an end to the murders they pinned to his name.
They were desperate. Very desperate. Gant especially was desperate enough to not only fabricate a crime for him, but to frame somebody else to manipulate Lana into helping him "cover-up" and put Darke in the line of fire instead. A move that cost the life of older Marshall, the goodwill between two sisters, and now thinking back may have cost another innocent (if not pleasant) soul as well.
Joe Darke's criminal credibility being so dubious helps make the case's overall message crystal clear; that even in the pursuit of justice, good men may be compelled to do horrific things to meet it. It's exactly the person Edgeworth fears becoming, the person Damon Gant is, and the person that ruined the lives of many people to destroy another man.
And we have no evidence to say he had done anything wrong.
Not so small note/correction: Joe Darke had turned himself in to the police in light of the investigation. I'm not certain as to the nature of why he turned himself in - whether it implies he's guilty or felt coerced - though worth remembering in the midst of my ramblings
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