InsaneJournal

Current mood:	working
Current music:	Call The Shots---Girls Aloud

Outside Courtroom No. 3 (possible continuation of Early Morning?)---Phoenix/Edgeworth Drabble
Outside Courtroom No. 3

Rating:PG

Warning: animal death

Author's Notes: I didn't expect to post this story. It was written for the second chapter of "Early Morning" as a dream Edgeworth had, but it's fine on its own. If I do finish Ch. 2 whenever that may be, I'll include it. BTW, this isn't the drabble I was talking about in the last post. I'm in the middle of writing that.

I like the first half of the story, but second half seemed rushed. I don't like my attempt at symbolism in this piece (guys, I promise you I write better cracks at symbolism than this.)This story is also un-beta'd so if there's anything that needs to be improved, DO NOT HESITATE TO COMMENT. I love comments. I would also like comments about how to improve "Early Morning" (honestly, is the story that bad?) I get sad whenever people don't comment because I don't know if people either love it or hate it. I need validation. Oh great, this turned into a therapy session...Can you say needy?



“Good Morning, Miles.”

The lobby outside Courtroom No. 3 glowed. Sunlight filtered into the place at all directions creating a jungle of shadows on the newly polished marble floor. Edgeworth stood in the middle of the expansive lobby brushing off the confetti, courtesy of Gumshoe, from his shoulder. Another case lost to Phoenix Wright.

The courtroom doors opened. Edgeworth looked over his shoulder and smirked as his rival walked towards him in confidence. His footsteps made melodic sounds upon the floor. One hand curled around the handle of his creaky, patent leather briefcase in while the other rubs the defense attorney badge on his lapel. He smiles like the powerful sun’s rays.

They stood mere feet away. Phoenix flashed a loving smile to which Edgeworth reciprocated. Phoenix’s eyes traveled down Edgeworth’s body with a devious stare. He extended his arm; a single finger pointed at a pocket of Edgeworth’s magenta coat.

“There’s a bird in your pocket.” Phoenix said nonchalantly.

Edgeworth’s grin slowly disappears. His hand reaches into said pocket and feels waxy, soft lukewarm feathers. His hand cups around the fragile being and pulled it out. A dove limped in his palm, its head resting on Edgeworth’s fingers. It must have flown into his pocket after the ticker-tape celebration at court.

Two fingers pressed on the dove’s neck as he tried to find a pulse. The dove didn’t flinch to Edgeworth’s gentle touch. His fingers then massaged the dove’s midsection trying to revive it. Another row of fingers rested on top of Edgeworth’s. He stopped and looked up to find Phoenix’s eyes looking into his. Their hands touch and eyes meet. Breaths become arduous as they shared a quiet moment together caring for a dove on the verge of demise.

For whatever reason (shaky hands or otherwise), he dropped the dove.

The dove’s body thumped to the ground as its wings spread on the floor. Two feathers separated from the dove’s wings and floated beside it. Edgeworth looked at it with a heavy feeling in his heart.

Why did I just do that?