002 ♔ accidental video
[Miles Edgeworth's bracelet just switched itself on, but he's so focused on what he's writing right now that he won't notice till later (he just left it on his bedside table; clearly he has no intention of talking to anyone today). Perhaps the gods were still sore about how he had challenged their authority and their very existence on the first day, telling everyone that he wouldn't believe a single thing until he had cold hard evidence?
In any case, you now have a lovely view of him writing in his organizer, with several books and pens and even pieces of paper on his table. Within reach is a steaming cup of tea (from a teabag, sob. Where were the exquisite tea leaves and exotic blends? Actually, they will have to wait until he has gathered enough money; without any law-related jobs in Asgard, he has settled for a job at the library in Odin District since he's a frequent face at that place anyway). One of the books is open in front of him.
His forehead is furrowed as he scans the open book and his eyes are narrowed; Miles is seriously just trying to lose himself in his work. Everyone else can have their happy holidays and their Christmas and their fun in the snow; he would rather stay inside and try not to think about those. Besides, it was cold, and...man, it's just cold. The prosecutor reaches for his cup of tea.
The moment he touches it, frost forms on the ceramic, white rays spreading out to coat the entire cup in ice. He gasps, and just manages to quickly put the cup back on its saucer with a loud clink. If he had lost his composure, he would have dropped it (and spilled tea all over his stuff NOOOOO). For a long moment he just stares at the frozen cup in shock; did he seriously just do what he thought he did? Also, his tea was going to get really cold now.
Could he do it again?
He places his fingers on a pen but doesn't pick it up from the table. Miles fills his mind with thoughts of cold and ice and snow - and soon the pen looks like something that had been left in the freezer. Breathing hard, he examines it, turning it over and over gingerly, blocking those thoughts of cold from his head this time.
That was a yes. The gift the gods had given him was ice magic.
When he puts down the pen and turns his head toward his bedside table, he realizes that the bracelet has been recording. He quickly stands up from his desk, strides over to his bracelet and switches it off with an irritated look.
Thanks, he wasn't planning on showing up on the network today.]
In any case, you now have a lovely view of him writing in his organizer, with several books and pens and even pieces of paper on his table. Within reach is a steaming cup of tea (from a teabag, sob. Where were the exquisite tea leaves and exotic blends? Actually, they will have to wait until he has gathered enough money; without any law-related jobs in Asgard, he has settled for a job at the library in Odin District since he's a frequent face at that place anyway). One of the books is open in front of him.
His forehead is furrowed as he scans the open book and his eyes are narrowed; Miles is seriously just trying to lose himself in his work. Everyone else can have their happy holidays and their Christmas and their fun in the snow; he would rather stay inside and try not to think about those. Besides, it was cold, and...man, it's just cold. The prosecutor reaches for his cup of tea.
The moment he touches it, frost forms on the ceramic, white rays spreading out to coat the entire cup in ice. He gasps, and just manages to quickly put the cup back on its saucer with a loud clink. If he had lost his composure, he would have dropped it (and spilled tea all over his stuff NOOOOO). For a long moment he just stares at the frozen cup in shock; did he seriously just do what he thought he did? Also, his tea was going to get really cold now.
Could he do it again?
He places his fingers on a pen but doesn't pick it up from the table. Miles fills his mind with thoughts of cold and ice and snow - and soon the pen looks like something that had been left in the freezer. Breathing hard, he examines it, turning it over and over gingerly, blocking those thoughts of cold from his head this time.
That was a yes. The gift the gods had given him was ice magic.
When he puts down the pen and turns his head toward his bedside table, he realizes that the bracelet has been recording. He quickly stands up from his desk, strides over to his bracelet and switches it off with an irritated look.
Thanks, he wasn't planning on showing up on the network today.]