Title: Saudade
Author: BiOCaAM
Character/Pairing: Daryan Crescend/Pearl Fey
Fandom: Ace Attorney series
Summary: Sometimes he wishes she didn't have an undying faith in humanity.
Rating: T for language
Author's Notes: Written for prompt no. 27--Hurt--at
fanfic50.
"Yes, this is what good is: to forgive evil. There is no other good."
-Antonio Porchia, Voces
Even though it had been a fleeting moment, they had actually met each other the last time she came down to visit Phoenix and Trucy. They had tagged along with Apollo and Klavier to the courthouse, where they saw him for whatever reason. The introduction was brief, to the point, and inaccurate, but she really couldn't be bothered to correct Klavier. Let him stay in his own world, etcetera etcetera.
"This is Fräulein Trucy's friend, Fräulein Pretzel."
"It's Pearl," she protested weakly, in vain.
"Right, right. This is Daryan Crescend."
Forgetting normal customs, she lowered herself slightly in greeting and quickly moves away with Trucy, laughing at something she said. She never was good at meeting new people.
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Fuck, fuck, fuck.
This day could not get any worse. Okay, so his car spontaneously broke down and he had to take a cab to work. Fine. Work was slower than it had been in months. Well, that was to be expected sometimes. But this, this just made him want to kick something, preferably living. It just had to start pouring the minute he started walking down the street. After five minutes of trying to find a taxi, he gave up. At this point he was shivering, teeth involuntarily chattering.
He was so lost that he didn't even hear the unfamiliar, feminine voice that was apparently calling for him.
"Um, Mr. Crescend...? Is that you?"
He turned his head to see the strange pretzel-haired girl he met the other day standing there, holding an umbrella and her head tilted to the side with curiosity. They simply stood there for a minute as he tried to remember her name; the last thing he wanted to do is give a bad impression by not even knowing her name.
"Oh, right. Pearl."
He swears that her eyes widen slightly. He must've looked pretty pathetic, walking in the pouring rain without an umbrella. He suddenly felt extremely self-conscious and there was an incredibly awkward silence between them.
"Um, you can have this, I don't really need it," she said quietly, extending the hand that was holding the umbrella. Was she crazy?
"What about you?"
The smallest of smiles lights up her face, and he had to say--she looked pretty cute when she was happy or any variation thereof. "Trust me, it's okay. I have to sit under below freezing waterfalls for three hours every day. I think I can take a little bit of rain."
Maybe it was just better not to ask. Gavin did mention that she was some psychic or something.
They started walking in utter silence, her head hanging low. She was apparently very shy or just not in a good mood.
"I'm not, um, good at talking to people..."
"I can see that."
She stifled a laugh, as if it was inappropriate to do so.
"I don't come down here too much. The last time was a couple of years ago, and I got lucky then. So...it's kind of like culture shock to me." She lifted her head slightly towards the sky, looking at the rain wistfully. "I used to spend a lot of time here when I was little, before...before..." Her breath hitched, and she turned away.
Something obviously happened to her a while ago that still shook her up. Nothing like that had happened to him and she was only what, sixteen? After regaining her composure, she started apologizing profusely, saying, "Well, it happened seven years ago. You would've thought I moved on...Nobody even believes me when I tell them what happened."
All he could do is listen, and he felt bad for it.
She started playing with the strange, comma-shaped stone hanging around her neck. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
She looked at him right in the eyes and he swore that his heart skipped a beat. "You're Mr. Gavin's friend, right?"
He thought about saying no, only because he didn't want her to think of him in conjunction with Gavin. Klavier tended to have that effect on people's ideas of him. But, against his better judgment, he sighed and said, "Yeah."
"He's a bit...full of himself."
"Yeah, and you only just met him. Think about all of the great experiences I have with him," he said with heavy sarcasm, and she nearly doubled over with laughter, wiping away the subsequent tears that streamed down her face.
"I like you, Daryan."
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That's all he can think about now that he's in prison. Things that could've happened, things that could have been. All thanks to his stupidity and pitiful desperation, he threw somebody's admiration down the drain.
And yet, he still has an irrational hope that keeps disappointing him. Even if he doesn't make it out of here alive, he remembers what Klavier told him.
"Fraulein Pretzel called me and told me to tell you that she still thinks you're a good person. That was all."
It really would be easier if she just hated him.