[Unfinished]
Who: Franziska von Karma, Phoenix Wright
What: Franziska arrives, and is freaked out. And when she gets upset, people get beaten.
Where: Somewhere between the church and the tower.
When: Sometime when it's.. really dark out. ^^
Rating: G
Open: Of course!
This wasn't Germany. In fact, she could not remember the plane landing. Then again, the more she struggled to piece everything together, the more she realized that there was a huge gaping hole where a piece of
memory should have been. Certainly she should remember how she wound up from a well-lit plane to a random dark, spooky city in the middle of nowhere, right?
Still, her mind worked as she tried to figure it out. She remembered being in her seat. She remembered looking out of the window, holding onto the fourth piece of evidence she took from the Engarde case,
having tucked it away before discarding the scruffy detective's coat.
And now she was no longer on a plane. She was alone, in the dark, in the middle of what looked to be a strange city. Nervously, she pulled out her whip and clutched the handle, tears that fell only moments
before threatening to spill again.
"W-What is the meaning of this foolishness?" She tried, seeking bravado that was hard to find, although her tone intensified once she cracked her whip to the pavement. How quickly it had become her lifeline, her
one source of comfort. "What foolish fool has dared to bring me to such a foolish place?"
What: Franziska arrives, and is freaked out. And when she gets upset, people get beaten.
Where: Somewhere between the church and the tower.
When: Sometime when it's.. really dark out. ^^
Rating: G
Open: Of course!
This wasn't Germany. In fact, she could not remember the plane landing. Then again, the more she struggled to piece everything together, the more she realized that there was a huge gaping hole where a piece of
memory should have been. Certainly she should remember how she wound up from a well-lit plane to a random dark, spooky city in the middle of nowhere, right?
Still, her mind worked as she tried to figure it out. She remembered being in her seat. She remembered looking out of the window, holding onto the fourth piece of evidence she took from the Engarde case,
having tucked it away before discarding the scruffy detective's coat.
And now she was no longer on a plane. She was alone, in the dark, in the middle of what looked to be a strange city. Nervously, she pulled out her whip and clutched the handle, tears that fell only moments
before threatening to spill again.
"W-What is the meaning of this foolishness?" She tried, seeking bravado that was hard to find, although her tone intensified once she cracked her whip to the pavement. How quickly it had become her lifeline, her
one source of comfort. "What foolish fool has dared to bring me to such a foolish place?"