I am not a man to hunger for blood...

[taughttolisten]

WHO: Miles Edgeworth bluffing_ruffle and Obi-Wan Kenobi taughttolisten
WHERE: The Jinn Memorial School of Complex Paragraphery
WHEN: Monday evening, July 19th
WARNINGS: Some violence. Possible violation of house sparring rules.
SUMMARY: Things have become... somewhat strained between these two. And on top of the delicate emotional balance of things, swords have become

Comments

PROBABLE violation of house sparring rules, y'mean

[bluffing_ruffle]

Edgeworth had been trained to fence from a young age; von Karma had seen fit to teach him as both a sport worthy of gentlemen and a way to make the boy visualize the courtroom method. Miles had not enjoyed learning of the history behind the art--murder was murder, and there was little to think of a duel to the death other than that--but was capable of using it to learn the body language and intentions of his opponents. It was a skill that had translated rather nicely to his studies as a prosecutor, and which was well-supported by the continuing games of chess.

He had never left either of them behind for long, and after discovering his ice powers in the City, had practiced fencing almost every day... sometimes for hours on end, and others merely for what few minutes he had to himself before bed.

What von Karma had also taught Edgeworth was the value of learning to manipulate the emotions of others; if one could force a foe to lose control of themselves, one could then swoop in to take control. After all, hadn't that been how he

No apologies needed. A prosecutor does what a prosecutor must to get to the Truth.

[bluffing_ruffle]

To Obi-Wan's credit, he had finally discovered the exact same tactic that Wright had used to destroy Edgeworth's win streak in the courtroom. When confronted with a rational strategy, Miles could almost always find a way to counter it; when he could not, he was able to throw his opponent off his game instead, so that he did manage to discover one. In a game of logic, the man was nearly unbeatable

The defense moves to cover part of the prosecution's medical bills

[taughttolisten]

"I said shut up!"

Edgeworth had struck his arms, his face, his torso, even his wrists; he was a mass of stinging cuts and there was blood dripping into one eye, and he could hardly tell whose voice was accusing him.

Although, really, it barely mattered. Ultimately the voice muttering shame and defeat in his ear was his own.

In a decisive stroke, he swept the ice blades aside, reaching out and shoving through the Force. Edgeworth's épée fell from his hand, a swift and carefully calculated decision--

--and then his closed fist hit the joint where upper arm and shoulder met, slamming the bone out of place with a sickening noise.

Motion carried. Equal measures to be carried out for the opposing attorney.

[bluffing_ruffle]

It was a sensation Edgeworth knew very, very well. First he broke out into an immediate sweat, and then the world in front of him seemed to tilt in a slow, inexorable fashion to one side. Despite the fact that his ears had suffered no damage, his hearing slipped, with all the sounds he should have been able to listen to fading out into so much white noise--such as his scream--and then he began to slump down along the wall.

There were no earthquakes in the City just then. His arm, however, had just been dislocated. Dimly, he registered that his reaction to both was turning out to be quite the same.

At least he wasn't crying.

Consciousness... no. No, he couldn't afford to lose that. His eyelids felt heavy, and his vision was a little out of focus, but he could see the fist that had caused him both injuries waving about.

Edgeworth groped for it, finally clasping hold of Kenobi's forearm in his one still-useful hand and squeezing, using up some last little reserve of stubborn rage and a desire not to pass out on the spot to

Motion granted. Everyone be back in chambers tomorrow morning

[taughttolisten]

It wasn't the pain that brought him back to his senses. It was the noise.

Edgeworth's scream was the beginning of it, the crack that touched off the avalanche--but then came the sound of bone splintering, crunching, popping, a sound he could feel as much as hear.

You've lost, Kenobi.

Something hot and wet splashed his ruined forearm just below the wrist, and that faint pressure was agony. It happened again, and then his knees hurt and he realized he'd dropped to the floor, cradling his arm against his chest, trying desperately not to see how unnaturally it moved now that the support beneath the skin and muscle was essentially pulverized.

You've lost.

The pain gave him perfect clarity, gave him back the calm he needed to see exactly what he had done. The floor of his studio ripped open, his best friend lying slumped against the wall with one arm at a sick angle, both of them covered in blood and sweat.

lostDistantly he realized that the thing that had struck his forearm was a tear, and that it had come from him