ataraxionlogs | EVENT: MELPOMENE ▒ HOME

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EVENT: MELPOMENE ▒ HOME

CHARACTERS: Ensemble production!
LOCATION: Corridors in the belly of the Tranquility
WARNINGS: Creepiness, disturbing imagery, violence, etc.
SUMMARY: Characters discover slices of sanctuary deep in the maze.
NOTES: Open to all! Covers Stage Four of the plot & Escape.

You've been running and fighting for what feels like weeks now. Exhausted and desperate, you find another door, stumbling through into—

You're home, finally, far away and safe from monsters or spaceships. You're not alone, someone here who's been waiting for you, and they're so happy to see you. Relief overcomes you; you just want to rest, and there's no reason to believe anything here isn't what it seems, is there?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[There's no hook of Apparation, no guts-twisting magical means of transport. One minute, corridor, and the next--it's like swimming, like breaking clear of the surface and getting in a breath of air. And the air smells of-- jasmine, Sirius recongises that from potions and from flower-gardens both. Great-Aunt Cassiopeia's garden, he thinks, but no, there's a sweetness in this place that's like nothing his family ever touched. Sunlight and saltwater and a breeze in a tree.

And Edgeworth. The second Sirius focuses on him, he goes for him, strides across the room with the intent of grabbing hold of his arm. The expression on Edgewoth's face stops him maybe midway, and he looks around for some threat--though a threat in this place seems unimaginable, it would be out of place--]

What is it.

[He's already going for his wand, turned toward wherever Edgeworth's eyes are focused, looking for-- what? A dragon, a dementor, a manticore, something that would have made Edgeworth's face go paper-white.]

Where the hell are we?

[The ship, he answers himself, it's the ship playing silly buggers again. Business as usual. If Remus is in a room like this one, he might actually be happy about it. At least there's books here. The terrible misgiving that Sirius feels just at the back of his neck makes that stupid thought seem even stupider.]

My house.

[He remembers that couch, off to their left. It turned into a bed if you pulled it out. Only once in his life did he ever have a sleepover, on his ninth birthday; they used that couch then. The wall behind it, with its built-in bookcase - the bottom shelves all reserved for Miles' books. The doorframe leading into the dining room, notched lightly in pencil - he can see from here where his height was marked off, year after year. Age one through four in Mom's hand. Age five on in Dad's.

Those marks should have stopped after nine. After nine, this house was emptied. Sold to some other family. Some other mother took care of the lemon tree, some other father filled the shelves with books. Those marks should have been washed away so that the new family could have measured their own son. But instead -

Instead, the marks continue up. All the way up to just short of six feet. Eighteen marks, the top three all crowded in together, and the very highest one - the very biggest - with a little note beside it, in Dad's precise hand - Adult!

He looks at that bookcase again. The books have been rearranged, he realizes. There aren't any kid's books in there any longer. In the left two bookcases are Dad's familiar books - the law books Miles would peruse when he was little, the penal code of California. The complete works of Dashiell Hammett. Books about naval history. And in the right two bookcases -

Law books. Books on language. German, Spanish, French, Italian, Arabic. Star Wars novels. The Stanford course catalog.

High school yearbooks.

He needs to be sick. He needs to find a place to be sick, but he can't go into the bathroom down the hall because he knows that when he gets there he'll find that he'll have to hold down the handle to flush, and the one upstairs will keep running indefinitely unless he jiggles the handle - because old plumbing - and then coming out he'll take the left turn out of habit and end up in his room, and he'll lay down on that lumpy bed, and he'll - ]

I grew up here.

[He looks at Sirius. He looks terrified. He looks sick.

And he heard that squeak of the floorboards in the other room. He wants to think: a manticore, a monster, but he can't make himself believe that. He knows who it is. In his heart, he knows who it is.

And a voice - a man's voice - comes from beyond the dining room, out in the kitchen, the kitchen with its sunny little kitchen table and the sliding glass door leading out to Mom's garden. The voice calls: Miles?

And Edgeworth, miserable, nauseously, whispers to Sirius:]

That's my dad.

[Miles, which is a name Sirius has never once called Edgeworth. It's always surnames with them, a habit that's grown into identity and, despite the implication of formality, a name of familiarity. Edgeworth couldn't be anyone else. Miles is someone else entirely.

Miles, and with his wand in hand--already looking around at the idea that this could be Edgeworth's home, somehow, like maybe they've been transported back, went through a door that finally sent them home to first pay a visit to one another--]

Can't be.

[It sounds too blunt. Sirius stares at the door through which that voice had come. Miles, familiar in a different way. It's a good voice. It doesn't remind him of his own father in the least bit. He tightens his hand on his wand.]

You know that, right. It can't be.

Of course it can't.

[But he strays a few steps over towards the wall. He runs his fingers over the stucco. There's the spot that sort of looks like South America; there's the little dent where he once tripped with a book and its corner gouged out a spot. There's where the carpet doesn't quite meet the trim, where it buckles upwards.]

It's just another of the ship's tricks. That much is obvious.

[His voice is vague. He strays a little further. Drifts through the doorway from the living room. This is the hall. There's the dining room off to his right. The kitchen ahead of him. The hallway is airy - there's a window to his left, and he can see the garden through it. It must be summer. (Of course it's summer; why would he be home if it's not summer? He'd be away at school otherwise. He'd have graduated high school at age eighteen, college at twenty-two. He must have just been admitted into law school. Where, he wonders? He'll be twenty-five when he starts practicing. That's normal. That's reasonable.)

Miles, the voice comes again, and Miles answers:]

Yes, it's - me.

[And he casts a glance backwards, over his shoulder. He looks through the doorway towards Sirius - and, strangely, disconcertingly, he sees his friend's face...flicker.]

Edgeworth.

[He snaps out his name, as Edgeworth pushes off into the corridor--but he might as well have not said anything at all, for all the attention that name gets him. It's like there's some invisible pull on him. That's my dad. And that name, Miles, unfamiliar in its sound, ill-fitting on Edgeworth, even if he moves through this house like he fits in it.

Sirius follows him, his wand held before him, like maybe it's going to be a manticore saying Edgeworth's name, or worse, and he can't qualify that worse right now. There's too much here that doesn't make sense. If it's not some trick of the ship, what is it?

But when Edgeworth turns to look at him, properly--when the shadow of something crosses his face, like he doesn't know what he's looking at--that's when the urgency of the situation comes clear, and Sirius goes right for him, to grab at his arm again.]

Edgeworth. Stop. What the hell d'you think you're doing?

I don't know. [And - ] You're right.

[And then he pulls his arm from Sirius' grip, and pushes forward into the kitchen.

He doesn't know what he was expecting. Some monster, he supposes. A manticore with slavering jaws, leaping forward at him, snarling and murderous. Something horrific - some vision of carnage.

Instead:

Oh, good. I wasn't sure you'd make it home in time for dinner.

It's Dad. Dad, standing there in an apron over his slacks and button-down shirt. A bowl in front of him - meatloaf, the only food Dad knew how to make. Mom's recipe.

It's strange to see him now. It's strange to hear him. He realizes that his voice sounds a lot like Dad's. He hadn't remembered that. He looks a lot like him, too. He sees that same wide mouth in the mirror every morning, and the same heavy jaw, and the same broad shoulders. But Dad's smiling right now, and even though it's been thirteen years since Miles saw that smile - he doesn't have any photos of Dad smiling - he remembers it.

You're a summer intern, you know. You don't need to be working junior associate hours.

Dad mixes the meatloaf with his hands. He's wearing gloves. His smile fades a little bit as he looks at Miles' face; then it comes back.

I heard you talking to someone. Do you have a friend over? We can certainly set the table for three.]

[He hasn't got any choice but to follow Edgeworth, when he pulls away. That doesn't mean that if there were another choice, he'd take it, or even consider it: the hard line is, he wouldn't. If Edgeworth is going into the next room, then so is Sirius.

Edgeworth gets there first, with Sirius right on his heels, his wand leveled defencively at-- a man, in an apron, with a bowl of ground meat in front of him. The scene is so domestic it's nearly ridiculous, and Sirius barks a short laugh.]

Come off it.

[This isn't directed at anyone in particular--the figure before them, maybe, but also the ship at large, whatever's designed this scene down to the details of the pattern around the perimeter of the bowl, the crisp fold of the white apron, the smell of vague spices--pepper, mostly, mundane and simple.

The man in the apron looks so much like Edgeworth, it's like looking at a distorted photograph. Sirius ignores him, though he keeps his wand up.]

Edgeworth. Let's go. You don't want to stick around for this.

[Dad laughs at that. He laughs. It's a warm sound - a little quiet, a little bashful, but deeply genuine, and so warm. Edgeworth almost flinches at it.

I think your conductor friend just insulted my cooking.

And then Dad uses his wrist - clean of any contamination - to push up his glasses. And then the laughter fades, and the smile drops away, and Dad looks suddenly worried.

Miles, what's wrong? You look upset.]

Nothing.

[That comes out high and tremulous. And Miles has to keep it together. He has to. He's in front of Sirius, and Sirius is so tough and resilient that Miles is always ashamed to fall apart in front of him. And he's in front of Dad, too, and even though he never had to act tough for Dad, he still wants to be strong so that he won't worry. But even as he thinks that, even as he thinks about how he has to - At once, a breath in turns into a little hiccup and he lifts his hand to his face and finds that he's crying, uncontrollably. He struggles to breathe normally, to calm himself, but instead he just sobs out - ]

I just - missed you -

[And Dad makes a little noise of distress and pulls off his gloves and comes around the corner. He moves quickly - too quickly for Sirius to act, no doubt, because there's not even a moment of hesitation - and then he grabs Miles around the shoulders and hugs him tightly.

Dad speaks to Sirius directly.

Do you know what's gotten into him? Is he all right?]

[It all happens before Sirius has a chance to do anything--the high tone of Edgeworth's voice, the catch in it, and then his father--or whatever it is, his father or whatever creature is wearing his face, because Sirius has been running around in this bloody maze long enough to know what he's been telling Edgeworth, this can't be real, they can't have been standing in Grimmauld Place one minute and in Edgeworth's childhood home the next--wherever this is, whatever this is, it can't be real--

But Edgeworth's father has got his arms around him now, and he's looking right at Sirius, who looks back and wants to see-- what? Something, some hint of what this really is, some emptiness colouring those kind eyes. But there isn't. Brow creased in concern, arms around his son--the kitchen smells of cooking, spices and garlic, warm with sunlight.

Sirius raises his wand again, a warning gesture.]

Get off of him.

[Dad's a peacemaker; he always has been. But he's also Dad, and he raised Miles alone, and he protected and looked after him, and he always was so fiercely loving of him. Standing here, with Dad's arms around him, he remembers that - He remembers how much and how thoroughly Dad loved him. He'd forgotten, somehow, in the past years. He'd forgotten.

And so Dad doesn't get off of him. He tightens his grip instead, and frowns at Sirius - the expression no doubt eerily familiar, so uncannily does it resemble Edgeworth's disapproving scowl. And he turns, takes a step so that he's partly sheltering Miles from Sirius. He answers that:

Do you intend my son harm?

And then he asks:

Miles, is this man what has you so upset?

And Miles answers.]

No. It's -

[He disentangles himself just a little. He brings his forearm up to scrub at his eyes and says, tremulously:]

Sirius, put your wand down.

[Here's the foolish thing, of course: Sirius is right. This isn't Dad. Of course it's not. Life doesn't work like this. Things like this don't happen. You can be a good person, a person who wrecks himself endlessly with his sheer unremitting need to help people. You can struggle and fight endlessly on others' behalf, but that doesn't mean there'll be some grand cosmic reward waiting for you. You can save a hundred people, but it'll never undo the day you gave into your fear and set into motion a chain of events that got your dad killed. And Edgeworth hasn't saved anywhere near a hundred people. Because this - This, this old house, with its creaky floors and its peaceful garden and Dad, smiling and happy and welcoming him home, is...It's more than he'll ever get out of his sad, desperate life. It's so much better than the best thing he can ever expect.

So he knows it's fake. He knows it's an illusion. He knows that in two minutes or two seconds Dad's going to become a manticore and rip out his heart and he'll die on the floor of the house where he used to live. But he's just so tired, and even just spending a little while being held by his dad before he's torn apart...That's more happiness than he can reasonably expect from all the rest of his life.]

Please.

No.

[Stubbornly, Sirius does not do as he's told, even at that note of sad and quiet weariness in Edgeworth's voice. If anything, that urges him on. Because Edgeworth fights: that's what he does. His Animagus form would be a terrier, yapping at every problem until it at least rolled over and played dead. If this is not Edgeworth's father, and not his house, then Edgeworth acting not himself is in line with all of that--but it's not allowed.

He raises his wand a little higher, lifting his chin.]

You can't be serious with this. After all this time of you telling me magic isn't real, that you only believe things with proof--you can't be serious, with this.

We're leaving. Now. I mean it, Edgeworth. Whatever this is, whatever you think it is, or want it to be-- don't be an idiot.

[He wants to just bury his face in Dad's shoulder. He wants it to be as though he were a little kid again, where he could just trust that whatever problems arose, Dad would be there to help him and take care of him. He just wants to pretend that the world is a safe place. He wants to pretend that there isn't violence everywhere, ready to strike at the unwary. He wants to pretend that life can be good and happy and peaceful. Because he hasn't - He hasn't been able to think that since he was nine years old, and he just...wants to feel safe again.

And maybe if it were anyone else, he would. If it were anyone but Sirius, he'd just turn his back and let someone else take care of this problem. But Sirius...deserves better.

So he extricates himself from the hug. Dad looks at him quizzically, with worry, but Edgeworth nods to him - It's all right. And then he looks back at Sirius.]

It's - going to be okay. You'll be able to get back all right without me.

[He dashes at his eyes again with his shirtsleeve. He's stopped crying, at least, but he's on the edge of it.]

Just - Will you tell Tyke I'm sorry? Veronica - Veronica Mars - she's trained to take over my work. Honestly, she's smarter than I am; she'll do better than I did.

[And he sniffs, and tries for a tremulous little smile at Sirius. He can't manage it.]

[Sirius is prepared to face off against whatever this turns out to be, whatever the thing presenting itself as Edgeworth's father ends up turning into--a creature, a nothing, a trick of the ship--if it turns into a monster, if it tears out of the form that it's wearing, if it turns into a thousand maggots--whatever it does next, Sirius is ready for it. He's a wizard and a Gryffindor, this is what they do. Years of magical education and two years on this ship, what the hell is going to happen that could surprise him?

Except he never counted on Edgeworth turning to him with his eyes all shiny and his face composed all stupid, and saying things that have such finality to them. Tell Tyke I'm sorry, and Sirius actually takes a step back at that as he realises what Edgeworth is saying, what he's proposing--]

You're bloody--

[He laughs, hollowly.]

You're fucking joking. What are you suggesting, exactly? Why don't you say it plainly, instead of talking like you're delivering a eulogy at your own funeral.

[Say it plainly gives him just a little bit of pause. Sirius is going to protest, naturally, because protests must be made. A good friend isn't just going to let a friend step out of life. But that demand, to say it more plainly -

It twists his stomach. How can he say it more plainly? I'm going to let myself die, that's the only way it can really be phrased, and that just...When it's couched in romantic terms, when it's a last quiet grasp at happiness, it seems so peaceful and sorrowful and almost noble, in a way. He he thinks about it as a last little bit of love from his family, the love he hasn't known for years, that's fine; that's sad, but it's all right. It's poetic. But when the poetry's removed, it's just sort of...

It's a lot less palatable.

He takes a breath. He tries to remember what it is that's good and tragic about this.]

I'm tired, Sirius. I'm just incredibly tired. And I've always been dead weight. Security will get along better without me, and - people will get along better without me.

[But that comes across as passive-aggressive. Miles looks, for a moment, less wretchedly sad and more uncomfortable. And he looks down at his feet, momentarily uncertain -

And then Dad steps in.

I don't know who you are, or why you're upsetting my son like this. But you need to leave. Right now.]

[Edgeworth's little speech does nothing for Sirius. Not even a sentence in and he's already shaking his head, his wand held tightly in his hand. That's exactly what it had sounded like--it had sounded like Edgeworth was done, and here he is, making claims to exactly that. Talking himself down in the most fatalistic way there is.

And whatever sickness Sirius feels at the thought of Edgeworth making this choice--a casual choice, like it's only him that it affects, like he's allowed to make a choice like that--he fights it down, and he fights it down easily, because the upsurge of his anger is stronger than anything else.]

Fuck you.

[He says that to Edgeworth, and when his father steps forward--the creature wearing his father's face, well, Sirius steps forward to meet him, without hesitating.]

And fuck you too. Fuck you both. But especially you, Edgeworth-- Miles--

[He spits out that name, cutting out any affection from it. Miles means nothing to him. Edgeworth, Edgeworth is his friend, and whatever's drained the life out of him is going to end right now--]

You're tired? So what. You're the best thing we've got. You changed things--you matter--and you're a bloody idiot if you can't see that. And you are a bloody idiot, actually, and we both know that--you're a lot of things, but you aren't a fucking coward, and you don't quit. So shut up.

Edited (woah there caps lock) 2014-06-27 21:30 (UTC)

[He's never really heard that tone in Sirius' voice. Even early on, even when he and Sirius were at each other's throats in that first month, there was a great deal of nasty condescension back and forth, sure. A lot of sarcasm, a lot of unpleasantness. Petty condescension. Sure. But never that sort of...anger. Never that rage. Maybe sometimes he's heard some shadow of it directed at other people, but...He's never heard Sirius speak his name like that - never heard his name spoken like that at all.

It's...This isn't going like he'd planned. Sirius isn't supposed to be so livid over this. He's supposed to just - be okay with it. Sad, in an abstract, poetic sort of way, but not furious. Maybe there are supposed to be a few compassionate words of farewell, something that will leave them both feeling gently sorrowful but at peace. Not this fury.

(And even though Sirius' face looks strange, even though there's some odd feeling of suspicion and dislike and mistrust that's foreign to him, it's - He doesn't doubt for a moment that this is his friend. Because only his friend would be so furious.)

Miles looks at his dad. Dad's scowling; he lifts his chin in a stubborn, angry sort of way - a very familiar sort of way. He doesn't back down at all, for all that Sirius is close to him. He responds, angrily:

You will stop cursing at Miles this instant, young man. You are a guest in this house, and I am perfectly willing to retract that right if you keep abusing us both. You - ]

Dad.

[Miles interrupts, a little quietly - but Dad falls silent, looking at him. And Miles steps forward and takes Sirius' arm. Trying to draw him away from Dad.

And he says those words that have been so difficult to utter - so far beyond difficult.]

You need to...understand this. Out there, on Arima, I let them die. People died, and I did nothing to stop it. I just sat back, because I was scared. I am a coward. I do quit. And I don't deserve you being this upset.

[He swallows.]

I never deserved your friendship. I was fortunate to have it, and it - It's made me happier than anything else over the past decade of my life. But I never deserved it. Do you understand?

[He's experienced with fighting with adults and parents both--it isn't something that he shies away from--especially not now, especially not when he's dealing with whatever the hell this is. Because it isn't Edgeworth's father. No matter what face he's wearing, no matter what voice he's using--this is a trick.

And it's a trick that Edgewoth is buying into. All this shit about letting this happen--

He's hardly listening to any of that. Yeah, he hears it, but he hardly lets it enter his head, and he twists away from Edgeworth's grasp, getting loose from him so he can turn on him with a narrow glare.]

Yeah. I understand. But d'you know what, you haven't actually got a choice in this, 'cos I wasn't asking you. I'm your friend. And I'm not letting you make some idiotic martyr's choice just because you think you did something.

[He jabs his finger at Edgewoth's chest, hard.]

You might be quitting. But I'm not letting you. If I have to punch you in your stupid face and drag you out of here, I'm going to do it. So get away from that thing and come with me, now, 'cos I'm tired and I don't want to have to do that.

[He's...

It's all wrong. It's all wrong, and frustrating, and - and it was supposed to have been easy. It was supposed to have been straightforward and simple. Sirius was supposed to have just acquiesced. He wasn't - He has so many other friends. He has so many people who care about him and like him. Why is he wasting his time like this, on someone who's cowardly and petty and not even all that kind, when it comes down to it, who's not even really all that smart or good...Why is he spending his time on this?

Because friendship doesn't work like that, is the obvious answer. Because it's not like Miles wouldn't fight tooth and nail for Sirius. He'd die for his friend. Why would he ever presume to think Sirius wouldn't do the same for him?]

I...

[He's wavering now, uncertain. He looks at Sirius, then back at Dad - and his gaze stays fixed on Dad's face. Because the expression he has right now is...It's cold. Dad's never in his life looked cold. Dad's been angry, certainly - not often, but sometimes, when he's heard of injustices or cruelties in the world, when he spoke of miscarriages of justice - but that was always a muted, passionate sort of anger. He'd seen sorrow, too, and that had been quiet and cold, but that's completely different as well. This is something else.

You're not going to hurt him. Or take him away from me. But those words which ought to sound warmly protective...They sound harsh and possessive instead. Dad doesn't even look at Miles when he tells him - and these words make the pit drop out from his stomach: Go out into the garden, Miles. Your mother is out there. She'll tell you what to do.]

Mom's here?

[And that's enough to make Miles momentarily forget his misgivings about Dad's expression. He looks out to the garden instead. It's bright out through the door, too bright to really see out there - but he does think that he sees some other figure, someone else.]

[There's a wavering moment where it looks as if Sirius might have gotten through--at least a little bit--to Edgeworth, where he might be thinking twice about sitting down at that comfortable kitchen table and letting the thing-wearing-his-father's-face crush him to death in a fond and deadly embrace.

And, Good, Sirius thinks, because he really is tired, and he doesn't want to expel the energy required to punch Edgeworth in the face. He'll do it, of course he will, with grim gladness, but he'd rather save the energy for fighting whatever the creature turns into when it decides to shed the human face it wears now. Because surely it will, once it's been denied Edgeworth. That's how these things work.

So yeah, yeah, keep talking, Mr Monster; Sirius dismisses that possessiveness with a snort, his arms folded over his chest--he doesn't even bother looking over at the creature, that's how extremely not-arsed he is about what it's saying--

Only then it goes for what is pretty much an emotional jugular, and Sirius looks sharply to that creature, and then toward the garden--which is only a door, he's sure of it, a door white with light and nothing else, and Merlin only knows what's hanging around out there--but if it's too good to be true, it probably is, because that's how these things work, too--]

Fuck you, she's not.

[They've not spoken overmuch about Edgeworth's mother, but Sirius knows a little--enough to know that her being out in the garden is impossible, that Edgeworth barely remembers her, that she was gone when he was very small, and using her in whatever this is like hexing someone when their back is turned, dirty pool of the highest degree.]

She's not. Edgeworth, she's not and you know it--come on, it's got you where it wants you! And all it had to do was mention your mother--it's in your head, it's using what it knows about you, using it against you!

[And doesn't that piss you off, that goes unsaid--but it ought to, and if it doesn't, it had better start. Angrily, Sirius strides forward, right up to the creature wearing the face of Edgeworth's father, his wand ready--]

And you, you'd better back off now or I'm going to rip your face off of your face and throw it in your bloody meatloaf.

[Miles. Dad says that again, and his voice is so familiar. It's his courtroom voice. Fierce, determined, righteous, self-assured. He knows that voice better than he knows Dad's affectionate quiet home voice, because there are tapes of Dad in court. Five trials in all that Miles was able to request from the court archives. He must have them memorized by now, the lifts and falls of Dad's voice on every impassioned sentence, the way he'd stop and push at his hair and how Miles had figured out eventually that that was just what Dad did when he had no idea what to say but was about to bluff something -

Miles, go outside. I know this is your friend, so I don't want you to have to be in the middle of it.

But the thing is...Sirius has always stood beside him. Always. Unflinchingly. Like he'd said, he doesn't deserve that now and never had deserved it, but Sirius hadn't ever faltered from his side. Since that first moment two years ago when they'd worked together to bring down that beast and save Jack Kelly from its bite, from that moment when their initial hatred had turned into wary respect, Sirius had never done a damned thing to hurt Edgeworth. They hadn't always been at peace with one another; the friendship had not always been one that brought them gladness; but it had always been constant.

So if he goes into that garden now, Sirius will fight this thing that wears Dad's face. And even if that really were Mom out there, even if it were his mother and she were there to embrace him and comfort him, Edgeworth could never leave his friend to fight alone.]

Don't.

[He says that to Sirius. But he immediately turns to his father afterwards and says:]

I'm not going out there. I'm staying with Sirius. And I'm seeing him safely back to the ship. If you and Mom can come along, then you're welcome to come along. But he's my best friend.

[A little quietly:]

You were the one who taught me that you need to stand by your friends.

[And then he looks back to Sirius.]

Don't fight him. Please. Even if it's -

[But Dad takes advantage of Edgeworth's inattention: immediately, he goes for Sirius, hands lashing out to grab at his throat, face twisted in fury.]

[Don't fight him, Edgeworth says, but everything in Sirius is straining to do exactly the opposite of that. Fight him, because there's no way this is going to end peacefully, with everyone going their separate ways. He hasn't got a choice. Not if he wants Edgeworth to come with him, not if he wants to get him out of here.

So even before the thing wearing the face of Edgeworth's father makes its move--Sirius was ready even before that, his wand in one hand and the fingers of his other hand curled into a fist. He doesn't look around at Edgeworth's plea, even if he feels some minor mark of success at having gotten him to come around at all--

And then the creature moves, its face ugly and twisted, and it looks so much less like it did mere seconds before--less like the face it was wearing and less like Edgeworth as well, and that makes it easier to try and get away from it--as its hands close around his throat, Sirius grabs for one wrist with one hand, jabs his wand toward the thing with a strangled shout--because what choice has he got, because in the moment, he only reacts, without thinking of what Edgeworth had just asked--don't fight him, but he has to get free--]

Stupefy!

Dad -

[It's idiotic. This is just a monster with Dad's face. It's nothing more than that. Just a monster that wears his face, and speaks like him, and smiles like him - an echo, a ghost. But Edgeworth...It's completely irrational. It's utterly irrational. But since the moment when he stepped into this house, he's lost all rationality and has been thinking with emotion alone, and emotion keeps him from being able to see Dad's echo hurt.

So the moment Dad goes for Sirius, Edgeworth goes for Dad. He grabs for him, tries to pull him away - not even thinking about using his ability right now, using hands alone - But in the scuffle, in the melee, he half gets in the way of Sirius' wand. And so that spell mostly hits the monster, but Edgeworth's right side goes numb -

Before he falls, he lurches forward, using his full weight to bear Dad to the ground. Dad's glasses are knocked off and go skittering to the side, and without them, his face looks strange, foreign - Edgeworth turns, bites out - ]

Run -

[But as it turns out, Dad's not just going for Sirius. For all that Dad's stunned, he grabs onto Edgeworth's wrist with incredible strength - Edgeworth tries to pull away, but he can't break that grip - ]

[At first, he can't work out what's happened. One second he's all set to Stun the thing wearing the face--only it's wearing less and less of it, as if with each second that goes by it's forgetting to hold to it--or perhaps that's only more of the confusion of the moment, perhaps that's not it at all--but in any case, Sirius is set to Stun it and get it out of the way, and then all at once, Edgeworth is there, in the bloody way, and Sirius tries to direct the spell away but it's too late--and Edgeworth is down on the floor of the kitchen with the thing that looks less like his father, less like him--

And it's got him, and Sirius hits that white-hot moment, where nothing else matters, where caution is thrown aside for acts of sheer dumb bravery, and he doesn't run, he leaps across the short distance between them and goes to kick the thing in the face. No matter what it is, it can't do much with a kicked-in head.]

[But again, Edgeworth gets in the way - this time not by accident. A stunning spell, fine, perhaps, but real violence done to this thing, to this echo of his father, to even this corrupted memory - he can't. He forces his arm up to shield Dad's head; he gets half the force of it once again, and he winces but doesn't make a noise, because even in the midst of this he doesn't want Sirius feeling bad -

The kick does catch Dad's arm too. It has enough force that it knocks that grip just a little loose, so that Edgeworth can wrench his wrist free. He's still wobbly, still reeling from that spell, can't stand - scrambles backwards.

Don't you want to see her? There's savagery in Dad's voice. Don't you miss her, Miles?

Edgeworth says nothing. He just uses the counter behind him to lever himself to his feet.]

[The intensity of the moment is such that Sirius just feels that kick connect and counts that as a success--sees Edgeworth wrench free and counts that as a still greater success, and he jumps back with his wand at the ready, backing away so he's standing beside Edgeworth. He ought to give him a hand up, maybe, but all his focus is on the creature on the floor, and as it snarls at Edgeworth, Sirius sneers right back--]

Oh, shut up, you poxy-- Incarcerous!

[That's meant to tie it up, at least--shutting it up will come second, once he's certain that it won't wrench free and go for Edgeworth again.]

EVENT: MELPOMENE ▒ HOME

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