atroquinine, my love

Klaver Gavin ✧ Rock Star Murders: 0 ✧ Deaths: 1 Executions: 2 The dreaded day of departure draws nearer and nearer. Let's start over if we can, love, nur ich und du.

[atroquinined]

i love klaviers sweet ass

[acekilljoy]

walking dead;; Klavier

[acekilljoy]

    Needless to say, it came as quite the surprise when the presumed specter sprang in to action upon hearing her apology. He was real, he was alive; she knew this now because he had her hand, the blood that had coated it rubbing off on to his palm, and was leading her in to the infirmary that she had heralded as her salvation as opposed to shepherding her in to the afterlife.

    There was so much that she wanted to ask him, many laced with concerned curiosity and others with an underlying anger. What had happened while I was away? You aren’t still hurt, are you? How could you allow yourself to become involved with a serial killer? This was not the time nor the place, however, and she wordlessly allowed continue his course of action while she gathered her bearings by taking a seat on the nearest available flat surface - which happened to be a medical cot.

    Under any other circumstances she would find herself to be rather flustered, but this wasn’t any normal sort of circumstance now was it?  Nothing had been normal as of late, deep in her gut lay the understanding that things will never be quite like they were ever again. While she would normally express some hesitation in doing so, the girl compliantly removed the saturated layer of outer clothing she wore to reveal the brilliant red that stained the white undershirt that lay underneath.

    “We,” she began after taking a shaky breath. Exhaustion and fatigue had long since settled in, and now the effects were too great for  her to conceal them, and everything seemed to pass by in a daze. Naoto would not allow herself to give in, however. Not yet. There was still so much that must be done, people that must be protected and truth to be found.

   . Shaky fingers undid the first few buttons of her shirt - even now, she was cautious, the binder she wore concealed to the highest possible extent through strategically fastened buttons, though the shoulder strap was plain as day - before gingerly pulling her arm through the sleeve, trying to hide the pain on her face as she did so. Only when that was done did she continue.  ”Myself and the others… We failed to bring your killer to justice, Gavin-san. I believe that’s more than deserving of an apology.”

    And with those words, the full extent of her injuries was laid bare for him to see. Monobear’s traps were designed with nothing but malice and pure killing intent in mind, and this much showed in the wounds that they caused. Things aren’t looking good, and she knew that. But through the panic and the pain, the young detective was still doing her best to maintain her her composure. If not for her own sake, then for Klavier’s.

[atroquinined]

　　Staunching the flow is only effective when it's constant. As it is, Klavier has to pull his shirt away more than once to allow Naoto to remove the garments that hide her arm, thereby allowing the blood to flow freely. It isn't so bad, he thinks. He'll put it back as soon as he's able to, as soon as there's no reason to retreat again--and he does, but the sight that greets him almost has him wondering how effective it will be in the end.

　　The injuries that adorn her body are gruesome. They are deep and numerous, no doubt caused with the intent to kill. It's a wonder--no. He can't think that. He can't focus on how lucky she is, how lucky he is to to even see. There can be nothing but healing until she's safe, because right now, she's anything but.

　　His face is somber as he pores over the wounds, and it only darkens upon hearing the result of his trial. Try as he might to focus only on the injuries, on Naoto, on the threat that looms over both their heads, his mind drifts to his own death, now long past. He wants so badly to know who it was that killed him, but he can't--he won't ask. Not her. Not now. If they succeed in healing her, then maybe--but not yet.

　　It's lucky he's as practiced as he is in falsifying smiles and positivity. The smile that graces his lips now isn't wholly genuine, more a show of confidence than anything. It's meant to reassure her in the end, but he can't be sure how someone as sharp as her will take it.

　　"There's no need to apologize," he says again. "I'm sure you tried your hardest, ja? And if they are truly to be feared..." The warmth of his smile fades, replaced by a dark foreshadowing. "They will strike again, and this time, they won't get away."

　　No.

　　No, no, no--this is wrong, this is all so horribly wrong. He ought to be focusing on the present threat of death rather the past reality or a future possibility. Naoto is here--she's in front of him, warm and alive but not for long if he doesn't do something, but Gott, he doesn't know what it is he's meant to be doing. He doesn't know a damned thing about any of this--but maybe there's someone or something that doesn't.

　　He barely takes the time to place Naoto's free hand on his balled-up shirt before uttering a quick, "I'll be back," and rushing into what can only be the nurse's office in the back of the room.

　　There is no nurse, of course. There's no one but him in that room, surrounded by shelves of medical supplies he hardly recognizes and drawers full of god only knows what. It takes him a minute of scouring to find anything he thinks may be useful, but when he does... it's such a relief to be leaving the room with an armful of gauze and bandages and disinfectant.

　　It's all dumped unceremoniously on a cot as soon as Klavier returns to the main room. All he can do now is work with what he knows, so he grabs the bottle of disinfectant. "This may sting," he warns, as if it needs saying. With gashes that deep, he's sure anything he does is going to hurt her. But he can't let that stop him if he's going to be of any help. It's with a gentle Sorry that he spritzes the length of her arm, and another when he begins pressing gauze to the worst of the wounds.

[atroquinined]

∗ ʜøɴᴇsᴛʏ

[wrighted]

Phoenix didn’t know what was spoken behind curtains, but it wasn’t like he cared. What had occurred that day had happened, and he had no choice but to accept it as is. He could fight back, but not until he found the truth…

Which he couldn’t find while he was here.

The former defense would not be able to argue any points of Klavier’s if the topic disbarment was brought up (which he was somewhat fearful of), he didn’t have the truth with him. The blonde seemed like the type to require evidence for proof, but even if Phoenix did present any—it could be interpreted as forged. After all, that faithful day in court would have obviously gave Klavier a bad opinion of him. So he tried to avoid the subject as much as possible, since he had nothing to persuade the other.

So when Klavier asks about piano, all he does is give off a soft chuckle.

(…Not my real job, I mean. I can play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, if that makes anything better.)

He then tunes back into earth and responds with a dull, "…I wouldn’t mind playing on either." Phoenix knew that if he told him his true job, he’d have even a lower opinion of him. It took awhile for his friends (who he managed to keep in contact with) to accept that his job wasn’t gambling, it was just playing poker. If he really played the piano that bad, and the blonde’s face splattered with disgust at his tunes—he would take him to the casino to teach him the truth.

Silence grows over them again, though this time Phoenix is the one to break it. He says quietly, looking back at Hope’s Peak, "The old school building seems interesting. Let’s see if there’s a piano there." He snorts at the thought of actually having to play the instrument for Klavier—but hey, whatever Klavier wanted to do Phoenix was obliged to doing. After all, he was the man who broke his win streak for the first time in awhile.

He begins to walk, turning around to see if Klavier would follow suit. 

[atroquinined]

　　If the choice were his, Klavier would opt for the live house. He's biased, of course; the live house is home to several amps and guitars that he has yet to play, which would give him something to do while Wright tinkered around on the keyboard. He'd listen for a while, but when music is played live, the urge to somehow accompany it can be hard to ignore.

　　Unfortunately, Wright chooses the school building. That's fine as well, if a little disappointing... but maybe it isn't after all. It doesn't sound or seem as though many people have tried entering after it was first revealed to them all that time ago, meaning there may still be secrets and information hidden within. Investigations may not be his forte, but Klavier isn't about to pass up a chance to learn about this Gottverdammt island.

　　He chuckles. "To the school, then."

　　Wright leads. Klavier does not follow, but falls into an easy stride beside him. 

　　The buildings themselves are unimpressive from the outside. They're tall and simple, like any other boarding school, perhaps. Their simple appearances seem to contradict the rumors and claims of greatness surrounding Hope's Peak Academy, though Klavier wonders now if any of it was ever true.

　　Perhaps they'll find out when they enter.

　　Enter they do, and again... Klavier is hit by the same strange feeling he experienced the first time he entered this building. It's unidentifiable, perhaps without a name at all... and he doesn't like it. It's as if someone--or many someones--are watching them from behind every corner, calling out to them... but why? What are they trying to say?

　　No, that's ridiculous. There's no one here but the two of them.

　　(Probably.)

　　Klavier tries to maintain his composure despite the chill that courses through his veins. "It's on one of the upper floors..." Truth be told, that's all he knows. "The stairs are this way."

　　Unsurprisingly, the stairwell is creepier than than the entrance hall.

[atroquinined]

　　"Some of you forget that humans can be monsters, too."

[atroquinined]

dont you mean "favorite memory: mr wright"

[atroquinined]

☢

"Sorry to disappoint, but as I said earlier, I don't scare easily."

(But I do wonder what he's capable of.)

[atroquinined]

two relationship symbols of your choice

Crossover ship with my muse:

i'm gonna be real and say i could ship klavier with almost anyone (so if u wanna talk ship hmu... luv talkin' ships.)

Child character my muse would adopt:

imagine seventeen-year-old klavier with a child. do you really want that. do you. do you think that is okay.

[atroquinined]

☣

Character my muse respects greatly:

"Herr Edgeworth seems to demand respect without saying a word, but I imagine he'd have it even if he didn't. He may be a stick-in-the-mud around the office, but his record and professionalism are certainly impressive."

[atroquinined]

What is something about your past that frightens you?

"Ach... that trial. The Gramarye trial... You know the one, ja?"

(The evidence was most definitely fake... but what if I was wrong? What if it wasn't Herr Wright who had it forged? ...No. I did what had to be done based on what I knew. What I was told... I can't be wrong. Not this time.)

[atroquinined]

(ANON VOICE) What's your opinion of Mr. Wright?

"I was a bit disappointed to learn that I wouldn't be facing off against my brother in my courtroom debut, but when I heard the legendary Phoenix Wright would be taking his place... I didn't mind so much. I though I'd get a chance to see one of the greatest defense attorneys in Los Angeles in action, but instead... I was uncovered the foundation of lies hidden beneath his many victories." He sighs, audibly let down by the turn of events. "I was disappointed. I'm still disappointed. Someone like him shouldn't have had to resort to dirty trickery... or have we been wrong about him all along?"

It's clear that he isn't talking only about Phoenix toward the end.

[videcdrome-deactivated20211130]

Character building time! Ask my muse personal things, about friends, their past, ANYTHING THAT'S PERSONAL! Please :D?

[atroquinined]

+ Winter.

It's hard to speak to a hardened criminal when you have no way of bringing the justice they deserve. It's harder still when their heart isn't as icy as you wanted to believe.

[atroquinined]

anger

It’s been years since it happened—seven long years of wariness, doubt, and off-key piano playing. Despite the damage to both his life and his reputation, Herr Wright insists that Klavier was never—well, only briefly—the one he was angry with.

That’s fine; Klavier is angry enough for the both of them.

[atroquinined]

homicide B)

Klavier is finally where he belongs, and Robert, where he belongs. One smirks across the courtroom; the other simply smiles as they’d seen each other yesterday.

"Court is now in session for the trial of Robert Haydn."

[atroquinined]

✄!

Playing with his hair isn’t something Klavier does only when he’s nervous, but it is often something he does when he is. Second to that is his tendency to drum his fingers against surfaces in carefree rhythms or play with whatever is in his hands—provided it isn’t valuable evidence, of course.

[atroquinined]

✉

The atrocious habits expected of a rock star and professionalism of a prosecutor seem to balance out in this area... somewhat. He's a bit more on the unprofessional side in that he will text his colleagues without correcting his spellcheck and occasionally for things he ought to call them about. The worst is drunk texting--it's happened on occasion and he has no discretion when it comes to who it is he's texting. 

[atroquinined]

✿

Klavier's laugh is rarely hearty and uninhibited. He tends to reign his laughter in, letting out chuckles rather than peals of laughter. He still means it; it's nearly always genuine, and he does laugh at many things. It's just that his laughter is a little more subdued than one may expect from someone like him.