Uh some have probably already figured by now 'cause of my radio silence but as of now I am officially going on a haitus! I have no idea when I'll be back because these things are like very random for me? Like I'll be into one thing one second, and another the next. So uh...undefined haitus until I'm out of genshin impact hell and/or ace attorney inspo decks me in the fucking face.
But I'm still always open for chat from my friendos so don't be afraid to hmu just to chat ☆
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Usually Klavier is the first to notice something amiss. To catch the scent of potential evidence and chase it like a bloodhound. However, he supposes he shouldn’t be too wounded by being second to important proof. It’s in the WTA’s nature to bring about new possibilities, after all. Apollo seemed to be inheriting that trait from his new mentor quite well.
It was because of him that Klavier was here in the first place.
The grip on his hands is tight enough to cut blood flow.
Despite that, he doesn't protest. Doesn't even give anything besides a held back sound of discomfort. Because Apollo needs this. Apollo needs him. Someone to grip on to let him know he's not alone. Klavier wants to be that. Even if it means his hands grow numb as a result.
Gavin notices the start of tears, and his entire soul throbs with pain. He can't even begin to imagine how terrifying this must be for Apollo. For someone with his gift, the eyes were as important as breathing. They were his craft. His everything. His weapon of truth in the battlefield of the courtroom. To even consider what he'd do without them...well...one wouldn't even want to think about it.
Klavier wonders what he could do to offer comfort in such a stressful moment. His automatic desire always seemed to be wiping away those tears. He couldn't exactly fathom why. Perhaps because instinct said if there were no tears, there'd be no reason to cry. A silly and absolutely incorrect notion. Still, the human mind, while flawed, was empathetic. But he couldn't exactly indulge that reflex when Apollo was gripping his hands so tightly. The idea of pressing his head against the other's was also scrapped, as the fear of exacerbating his injury was too strong. The only thing he could really offer right now was soothing words. But was that really enough? Was it even worth anything in a situation like this?
He doesn't dare utter false promises to someone who's lost their sight.
Klavier's considering ripping his hair out when something is actually ripped from him. Apollo's hands. His own have been granted feeling again, the coldness of Justice's skin replaced with frantic static. They'd been removed in favor of being stared down by the attorney. It's wrong though. There is no unwavering certainty in Apollo's eyes anymore. Just hazy desperation and denial. The scrunch of his brows is nothing but a hollow phony, soon smoothed away by terror once more. There's a wave. A shake that's pleading to be seen. Yet unlike Klavier's own wave, it serves no purpose. Klavier's will at least help circulate his blood flow. Apollo's will only be lost in never ending darkness.
And when he finally speaks...
“...It’s... pitch-black...”
...It confirms what they were both afraid of.
Klavier gives in to his nervous habit and runs a shaking hand through his bangs. His fingers tangle in the strands, seeking solace in the blonde locks. The softness was always a source of comfort. Something that brought something good to a bad moment, or hour, or day. Maybe that's one of the reasons he always went the extra mile to take care of it. Not only was it his anchor, but it provided something nice and flashy to distract the public. It said, 'Look! I'm perfectly fine. Look at how confident I am'. Even his tick made it seem like he was just cocky, not sweating bullets.
Apollo knew better though.
Apollo could see right through him.
Apollo couldn't see through him now though.
Apollo couldn't see.
His next grip had definitely ripped a few hairs out.
Klavier hears a sniffle, and his hold turns positively painful, before slowly loosening. The gold trickles down, returning to peck at his face as he looks at Apollo. He can see the constant flex of face muscles. The continuous switching between refusal to believe what's happening and fear of reality. Sadness and panic mix into the building pot of grief, clearly overflowing with how wetness bites at his eyes. Apollo's lower lip is trembling, and Klavier's sure it'll be subject to the pain of nibbling teeth soon. A sting that'll hold no weight against the heaviness of a head wound or continuous black veils.
Klavier has to do something.
He has to get the hell out of his head so Apollo can do the same.
His lips part, yet his throat is dry. Still, it conjures up words, hoping to warn Apollo before he touches him this time. Hoping to grab at his hands again to offer some support.
Somehow Apollo beats him to it.
Klavier's arms are being gripped, shaken so hard he thinks he might be the one with head trauma soon. What he originally thought to be Apollo having hallucinations seems to instead be a revelation. Something about flowers triggered remembrance for the shorter, and even more importantly, the possible identity of the killer. Klavier takes a moment to relieve his mind and regain his hearing after that outburst. It's definitely a bit to adjust to when you're startled from one worry to another. And as much as he wants to hear Apollo out, he knows there's something of more importance right now. So, his hands cover over Apollo's own, and gently pry off their grasp.
"Apollo, you have to lie down. If you don't, you could make your injury worse than it already is"
His palms glide up, gripping Apollo's shoulders to nudge him down. When he meets resistance, the notion turns into more of a push. He's trying hard to treat him carefully, but if Apollo keeps being stubborn that's going to make everything a lot more difficult. He pauses, unsure of whether to have Apollo lay on his front or his back. He decides his back is definitely not an option, considering that's where the bump is. Front is also a little worrying. While it may not be the main wound location, even just the idea of his skull being pressed into the ground, no matter how softly, makes him nervous. Eventually he decides on laying him on his side. That way if he needs to vomit, it won't choke or suffocate him. Maybe on Gavin's lap, too. That might provide better elevation than a folded jacket.
In the time it took him to decide that, his grip is lost. He recenters it, and gives Apollo a stern look. One he quickly remembers Apollo can't see. A sting of panic, and then concentration. Klavier needs to placate him.
"Apollo, you can tell me all about who you think it is. Trust and believe I think it's just as important to know as you do. But if you don't rest you won't be right enough to even pass on the information", Klavier stops, considering, and then decides it's time to be a little stubborn himself. "And if you continue to refuse, then I just won't listen"
There it was. His ultimatum.
He hated to be so harsh to Apollo, especially considering what he was going through. However, it's exactly because of these dangerous circumstances that he needs to put his foot down. Klavier would make it up to him later.
"So either use my lap to lay down on your side, or I'm suddenly going to be very hard at hearing"
As if to enunciate his point, Gavin picked up his forgotten phone. One hand scrolled into his music library, while the other dug out his earphones. Once untangled, he plugged them in and turned them up loud enough for Apollo to hear. Chaotic death metal fought its way out of the tiny buds. He didn't put them in his ear. He just wanted to give the illusion that he'd drowned Apollo out. A cruel trick, he knew. His heart stung even thinking of the ploy. Nevertheless, he'd fight fire with fire. Or maybe in this case, fight a mule with rock?
While he waited for Apollo to make his choice, he skimmed through his text messages. His thumb stopped on Trucy's contact, typing out a quick update on what had happened, as well as a request for backup. He knew he had no right, but he needed...well...Wright. Klavier may have done awful things in the past, but he was sure Phoenix cared for his pupil enough to come. He wanted someone to be here to continue the investigation while he left with Apollo. Otherwise, something important could slip from their grasp.
Considering how badly Apollo had wanted to continue despite his condition, there had to be something here that the killer didn't want him to find. Hopefully it's traces weren't removed while Apollo was unconscious.
There are already a bunch of posts all about AA:AJ and just what the heck was behind Kristoph Gavin’s Psychelocks. What were his motivations? Why did he do what he did? As fragmented as the story is surrounding the Gavin brothers, and as much as I wish the source material had rounded out their characters a little more, I believe the game actually tells you pretty much everything there is to know about this case rather succinctly. Don’t worry as I will use evidence to back up my claims…
Oooo, drabble about baby Klav/childhood? 👀 (super late don’t mind me RIP)
"What are you doing?"
Klavier startles, the bottle in his hand slipping from his grasp. It crashes onto the floor with a loud shatter, shards sliding across the tiles as if it were ice. He steps in front of it shakily, hoping to hide the evidence with hands behind his back. Futile, of course, when said evidence is scattered everywhere. Like this, he looks like a child caught in the cookie jar. Which isn't too far off. He is a kid, after all. It just wasn't cookies he was messing with.
The previously hand shaped nail polish now sits in pieces. With its demise comes a deafening silence, only broken by Klavier's nervous breathing. He's too scared to look up. Too terrified to face the scolding he knows he'll get for this transgression. He knows he has to though, so cautiously, he raises his gaze from his shoes to his brother.
Even in youth, Kristoph has an intimidating air about him. That aura only grows in situations like this. When Klavier is caught doing something he shouldn't. He just wishes this was one of the things he'd gotten away with. He isn't sure whether or not he should be grateful that Kristoph isn't looking at him. However, when Gavin realizes that his eyes are on the transparent pieces, he decides he's unlucky.
Kristoph's gaze travels from the shards, to Klavier's hidden hands, then finally to his bedroom desk -- where his spot for his nail polish is decidedly empty. It didn't take a genius to figure out what happened. As it dawns on him, Klavier can see the start of anger tense his shoulders and glint his glasses.
"You...! What have you-...!"
Klavier flinches. The sentence is cut short, yet it still holds frothing fury. Enough to set Klavier's heart into a tempo too fast to be healthy. He can hear Kristoph inhale. See the bob of his adam's apple as he reels in his annoyance. He's restraining himself. He always is. He has to when the pressure of being the golden child is on his shoulders.
Approaching steps add to the broken symphony of Gavin's hitched inhales, eventually stopping right in front of him. Kristoph doesn't say a word as he puts a hand on the five year old's shoulder, moving him aside with a grip that's fighting to be gentle, but too tight to be pleasant. That alone has Klavier's breaths dissolving into whimpers.
He watches anxiously as Kristoph looks at the scene before him. Polish is dying the floor and threatening his desk rug. Even if Klavier had somehow managed to hide all these pieces behind his little form, he'd never be able to get rid of this incriminating evidence. However, Kristoph didn't stop there. Because his brother is someone who made sure to collect all the proof to back his case. It's one of the things Klavier admired him for. Right now though, he disliked that part of him. He isn't surprised when Kristoph crouches in front of him, grasping Gavin's hands and coaxing them from their hiding place.
Neither of them were shocked to see gloss on Klavier's fingers.
"....You touched my nail polish...."
A statement. Not a question.
Klavier immediately bursts into tears.
His hands tremble in Kristoph's grip as he wails. One hand pulls away to rub at puffing eyes, words a blubbering mess as he tries to explain himself.
"I-It was an a-accident!!", A hiccup. His breaths keep hitching, unable to obtain the oxygen he desires in between cries and wobbly sentences. "I d-didn’t mean to! I didn't mean to break it! I...I just wanted to...I-I wanted to be...!!"
'Like you' goes unsaid. He can't get much else out. The knot in his throat saw to that. So he sobs instead, shoulders shaking from the force of it all. Kristoph scans his growingly wet face with dimming anger. His eyes lose their fire, his shoulders loosen, and eventually...he heaves a sigh. Cautiously, so Klavier doesn't assume the worst, he pulls the younger to him. In this position, his face is pressed into Kristoph's chest. One arm is loosely wrapped around him while the other sits on his head. He can feel his brother softly pat his hair, fingers threading through yellow strands.
"It was an accident. It's not your fault, so stop crying", Kristoph sounds exasperated, sure, but not mad. There doesn't seem to be any malice hidden within his tones.
Despite this, Klavier's guilt isn't eased. He knows how much his brother adored that bottle. Ever since their parents had gifted it to him, he held it quite close. Not even when the polish ran out did he throw it away. Klavier knew, because he'd always peak in and see him cleaning the inside, before carefully refilling it with whatever color he desired. Their parents had said it was a good luck charm. Klavier had wondered, in his childlike curiosity, if this was one of the many secrets to his brother's coolness. So pretty soon he'd done what kids do, and snuck in to sloppily put some on his own nails. Maybe then some of that luck would brush off on him and he'd be just like Kristoph. Apparently not. Kristoph certainly wouldn't be foolish enough to drop such a fragile bottle.
He tries to voice the argument that this was, in fact, his fault. If he'd never been messing with Kristoph's stuff, this would have never happened. Yet the words can't find their way out, except for maybe some strange mewls and unrecognizable vowels. The older simply rubs circles in his back in response.
They sit like that for a while, with Klavier boohooing and Kristoph muttering the occasional reassurance. He's snotting up his brother's nice outfit, he knows. The pretty one that he wears when he practices piano. Nevertheless, he can't bring himself to stop. So he continues, wetting the warmth of his chest with mucus and tears. Eventually though, like all things, his cries come to an end. He quiets into worn out breaths, clutching Kristoph like his life depended on it.
"Sorry....m'sorry...."
He feels arms curl under him in a silent answer. Gently, he's shuffled into slim arms, relocated onto Kristoph's lap. The 13 year old has chosen to give his previously crouched and currently numbing legs a break, sitting at his desk where it all happened. There's still glass beneath them, glistening side by side with heavy scented polish. In spite of its danger, it's ignored in favor of tending to little Klav. Kristoph pulls a tissue from his box and holds it to the youngster's nose.
"Blow", he says simply, and Klavier does.
Only when his boogers are removed and his face is cleaned does Kristoph get up. Klavier is left to sit as his brother cleans up his mess. Shards are carefully swept, and liquid mopped. By the time he's done, it's almost as if the incident never happened. Except for maybe the new stain on his rug, and the lack of a bottle. When Kristoph returns, Klavier is lifted back onto his lap. One arm wraps around to keep him in place, while the other pushes into his desk drawer. With a little digging, he manages to pull out a different bottle. It isn't nearly as fancy as the hand shaped one, plainly round and wide. But nail polish is nail polish, that thought only confirmed when his nose is met with the familiar scent of solvent. Klavier looks up at his sibling with questions in his eyes. Kristoph just dips the brush in liquid purple.
"Put your hands on the table, and stay still"
Klavier's gaze shines bright with excitement.
So there they sit, Kristoph painting small nails with ease. Klavier watches delightedly all the while, completely engrossed with the simple motion of small strokes. The sight and quiet is relaxing. So steadily, as each finger is given color, his eyes grow heavy. The exhaustion of a good cry finally weighs down on him. Kristoph can sense it, too. In the way his breathing slows, and how his body leans on the pianist. He doesn't stop painting, even when he feels the preschooler's head lull back onto his chest. Soft snores are his new companion as he finishes the job.
And once the less impressive bottle is put away, and Klavier's nails are dry enough to be moved -- Kristoph places a small kiss onto his brother's head and carries him to bed.
📜literally any character because your writing style is a fuckin DELIGHT all day every day (fr though I think it would be entertaining to see you write as Athena just because you're so vibrant/energetic!)
KAJXJSJXJSJ NO U >:0 💗❣💗💖❣💖💕💕💖💖💕💕💖💕💖💕💖💖💗💖💗
omg thANK U IM AJNSNSNS. Astral has diagnosed me as Athena kin and I kind of want to give that an attempt, albeit a small one! You can have little a Athena, as a treat
°•°•°•°•°
"Five second rule!!!"
Athena scrambled to retrieve the food she'd spilled. A mess of noodles stained the WTA's floors, and judging by the broth sinking in Phoenix's new experimental carpet, it was going to smell like salt in here for at least a week. She didn't need to look up to see Apollo's disgusted face. She could already hear his heart begging her to stop and just buy a new bowl for christ's sake.
"Athena, I don't think the five second rule actually works. And even if it did, it's been way past five seconds"
A glance up confirmed her suspicions, Apollo's face molded into a deadpanned look. Unfortunately for him, Athena could match Apollo's stubbornness when she wanted to. At least when it came to both food and her deteriorating wallet.
"Thirty second rule then!", she countered, chopsticks making quick but sloppy work of gathering her Eldoon specialty.
Her ears were met with exasperation. Dubious acceptance. Then finally...a sigh.
"I'll buy you another. Just stop picking up dirty no-"
"Yay~! Muchas gracias, Apollo! You're the best!"
Dust bunny ramen completely forgotten, Athena shot up with clasped hands of glee. Sadly, that also meant she'd released her grip without thinking twice. The retrieved sodium returned to the floor with a crash and a splat, earning another look from Apollo and a startled 'Oh!' from Athena. At the older's flopped horns, she simply self-consciously ran her hands through her own hair.
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