#godct

[unaccompaniedescapist]

"You always been silent, or is it a conscious effort?"

She has half a mind to slap him, but feels like this is a legitimate question, so she doesn’t. 

Chell shakes her head, lifts her chin and points to a faded surgical scar down her throat. It’s difficult to see, but it’s there. To emphasize her point, she huffs a few times - silent and useless. No sound but breathing. 

[lanasskye]

@godct liked for a starter!

Lana never cared for that coffee drinking misogynist. Something about him rubbed her the wrong way. The way he objectified the women, the way he called everyone ‘kitten,’ his constant desire to be seen as the best, all while never seeming to put in as much effort as Mia did. 

Yet, something about him was a bit admirable. She couldn’t bring herself to hate him - no matter how much she wanted to. Dahlia Hawthorne ruined several people’s lives, though Mia Fey’s was the fault that stood out the most. Lana always loved Mia, even after their fling in law school was over and the two went their separate ways, Lana kept in touch with the other woman. She loved Mia, she did. Even if Mia moved on.

She remembered staying up late, comforting her ex-girlfriend, now friend, for the death of her boyfriend. She remembered cursing Dahlia Hawthorne’s name for causing Mia that much pain, and she remembered wanting to hold Mia Fey close, to tell her everything was going to be alright.

And yet, when she wanted to hate Diego Armando the most - for stealing Mia away, for acting the way he did, she felt the most sorry for him. Mia Fey was dead, and when he finally woke from the coma of seven years, she felt sorry for him. She remembered reading about Mia’s death in the newspaper. She remembered the tears falling down her tanned face as she remembered how much the girl meant to her. She remembered pushing Ema away when she needed her sister the most. She remembered how trapped she felt, how alone she truly was.

Yet, she wanted to comfort Diego Armando - Godot now. Let him know how she felt, let him know he wasn’t alone.

Get some closure. 

So she met him, something inside of her shifted, she wanted to meet Mia’s boyfriend, and she wasn’t sure if it was for selfish reasons. Yet she sat, she sat in the small coffee shop at the address the man sent and waited, tapping her short nails against the paper cup.

[theburgermaster-a]

Freedom (closed RP with Godct)

@godct

She still remembered the day clearly. The day that Phoenix Wright had taken up Diego Armando’s defense in a trial following that of her cousin’s. With an “expertly” crafted argument about his motives behind the death of Misty Fey, and Maya had willingly stood up as a witness to explain that he saved her life that night. Everything he did was for her protection. 

With that testimony in mind, the judge gave Diego a 10 year sentence with parole, rather than sending him to prison for the rest of his life. This was better than Maya and Nick ever could have hoped for. 

And finally the day had come. Maya had grossly overpaid for information about Diego’s potential release date, and finally was granted the information she desired. He had already done so much for her, and the last ten years had been because of what he did for her. She would not let him walk out on his own, not on such a big day. He was more than likely expecting for no one to be there to greet him, which is why Maya’s presence would be that much more of a surprise.

She stood outside the gate to the prison exit, her two year old daughter balanced on her hip. She had been told that Diego was going to be processed for release around 11AM or so, but it was now close to 1PM and still no sign of him. Had she gone to the wrong entrance? No...wait. The door was opening! A huge grin broke out on her face when she saw who was coming through the door. 

“Diego!” she called excitedly, jogging over to the edge of the gate as it slid open. 

[unaccompaniedescapist]

continued from [X] 

Diego could not imagine why she would want to stay with him. Why, he can’t remember the last time he genuinely kept his home in order. Papers and medicine bottles scattered around counter tops, a true parallel to his own unkept thoughts. Perhaps he simply refused to clean out of fear of finding something from a long time ago, things he’s rather keep tucked away.

“I don’t see why not,” he says, after understanding her little gesture. “Make yourself at home.” 

The messiness is exactly why she’d asked. Chell despised orderly places, perhaps more than she did roofs and ceilings. But the trashed state of Godot’s home make the temporary stay indoors worth it. 

Besides, unbeknownst to him, she’d already broken his front door lock. There's no trapping her this time. 

Chell thanks him with an excited nod and immediately seeks out a decent place to rest. 

His laundry pile will do. 

She bunches up his dirty clothes into a nest and curles up in it, throws a few extra vests and trousers over herself, and settles in for a good long lie-down.