Phoenix Wright (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wright_idea) wrote2007-05-15 10:50 pm
wright_idea) wrote2007-05-15 10:50 pm
RP NARRATIVE: The Second Scratch in the Wall
Night two of captivity.
The apple core had dried out, after a while. Phoenix didn't dare attempt to chew through it while Nok was awake, however, since he'd probably replace it with something else. He'd already lost one sleeve on his windbreaker, and wasn't particularly in the mood to lose the other -- though it might help with the heat. With Nok snoozing away, however, he was working his way through it. This was not an easy task, of course; fuji apples were large suckers, and so were the cores. It was going to take a while, he suspected. He didn't mind, however; gnawing helped take some of the bite away from his growling stomach, and the few juices left were helping with that nagging thirst.
He was also doing something he didn't dare indulge in while Nok was awake: crying.
Phoenix had always been more emotional than most boys his age. He'd gotten a lot of flack for it as a kid; after all, boys weren't supposed to cry. But he'd never been able to control it; once a situation where he felt like crying popped up, the tears would start unbidden, and it was impossible to hold them back. It'd proven especially embarrassing the day of THAT trial, in the fourth grade -- which was probably one of the reasons why Edgeworth and Butz's defense of him had touched him so deeply.
His folks had never discouraged it. They felt it was good that he was able to let loose his emotions so easily, believing that the masculine concept of holding back tears was damaging to his psyche. Phoenix wasn't sure whether that was true; his hyperemotional state had definitely contributed to a distinct lack of friends growing up, and if that wasn't a blow to the ego he couldn't think what was. But he did feel better when he cried. This had continued up until college, when a very special woman in his life had smacked some sense in him and told him to get some maturity. It was then that he'd realized that, beneficial or not, he cried far too frequently when he should've been asserting himself. So he'd worked on it, and by the time he'd joined Fey Law offices four years later, he'd gotten it mostly under control.
But that didn't mean it didn't leak out on occasion. And he never fought it. If someone was sad or scared, why not cry? It only hurt worse holding it back. As long as you didn't let the tears dominate your actions, he didn't see the harm in it.
And he definitely felt an urge to cry now. Because as much as he believed in his friends' ability to find him, he couldn't entirely stamp down the idea that they would find him too late.
The apple core had dried out, after a while. Phoenix didn't dare attempt to chew through it while Nok was awake, however, since he'd probably replace it with something else. He'd already lost one sleeve on his windbreaker, and wasn't particularly in the mood to lose the other -- though it might help with the heat. With Nok snoozing away, however, he was working his way through it. This was not an easy task, of course; fuji apples were large suckers, and so were the cores. It was going to take a while, he suspected. He didn't mind, however; gnawing helped take some of the bite away from his growling stomach, and the few juices left were helping with that nagging thirst.
He was also doing something he didn't dare indulge in while Nok was awake: crying.
Phoenix had always been more emotional than most boys his age. He'd gotten a lot of flack for it as a kid; after all, boys weren't supposed to cry. But he'd never been able to control it; once a situation where he felt like crying popped up, the tears would start unbidden, and it was impossible to hold them back. It'd proven especially embarrassing the day of THAT trial, in the fourth grade -- which was probably one of the reasons why Edgeworth and Butz's defense of him had touched him so deeply.
His folks had never discouraged it. They felt it was good that he was able to let loose his emotions so easily, believing that the masculine concept of holding back tears was damaging to his psyche. Phoenix wasn't sure whether that was true; his hyperemotional state had definitely contributed to a distinct lack of friends growing up, and if that wasn't a blow to the ego he couldn't think what was. But he did feel better when he cried. This had continued up until college, when a very special woman in his life had smacked some sense in him and told him to get some maturity. It was then that he'd realized that, beneficial or not, he cried far too frequently when he should've been asserting himself. So he'd worked on it, and by the time he'd joined Fey Law offices four years later, he'd gotten it mostly under control.
But that didn't mean it didn't leak out on occasion. And he never fought it. If someone was sad or scared, why not cry? It only hurt worse holding it back. As long as you didn't let the tears dominate your actions, he didn't see the harm in it.
And he definitely felt an urge to cry now. Because as much as he believed in his friends' ability to find him, he couldn't entirely stamp down the idea that they would find him too late.