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writetomyheart2020-12-08 07:39 pm
ziskandra) wrote in writetomyheart2020-12-08 07:39 pm
[Team Three]
Small Ace Attorney ficlet, Franziska von Karma & Manfred von Karma, G, 250 words.
I’ll think about it. I’ll consider it. Perhaps. Maybe.
Whenever Franziska asked anything of her father, she was so often met with uncertainties. It didn’t matter, or so she’d tried to reassure herself. She would just work harder in future attempts, turn those maybes into a yes.
As she watched her father through the glass window in the visitor’s room, she realized there would be no next time.
Her father’s approval had shrunk in market value and still she craved it anyway.
“Franziska,” Papa said, his voice distorted through the barrier, underneath the weight of his crimes. “I don’t expect you to forgive me—”
To her surprise, she cut him off. She was uninterested in his excuses, in hearing his justifications for his fall from grace. Facing him head on was blinding, like staring directly at the sun. “I’ll consider it,” she said, throwing his favourite words back at him as she folded her arms across her chest.
Who was she, if not her father’s reflection?
No.
She would be better.
Perhaps if she allowed herself to properly confront him, she would have realised that the cracks in his image had been there from the very start. But she wasn’t ready to scrutinize him in such detail. Not yet.
Now, she could only save herself.
Franziska got to her feet, the legs of her chair grating against the concrete. She had no more words for him. She would not plead. She would not beg.
She would never return again.
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alchemicink, you're up!
I’ll think about it. I’ll consider it. Perhaps. Maybe.
Whenever Franziska asked anything of her father, she was so often met with uncertainties. It didn’t matter, or so she’d tried to reassure herself. She would just work harder in future attempts, turn those maybes into a yes.
As she watched her father through the glass window in the visitor’s room, she realized there would be no next time.
Her father’s approval had shrunk in market value and still she craved it anyway.
“Franziska,” Papa said, his voice distorted through the barrier, underneath the weight of his crimes. “I don’t expect you to forgive me—”
To her surprise, she cut him off. She was uninterested in his excuses, in hearing his justifications for his fall from grace. Facing him head on was blinding, like staring directly at the sun. “I’ll consider it,” she said, throwing his favourite words back at him as she folded her arms across her chest.
Who was she, if not her father’s reflection?
No.
She would be better.
Perhaps if she allowed herself to properly confront him, she would have realised that the cracks in his image had been there from the very start. But she wasn’t ready to scrutinize him in such detail. Not yet.
Now, she could only save herself.
Franziska got to her feet, the legs of her chair grating against the concrete. She had no more words for him. She would not plead. She would not beg.
She would never return again.
alchemicink, you're up!