samuraiprosecutor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
samuraiprosecutor) wrote2009-12-26 11:19 pm
samuraiprosecutor) wrote2009-12-26 11:19 pm
Entry tags:
[RL 41: I'll Be Home for Christmas (Redux); Edgeworth, Phoenix, Maya, Pearl][Backdated]
((OOC: Back-dated to December 24th, 2009 comm time.))
The CSI photos he’d found years ago in case files hadn’t done the place justice.
It was an unsurprising discovery. Evidence photos weren’t meant to capture a location, they were meant to capture an event. Sterile snapshots of a moment in time, the only spirit they typically conveyed was a pervading sense of violation and pain that differed in degrees depending on the crime. There had been no indication of the peace that normally laid over Kurain, or the cold, pristine perfection of its exotic, snow covered buildings.
Only his experiences at Hazakura Temple helped prepare him for this environment...and they obviously hadn’t prepared him very well, as evidenced by the fact that he was standing at the entrance to the village, ankle deep in snow and wearing a wholly inadequate pea coat. Reverence quickly fading in the face of his involuntary shivering, he hunched his shoulders against the wind and moved into the village.
When he reached the center of town, marked by the stone monolith that jutted from the ground, he paused to get his bearings, praying as he did so that none of the village’s hidden occupants were clandestinely watching this strange fool who didn’t even have the sense to dress for the weather. As many of the buildings were similar and he didn’t recall exactly what the Fey manor looked like, surveying the buildings didn’t prove very helpful. In the end, he was forced to make a blind guess. He headed towards the largest of the buildings; knowing the Fey family’s importance to the village, that seemed the likeliest one to be their ancestral home, and if it wasn’t, hopefully someone inside would be able to direct him there.
Something hitched in his chest as he set foot on the front porch, but he didn’t pause before reaching up to rap the large knocker on the door. It was only after he’d done so that the hesitation set in. Standing there before the immense, gleaming wooden doors, he gave another shudder and finally turned away from the entrance to stare out over the landscape, ears perked warily for any sounds of movement behind him.
The CSI photos he’d found years ago in case files hadn’t done the place justice.
It was an unsurprising discovery. Evidence photos weren’t meant to capture a location, they were meant to capture an event. Sterile snapshots of a moment in time, the only spirit they typically conveyed was a pervading sense of violation and pain that differed in degrees depending on the crime. There had been no indication of the peace that normally laid over Kurain, or the cold, pristine perfection of its exotic, snow covered buildings.
Only his experiences at Hazakura Temple helped prepare him for this environment...and they obviously hadn’t prepared him very well, as evidenced by the fact that he was standing at the entrance to the village, ankle deep in snow and wearing a wholly inadequate pea coat. Reverence quickly fading in the face of his involuntary shivering, he hunched his shoulders against the wind and moved into the village.
When he reached the center of town, marked by the stone monolith that jutted from the ground, he paused to get his bearings, praying as he did so that none of the village’s hidden occupants were clandestinely watching this strange fool who didn’t even have the sense to dress for the weather. As many of the buildings were similar and he didn’t recall exactly what the Fey manor looked like, surveying the buildings didn’t prove very helpful. In the end, he was forced to make a blind guess. He headed towards the largest of the buildings; knowing the Fey family’s importance to the village, that seemed the likeliest one to be their ancestral home, and if it wasn’t, hopefully someone inside would be able to direct him there.
Something hitched in his chest as he set foot on the front porch, but he didn’t pause before reaching up to rap the large knocker on the door. It was only after he’d done so that the hesitation set in. Standing there before the immense, gleaming wooden doors, he gave another shudder and finally turned away from the entrance to stare out over the landscape, ears perked warily for any sounds of movement behind him.