tvklogs | Party Noodles - A party for the recently undeceased

[Text; Response from Sakurako]

[Early in the Morning, everyone who was reported as murdered will get the following text:]

Hey! ! know you all have been through a lot and probably feel k!inda down so come to the bookstore ton!ght at 7 and well cheer you up!!

Action: Gil's bookstore

[Anyone who comes into Gil's bookstore around 7 am will find it decked out with a banner saying "Welcome Back!" On a table stands a sheet cake frosted with the letters "You're Alive again!" and a post of soup simmering away on a hot plate. Around both of these are a number of smaller plates holding a much fancier cake, strawberry and all, each with the name of one of the victims written on it. The cafe cats are decorated with a ribbon of their own, to varying degrees of annoyance to each of them. They have been joined by Sakurako's cats Cookie and Biscuit, who seem to be enjoying their stint as the center of interest to a number of their fellow felines.

In the back stands a small Karaoke machine, beeping away in an attempt to generate interest. The couches and chairs have been pushed flush with the outer bookshelves to create a bit more space for people to mingle.

Miki is sitting at the counter, waiting to get coffee (or I guess, sell books) to anyone who is interested in buying some extra stuff.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I see... I suppose that I must give him credit for at least thinking to bring someone with him on his fool's errand, if nothing else. A pity that neither of us succeeded in preventing the outcome.

We're back.

...But I didn't like it. Dying. Is that normal, even if it's pointless because we return?

[You were executed last month, correct?

Yes. I was hanged. It wasn't exactly... pleasant.]

...It would seem so.

(To think that for a time I was in denial about the fact that I could answer this question... that I would sooner blindly defend my own salvaged image of my father than accept the evidence for what it was.)

[Why's this guy looking so ashamed?]

What's wrong now?

Unpleasant memories. [Well, that's half-true at least.]

Hm. Humans... hate death. And they put a lot of value on life, even if it eventually ends no matter what.

(This is another of those who believes herself to have been something other than human previously, it seems -- presumably something long-lived.)

There are those who claim that its finite nature is what gives it value. To have what little we can experience cut short before its time, and our ability to contribute to the lives of others prematurely ended is...

[Edgeworth squeezes his eyes shut while gripping his elbow tightly.]

...?

[Edgeworth is silent for a moment before forcing himself to calm down and sighing.]

I'm sorry. This isn't an easy subject for me to discuss. ...Life, our ability to affect the lives of others, and the ways in which others have influenced ours are literally the most basic things we have -- and under normal circumstances, life cannot be returned once taken.

And you... have value, to yourselves and each other.

Some of us... fail to realize the value that we have to each other, but yes.

...I see.

It's a mistake that can be overcome, though not everyone who makes it does.

*nods* So you all value life and each other.

The vast majority of us, yes. Those people who don't value our own lives in some way rarely live for very long. As for those who don't value others... most often, that stems from delusions of superiority and self-sufficiency.

Delusions?

We... have an unfortunate capacity to lie to ourselves, should the truth be too difficult to bear.

Like everyone else.

So that much was the same for your own kind? (Whatever that kind may be.)

I don't know what I was before. My life... was destruction.

*Something sounds like she means that literally, on some level.*

[That's... a rather disturbing thought, one Edgeworth seems unsure how to respond to at first. Eventually, he does manage to formulate a question:]

...For whose purposes?

Fate.

*The deadpan kid puts her hand on her heart, where that strange warmth has come from ever since she came to Prospero.*

My life. It wasn't life, it was the power of destruction itself. That's what I know.

[Edgeworth is silent again, but not for as long before replying:]

Then learn what else there is.

Beyond fate?

Precisely.

(no subject)

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