Edgeworth might be able to stay cool and collected, but Phoenix can't. He barely even notices that his IV isn't attached anymore, trying to hold onto Dahlia, but then she lets him go. She pries her hand from his, both of their hands red with Phoenix's blood.
She's giving up on that hostage. She has a much better one now. But now Edgeworth has her attention, because if nothing else, she can't stand his unflappable demeanor. She's not used to dealing with a man whose strings she can't pull. It's infuriating. And all because he's 'in love' with Phoenix--gag.
But her thought process does trickle down the road Edgeworth anticipates. Edgeworth stole her best weapon from her because Phoenix loves him more than he loves Iris acting like her. And that's also infuriating in a way--not just because it takes control from her, but for some reason, a man she thought reasonably respectable sees value in a man she detests. And the idea of anyone halfway intelligent seeing value in the simpering man she picked to hold evidence for her is so beyond her understanding that it makes her spit with rage.
But she doesn't quite take the bait. Not yet. She narrows her eyes, gauging him. He'd just been coughing roses... but he's still a grown man, mostly healthy, and she's still a small woman. If she engages with him physically, it's very likely she'll lose. Maybe she could still turn it around, stubbornly hold onto Maya's body and fight back hard enough that he has to hurt her, stay in it even as they drag her to Kurain for a severing ceremony so she can leap at the first opportunity to kill herself--but she'd rather not go through the trouble if she can avoid it. She's a member of the Fey family and apparently it endows her with greater power as a spirit than the other ghosts Maya has channeled, but at some point she'll have to worry about Maya gathering enough power to force her out by herself.
Dahlia pants, flicking her hair behind her ear as the poison hovers treacherously close to her mouth.
"I don't need a whole board," she whispers. "Because I'm not playing chess. I don't need a perfect win. I just want to hurt the people who hurt me. And there are so many ways to do that."
She already has. She made Maya watch the murder of her mother. Iris is either dead herself or slated for prison herself. And Iris and Mia both know that it's because they hurt Dahlia that these misfortunes befell them. But it's not enough. Her appetite for pain, previously incidental to self-service, now has grown to replace where her heart might be, thudding in her chest like a bonfire. It burns through the blood she no longer has, making her feel alive, making her focus solely on the objects of her hate.
Perhaps this is the closest approximation to love that she'll ever feel.
"I have so much time now. Time to come back again and again, to hurt you a little more every time, and even if you exorcise me--I still win, because you don't have to die to suffer. And I'll still come back to win again."
She doesn't care if she has to twist herself into a ghoul that can never move on. She doesn't care if her hate burns so hot that it burns away everything else that had ever been Dahlia. She'll do it to herself just to make it easier to pass through the veil and hurt them again.
Her eyes dart between Phoenix and Edgeworth. She's almost rabid now, her rage unraveling her cool demeanor, but she's pulling the scraps of her mind together to think.
"I came back to this world to murder Maya Fey," she hisses. "That was my goal. I want Mia Fey to look her sister in the eyes in death and know that she did this by sending me to the gallows."
The bottle stays close to Dahlia's lips.
"Tell me, Mr. Edgeworth," she whispers. "Can you offer me anything that would be more satisfying than that?"
no subject
She's giving up on that hostage. She has a much better one now. But now Edgeworth has her attention, because if nothing else, she can't stand his unflappable demeanor. She's not used to dealing with a man whose strings she can't pull. It's infuriating. And all because he's 'in love' with Phoenix--gag.
But her thought process does trickle down the road Edgeworth anticipates. Edgeworth stole her best weapon from her because Phoenix loves him more than he loves Iris acting like her. And that's also infuriating in a way--not just because it takes control from her, but for some reason, a man she thought reasonably respectable sees value in a man she detests. And the idea of anyone halfway intelligent seeing value in the simpering man she picked to hold evidence for her is so beyond her understanding that it makes her spit with rage.
But she doesn't quite take the bait. Not yet. She narrows her eyes, gauging him. He'd just been coughing roses... but he's still a grown man, mostly healthy, and she's still a small woman. If she engages with him physically, it's very likely she'll lose. Maybe she could still turn it around, stubbornly hold onto Maya's body and fight back hard enough that he has to hurt her, stay in it even as they drag her to Kurain for a severing ceremony so she can leap at the first opportunity to kill herself--but she'd rather not go through the trouble if she can avoid it. She's a member of the Fey family and apparently it endows her with greater power as a spirit than the other ghosts Maya has channeled, but at some point she'll have to worry about Maya gathering enough power to force her out by herself.
Dahlia pants, flicking her hair behind her ear as the poison hovers treacherously close to her mouth.
"I don't need a whole board," she whispers. "Because I'm not playing chess. I don't need a perfect win. I just want to hurt the people who hurt me. And there are so many ways to do that."
She already has. She made Maya watch the murder of her mother. Iris is either dead herself or slated for prison herself. And Iris and Mia both know that it's because they hurt Dahlia that these misfortunes befell them. But it's not enough. Her appetite for pain, previously incidental to self-service, now has grown to replace where her heart might be, thudding in her chest like a bonfire. It burns through the blood she no longer has, making her feel alive, making her focus solely on the objects of her hate.
Perhaps this is the closest approximation to love that she'll ever feel.
"I have so much time now. Time to come back again and again, to hurt you a little more every time, and even if you exorcise me--I still win, because you don't have to die to suffer. And I'll still come back to win again."
She doesn't care if she has to twist herself into a ghoul that can never move on. She doesn't care if her hate burns so hot that it burns away everything else that had ever been Dahlia. She'll do it to herself just to make it easier to pass through the veil and hurt them again.
Her eyes dart between Phoenix and Edgeworth. She's almost rabid now, her rage unraveling her cool demeanor, but she's pulling the scraps of her mind together to think.
"I came back to this world to murder Maya Fey," she hisses. "That was my goal. I want Mia Fey to look her sister in the eyes in death and know that she did this by sending me to the gallows."
The bottle stays close to Dahlia's lips.
"Tell me, Mr. Edgeworth," she whispers. "Can you offer me anything that would be more satisfying than that?"