wunderkind | (no subject)

wunderkind

STUFF GOES IN HERE

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From:

doggedly

[Neurons, and things, that's stuff Sirius doesn't understand and doesn't make much effort to attempt to understand. For him, magic is more physical--not just about blood, but about something so woven into who and what he is that he can't imagine being able to separate it out the way that Edgeworth is talking about, to be able to think about magic in almost-- a muggle way.

But the spell worked. So clearly that way of thinking works, even if it went wrong.]

I'd have considered being impressed if it hadn't gone to shit.

[All of that is such an unpleasant reminder, and Sirius' face twists despite himself. No one should know half the stuff Edgeworth now knows--all of that deep earnestness, all of that idiotic loneliness that he hates about himself--and he can feel defensiveness rising in him, like he's going to be able to force Edgeworth to forget it.]

It doesn't matter.

[None of it does. He says it as dismissively as he can, trying to level out the edge that's in his voice. If it doesn't matter for him, it doesn't matter for Edgeworth, either, and that's what he will want. Right? Forgetting about it entirely will be mutually beneficial (even if, somewhere in him, Sirius knows he won't ever really forget).]

From:

jurisimpudent

It didn't -

[There's a stupid vein of defensive pride that rears up in Edgeworth at Black's last comment. Of course Black is going to turn his nose up at that spell; that spell could have done, and perhaps did do, considerable mental harm. But the spell's still his, and it's still a thing that was created to help people. And it's still - He's the only wizard he knows of who's made a spell of that caliber, so maybe - He doesn't need to be held in awe or anything like that; he would just like people to be maybe a little bit impressed with him.

(What a stupid line of thought this is. He's still fully planning to go off and court death at the hands of Voldemort, but he's more upset about the thought of someone being insufficiently impressed by his spellcraft than he is at the possibility of dying.)]

Look, you asked and I answered. Insults are not necessary.

[He admittedly finds his own annoyance a bit of a relief. He doesn't want to feel so indebted to and sympathetic towards Sirius Black that he can't get annoyed - because truly, even in spite of everything else, the boy is deeply infuriating.]

From:

doggedly

Whatever.

[Usually he would smirk as he said that, letting Edgeworth know that it is very much not whatever, that there's still a very precise order here--he ought to put a little something extra in it, just to combat that irritation that is so plainly written on Edgeworth's face--but he's too tired, and the whatever comes out like that.

Idly, he digs in his pocket for a cigarette and shoves one in his mouth. That's how this whole business started anyways, so he glances over at Edgeworth, hard-eyed for the moment--and then he pointedly offers him a cigarette as well. A weird gesture, maybe. Maybe he ought to feel dirty, sharing tobacco with a mudblood. But, whatever.]

From:

jurisimpudent

[Edgeworth looks down, his brow slightly furrowed, not fully understanding the gesture. Then he looks up at Black, his face, trying to discern whether it's exploding or - or what - and he takes it out of the pack and then immediately lets out a long breath - ]

No, I don't...even know why I - I don't even know how to utilize this. Here, take it back.

[He tries to hand it back. Maybe this could be time for a life lesson, pointing out the fundamental irony of the fact that these are a Muggle invention which Sirius so loves. That Muggles cultivate tobacco, and that these would have been manufactured by a factory full of Muggles. But he's too tired himself to turn everything into a life lesson; he just tries to hand it back.]

And I can't break the rules anyway.

From:

doggedly

It's yours. Merry Christmas.

[He folds his arms over his chest, his own unlit cigarette still in his mouth, and he's not looking at Edgeworth again, as if by avoiding his eye he'll avoid having to take the cigarette back, and avoid talking to him about anything of substance, anything of what he saw or what he now feels.

Helpfully, he adds:]

You smoke it.

From:

jurisimpudent

[Edgeworth pulls a face at Sirius' lowered head. It's a bit childish, isn't it, pulling faces, but honestly - ]

I'm not an idiot.

[He looks down at it and rolls it between his fingers. Finally, decisively, he tucks it into his pocket. No further commentary; he's come to a decision, and the firmness of his gestures match that.]

From:

doggedly

[He flicks a glance at Edgeworth--and actually smiles, a genuine little smile, though it's half-hidden by the way he's got his face turned away.]

You asked.

[Edgeworth kept the cigarette, so Sirius takes that as a sort of permission, and gets out his lighter again, lights his fresh one with a sigh.]

Give me back the letter.

From:

jurisimpudent

[And Edgeworth hesitates. The lawyer in him cries no, cries that this is evidence and must be kept, filed away, categorized, against the possibility that Sirius Black might turn to the Death Eaters after all. This will be deeply incriminating, if it comes to that day; this will be the key to his conviction...

But today is not really a day he's listening to his inner lawyer. He hands it over without even a protest, though he does warn:]

I have it committed to memory now. It won't help destroying it.

From:

doggedly

Don't be stupid.

[He doesn't bother with folding it--just crumples it in his hand once more and shoves it back into his pocket. His arm feels a little stiff, and he shakes out his hand before he plucks his cigarette from his mouth, ashing it in the grass.]

You're not seriously thinking anything'll come of you going.

[This is all wrong. He should-- do something. He shouldn't be sitting here, calmly discussing infiltration of this meeting over a cigarette. But he doesn't move; he takes another drag on his cigarette.]

From:

jurisimpudent

Maybe not.

[There's no use lying, of course; Sirius saw into his mind, saw how his thoughts on this matter broke down: his wild, fanciful daydreams saw him winning, while his sad sick feelings of dread were all centered around what would happen when he failed. But it comes down to this:]

But I have to try. Even if I die, I want to show him that we'll stand up for ourselves. That we won't just let him trample upon us. That we won't just lay down and die when he wants us to.

From:

doggedly

And you'll show him that by dying. Well done.

[He takes another drag on his ciagrette, looking away across the grounds. Fucking hell, what is he doing arguing this at all? He'd be better off just getting up and walking away. They're done now--perhaps they can be done forever.

But he doesn't. Maybe it's something to do with what he saw in Edgeworth's head, the bleakness of the fate that he's certain he's down for. It's a different bleakness, but the echo is there.]

Don't be stupid. This party isn't the place to do that.

From:

jurisimpudent

[Miles had been expecting that bit of sarcasm. It's a perspective that's quite outside Sirius' worldview, isn't it - laying down your life for something like that. When you're a Black, you've a responsibility to continue on so that the line continues. To marry, to father sons, to carry on the name. Just that, if nothing else.

(How utterly bleak and depressing that is. It's no wonder that the Purebloods are terrified of all of them, the Muggle-borns and the Muggles, because they've been stagnant for years.)

That second part, though, turns his head; he furrows his brow, not quite certain he catches Black's meaning. Don't be stupid is clear enough. But this party isn't the place - He asks, cautiously:]

Then where is the place?

From:

doggedly

[He shrugs, moodily. This feels very much like betrayal, even if he's not actually saying anything, and not planning to say anything--]

Dunno. But not there. [A beat; he sucks at his cigarette, shrugs again.] Think about it. They're all our age, bit older, maybe. They're mad for him. It's like a bloody concert for them, nearly a religious ceremony--if you start something there, you'd better be ready to finish it.

If you'd manage to finish it, which, given the crowd--wouldn't be likely. [He smiles, grimly.] I know these people.

From:

jurisimpudent

[It's not that second comment that gets to him; it's the first. He turns towards Sirius fully, his brows drawing together, his lips tightening - he looks scared, then, and sad. The question he asks is:]

You're saying I'd...have to kill - the people following him? [He shakes his head at once - ] No. That's - I won't do that. I shouldn't have to. It would - Surely it would just end when he died.

From:

doggedly

[But he's already shaking his head, even as Edgeworth is rambling through that protest.]

You were thinking they'd just give it up without him? Cutting the head off the king cobra, that's good. But you're still standing in a snake pit, and now they're pissed.

You're not really thinking, if you thought it was going to be that easy.

From:

jurisimpudent

I rather...thought - [Hoped - ] That they'd just...lose their spirit.

[But that's stupid, isn't it? That's just really a stupid thought. Of course they wouldn't. So he shifts, uncomfortably, and says - ]

I'd...let them kill me, then. I suppose.

[Which is all right. Which he sort of was going to do anyway. Just - He hates the thought of that passivity. Just letting it happen. Letting his last act be giving up, when he never gave up before.]

From:

doggedly

[Sirius snorts, loudly and dismissively.]

That's the dumbest thing you've said yet.

From:

jurisimpudent

[He's not sure which part Sirius is referring to; he looks up, gives a stiff shrug, and offers a response to the latter being the stupid part - because that's the part he can argue against, since the former was indeed irrefutably very, very stupid.]

I'm not going to murder all of your cousins, Black. Especially not when there's no confirmation that they've actually hurt any Muggles themselves.

From:

doggedly

[Oh, good one. At that, Sirius actually laughs aloud--a short, bitter thing.]

I don't care about them. If they're stupid enough to be caught, then they deserve whatever the hell happens to them. I meant the whole bit about letting them kill you. That's the stupid bit.

From:

jurisimpudent

Well, I'd try to run away, I suppose.

[He pulls at another blade of grass and confesses unhappily:]

I don't have my apparition license yet. I'm - I haven't had my seventeenth birthday yet.

[A pause, and then he shrugs.]

I suppose the hall will have an anti-Disapparition jinx on it anyway, won't it.

From:

doggedly

[Sirius stares at him, blankly, for a moment--and then he makes a noise of disgust, shoving his fingers through his hair.]

Merlin's beard. This is pathetic. Yes, the hall will have an anti-Disapparition jinx on it. And it will be full of witches and wizards who will bloody hamstring you before you get two paces out on that merry run of yours.

I'm not even plotting this and I'm doing a better job of it than you.

From:

jurisimpudent

[Edgeworth frowns up at him.]

Well, I - I'd have done more research before actually going in. Bear in mind that I've only known about this for -

[He has no idea how long. He doesn't know how long their minds were joined up...Five minutes or an hour or any amount of time in between.]

A - comparatively short amount of time. So I think I'm doing all right. I came up with the plan to impersonate you, didn't I? And I got information from you.

From:

doggedly

[But Sirius' shoulders immediately hunch at that reference. Information, it wasn't just information--there was loads more to it--and he scowls, blackly, taking a sharp drag on his cigarette--]

On purpose. That's what you set out to do, obviously, get information from me. It wasn't that your spell cocked up-- look, I'm telling you, they expect shit at that party. If anything happens, that's where it'll happen, and they'll all be there to tear you to pieces. They're waiting for it. They want it.

From:

jurisimpudent

[Frustration drives him to ask:]

Then what should I do? Really, what should I do. Because if I wait, if I do nothing, that'll be another - ten dead. Hundred dead. Thousand dead, depending on when the next opportunity is.

From:

doggedly

[He huffs a laugh that's equally as frustrated--though it's bitter irritation that stands out most clearly.]

Yeah, and if you do what you're planning, that's just one dead, but then those ten, those hundred--those thousand--they die as well anyways.

Be clever. Difficult for a Gryffindor, I know. But be clever. Merlin, I can't believe I'm telling you anything, I ought to hand you over to them, save you the trouble of doing it yourself--