Atroquinine Angels: A Toxic Dalhstoph Tale by JP & PPOD

PPOD: Well, there's not much for me to say other than the fact that I'm super excited to work with JP on a collab story! I've been wanting to for a couple of years actually, and I'm glad to finally have something in the works. Though, I am surprised it turned out to be a story about our favorite poisoners…but happy none the less to see madness is brought out by writing :D. Hope you enjoy what sick twisted ideas come to fruition here especially since I adore Kristoph as my favorite AA villain. I think he deserves some special treatment hehehe…

JP: At last! A mingled collaboration with my pal Lyn, and I couldn't be more stoked to Wright my first ever AU with my fave funny lady! This intro chapter may seem familiar to those who read the long-since discontinued project, Timeless Love, awhile back. However, I was so enthused about writing Satan's Succubus that I just had to conglomerate the former Dollie and Iris one-shots and use them as the prelude to this Bad Romance – and trust us, this ain't no fairy-tale! But since I'm working with such a hilarious co-writer, expect twisted hijinks to ensue!

IMPORTANT NOTE, while some incidents of this tale may mirror the games, please disregard the dates featured here, as timelines/sequence of events had to warp in our darkly comedic FF to make this Match Made in Hell work!

Without further ado, hope y'all enjoy the toxic twosome known as Dalhstoph!

Chapter One: Guileless Gamines

Forest Woods, Ivy University
August 27, 2013

He pulled her face up to his with one of his hands, his kisses urgent – as though he hadn't kissed a girl in ages and he needed it like he needed air to breathe. His other hand ran over her collarbone, down to her décolletage area, caressing her skin with the pads of his fingers with astonishingly seductive precision.

Assuming you were into that sort of thing. Which she most certainly wasn't – never had been, never would be!

Like all the others, this besotted fool was merely the ends to justify the means. Or in this particular case, the keeper of his newly bequeathed necklace, which she needed to ensure her kept stashed away for her, until the heat died down!

This would prove to be a slightly daunting feat, as thus far, they'd only exchanged nothing more than lightly flirtatious banter in the university library for approximately the past half hour. Subsequently, it was why she had then coyly led her future conquest/patsy out for this forest rendezvous behind the school, where the two were now making out like bandits.

It was the perfect place for this illicit tryst. Or, as she'd delicately suggested, with her perfected dulcet giggle, where they could continue their delightful conversation and "get to know one another better… privately."

Thus, getting to know his privates will have to be part of my action plan!

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and she urgently needed to secure this dork's unwavering devotion. The fail-proof way to achieve this would be by means of the most infallible method she knew: by allowing her beguiling beauty to speak the universal language that all her stupid male play-things fell victim to, thanks to their mindless ever-raging libidos!

She despised breaking in untrained virgins, but a man of more worldly experience with the fairer sex undoubtedly wouldn't have been seduced this easily by her feminine wiles. This specific loser had folded like a bad poker hand, with merely some simpering flattery and coquettish eyelash batting! He hadn't had a prayer!

After all, no man alive could resist Dahlia Lilith Hawthorne.

The one exception, of course, would be that nosy Diego Armando. He was obviously loyal to that overly busty-bitch, Mia Fey. But look where that had gotten him in the end!

If only the defense attorney had been like all the others, and simply acquiesced to her whims in the first place! Had that been the case, she wouldn't have been left with zero choices but to resort to plan B: their fateful, innocuous coffee date…

Phoenix's hands were now roaming over her breasts, almost hesitantly, and she pressed them firmly into the questing path of his fingers, an unpredicted sigh of contentment escaping her, as his ministrations weren't entirely objectionable.

I hate to admit it, but this buffoon seems to have a certain gift for knowing what a girl wants, when, how and where. If I didn't know better, I'd think he'd used those seemingly skilled hands for things other than painting…or on himself!

He moved his lips down her neck, down the bodice of her dress, lifting the skirt to stroke her inner thigh while his mouth continued to devour her throat, and she emitted an involuntary whimper of pleasure.

"Mmm, I love the sounds you make, my sweet Dollie." His breath was warm against her ear, jolting her from savoring the sensations he was arousing within her.

Ugh, I hate sappy talk! The doofus just had to ruin it didn't he? Just as well. Mustn't lose focus on the end goal…

"Talk is cheap, Feenie, wouldn't you say?" She murmured silkily, while expertly divesting him of his polo and skillfully unzipping his fly. "I'm more a girl of action."

As she boldly wrapped her hand around his sizable, rigid member and saw his torso for the first time, she felt a jolt of surprise at what she'd unveiled.

Well, what do we have here? Guess the geek's nowhere near as scrawny under that baggy T-shirt as I'd primarily assumed. Who'd have known an art student wouldn't be purely skin and bones, but instead actually have some sculpted shape going on?!

Dahlia ran her palms over his defined chest and kissed his neck, then nipped his collar bone as her hand slipped lower, tracing his six-pack, before heading further south. He shivered at her touch, making her sneer triumphantly against his skin.

This is more like it! They're supposed to be putty in my hands, not vice versa!

He hastily shoved the front of her dress down to her waist, so her white mounds were now uncovered for the touch of his fervent hands.

She tried not to moan her arousal as he lowered his head to plant kisses over her neck and shoulders. The redhead jolted slightly as his inexperienced caresses grew bolder, his mouth trailing down to her cleavage to her breasts, licking heatedly at the now stiffened nubs. In an embarrassing effort to mask her rapturous responses, she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss, nibbling lightly at his lips, then moving to his throat. He seemed to enjoy it immensely when she gently nipped and sucked at his neck.

Without warning, he lunged at her, pushing her back against the sycamore tree behind them. She gasped at the jarring stab of sharp bark against her naked back but momentarily forgot the discomfort as he lowered his lips to trail them again over her bared bosom. As she writhed in his arms, he continued lavishing attention her heaving chest and the sensitive peaks, alternately sucking, then blowing cool air on the hypersensitive flesh made moist by his eager mouth, making her tingle and arch her back.

Dahlia's unplanned responsiveness resulted in the feeling of him being the one to smile against her skin this time.

"You're so beautiful, Dollie," he whispered dotingly. "You look like a painting."

She kept her voice as sweet as honey to mask her irritation at his lame attempts to make this romantic. He was her pawn, her prey. This clandestine affair was merely additional insurance to ensure the deal was sealed. Nothing more.

"How about we keep savoring that sexy silence, Feenie?"

The spiky-haired student grinned at her like a goofy, lovesick puppy. Quickly nodding his obedience, he then resumed pressing his eager lips against her heaving breasts. The redhead rocked her hips a little, as her encaged position against the sycamore didn't allow much scope to move and reached down to stroke his flat stomach, drawing circles on the side of his abs were he seemed to be little bit ticklish, resulting in him burying his lips against her neck while lightly biting, making her audibly gasp.

This vampire boy had best not give me a hickey!

The seductress pulled him in closer so their forms were pressed tighter together, and her stinging back was slightly lifted off the tree trunk. She kissed her way up his throat, running her hands through the black spikes, which were surprisingly softer than they looked, and he groaned blissfully. He stepped forward slightly so she was pressed back against the tree as he bucked his pelvis against hers.

She bit his earlobe, a little harder than needed, and drew circles on it with the tip of her tongue. The next thing she knew, Phoenix's not-exactly-manicured nails zealously ripped at her sheer pantyhose, then tore off her wispy panties.

His hands, his soft, art student hands, gripped her forcefully by the hips, exactly where it mattered, where some previously unknown demonic set of nerve receptors were now waiting to be found and used as buttons on a game controller. It was impossible for her to know if it was him moving or if she was doing it herself.

Not that it was a distinction to be lingered on till much later, if at all, although, in some circles, it'd be held to be something of a big deal…

Suddenly, Dahlia was shoved forcefully back against the gnarled, twisted tree trunk again as he hitched one of her knees over his hip while he pushed the skirt of her dress up to her stomach, before reaching around her back and lifting her effortlessly. She deftly wrapped her legs around his waist as he positioned his throbbing hardness against her womanhood.

"Are you ready, Dollie?" he asked softly, his smitten gaze never leaving her face.

Am I supposed to be thinking this is sweet, him asking permission? If only he knew I'm still tighter than a fish's vagina, so it does hurt a bit if I'm not loosened up. I do pelvic floor exercises to keep it that way, as I don't want my body to show signs of the activities it participates in on a very regular basis. Ergo, because Feenie dearest hasn't pre-emptively loosened me with those impossibly soft fingers, he's probably just checking that it's not going to hurt me. If it does, I have zero qualms biting or scratching him in return!

She nodded her head in muted assent.

Both of his hands dropped to her backside, lifting her higher until he found her entrance, teasing her with the promise of filling her completely, and then he joined them, with so little inconvenience that she realized she must have actually been turned on by his neophyte lips and hands, without even realizing it.

Luckily, he's not hung like a horse, like some guys I've been with, although considerably still larger than average…

Phoenix eased himself forward, moving very gently to allow her to adjust to him, but since it was her reflex to clench herself tightly every time, she still winced slightly at the intimate invasion.

Hrrnh! Great fiery balls of Abaddon! The little dweeb isn't exactly cursed by nature at least size-wise! He's bigger than I gave him initial credit for! Even with minimal foreplay, he's rock hard! I could hang my parasol on that thing!

The long-ago perfected capability to mentally disengage her mind from her body, and keep them as two entirely separate entities so she could remain coolly detached from the coitus itself, and all accompanying impressions were not working this time! This one was ensuring she remained in the moment with him.

Whatever he might lack in expertise, he's sure making up for with vigorous enthusiasm!

He groaned loudly and moved his head to roughly capture her lips with his, mashing them against hers, forcing her to respond. He put his hand on her chin and pulled her jaw down so she'd part her lips to allow entrance for his plundering tongue. As it entered her mouth, she gently sucked on it with precise expertise. He nibbled on her lower lip and bit it, then drew back and stared searchingly into her eyes.

Phoenix's dark blue orbs were swirling with lust, desire, and helplessly undisguised ardour. They were intense and smouldering. She didn't want to look at them too much. His eyes probed hers, as if looking for signs of something, although she wasn't sure she wanted to know what. She dropped her glance, not liking the intensity of his stare.

His gaze is slightly unnerving, I've seen that look before; all these hopelessly enamoured men, wanting more than I will ever give, and I've always hated it!

Not wanting to regard that lovesick expression anymore, she wondered if it was too late to somehow ask if there was any way for him to turn her the other way, and take her from behind instead. Most men had no objections to this, as it made them go deeper and harder. Moreover, she wouldn't have to kiss them or look at them, and could even take care of herself with her own dainty fingertips if she so desired; none of the other boorish brutes she'd known ever bothered trying pleasing her, all of them too wrapped up in their own selfish pleasure.

To be fair, if any of them had actually desired to be solicitous, it wasn't like she would've ever allowed it! Sex was nothing more than her weapon, in the game where she was sole predator and men were the prey. She staunchly refused to give these stupid, infatuated males any sort of domination over her by letting them give her release.

Control was power, something that was exclusively Dahlia's. It was hers alone to wield over these snivelling, drooling, dogs, with only mindless humping as their priority. They were no more penises that could talk; her playthings to ensnare in her clutches and bend to her every will and need.

Phoenix increased his speed and pants. Almost on their own accord, she ran her hands down his toned back, digging her nails in a little, to scratch him, mimicking the brash tree trunk jutting into her back and shoulder blades with each movement. The agony of the rough texture against her delicate skin had been forgotten in the heat of the moment because he felt too damn good to think of anything but the fullness of him as he receded, then kept filling her again and again and again. In this glorious, yet acrobatic, position, he rubbed against her deepest, innermost places, with unforeseen gratification triggering each penetrating movement. Her arms began to tremble with fatigue as she clung tightly to his shoulders, but subconsciously, she didn't want him to stop just yet. Not when she was so close…

No! Her breath caught with shock in her throat. This can't happen! I mustn't allow it! I can't let myself ever lose the power of having the upper hand…

A low snarl emanated from her throat as her traitorous body let her mind know she was fighting a losing battle.

"Oh. Oh. Oh, yes!" her vocalizations grew louder and needier with each gyration. Her excitement and hedonism built and built and built, and then something happened which never had before. "Oh, Feenie…Yessssss!"

Dahlia Hawthorne lost all control. Of her mind, her senses, and her body…all at the same time.

She experienced something which dozens, no, countless men had failed to give her. There was a burst of light, and she felt herself entering a kind of black hole in her soul, in which intense pain and fear of the unfamiliar sensation mingled with total bliss, pushing her beyond all previously known limits.

Her back arched and she tensed around him. There was the painful scraping of the tender flesh on her back against the sharp bark, coupled with the unanticipated, unadulterated carnality of the act as he kept pressing on, while her rapturous cries came flooding out of her mouth, her pores, her eyes, and her skin.

Her ululating, unhinged obscenities echoed loudly against the high treetops in the otherwise stillness of the woods, yet she was unable to stop herself from the euphoric shrieking, not until her throat was dry and raw.

Phoenix's hips gave a final jerk as his own release followed hers, then he held still, waiting for her to regain her bearings.

"Wow," he murmured against her throat, and Dahlia silently echoed his sentiment, even though she would have rather died than admit it!

She still couldn't fathom how such a thing had happened!

Long moments passed where they both tried to catch their breaths. When her body relaxed, he drew back, she unlocked her ankles, and then he squatted and lowered her feet to the ground. The moment he stepped away from her, reality hit her like a slap in the face, and along with it came a heaping dose of the shame she could feel scorching her cheeks as she trailed a limp hand down her visage.

"Are you OK, my sweet Dollie?" He asked tenderly, looking remorseful as he noticed the angry red scratches and bruises forming on her ivory shoulders. "I'm sorry if I didn't take it as easy as I should have … it's been a while for me! But …wow, right?"

What the hell? A while?! The wimpy little geek wasn't a virgin?! This wasn't merely beginner's luck? I had him pegged all wrong?! How could that be?! Grrr … I think I want to kill him even more now…and I would if I didn't need him still!

"You could say that." She plastered a saccharine smile on her lips and laughed, somewhat maniacally. "Yes, wow, Feenie. That was…"

"…Magical. It was the most perfect moment of my life. I'm glad it was good for you, too." His cheeks coloured with embarrassment as he painfully stretched his arms. "Can you stand? I didn't think I could hold you that way much longer. I was getting tired. I guess I need to work out more – lift something heavier than paintbrushes! Heh, heh."

Most guys couldn't hold me like that for fifteen seconds much less fifteen minutes! But I refuse to give him any more of an ego boost. The first time in my life when I haven't needed to fake it and it was with … this dweeb?!

Self-conscious now, she used the heavy trunk to pull herself fully back her feet and looked away as she quickly tugged the top of her dress back into place and unrolled the skirt, which had been bunched at her waist. Now that their mutual itch had been scratched, she had no idea what to do or how to proceed. Moreover, Phoenix didn't seem inclined to dispel the awkwardness and uncertainty settling over her while he made some clothing adjustments of his own.

She reached down for her parasol, keeping her burning face turned away while hoping he'd get the hint and give her some space.

Instead, he snaked his arms around her waist and kissed his way up her neck.

Despite the liaison that they'd just shared, she stiffened at the personal touch.

I mean don't get me wrong, I suppose this feels nice, but the lovey-dovey crap that people expect after sex just makes it harder to distance yourself from the emotional side of it. No one can hurt you if you detach yourself from everything and avoid becoming emotionally invested in anyone. That's why I don't do snuggles. After the feeling of ecstasy, I don't want to feel lust or that fake feeling of love. I want to relish in the high I get from having sex and nothing more. I don't want to be reminded of what else they want from me, and what I don't want from them ... and will tenaciously decline to ever give them! Especially this one, whom I despise more than the rest, for making my own body betray me like that!

What had just happened to her, in response to a lover, wasn't like her in the least. Nevertheless, it was impossible to ignore the tiny thrill of excitement which slid up her spine that because of her body betraying her in such an unexpected manner, she had experienced uninhibited ecstasy with a partner … for the first time in her life!

Right now, if she was going to keep the police off her trail, she had to forget about basking in the afterglow, as she had some serious simpering and convincing to do with her latest conquest now that she'd sweetened the pot.

The unbridled fury and self-loathing for this would come later.

Dahlia Hawthorne's Journal
August 28, 2013

The good news is with my sure-fire "honeypot" method, I got the doofus to take the necklace! Good ol' Feenie never knew what hit him, and now dopily thinks that we're an item, simply because we frolicked in the woods! Normally I would laugh at this sort of pathetic, simple naïveté, about how he presumptuously assumes that just because he brought me where no man has ever brought me before, it means that I now belong to him and will be eagerly back for more! Sure, I told him as much, but that's hardly the point!

The infuriated siren tapped the ballpoint pen against her teeth with a sharp clacking sound, lost in contemplation as she tried to compose her scrambled thoughts.

The thing is, I still can't understand how I let such a thing happen. It's not as if I merely finished with a tiny ripple – because the extent of the explosion I experienced would have topped the Richter scale!

I still hate myself for that – for allowing it to happen – almost more than I loathe him for making my own body turn against me!

How could I have possibly lost such control? Aside from the still raw, ravaged welts on my back from it getting up so up close and personal with that accursed tree trunk, which the overly enthusiastic idiot repeatedly pummeled me against, my so-called new boyfriend left another kind of lingering mark on me as well – in my mind – and it's driving me absolutely crazy! None of the others were like this in the least!

It's not as if the dweeb was only at half-mast and he thrashed around wildly inside me, hoping I wouldn't notice, and the end result was the usual aching lady parts. I've gotten used to this with all the others, and somehow even found it pleasing; it meant once I'd gotten him to do whatever I needed him to do, I'd be able to get free of him now; I thought, so long as he isn't a good lay, I'll be able to forget him.

The more forgettable, the less regrettable. It's always been my motto. So many men that were plagued with premature ejaculation, impotence, and other sexual dysfunctions…and of course, some were just so flat out laughable, I couldn't forget them for the life of me!

I remember vividly how pitiful Terry Fawles was. He made it very clear I was his first, despite being six years my senior. That retarded loser was also pathetically shy, so it was almost touching. He liked to leave the lights off and reach for me under the covers as if we were doing something that had to be kept secret. He'd buried his face in my chest, mumbling my name over and over again while he rubbed against my leg as I felt his fat, bloated man thing bumping me clumsily.

It made me think of a Newfoundland puppy, a creature whose gawky, immature, undisciplined behavior was completely inappropriate to its size.

He'd spend ages paying too much attention to my breasts and not much else – that overgrown adolescent, sucking, but too hard, making me sore and angry. But as soon as those thoughts passed through my mind, they were drowned out by a roar of remorse. So, I'd just lay there, moving my body lightly, trying to set off a spark, something that I, or, less likely, he, could fan into a flame. Terry was in for the long haul at my chest. He was hesitant, always had been, about touching me anywhere below the waist, as if it might be disrespectful to do so…

Then, of course, there was Doug Swallow. That stuck-up, British Wannabe ... MinuteMan!

In his dorm room, he used his hands to hold my head, moved it with deliberate but tempered force— far more than a suggestion— from a spot on his neck to his chest to himself. He kept his hands pressed firmly to my ears, then played with strands of my hair. That was his idea of foreplay. Despite being lame in the sack, for some reason, he was so damn cocksure...so sure of himself!

I recall how I felt the same taut, sure strength in his hips as they pressed into me, forcing me to press back... With his hips, he pulled me along to the edge of sensation, and then let me pull back ever so slightly, and back and forth and back and forth. I always felt as if I were getting ready for a dive, jumping up and down on the end of the diving board to get a feel for the springs. Tighter than I'd expected. Nevertheless, I never offered any resistance and feigned as though I'd finished right before he did. Then he'd catch his breath – that 60 seconds of activity obviously exerted him! – and pull the covers back up, before kissing me on the cheek, a quick good-night kiss then rolled over and slept by himself, not even noticing as I crept out of the room.

I'm sure that Anglophile loves to tell people he broke up with me! But the truth was, he cried like a little bitch once I'd gotten what I needed from him and told him it was over. He wept like an infant as if he hoped to sway me with his tears.

I can't abide to see a man cry. Weak. Pathetic. Loser. As I took my eyes off him, he crumpled. How could he expect me to love him when he wore his heart on his sleeve like a goddamn girl?! No balls, none whatsoever. I let my eyes flick briefly back to his reddened face – it nearly matched his hair – and his expression was just as forlorn as my weak-willed sister's the day she and I parted ways. I remember how my phone pinged to remind me of my manicure. I let out a hefty sigh and flicked my hair over my shoulder. "It's over, Dougie. Don't call me again. I like a clean break. Done is done. K?"

Did he really think I'd have an attachment to him merely because I'd let him have what he thought was sex with me?!

I've learned long that sleeping with a man was something strictly for his enjoyment, and it was something I'd long ago learned to endure, because a few moments of tending to their primal urges had gotten me through a lifetime of eagerly bestowed favors from the male gender, all leaping to do my every desire.

This son-of-a-bitch Phoenix Wright … He somehow messed up my entire operation. He was different. His hands… I can't get them out of my mind. They were tender… sensual. They weren't oversized and clumsy, like Terry's. Or stiff and mechanical like Doug's. Or cold and rough, like my father's…

Dammit! I can't venture down this path again, or how this nightmare all began because that sick bastard left me no alternative but to be resorted to jewel thievery and conspiracy, just to get the hell out of that house!

The bottom line is if I ever set eyes on Phoenix Wright again…

I. Will. Fucking. Kill. Him.

Of course, this just won't do, since I need to lay low, what with the whole Diego incident. Also, you know, because a lot of people still think I'm dead!

But ultimately, I don't trust myself around that artsy geek. The mere notion of allowing him to seduce me ...Touch me again and throw all inhibition out the window once more makes me recoil faster than a snapped high-tension spring!

And yet, I know I need to see him again since I've got to get that necklace back! The question is, how?!

Dahlia looked up from her desk and caught sight of her angry reflection in the vanity mirror next to it, noticing the glimmer of fiery hatred glowing in her dark orbs as she thought of her latest lover/obstacle. With a smirk, she suddenly changed tactics entirely and rearranged her features into the docile mask which brought all men to their knees.

Immediately, her hostile visage was replaced with a serene, angelic one, and she lowered her gaze demurely, in the same manner in which she had seen her sister do on countless occasions.

Of course, whenever her meek, mild-mannered, identical twin would wear the same expression, it was actually genuine.

A cruel, supercilious smiled played on the titian-haired girl's full lips, and giggling manically to herself, she resumed penning the diary entry.

Iris. Of course. Why didn't I think of my living, breathing mirror reflection before? I know she'll help me out. After all, I unwittingly did her a favor by allowing her to be spared by having her sent away from father's Hellacious House of Horrors to Hazakura Temple. That girl OWES ME.

And after all, what are sisters for?

Ivy University Campus
September 4, 2013

Stop panicking, darn it! Iris lectured herself sternly, clutching her snowy parasol so tightly, her knuckles turned as white as the dress she was wearing. Remember not to fidget, and for the love of God, do not forget that your name is Dahlia and not Iris! You answer to Dollie, just like you've been doing all week while talking to Phoenix on the phone in order to placate him until you finally ran out of lame excuses about why you've been too busy to see him again up until now! That's why you're here today, at last, posing as a student on this campus!

The anxious shrine maiden felt her insides quaking as she closed in on the large campus Oak tree where she would be meeting her "boyfriend" for the first time. Well, technically it would be the second time meeting for him… With the poor, unsuspecting young man never knowing it'd be the premier time this "Dollie" had ever set eyes on him!

"Just look for the dork with the stupid spiky black hair and goony, lovesick expression who is wearing a vial of poison around his neck as a symbolic token of my love for him!" Dahlia had snapped peevishly when asked for a description of Phoenix while rolling her eyes disgustedly at the seemingly distasteful memory of the art student. "Trust me, he'll recognize you right away, and then cling to you like a burr, so be prepared for some nauseatingly schmoopy declarations of ardour! Keep one thing in mind: whatever he says, just go with it! Everything will be fine – as long as you don't break character! You got that, dear sister?"

Iris got it, all right! Nevertheless, the emphasis on how much was at stake hardly stopped her insides from quivering like a bowl full of Jell-O!

The newly dyed redhead clutched at the Tupperware in her free hand, bearing the miniature omelets she'd made for this lunchtime rendezvous. She mentally willed her fingers to shop shaking, lest she blew the entire ruse and risk not only disappointing her twin but be forced to endure her sister's matchless fury thereafter. She shuddered at the thought of what Dahlia was capable of if Iris failed this mission.

As she approached the lean guy anxiously pacing beneath the shaded tree, she noted the young man had the form of an adult, but not the confidence. He paced about awkwardly, as though still taking that tall body for a test drive, as if not really sure if it was his for keeps. A few female students passed by him and shot a few lingering gazes his way, but as he returned the glance, there was a visible hint of brief shyness flashing over his visage before he turned away. He then resumed looking around him with a lost, puppy dog expression on his face, which lit up as he spotted his "girlfriend" at last.

Iris kept the serene smile on her lips despite her rapidly thudding heart as she neared him. If Feenie were to sense her frayed nerves, the jig would be up before it had even begun!

His doting gaze met hers, and her mind went blank about what she could possibly say or do now that she'd finally set eyes on her alleged beau.

Compared to her tiny stature, Phoenix seemed tall, north of six-foot she'd say, and despite being in arts, not athletics, she could make out some muscle tone to his torso and partially bared arms, which were only covered by a black T-shirt, and were presently reaching out for her.

He must work out – jog or bike ride – to have amassed any sort of build, since wielding a paintbrush is hardly aerobic…

Iris abruptly stopped herself train of though. This was supposed to be a short and sweet task as a favor to her sister, and nothing else, including pondering about how he'd gotten his physique!

Even though she knew he was two years older than she was, he seemed so much younger than she'd expected. A gamin more than man. In her elusive and largely unflattering descriptions of the art major, Dahlia had failed to mention that about him. She'd also failed to mention Phoenix's eyes. They were dark, but they weren't brown. More of a dark blue – but she didn't want to stare long enough to find out, lest she not be able to look away again.

And staring was exactly what she was doing right now as she gazed into those mesmerizing indigo depths.

His eyes are such a midnight blue; yet blue still didn't even begin to explain all the complicated depths and colors that were there, too. This deep shade of blue eyes is something I've never seen before. They are so mesmerizing that it's as if they're looking deep into my soul. I cannot take my eyes off them and I can feel my heart beating so fast it, could probably power the whole city.

She bit her lip. How could she start a conversation when she didn't even know the boy? Then, in that instant, he turned and caught her eye.

Before she could timorously turn away, a genuine grin spread across his face, turning it from simply nice-looking into something divine. At that moment she felt her body flush warm. This was a guy she wanted to know more than she'd ever felt before.

"Dollie!" He enthused, pulling her into his arms without preamble. "You're finally here! I've missed you so much!"

Iris stiffened at the unfamiliar, but certainly not unpleasant, touch. She barely noticed her parasol and plastic food container falling harmlessly to the grass beneath their feet from the effusiveness of the clasp. As a nun at the temple, the strange sensation of being embraced against a hard, male body was uncustomary, yet quite nice. She tried to relax and return the hug, while training her eyes on the green scenery around them, attempting to ignore his subtle cologne while she tried not to enjoy this too much.

Why does he have to smell that way? I don't need more confusion...

Phoenix finally drew back slightly and stared down into the ethereal perfection of those doll-like features. He hadn't thought it possible, but his Dollie had gotten even more breathtaking in the agonizing seven days since he'd seen her last. He adored those dark, luminous doe orbs, the color of a large stain of wood and ebony pigment. Their size gave a sense of innocence and purity. They were fringed about with very long, soot-black lashes and arched over by the most delicately shaped dark eyebrows. That radiant visage with a brilliant shine that illuminated the summers, that high arched nose and the tiny curve on her lips … that rich titian hair cascading down her porcelain face …

She's as pure as the first raindrop from heaven.

Phoenix tried to look into her eyes, his favourite feature of hers, but they kept darting away. Her gaze was never direct, preferring a bashful, earthbound focus.

"Did you miss me too?" He asked tenderly.

Iris' mouth was almost too dry to speak. She nodded like an idiot but somehow managed to utter, "of course I did, Feenie."

Then her gaze slid to the side. She could feel the growing coalescence in her cheeks. By now they must be beyond an attractive rosiness – they surely must be marking her out as a social incompetent! She felt as if all her insecurities were plainly written across her face and there was nowhere to hide. As her anxieties mounted, they became a circle; like a song stuck on repeat.

Phoenix was more than a tad perplexed. In spite of how intimate they'd been at their initial introduction; he didn't want his precious Dollie to think that was all he was interested in! And besides, they could hardly re-enact the scene of their first meeting right now anyway since they were in clear view of everyone on the campus lawn – not that he would be entirely against it in the future! However, it was odd that she'd given herself to him so freely just a week ago, and was now behaving so skittishly, as though she'd never experienced his touch before! Perhaps she was diffident about showing her affections in public with so many witnesses afoot?

But all he was doing was hugging her this time, not trying to tear her clothes off – again!

Undaunted – and unable to stop himself from touching her, he pulled her against his chest once more and leaned down to bury his face in her neck and breathe in her sweet scent, his nose tickling her ear.

Iris let out a tiny gasp and squirmed slightly as she felt his lips softly graze her slender neck. She had no idea how to react to being so intimately handled. She turned her head to the side to avert her gaze, but the sudden rosiness of her cheeks gave her away. When she finally was able to summon enough courage to turn her still heated visage to meet his gaze, she was startled to note his spellbinding eyes were twinkling with teasing affection.

He knows! He's trying to make me feel like this!

Iris jerked free from his grasp, her pulse racing, and felt her face turn redder. She quickly gestured to the fallen container.

"Are you hungry, Feenie? Um, I made us mini omelets for lunch."

"Sounds good!" He replied amiably, giving her a slightly puzzled smile but sinking down onto the plush grass while the shrine maiden served the food. The two ate in companionable silence, much to Iris' relief, as she was too perturbed by her unanticipated attraction to him to say much!

Fortunately for her, Phoenix kept up an easy flow of chatter which slowly coaxed her out of her shell, letting her know about his courses and projects he was working on. He was very witty, making the odd quip or joke that made her feel more relaxed in his company, as though she'd known him forever, and she almost forgot she was playing a role, as she hadn't expected to enjoy this so much.

After they'd eaten, the spiky-haired student leaned back on his elbows and beamed at her.

"That was delicious. Thank you, Dollie." He reached up to lightly place a hand on her upper back, partially bared due to the off-the-shoulder design of the dress. "You're an angel."

Iris nearly jumped out of her skin at the unexpected heat of his hand, despite the innocence of the gesture. The reflex action was impossible to miss, and his brow wrinkled with concern.

"Oops, I guess you're still tender back there! Is your back still hurting, Dollie?" He asked worriedly, immediately moving his hand away. "I would've hoped those nasty marks from the tree would have healed by now. I never meant to be so rough on you…"

She stared at him with a fixated smile on her face, her mind racing as she tried to wrap her head around what she had just heard.

Rough? Tree?!

Her sister had slept with this guy the first day she'd met him, yet somehow hadn't felt this would be prudent information to relay to her twin?!

No wonder Phoenix was acting so familiar and touchy-feely, despite this only being the second time he'd seen his girlfriend! After all, how could poor Feenie ever know that while one of the Hawthorne sisters obviously had had zero qualms with "sharing her favours," her meek and virginal twin had never even kissed a boy in all her 19 years?!

Blissfully oblivious to her stunned silence, Phoenix continued to ramble apologetically.

"I wish my first time had been with you. That I'd been able to lay you down on a bed of roses, where we could have taken our time, instead of that rushed quickie in the forest! Not that it made things any less meaningful!"

His expression was earnest and pleading as he took her hand.

"I didn't even hear you complain, so I had no idea how badly the bark had marred your delicate skin until afterward, honest! Like I told you, it'd been a while for me … I hadn't been with anybody since high school. I swear, Dollie, this wasn't the sort of thing I do it just anybody! There was only one other girl before you, and she was my first love – not that it means I love you any less! It was just that one time, with Tiana. Her parents weren't home, and we were a couple of crazy kids in the throes of puppy love…"

"Feenie, stop, please!" Iris implored, her mind still swimming as she tried to absorb all this. "I – I don't need you to explain yourself, really. I don't hold anything against you."

"I just wish I'd handled you like the delicate flower you are and hadn't let my hormones cloud the judgement of my heart." Phoenix flushed guiltily. "Look, I know we sort of rushed into things in this relationship when we first met…"

"Um, yes," Iris sighed with relief, instinctively sensing a reprieve for her odd behaviour was within her grasp and ready to seize it with gusto. "You could definitely say that! I um, wasn't really myself then…"

In more ways than one! She added silently, keeping the placid smile on her face.

"I just don't want you to think that's what this relationship is all about, or worse, have you believe that's all I'm here for." Phoenix's eyes were wide and trusting. "It was love at first sight for me, Dollie, and even though we expressed that love right out of the gate, I don't want you to feel that's what I expect from you every time I see you. We can take things as slow – or at whatever pace – that you like."

She felt the surge of relief sink into her so immediately that it nearly made her body sag, along with a pang of conscience … and something else the ingénue couldn't quite put her finger on. Dahlia may have seen this kind, unassuming guy as nothing more than a weak, overly sentimental fool, but in that instant, all Iris could see was a genuinely sweet, compassionate young man who wore his heart on his sleeve.

Therefore, she'd be damned if she were to just break it out of the blue – merely take that necklace of his and just run! It was bad enough she had to deceive him!

"I'd appreciate slowing things down just a tad, Feenie," she demurely dropped her gaze. "Um, especially physically …at least until my back heals."

"I'll wait for you forever if I have to," he swore, his eyes filled with love. "I was attracted to you with the kind of heady trance that brings a butterfly to nectar. You, with just the right blend of shy and sweet. To me, you are more beautiful than the winter sun above pristine snow; you are warmer than spring sunshine on soft new grass; you are more mesmerizing than the fall leaves. You're worth the wait."

"Thank you, Feenie." Iris wasn't sure what else to say, even though she wished she could say the words rising in her heart, which had been so impacted by his touching poetic declarations, but knowing she had neither the experience nor nerve to say them aloud.

Feenie, for me, what you truly are is an eternal summer, for every moment with you already seems like perfect blue skies with love in the air. My attraction to you isn't because you're handsome, though you are. It is to your soul; to the wonderful person who you are inside, which I can already inexplicably sense.

"Are the marks still there?" He asked regretfully, turning her slightly so he could take a gander for himself. "Thankfully, your shoulders, at least, don't look like they got roughed up too badly…"

The nun silently cursed how the particular cut of her ensemble showed so much bared skin which in this case was very damning evidence indeed! She abruptly shifted her seated position so that she was facing him squarely and he could no longer look at her back.

"Er, they're lower down. Under the dress," Iris said quickly, realizing too late that shrugging away from his touch again this time had made the wounded puppy look on his face impossible to miss.

"What is it, Dollie?" Phoenix seemed like he was about to cry. "Why are you so edgy with me, as if you're about to jump out of your skin if I even lay a finger on you? Are you already having second thoughts about me? About us? Even though I just promised to wait for you for as long as it takes?"

"No, it's nothing like that, Feenie!" Even as she cried out the words, she dimly acknowledged, with a slight jolt, that she was no longer acting. There were tears in her eyes as they silently beseeched him to trust her. "Of course, I want to be with you! You must believe me!"

"I don't know if I can." Phoenix shook his head; his hurt was still evident. "Your words say one thing, yet your actions say another…"

Afterwards, Iris still couldn't determine if her next actions were done out of desperate reassurance to placate him and keep up her convincing act in this charade, which had suddenly become sheer madness, or if it was her, at last, succumbing to her innate urges, which had been unaccountably harbouring within her and leading to this inevitable moment.

All she knew was that almost as if on its own volition, she found her hand caressing his temple and her own soothing voice whispering words of loving reassurance, and then before she could overthink or second-guess the sequential movements, she bit her lip and bent forward. Reaching out her trembling fingers, she placed her hands on the sides of his face and faltered. Taking in a steadying breath, she lifted her eyes to see … his closed eyelids. She smiled in surprise and, suddenly, his eyes snapped open. Her heart leaped and she felt the air escape from her lungs. Up close and personal like this, his orbs were even more striking – the deepest of sapphires, now baring an intense flame at her close proximity.

You look like a dream I never had before. Her pulse was racing at the boldness of her intended deed. Every girl fantasizes about her first kiss … and now mine is finally going to happen! I just hope he doesn't realize I have no idea what I'm doing! Well, here goes nothing … it's either kiss me or kill me, that's how I see it…

She hesitated. When he still didn't move, she realized he would never make another gesture towards her again after being rebuked so many times. The onus was all on her now if she was going to successfully continue this masquerade.

Bearing this in mind, Iris leaned forward and kissed him. Softly. Just once. Barely able to breathe around her hammering heart, she drew back enough for warm air to slip between them, and Phoenix dissolved before her, a resigned sigh brushing against her mouth, and his lips softened. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart, taste the sweetness of the apples she'd packed with lunch still on his mouth. She weaved her fingers into his jet-black spikes, marvelling how they were softer than they looked. There were no thoughts, no words, as she simply found her eyes instinctively closing and as she felt the unfamiliar sensation of her lips upon his and his upon hers. Her heart pounded in her chest while his hand found its way into her hair.

Iris was kissing him with every drop of emotion that had pooled within her since she'd first laid sight on Phoenix Wright. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he pulled her closer to him, his hands remaining fastened at the sides of her waist, his touch gentle but firm as he slowly took control of the kiss. He was tentative at first; as if waiting for her to balk again, as she had previously, but there was no need.

Iris could have kissed him forever. She wanted to kiss him forever. She knew it like she knew her own name. His hands raised to cradle her face now, holding her there as if he always had. And with every brush of his lips against hers, she knew what he was giving her and what she was giving him and what it would ultimately cost them both.

But this time, for once, she was not afraid, nor cared about the consequences.

I am the wood. You are the flame. There is not one without the other, even if ultimately it means we will destroy each other and create ashes. Sometimes the personal experience is the only way to learn. You can't scare a girl by screaming 'fire!' if she thinks she wants to burn…

Phoenix's Dorm Room
December 22, 2013

They were doing their Christmas gift swap before Phoenix headed home for the holidays. They had complete privacy, as his roommate, Kyle, had already left to see his long-distance girlfriend, Rachel, back in Indiana the day before.

Since they were both broke struggling "students" – by now Iris perfected the art of walking among the vast halls of Ivy University and looking as though she belonged there – the twitter-pated lovebirds had agreed to exchange only homemade presents. He had insisted that she open hers first, and she had burst into a fit of delighted giggles to uncover a framed caricature of the two of them that he'd sketched and coloured himself, both in ugly Christmas sweaters, portraying Iris (who had the Grinch on hers) wearing a reindeer antler headband and Phoenix with a Santa Claus cap and Rudolph on his.

She'd thanked her boyfriend with a lingering kiss, then Iris had reticently presented him with a hand-knitted pink sweater she'd been working on for the past couple of months, which had a red heart on the front, with a large golden "P" emblazoned within it.

"I hope you like it, Feenie." She blushed prettily. "I thought it would go really well with the red scarf I made you for our one-month anniversary."

"I love it, Dollie!" He enthused, pecking her on the lips with such enthusiasm that he knocked her back onto his bed, which she was seated on. "I'm never going to take this off!"

Just as the twittering shrine maiden managed to sit up again, she saw that Phoenix was already unreservedly yanking off his T-shirt, ignoring the telltale blush that stained her fair cheeks at seeing him partially undressed, however briefly, for the first time.

True to his word, he had been nothing but a gentleman the past three months, never pushing their physical interactions to get past the limits she set, which thus far had been only first base. As he yanked the sweater on and proudly twirled in front of her, arms extended, he caught the fact that her flushed face was still the same shade as his gift and grinned mischievously.

"Why so shy, Dollie?" He teased playfully. "I haven't got anything you haven't already seen before, right?"

"Right…"

Iris nodded dumbly as the strange tingling surge that had flooded her body at the sight of his bared torso refused to dissipate. With a jolt, she realized she didn't want it to.

This guy is everywhere… in my hair, my eyes, my fingers, my heart. I'm forever daydreaming about what he's doing, thinking, seeing, smelling, feeling. I cannot eat, for thoughts of him.

What she wanted, she knew now, and had known for some time, was him. All of him.

Phoenix caught the look in her eyes, and his teasing expression faded as he began walking towards her. She was already rising to her feet from the mattress and striding to him as well. They met halfway in the middle of the room and their arms encircled one another.

His eyes were on fire, and his sweet, earthy scent slammed her senses. This time, Iris was unable to look away.

"You're doing that bedroom-eyes thing again." He trailed a path of kisses down her throat, his lips were as hot as his eyes, sending a shock wave through her before locking gazes with her again. "I don't even know if you know when you do it. But I can't ignore it this time. Tell me now, my sweet Dollie, if you liked what you saw when I took off my shirt?"

He stood before her and cupped her face, kissing her tenderly before drawing back and breathing the next question, with his lips hovering just inches above hers.

"If I promise to be much gentler this time…" He whispered. His breath was warm against her face. "Will you tell me if you want me to take it off again?"

Iris' breath caught in her throat as she realized what he was asking.

I love this man. I can't get enough of him. I don't care how tired and sore I'll be afterward or that it's late. I don't want to sleep. I don't care if he splits me in two. I want the ache. I want him to a part of me. His weight on top of me. I want to squeeze him in further and further. I want to watch his face. I want his sweat to drop onto me. I want to drop mine on him. It doesn't matter that he thinks he's already been with me. I'm finally ready to give myself to him. I want him to make me his. Tonight. Right here. Right now.

"Yes," she gasped against his lips just before they claimed hers and they staggered backward until they toppled back onto the bed together, mouths fused together the whole time. "Yes, Feenie. Yes…."

It's as if I'm saying a thousand yeses. Yes, I want you to make love to me, because yes, I am truly, madly, deeply in love with you. It's not an act anymore if it ever was. Yes, I want you to love me. Yes, I know Dahlia is getting impatient with me about why I haven't gotten that necklace back yet, but it will be okay. I will do as she asked … Maybe not today or tomorrow or next week. But yes, one day. I will wake up and it'll all be okay. Yes…

Looking back at their time together, Iris was still unable to believe her own eyes at how alive Phoenix Wright had made her feel, despite the shortness of their courtship.

I loved you so much once. I really did. More than anything in the whole wide world. Imagine that. But alas that was then, this is now. Can you believe it? We were so intimate once upon a time; I can't believe it as I look back. The memory of being that intimate somebody. I can't imagine ever being that intimate somebody else. I still haven't been…

Phoenix's Dorm Room
February 14, 2014

The two of them were giddily canoodling as they watched a series of chick flicks on Phoenix's small dorm TV while munching on the heart-shaped chocolate-chip shaped cookies Iris had presented him for Valentine's Day. Just as the last movie ended however, he suddenly jumped up from the bed and took a deep breath.

"Are you ready for your present now, Dollie?" He asked nervously.

"I thought you agreeing to watch Ghost, Love Actually, and Love Story with me all night was a gift in itself!" She tittered. "You haven't even complained once even though I know romance movies aren't really your thing, Feenie."

"I haven't been paying much attention to anything but the teen angel lying in my arms," he confessed. "I'm telling you, Dollie, heaven's missing a haloed, celestial being by letting me be blessed to have you by my side. I feel like I'm the luckiest guy in the whole wide world!"

"I'm the lucky one, Feenie," she corrected automatically, eyes shining with love. "You have no idea how happy you make me."

He flicked on his computer speaker and cleared his throat as the soft chords of a piano began filling the room.

"My roommate Kyle, the music major, agreed to play the instrumental, and I've been working on this song for you because I still say I'm the luckiest."

Blushing slightly, Phoenix began to sing.

I don't get many things right the first time,
In fact, I am told that a lot
Now I know all the wrong turns the stumbles
And falls brought me here
And where was I before the day
That I first saw your lovely face,
Now I see it every day
And I know

That I am, I am, I am, the luckiest

What if I had been born fifty years before you
In a house on the street
Where you lived
Maybe I'd be outside as you passed on your bike. Would I know?
And in a wide sea of eyes
I see one pair that I recognize

And I know

That I am, I am, I am, the luckiest

I love you more than have
Ever found the way to say
To you…

Before he was even finished the song, Iris had already jumped off the bed and was in his arms, droplets of joy trickling down her cheeks as she pressed her trembling mouth against his. He could taste the saltiness of the tears against those lush rosebuds lips as they sought his.

The kiss, while unbearably fragile, was a spike of sensation. Everything Iris thought about who she was, what she was, was irrelevant at that moment. There were no words, only sensation, smooth sensation. Phoenix felt deliciously powerless to everything around him as Iris passionately kissed him as she'd never kissed him before, with all the love in her heart. They stood in the middle of his dorm room, giving, and getting every kiss they'd ever gotten or given each other; kissing from memory. Kissing: fast, hard, deep, frantic, long, and slow. Tasting lips, mouth, tongue. He cupped her face in his hands, feeling the softness of her skin as Iris tenderly rubbed her face against his, her lips grazing his skin like the tickling lick of a kitten, sweeping his cheek, his cheekbones, nuzzling the ear, the narrow line of his eyebrow, finishing with a butterfly flick of the lashes, as though trying to memorize what he felt like.

Phoenix, at last, pulled back to look down into her flushed face.

Iris wasn't ready for it to be over. All other thoughts vanished from her brain. She opened her eyes and stared searchingly into his.

"Again," she whispered.

The corner of his mouth lifted, and then she kissed him once more. Not so gently this time. His hands dropped from her face, grabbed at her waist, and pulled her tightly against his chest. A small, soft groan escaped him, and that noise made her feel absolutely crazy.

Iris lost it. With complete abandon, she entwined her arms around his neck, pressed herself against him, and kissed him without holding anything back. She could feel his heart thundering like hers, his breath coming faster as his arms tightened around her waist.

A satisfied sigh escaped her mouth as they stumbled back towards the bed as if she were content to stay wrapped in his arms forever.

Hazakura Temple
April 8, 2014

"Unbelievable!" Dahlia raged at the shrine maiden. "Iris Elizabeth Hawthorne, you, as a certain java-loving Latino defense attorney would have said, are as useless as decaffeinated coffee!"

Iris drew back and cringed at the fury in her twin's voice while her mirror image restlessly paced the room with a caged panther.

"I'm sorry, Dahlia," Iris uttered meekly. "I've been trying my best but Feenie keeps refusing to part with the token of our – er, your – love…"

"It's been eight freaking months! I cannot believe you still haven't gotten that blasted bottle off that spineless wimp! I should have known your world-class marshmallow behind would've gone soft on me; that I couldn't trust you to do the job which I should've just done myself in the first place!"

"I just need a little bit more time," Iris insisted, a feeling of dread coursing through her as her sister's eyes narrowed into nearly serpentine slits. "I promise I'll get that necklace back!"

She turned her head away so Dahlia wouldn't see how her expression belied her words.

"I just need a few more days. That's all! I – I'm getting tired of Feenie, anyway…

Dahlia stopped her frantic striding and got right up into her sister's face, her next words a barely perceptible hiss of fury.

"You're not tired of him at all!" She sneered, her tone rife with disgust and loathing. "You're in love with him, you pathetic, weak-kneed fool!"

The nun dropped her eyes for a moment, terrified of the rage that would surely be contorting Dahlia's mien now that she'd made the discovery Iris had desperately been trying to hide for so long.

To her great shock, rather than seeing of a mask of fury though, her twin was now actually smiling.

It chilled her blood.

Every smile that lit up her features, despite being identical to mine, was the wrong sort. It's like she runs on cold malice instead of any form of genuine affection. Perhaps when was a baby Mother left her to cry, or she truly has a personality disorder that doctors couldn't fix. Either way, it's no use trying to plead my case anymore. I can see that Dahlia Lilith Hawthorne has as much empathy as a medieval mace.

"I could pretend to be naïve enough to ponder how an easily manipulated, spineless nimrod like Phoenix Wright, who's got as much game as a basketball bat could've possibly earned so much of your loyalty and affections over that of your own twin sister," Dahlia mused in a dangerously soft voice. "But I already know the answer. He somehow literally charmed the pants off you and manage to make you forget that you're a nun! That's it! I know it is!"

She threw her head back and let out a diabolical cackle.

"Don't even try to deny it, sister dearest! I know you too well, and you're a terrible liar! You slept with him, didn't you?"

Not before you did! Iris thought sullenly but rebelliously balked at answering such a personal query. She refused to feel guilty about having given her flower to Phoenix. It had been an act of love on her behalf rather than used as a means to manipulate and control, which it undoubtedly had been for her sister.

"I cannot believe you!" Dahlia's voice rose higher and higher into a fevered pitch. "You actually gave that pathetic wimpy loser our – I mean my – virginity?"

Are you seriously trying to play the virtuous card, Dahlia? Iris stared defiantly back to her twin in righteous anger but wisely kept mum, knowing her sister apparently had no idea that her own tryst particular with Phoenix had long since become knowledge. The last time you were a virgin, I'm sure George W. Bush was still in office!

Suddenly, Dahlia's expression changed, and her demonic veneer of wrath melted away like cotton candy in the rain, replaced by an angelic smile.

Iris' smile.

"Well, there's no point in crying over spilled milk, is there?" She said sweetly, leaning forward and placing a fleeting kiss on Iris' forehead. The nun barely suppressed a shiver at the touch of her twin's cold lips on her skin. "What's done is done, right? You did your best, and I appreciate you trying to help me out, the good sister that you are. 'A' for effort, right?"

Surprised, but not unaccustomed, to her sister's lighting changes of mood, Iris guilelessly felt a slight surge of relief that Dahlia no longer seemed to be cross with her.

"Thanks for being so understanding." Iris smiled gratefully at her sister as she headed to the door. "I really meant what I said, sister. I will get that necklace back – like I said I just need a few more days."

"I'm not going to worry my pretty little head about it." Dahlia blew her a kiss as she swept out of the room. "I trust you implicitly, Iris. After all, what are sisters for?"

Iris Hawthorne's Journal
April 10, 2014

It's all over. An innocent man is dead. Doug Swallows, coldly murdered. My darling Feenie, accused of being his killer, and according to the papers, stands trial tomorrow. Oh, Dahlia…how could you?! How could I have misjudged you so terribly?! What have you done?!

The ink on the page blurred slightly from the teardrops that fell onto the paper faster than she could wipe them away.

I don't know what's worse, knowing the only man I've ever loved stands to face the death penalty for a crime I know he never committed, or that he may die never knowing who I really was, or how much I loved him, with every fibre of my being. What was once whole is shattered; where once peace was is now emptiness, echoes of a love I put my everything into.

Iris' tears continued to trickle down her face as her shaky hand continued to write down the tragic events of the past few days.

My heartbreak is grief that comes in waves, grueling, stealing appetite and sleep alike. It is a shard in my guts that never leaves, though perhaps in time the edges will dull. It feels like death just the same as bereavement and in quiet moments it chokes the breath from my body and short circuits my mind.

She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shrine maiden garment.

Feenie. My darling Feenie. I loved you so much. I love you so much. I don't know why I use the past tense. It's not as if love dies when the beloved one is snatched away. But the bitter truth is that in the end, I am hopelessly in love with a man who even if he miraculously gets acquitted, will never be anything more than a memory. Now he's just somebody that I used to know. An echo from another time, another place.

Iris felt her chest constrict, her heartbreak so raw and intense that she literally felt physical pain, as well as being shattered beyond repair.

Although really, is it still considered mere heartache when in fact it's your entire body and soul that feels broken?

Detention Centre
April 18, 2019

Dismissed! Fired! Cast aside like common garbage – over a poker game! The newly jilted Kristoph Gavin's rage knew no bounds as he stormed past the cell blocks, clenching his precious forged diary page in his fist so hard, his knuckles turned white. And then that smarmy, mouth-breathing… prole had the audacity to command me to send these case files over to that… inferior, bluffing buffoon of an attorney he's hired in my stead?! What exactly was it about that Philistine that Zak found so desirous compared to me? Wright's uninspired diction or his laughably bad grammar?!

"You will regret this, you plebeian peon!" The German defense attorney snarled as he stalked past the prisoners in their cells, mindless to everything but his own fury. "You will rue the day you crossed the Coolest Defense in the West! As God as my witness…Vengeance will be mine!"

He gritted his teeth and shook his fist at the heavens.

"I will see you in hell for this insidious act of treachery, Phoenix Wright!"

And once there…. I will feast on your entrails and devour your soul!

"Poor, poor, Krissy," a melodious feminine simper floated to his ears just as he had finished his latest outburst about this unwarranted injustice. "You need to take a few deep breaths and calm down. Wrath is for the weak-minded."

Halting in his tirade against all that was holy, Kristoph abruptly brought his head back down and swung his eyes down towards the petite, titian-haired siren who was smiling knowingly at him and had apparently heard every word he'd just uttered.

"Once you have a cooler and more collected mental state, you will see things in a clearer light," the porcelain doll-faced sylph cooed, revealing subdued wisdom that belied her youthful years. "It's something I myself have learned from this time in solitude, which has finally allowed me to now reflect upon the circumstance that brought me here with no more than a sense of detached irony."

"How dare you try to undermine my plight so insolently, foolish and presumptuous hoyden?" Kristoph demanded peevishly, glaring at the girl, who merely smiled sweetly in response. "As if I can be appeased with trite platitudes spoken by a nosy stranger who knows nothing of my circumstances!"

"Alas, I am no stranger whatsoever to being screwed – literally and figuratively! – by the very sniveling, snot-nosed pantywaist you wish a plague upon, Krissy." She tilted her head to the side, the coy smile never leaving her rosebud lips. "However, I had also given up hope about the entire concept of a fair and just universe – until now."

"Is that right?" His disgust, both with her impudence and appalling, unsolicited nickname for him was evident by the Arctic blast in his cadence. "And just what brought on this impromptu turnabout of yours?"

"Why, you were of course! From the moment I heard you ranting your bile about the very cretin who is responsible for me being here in this dank, urine-soaked hell hole."

The melodious voice hardened then.

"The same man whom I also hate with the burning passion of a thousand suns."

Before Kristoph's startled gaze, the dark, doe-like orbs were suddenly overtaken in the next instant, with only the whites of her eyes becoming visible. The dulcet beam morphed into a supercilious sneer, and the angelic expression was replaced by a demonic mask.

"What say we join forces and fuck Phoenix Wright … together?"

Ben Folds Five - The Luckiest