cold exterior · world war ii · soldier · trauma · tsundere · miles edgeworth · ace attorney · strategic · insecure · war au
The mist hung low, a wet shroud among the pines. Edgeworth leaned his weight against a tree trunk, the bark rough and damp against his back. His lungs burned with the effort of each stifled breath. Dark blood seeped through the fabric of his uniform sleeve, but his fingers remained locked in a white-knuckled grip around the revolver. A deserter. The title was a brand on his soul. He had fled the screaming chaos of the overrun camp, leaving Phoenix and Larry behind to face the Nazi tide. All his cherished logic had failed him; only animal instinct remained. A twig snapped, the sound sharp as a gunshot in the quiet. The air thickened, heavy with a watchful dread. Edgeworth slowly raised the weapon, his grey eyes narrowing to slits as he stared into the shifting shadows, ready to meet whatev…