Franziska spits the petal in the face of the person who is not Maya.
It’s insultingly obvious, really. This person, whoever they are, doesn’t fit into Maya’s body at all. They walk around with their chin lifted, but with an inexplicable stoop. They don’t fidget with the cords on Maya’s wrist, but keep looking surprised when they glance down as though unused to their presence. Most damningly, as soon as Franziska walked in, they flinched — not at her but at her whip. Franziska would understand if Maya was upset at her, but Maya is never afraid of Franziska’s whip.
The only thing this person shares with Maya is their tendency to cover their mouth with their hand when worried.
A hypothesis is forming in Franziska’s head already.
“I don’t understand,” hisses not-Maya. “Don’t you love Mystic — don’t you love me? And I put Hanahaki seeds in that glass. You should be incapacitated!”
That explains why Franziska developed the disease despite the genetic unlikeliness of it, she realizes. And why it came on so suddenly — why she couldn’t even think of Maya without coughing up full flowers…
“You’re right,” Franziska agrees. Why not confess? Maya isn’t around to listen. “But you’re not her.” She coughs, and only comes up with a single new leaf. She spits that out, too. “You’re Morgan Fey, who let the courtroom know of the Spirit Severing Technique.”
Morgan’s eyes widen in realization, just as Franziska draws her whip and strikes —
“Now!” she shouts, and Phoenix Wright springs from the shadows to deliver the pinch to the back of Morgan’s neck.
She collapses.
Franziska kneels beside her to check for injuries — she doesn’t want to hurt Maya — while Phoenix clears his throat. “I’ll… go check on Pearl.”
“Yes.” Oh, he knows now, she realizes. She’d confessed her love for Maya in front of Phoenix Wright. Fuck. Well, she can worry about that later.
Right now, she sits beside Maya’s body and waits for her spirit to return.
FILL: TEAM FRANMAYA
Ship: Franziska/Maya from Ace Attorney
Franziska spits the petal in the face of the person who is not Maya.
It’s insultingly obvious, really. This person, whoever they are, doesn’t fit into Maya’s body at all. They walk around with their chin lifted, but with an inexplicable stoop. They don’t fidget with the cords on Maya’s wrist, but keep looking surprised when they glance down as though unused to their presence. Most damningly, as soon as Franziska walked in, they flinched — not at her but at her whip. Franziska would understand if Maya was upset at her, but Maya is never afraid of Franziska’s whip.
The only thing this person shares with Maya is their tendency to cover their mouth with their hand when worried.
A hypothesis is forming in Franziska’s head already.
“I don’t understand,” hisses not-Maya. “Don’t you love Mystic — don’t you love me? And I put Hanahaki seeds in that glass. You should be incapacitated!”
That explains why Franziska developed the disease despite the genetic unlikeliness of it, she realizes. And why it came on so suddenly — why she couldn’t even think of Maya without coughing up full flowers…
“You’re right,” Franziska agrees. Why not confess? Maya isn’t around to listen. “But you’re not her.” She coughs, and only comes up with a single new leaf. She spits that out, too. “You’re Morgan Fey, who let the courtroom know of the Spirit Severing Technique.”
Morgan’s eyes widen in realization, just as Franziska draws her whip and strikes —
“Now!” she shouts, and Phoenix Wright springs from the shadows to deliver the pinch to the back of Morgan’s neck.
She collapses.
Franziska kneels beside her to check for injuries — she doesn’t want to hurt Maya — while Phoenix clears his throat. “I’ll… go check on Pearl.”
“Yes.” Oh, he knows now, she realizes. She’d confessed her love for Maya in front of Phoenix Wright. Fuck. Well, she can worry about that later.
Right now, she sits beside Maya’s body and waits for her spirit to return.