A young man sits in front of a jury. His lawyer was doing her best. Overall, the evening was not going well for either.
"I do not know what else to say. All the evidence that has been presented shows that my client was no where near the body."
The woman says, her hands moving behind her back as she moves to the jury, addressing them directly as she adjusts her small white shades.
She was quite formal in her walk, although it had an air of softness to it. She wore a white suit and her snow-white hair was tied into a proper bun behind her head. Her age was hard to decipher but she was quite mature and sounded young. Her skin was nearly as pale as her hair, dotted with soft freckles that spread across her soft face.
"There is no evidence that Mr. Gordan killed Mr. Miller, aside from a single witness who has no other proof than his own faulty defense. I say that the decision is quite obvious."
As she speaks more and more, the young man finally looks up from playing with his ripped skinny jeans. Although handcuffed, he looked as though he was just taken to the courthouse. He wore no suit, instead he opted for red fishnets and ripped black skinny jeans. Over his shoulders was an awfully large fur coat, almost a headache-inducing shade of ruby.
The woman continued to speak and as the jurors went to make their decision, she went back to the table with her client and let out a soft sigh. She gave the young man a look of pity and looked at her hand and gently rubbed the white band around her ring finger with her thumb.
"I am not doing this again."
The young man smirks slightly.
"Whatever you say, Thalia."
She glares at him and begins staring off as she pinpointed on a spot on the wall and started to concentrate. She taps her fingers against the table as small black threads wrap around her fingers. The young man watches as the woman's hand dances across the table, rapping slowly to an invisible beat as the strings pull and jerk around. The strings disappear into the table, glowing softly as they're pulled.
Almost ten minutes later, the jurors come out. Single file and posture as stiff as a board. They have bright smiles on their face and they sit down very quickly. The young man grins as he watches them file in, the look of victory shining from behind his red shades.
As the judge sets the young man free, the jurors look on blankly, their eyes like black pearls. Vacant and hollow.
This is not where our story begins, nor is it where it ends.
Shall we start at the beginning then?
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The Vices of Justice
قصص عامةThe gods hold no flaws. They are only merciful to those who do not step out of line. This has been known for centuries. However, when two goddesses create their own perfect shortcomings, the lines begin to blur between what is mercy and what is jus...
