2022-05-08 - Sir, This Is A Wendy's

The courtroom seems strangely familiar -- and it would, because every Hollywood flick depicts courtrooms in the exact same fashion. The same benches made from the same dark wood; the podium in front of the judge, the witness stand, the two desks where the accuser and the accused sit with their respective lawyer backup. Do courtrooms actually look like this? A lot of them probably do. Presumably, though, not all courtrooms were built in 1975. A life-size statue of Lady Justice, blindfolded and holding her scales, stand off to a side. A drapery has been tactically arranged to conceal the boob revealed by her marble dress; John Ashcroft may have visited on a previous occasion.

It's dark in here, though. What kind of court is in session, in the dark? A large poster on the door reads, No cameras allowed inside in English, Spanish, French -- in Japanese kanji and in Mandarin -- and several other alphabets, some of which are decidedly not recognisable. Some of which might not be from anywhere on Earth. The bottom one looks like tiny XCKD stick figures.

It's definitely not a real courtroom. To the even moderately alert, little details are off. The draperies that shield the windows and prevent light from streaming in, sport a tiny dancing pineapples pattern. Somewhere, a radio is playing big band jazz; it crackles, like an old record, before the days of vinyl. The crystal chandelier overhead is made to look like a genuine drippy wax candles chandelier, but the candles are obviously plastic, the kind that have little LED-lights in. Some of them flicker erratically. It doesn't provide a whole lot of light, overall.

Into this curious replica of a courtroom files people. And things. If there was ever a hint that this is not real, that this is some kind of Dream, this is it.

To the judge's seat, a sharp-faced woman in a black robe, carrying a judge's gavel in one hand.

To the table of the defenders, a nurse tall and voluptuous in a somewhat outdated uniform; a surgical mask obscures her face. With her, a dark-haired man; he takes the seat of the accused.

To the table of the accusers -- a courtroom official attempts to take Ava's elbow and guide her there.

On the benches for the audience, a number of shadows and figures who might be half-remembered figures out of old films; the audience, shocked or bored, reporters and presumably, others who have some reason to be here. One group are obviously not human; white monkeys, macaques sifting in to take a bench and settle on it in a row. One of them carries a very large bag of popcorn, red and white striped.

A court official bangs a gavel -- not the judge's, she's still holding on to that -- and announces, "Ladies and gentlemen, the court is in session under the Venerable Judge -- " he pauses to check his notes like a bad actor " -- Justitia!"

A kangaroo in the corner makes punching gestures.

Court.

There's a moment where Ava is just sitting on a hard, wooden seat for a moment staring up at lady Justice and squinting as she tries to remember exactly what she was just doing. Was she sleeping? Rapid blinking forces her eyes to adjust away from the statue and off towards the rest of the room in order to take it in. This is absolutely a Dream, there's no way that this is even on Earth. But just about the point she's getting her bearings, a hand is latching itself around her elbow and dragging her off the bench and towards the table.

"Hey! Hey, get your hands off of me. I can walk on my own." Granted, she doesn't know where she's supposed to walk to until she's placed at the table opposite of the woman dressed up like a nurse. A hiss comes through her teeth as eyes narrow. "Vivisectionist." There's no love lost in that tone. "What do you think you're doing? Haven't you done enough?" Wait. Vivisectionist has a lawyer. Where's Ava's lawyer? Is Ava the lawyer? She doesn't have a law degree! Sometimes she gets so frustrated that she cries when she's mad, she can't argue in court! Is she on court? No, wait, is she the prosecutor?

What the hell is happening?

A gavel bangs and Ava's mind goes quiet, attention turning towards the judge's seat.

Seated in the row behind the defense is none other than Leila, dressed dramatically in black blazer with sharp lines and a pencil skirt - looks like she belongs in some 1950s black and white court room drama with her dark hair curled to one side. Really, this is the indication she needs to know that this isn't true to real life, before she even registers the kangaroo and the macaques. Her black, gloved hands hold a notepad and pen, though if she is a reporter or part of the defense team isn't quite obvious yet. The smack of the gavel is enough to snap her head up and her eyes widen as she realizes this...is definitely not what she was expecting. The nurse, the animals, they capture her attention at first, but its the familiar face of Ava that gives her a pregnant pause. "What. The. Fuck," she whispers to herself.

The door to the courtroom opens and shuts to admit a late-arriving member of the defense team. Sturdily built man dressed in a three-piece Brioni suit with dark, slicked back hair and a briefcase under one arm. The very picture of money, and utter disregard for the lack of it.

Clipped strides take him to the table where the nurse and the accused sit. There's a beat of hesitation that may not be noticed unless any are watching him directly; and then he drags out the empty chair on her other side, lays down his briefcase, and sits.

While he's cracking the thing open and going through the contents, three things are running through his mind. One: why the fuck is Ava Brennon on the prosecution stand? Two, what the fuck is he doing playing a lawyer?

And three. Why isn't the fucking Vivisectionist dead like Isabella made sure of two years ago?

Aidan is.... in a suit. Aidan has a remarkable collection of clothing, and some of it even qualifies one way or another as a suit, but not, generally speaking, this kind of suit. This one's all dark grey and sleek and looks like someone tailored it to him, plus the shirt's pristine white and crisply collared and he's got a tie and vest and cufflinks and a briefcase and everything. The only things that seem appropriately Aidanish are the fact that the silvery tie appears to have a pattern of tiny pink flamingoes, and that his hair is entirely Aidan-normal, curls everywhere. No one's managed to slick that back.

Like Ava, he's being ushered toward the prosecutory table. And like Ava, he looks decidedly confused about this. He seems less distressed about being guided, but he's also being guided without actually being touched, maybe due to her reaction to it. He sets his case down on the table and slides into the chair beside her, looking around with some confusion. "Um. Hey," he greets her, glancing past to take in the defendant, the familiar looking counsel over there, the judge, the monkeys, the kangaroo... then back to Ava. "So this is a weird one."

The accused is just another sign something is way, way off, because he's...a little under dressed. A lot under dressed...okay, he's almost naked. Not quite; a ragged pair of old canvas pants, the kind of thing the Good Will turns its nose up at, keeps him modest, but otherwise he's the picutre of no shirt, no shoes, no socks, no service. He's maybe thirty, at most, though possibly younger, with tawny skin, a head of thick, wavy, black hair, dark expressive eyes, and a beard which were it allowed to reign free would no doubt be truly a sight. He's the picture of health and vitality. And no defense attorney would ever let him in here looking like this.

For an accused person who's wearing ragged pants and nothing more in front of god and everyone he doesn't look very concerned. He folds his arms, crosses his legs, considers the setting. It's not possible for someone to be less afraid than this man is.

The unseen gavel bangs once more. Judge Justitia idly plays with hers.

"Ahem," says the kangaroo from under its quite luxurious powdered wig the sort which you'd expect to find in a British courtroom drama. "A-hem. Silence in the court, please. We are gathered here today to -- "

"This is a wedding?" asks a reporter next to Leila. "I'm very confused now."

The kangaroo glares at him. "To discuss the repeated requests of one Dr Ava Brennon which have been repeatedly denied by upper management. Several warnings have been issued to Dr Brennon, who proceeded to ignore these warnings and act with the utmost lack of caution -- "

The Judge leans forward on her seat. "Excuse me? Did we get the benches mixed up?"

Marsupial confusion looks like this. "No, ma'am, I don't think so?"

"I could have sworn that that is the prosecution's bench and that is the bench of the defence," the Judge points out. "Please remind me who's on trial here?"

The kangaroo very quickly checks his notes. "Ahem. It appears that the defendant is -- uh -- Ash?" He (presumably, are you going to lift his tail and check?) looks at the young man next to the nurse. "And the charges are, uh, hang on, issuing multiple warnings to Dr Brennon which she proceeded to not observe, while persisting in her attempts to defy nature. Gentlemen and, uh, gentle-macaques, we are talking about a woman who recently picked a baby on a tree. Nature's course is not her primary concern."

The Judge rolls her eyes. Maybe she's decided there's no point in trying to get the kangaroo to follow the script. Maybe she's realised there's more than one script.

"Very good," she says instead, with a dismissive wave to the marsupial. "Dr Brennon, you have the floor. Make your statement."

The macaques laugh, like only monkeys can -- showing large yellow fangs, and passing the oversized popcorn bag around among themselves.

The reporter next to Leila murmurs under his breath, "This is going to be one of those courts, I think."

"But wait," Leila interjects softly to the reporter next to her, uneasily at the lack of obvious rules. Realizing she is a member of the press now, and thanks to the journalist next to her, she can sometimes voice her concerns, right? Right. "Isn't that tree in a nursery? And thus a baby in a nursery /must/ in fact be picked up eventually and is part of nature's course? I uh, just wanted to be sure I have all the information correct for my report..." she trails off before glancing warily at the supposed judge, then at Ava in hopes that it may somehow help her statement.

This all just keeps getting weirder and weirder. As Javier comes stepping in, looking all lawyerly, Ava looks relieved for a moment, her expression relaxing until she spots the table that he's making his way towards. If one could place a picture in the dictionary under the word betrayal it would be this moment. Siding with the enemy. Her face falls, eyes questioning him where words fail too. Luckily for him they're in court so she can't exactly curse him out here. Also, luckily Aidan is coming down the way and stepping in beside her to settle into a seat.

Hands reach for his, clasping around them like a lifeline. "Aidan. Thank god. I have no idea what's going on-- oh." Quiet again as the kangaroo and judge speak. There's a puff of indignation as she listens, hints of red touching her cheeks as she gets more and more mad. Then finally it's her turn.

Hands push down onto the table as she rises up in that black power suit and tall, red heels. "It's charming. That blatant attempt to color the opinion of the court with your own. Well played tempering by the defense, and right out of the gate. But what do we expect by creatures who want you to follow a whole bunch of rules they make up as they go along but never actually tell you, am I right?" She steps out from behind the desk and starts to stalk the floor. "Do they do that with you guys too? Or is that just with us? " Ava glances out across the others of the court in curiosity.

"Whose nature?" It’s wondered out loud. "Whose Upper Management? I’ve never met any of them. I’ve never been given a handbook and told this is what you can and can’t do. As a matter of fact, what I can and can’t do seems to change constantly. Isn’t that sort of the nature of the beast when it comes to the Veil? "

Her heels make a solid noise with each step she takes, her steps careful, making sure to time them with important words, ones that should be emphasized. "My talents are a part of my being. They have been since I was a child. They are a part of my nature. I am not the one on trial here, but since it was so ineloquently brought to focus, yes, I made attempts to heal a friend, not in an attempt to snub a natural order, but in an attempt to ease pain. "

"Instead of being able to ease that pain, I was denied access to my own abilities. Ones that have been a part of my nature since I was a child. I tried again Same results. Not only was I denied again, but the person I was attempting to help was harmed in that attempt by an unnecessary use of power in order to deliver a simple post-it telling me again; Denied. But that’s all it said. Just denied. There was no explanation. Nothing to tell me why. I had to guess. Was it him? Was it my powers? Who knew? Because all I got was a post-it with a single word, I had no recourse but to test a hypothesis to see if it was all Healers who were being denied their powers, or was it just me."

"A child this time. A dying child. One that normally could have been given a little more time with this power. Our power. A different Healer made the attempt this time. An attempt to give this girl a little more time with her mother. There was no warning this time. That day we learned that it was all Healers who had that power denied to them. There was another grandiose display of power. A much larger display this time because there was a great field to display it on. More post-its. I said no, one said. The other telling us to take it up with City Hall. If we wanted it changed, we’d have to get reality’s perception altered in order to do so. Our nature had been changed, and if we wanted it back, who knows what else would have to change in order to return it.”

Ava turns to address the crowd. "So, you’ll have to forgive me if I find ‘Nature’s Course’ to be a sad excuse for anyone to find actual reason for issue in this courtroom. Especially given some people’s penchant for experimentation on the living." Bright eyes drop towards Vivisectionist, a slender brow arching knowingly.

A breath is taken in, then slowly let out, eyes slowly moving towards Ash. There really isn’t recognition there. She had thought this was all Vivisectionist. A swift motion as her turning back towards the judge. "My goal here, your honor, is not punishment, it’s cooperation and communication. Now and going forward. I do believe that something feasible can be worked out if all parties can manage to cooperate. I’ll leave my co-council to add his own remarks."

Ava bobs her head in respect towards the judge before moving back towards her table and settling down into the seat, putting her now shaking hands into her lap. Holy shit.

Javier's still too busy perusing the contents of his briefcase, and figuring out what the fuck is going on here, to notice any dirty looks coming from Ava's quarter. He should probably be raising objections to her long-winded complaints, or something. Instead, he digs for a notepad and a pen. The pen has a bobblehead pig on top, mounted on a spring, which oinks whenever he writes with it. The cop sighs. Then begins to scribble notes.

It IS nice when someone in one of these things is happy to see you. Even if you're both on the not-really-sure-what's-going-on-here side of things. So Aidan gives Ava a smile when she grasps his hands, and attempts to give hers a squeeze in return. They will get through this! Ideally without setting it all on fire, even! His mouth opens as if to reply, but-- shh, kangaroo is speaking. His head tilts a little and brow furrows as the creature continues to do so, and the judge gets her (apparently not very effective) chiding in. At least it makes things a little bit clearer.

He listens to Ava, as well, giving a few firm nods here and there to back her up. See, good co-counsel! Although not so good that he's actually expecting to be cued to have his own remarks. Hazel eyes widen like he just spotted headlights coming his way. Still, he takes a breath and stands up obligingly. "Um." Not the most auspicious start. A slight shift of his shoulders. "If we are here to discuss her requests and the repeated denials, and the defendant is a source of the denials?" He glances at the defense table, as if there might be confirmation on this point there. "Then the charge must be that the denials are inappropriate and unfair or, you know, otherwise against the law here, right? So. It is our contention," someone may have spent a certain amount of time watching courtroom dramas, if quite possibly while stoned, "that these refusals are inappropriate, and cause distress and genuine damage to those affected by them. Therefore, they should be overturned and," he falters slightly, starting to run out of steam, "um, the requests should be granted. And the restraints, um, imposed on our... natural... abilities... removed. For the betterment of all." That sounds good, right? Right.

He pauses a moment. What goes after that? "Thank you." That's usually safe. He inclines his head respectfully to the judge, then sits again, giving Ava a quick sidelong glance. Was that okay?

The dark-haired man pulls a face when he's referred to as 'Ash', thus signalling this either isn't his name, or at a minimum isn't a variant he prefers. Makes no attempt to correct the kangaroo, however.

Ava's impassioned speech has him tilting his head. Confusion turns to skepticism, skepticism becomes wry amusement. It's hard to tell what he's reacting to, as his reactions are delayed in the manner of someone mentally translating the conversation. 'Convinced' and 'sympathetic', however, don't appear to be anywhere on the menu.

The pen earns Ruiz a bit of side-eye, though more in the vein of 'well played' than any form of judgment. There's a distinct sense Ash's social skills are, shall we say, not up to par.

And then Aidan gets up and starts talking.

Ash goes rigid in his seat, expression darkening and becoming blank. Ruiz can feel the temperature at their table jump a good handful of degrees, like someone's turned on a space heater right there. Slowly those black glittering eyes shift to Aidan, locking onto him. If he'd been not-especially-moved by Ava's speech, he seems to hate Aidan's.

Or Aidan. Take your pick. He's glaring murder at the young man.

The reporter next to Leila grins at her. "Good one. Taking a note." And so he does, in cuneiform, pressing a stencil into a wet clay disc. (Presumably, you don't want this one to hit you with the book).

Ava gets up and speaks for some time. Most of the audience pays careful attention; the Judge certainly does, and the kangaroo appears to be taking notes on a mobile phone which, presumably, means he's actually a she because where else would a kangaroo keep her stuff?

The row of white macaques chatter and laugh as the prosecution bring up nature and the lack of a manual. One of them hands another one (1) popcorn. A bet was made, and lost. The other macaque eats the popcorn and then flips the first off, grinning in that way only monkeys can, displaying large, yellow fangs. One pays attention to nothing but Javier's bobblehead pig; this is what greed looks like.

Next to Javier, the nurse laughs; a soft, tinkling laughter, familiar to more than one set of ears present. Can she be called a nurse? Her eyes are large and beautiful, the make-up perfect over the surgical mask that conceals her features. She's got platinum curls peeking out under her nurse's cap and boobs to die for, straight out of a 1950s pin-up poster. It'd all make a better impression if there was not something off about her; a tailor's dummy, a fashion mannequin but assembled from parts that don't quite fit together. Maybe it's a good thing that that nurse's uniform isn't one of those sexy nurse affairs that let you see how she's constructed. The sight might be decidedly unsettling.

"Cooperation and communication," Judge Justitia echoes, almost as if they are words she has never heard before. Maybe she finds them absurd in this context. Maybe they are just as bizarre to her, in this context, as if Ava had said she wanted more soap artillery to fight off an invasion of pollywogs.

Aidan makes his statement following Ava's. The Vivisectionist's little laugh succeeds it. She scribbles on a pink pad on the table. Easy for her table mates, Javier and, uh, Ash, to see -- and then the kangaroo makes a long neck and, completely misunderstanding her purpose, happily reads aloud, "Item: Abilities are GIVEN."

The glare she gets from those blond bomb shell eyes kind of matches the glare Ash is giving Aidan.

"Prosecution makes its case," the Judge notes, almost bored. "Does the defense have anything to add? Do we need to go over things on a case by case basis? I don't want to be here all week."

And that's how most eyes turn to Javier, to the Vivisectionist, to Ash, and for some obscure reason, to the kangaroo. Maybe no one's sure who's the accused and who's counsel.

The macaques -- barring the one watching the bobblehead pig -- all stare at Ash and Aidan like an audience at at Wimbledon Match. No pressure here, folks.

Oh things are definitely getting more interesting. Leila scribbles on her own notepad, but thankfully no squeaking pig from her pen. It takes her a moment to catch what is going on, and the abilities given involve hers as well. Once the realization sinks in, she tenses and looks up sharply, her eyes snapping from Aiden to Ava, to the slinky 1950s Nurse. That Nurse seems to draw most of her wary curiosity as she picks up that something is very odd about her.

When Ms. Kangaroo reads the note, Leila blinks a bit owlishly then tries to hold back her laugh at just how...bizarre everything is. This is ridiculous! She flips the page of her notebook and quickly scribbles down something, glancing at The Vivisection with that same wariness with every word she writes. She doesn't hand it forward yet, simply waiting to hear what the 'defense' has to say first.

When Aidan sits down again, Ava gives him a firm nod. That sidelong glance is getting reassuring looks from the brunette. "From the look you're getting from that Ash guy, I'd say you did great," she whispers encouragingly. speaking of that look. Ava slips forward in her seat to put herself bodily between Aidan and Ash, glaring right back at the man in a 'don't you look at him like that' sort of way. Protective, always.

Vivisectionist's laugh makes the corner of Ava's eye give a slight twitch as she darts her attention in the woman's direction. It's just in time to hear what the kangaroo has to say. "All that does is undermine your nature defense. Along with proving you've forgotten where you came from. Though, I suppose that's long since been obvious." Her arms fold over the table, bright eyes taking in the other table, staring at them each for a moment before settling on Ruiz and his damn pen.

Javier keeps right on scribbling like there's nothing at all to see here, folks. The pen, its absurdity, the juxtaposition with his sleek attire and perfectly coiffed look and thousand dollar shoes. Ash's glance earns a pointed oink in response, and not even a glance from the Mexican.

Anything to add? He does look up at that. This is where he's supposed to say something, as the lawyer. He is supposed to be a lawyer, right?

"The, uh." He clears his throat. "The defense--" He sets his pen down. Oink. "--has made the claim that abilities are given. That they are a part of the natural order, and the, uh. That natural order can't be changed. The problem is.." He squints a little, crow's feet springing into place at the corners of his eyes as he shifts in his chair and turns to face the Vivisectionist. "You're supposed to be fucking dead. So tell me what natural order that is? I watched her put a fucking cleaver through your chest and break you in half. I watched that place come down on top of you. Tú y toda esa maldita miseria que hiciste. Todo ese sufrimiento."

He's aware, then, that he's gone way, way off script. The 'notes' he'd been taking aren't notes at all. Merely repetitions of the words fuck you, bitch. He balls it up, tosses it in her general direction, and pushes to his feet abruptly.

Why? Because it's fuck this shit o'clock, bitches.

Aidan is getting a murder-glare. Why is Aidan getting a murder-glare? He looks past Ava at Ash, any relief at the reassurance from her countered by the way he's being eyed from over there. And the nurse over there, he may not recognize her as such, but he recognizes that laugh. It makes his jaw clench.

"Okay, um. I don't know why you look that pissed at me," he says toward Ash, "but as far as I know I don't have anything against you, I just want us to be able to help people like we used to. If we could work that out without this being all... antagonistic-y," a vague gesture at the whole trial situation, "and just talk about it or something? That'd be fine with me?" But they are in a court and he honestly has no idea what the rules of Veil court are or why this is where it's ended up. It is confusing.

His eyes narrow a little as the focus shifts toward the Vivisectionist, "You, though. You experimented on a bunch of people without asking us or even warning and it really sucked. Like, just for fun, it seemed like? I'm pretty sure that's against the law and, I dunno, international treaties, and if it isn't it should be. That's fucked up." That is NOT confusing. That he's pretty damn sure about. And the moreso with Ruiz's declarations, even if he only broadly gets the part that isn't in English. It's enough. And it definitely fits!

The heat pouring off of Ash is making little currents of air around him. There's a flicker of recognition in his eyes when Ava speaks, but he's still looking right at Aidan. He listens, though, eyes narrowing.

And when Aidan talks about not being antagonistic, he laughs.

It's an odd, papery sound, like he doesn't have a proper voicebox for laughter, can't actually do more than this huffing cough and mirthful expression. He points at Aidan, covers his mouth. It could be funny save there's a gleam in his black eyes that's slowly overtaking the humor and replacing it with fury.

He looks at Ruiz. Not with anger, but with purpose, and holds out his hand. With his other hand he points at his temple. Perhaps he wants to show Ruiz something?

The reporter next to Leila desperately tries to read over her shoulder. It's not that it's difficult to do so from his seat next to her. It's probably more that she's not writing in Sumerian cuneiform. Not everyone present learned law at the court of Hammurabi.

"If you've got a point to make, slip a note to either," he whispers to her. "Or just yell it. I mean, have you looked at this court? I think the judge is a woman."

Well, the court of Hammurabi was a very long time ago.

Javier makes his speech, accusing the woman at his own table of inflicting misery and suffering. Macaques howl with laughter. One of them throws a handful of popcorn at them both, like a slow-motion very localised flurry of snow. Another tries to swipe the bobblehead pig pen while Javier looks away.

"The Defence makes a valid point against the -- " the Judge looks at her notes " -- Defence. This is somewhat irregular, gentlemen. I believe the idea is that the prosecution attacks the defence. Which defends. It's in the word."

It seems to be more of an observation than a reprimand. No banging of gavels, no calling the court to order or issuing warnings. If anything, Justitia sounds like she wishes somebody'd gotten her some of the popcorn. She watches the angry defence lawyer stand up and rests her chin on one hand, like a movie goer at the silver screen.

Prosecution, in the slender form of Aidan, steps up. He starts out quietly -- reasonable, even, and then makes his point about the nurse, too.

The kangaroo raps her gavel against the back of one of the benches. "Order," she requests, over the heads of a flock of unruly, laughing macaques. "The court reminds the prosecutor that it is not the Vivisectionist who is on trial here."

"Who is, then?" A reporter behind Ava looks confused and whispers to her, "I thought this was all about Nurse Ratchet there, didn't you?"

There are three people at that bench, and the other two are Javier de la Vega and the dark-haired fellow styled Ash. The fellow who's laughing at Aidan in that strange fashion, and then standing up to offer his hand to the Chief. What are they going to do there, share high-fives over the head of the nurse?

Probably not. But for now, the entire court watches to find out.

Ava lets out a soft breath and runs a hand through her hair. She glances back to the reporter that whispers to her and offers a brief frown. "I thought it was. But it looks like, maybe, she was working under someone else's orders." Her head gestures towards Ash. "Since he's the one who has the charges placed against him. I have no idea who he actually is, though." Which is not something that Ava enjoys. Not knowing things.

"Why isn't she on trial? Is she not the one who did the delivering? It was her laughter and her pink post it notes. Her handwriting on the notes. As far as I'm aware, co-conspirators aren't usually allowed to represent clients. They're usually also on trial." Ava glances towards the kangaroo with a withering look. "Also, it's the judge's job to call the court to order and you are massively overstepping your bounds, as you have been. If you try that again, I'll call for your dismissal from this courtroom for unruly behavior."

Someone is finally stepping into her role.

"Javier. Ten cuidado con eso."

What is written was: 'Something given should be used in any way by the one given the abilities, since it is no longer belongs to the givee.' The mention of the judge being a woman, however, causes Leila to stop, quirk her eyebrows and flash a death glare at him. "Are you fucking serious?" she seethes out, "How did I not notice? Must be due to my breasts getting in the way," the last bit is said with an ice cold drip of disdain. Then Javier has snagged her attention in going the opposite direction of what she was expecting.

However, urged by the reporter next to her's declaration that joining this circus of a trail, Leila finally finds her own voice, "Question from the reporters! If the Nurse Lady was supposed to be dead, how is she back? We need a backstory for our front page news. We would also like a detailed list of her crimes, which apparently includes unnecessary experimentation and...torture?"

Javier de la Vega looks, for all intents and purposes, like he's going to walk right the fuck out of that courtroom. Until Ash holds out his hand, and does that thing where he gestures at his temple. He's pretty sure he knows what that means. Tension slivers through his big shoulders, makes his jaw twitch. He ignores the popcorn being thrown at him, and shoots Ava a look when she decides to give him advice he doesn't need.

Then, with a sigh, he sticks his hand out, and clasps Ash's firmly. There'll be time for regrets later.

Aidan is not a particular stranger to being laughed at. It's a lot more fun when he meant to be funny, but it's still theoretically higher on his preference list than 'murderous glare'. People laughing at him are, historically speaking, a reasonable degree less likely to try to beat him up next. It's a weird laugh, though. And there's that look, too. Whether or not this is an improvement is getting harder to decide.

Ash's attention going to Ruiz for now he's kind of okay with, though.

He watches the apparent-actual-defendent with a touch of wariness, but Ava gets a firm nod for her 'co-conspirator' point. Leila also has a very good question, which he entirely can't answer, but he can offer, "She made this sickness that went around; we called it Veil flu. 'cause it was like having a pretty bad flu, except after a few days, your magic stopped working so well, and you started having nightmares. Then you started having Nightmares," and that is definitely a capital N, "where you were even sicker and also couldn't use your magic at all. No matter what was trying to kill you or how." A pause, with his jaw tightening a little again. It wasn't a good time, okay? "Then a bunch of us ended up in a Dream at Safeway fighting huge oozy germ things that were trying to kill us. I didn't get burned too bad by the ooze, but other people got it worse. And she was on the PA laughing and mocking people and then thanking us for being in her experiment when we finally killed 'em all." A flicker of a glance toward Ruiz, who referenced things Aidan wasn't there for. "So that's one."

"Madam, what do you know about my boundaries?" The kangaroo scoffs at Ava. "This is a kangaroo court. I am a kangaroo. Don't you tell me how to do my job until you grow a marsupium."

"That's the pouch," a reporter helpfully supplies.

"I'd been wondering the same thing," murmurs the reporter that Ava addressed to begin with. "Who is that nurse? I know the young man, but what is she, some kind of public servant?"

"Order," murmurs the kangaroo, sulkily.

The reporter on the other side of Leila laughs at the first reporter, the one who seemed surprised that the Judge happens to be of the female disposition. "She can't hear you over her ovaries, man." Then he leans in and shows Leila his notes -- also in cuneiform -- as if he expects her to be able to read them. "The 'nurse' is the Vivisectionist. She oversees a lot of -- well, you'd call them health issues? Medical science? on this side. Which you call the Other Side. It's all very confusing. Basically? She's a bureaucrat."

On her high seat, Judge Justitia leans forward and points at Leila with her gavel. "That. A detailed list, please. Unnecessary experimentation? Is there such a thing as 'unnecessary experimentation'?"

Aidan fulfills her request as much as he is able. The Judge scratches her chin. "Terrible bedside manners," she declares to the masked bombshell, in a tone much like a mother explaining for the umptieth time to her toddler that the candy bars on the display belongs to the shop and we cannot just take them if we want them. "To present a cheerful attitude does not mean laughing at people, my dear. Also, really, mocking people? Tsch. So droll."

Javier takes Ash's hand. The courtroom falls silent;for a moment, macaques chewing popcorn is the only noise.

Then a popcorn plinks off Aidan's head. Is that a look of sympathy from that macaque? Or mockery? Heaven -- and the macaque -- only knows.

The kangaroo coughs. "Let the record show that a testimony has been offered in what way the defendant is able. Perhaps it will please the defence to share it with the rest of the court?"

"I'd like to hear it," says the Judge, looking interested. "And I'd like to hear the prosecution state what exactly they want in terms of reparations for the crime they feel has been committed against," she checks her notes and then makes air quotes, "'humanity'."

As Aidan speaks, Leila bobs her head and writes down her notes, however her head pops up at a certain point as her eyebrows quirk upwards, "She /made/ this flu?" She asks, "so not at all natural?" A pointed look at the judge. "Is there such thing as a naturally nurse-made flu?" She asks deliberately as she got the exact part she wanted before deciding to fall silent once more - then the vision begins.

Holy shit is the only thing to slip silently from Leila's lips, mouthed with no voice, no sound, only hot air before the chills set in. "What the fuck," she manages to breathe out finally.

Show them. Even before his hand touches Ash's, Javier knows it's a mistake. He knows, because any powerful empath knows when the mind they're about to come in contact with is not anything approaching human. He can smell it from a mile off, and he nearly recoils.

But it's too fucking late.

Show them.

His power isn't his own; it is and it isn't. Something, some thing is bolstering it, and it sears through him whether he wills it or not. A request he cannot, will not deny. Show them this. And so he does. His mind weaves the image like an orb spider: a glassine web of picture fragments that melt together, kiln-fired into a single, three-dimensional, coherent image.

The man in the doctor's coat with the quill. The book being burned. Destroyed. Obliterated. The vision gone to smoke. And when it's done, he staggers and sinks back down onto the bench like the strength's gone out of him, and turns his head to level an accusing glare at Ash, gripping his wrist with his good hand. His palm, where he held the man's hand, is burned and blistered. "I know what you are," in his scratchy voiced murmur.

"I know that you've shown blatant favoritism and you are not the judge," Ava states plainly back at the kangaroo. "One doesn't need a marsupium to see that." Her attention turns back towards the reporter. "The Vivisectionist," she supplies easily enough in regards to who the nurse is. Who eyes from that point are on Ash and Ruiz, however, watching the interchange between the two.

Then they are shown. The book, the hellscape, that pain as it's torn to pieces. Ava is left gripping the side of the desk as she gasps for a breath and tries to piece together what she can from the experience. "Did you help destroy the book?" she whispers to Aidan quietly. "Were you ever in that place, fighting that tree?" A shudder runs through her as she turns to look back to Ruiz and the way he's gripping his hand. She bolts up, frowning. "Objection. Any harm caused in the offering of evidence should immediately be healed by the offending party. If they are incapable of doing so, then I would be happy to assist."

"Prosecution needs a few moments to go over this new evidence to understand it's relevance to the case at hand." She leans over to whisper. "Javier. A little help here. I need some context."

Aidan's nose wrinkles slightly as the popcorn plinks into his curls and manages to only fall partly down to another curl, where he has to pluck it out. He drops the kernel on the desk, attention largely on Ash and Javier as Something appears to be About to Happen.

And then It Happens, and the street magician's tawny complexion pales a shade, his hands curling in a grip of the edge of the desk before him as well, as though it might keep him from getting swept away. He takes a long, slow breath, eyes closed, as that pain finishes washing through and away, and when they open he looks toward the table of the Defense. Ava's whisper to him gets a very small nod, but the furrow in his brow deepens at the sight of Javier's palm. "Do you--" he's just starting to say when Ava makes her much more lawyerly objection on the matter, and his mouth closes again, at least until she finishes . "I'm willing too," he adds quietly and, really, a bit distractedly, to the offer.

His focus, really, is on Ash, now. "I'm sorry." Hands loosen on the table. "I'm sorry I caused you so much pain. And I'm sorry I didn't know a better way to handle things. I mean. I dunno really if there was one to know, but I'm still sorry I didn't." Aidan's power is his own, as much as it ever is, and even with the moment taken to really focus, the image his mind weaves doesn't have quite the intensity and immediacy of Ruiz-and-Ash's. But that's all right. It's still clear and vibrant, and though there's hints of emotion and sensation, they're not pushed to feel quite like one's own.

A door, alone in a canyon, a picture of a heart on it, the arteries and veins branching to give the effect of roots and branches, the former tangled in the skeleton of some great beast. The bell-like chime of a knocker and the slam of a door behind, the second sound suffused with a feeling of wrongness. A mosaic, perhaps once of a volcano, now in ruins and overgrown like everything around it. The same hellscape of lavafalls and ancient ruins, waterfalls and earthquakes, giant rats attacking a boy in a near-destroyed room with cracked stained glass windows.

"Maestros," says the boy with some awe, the scene shifting slightly so the ROUSes are dead, "we haven't seen you in a thousand years, are you here to fix this?" The absolute knowledge that somewhere, someone is trying to destroy this world with the flavour of magic that flows most deeply through Aidan's own veins. "The book turned the world inside out, now it's trying to shake it apart," says the boy. "The Hymns. It became infected, somehow. Corrupted." One of the group, a large man, says there was a similar book he and some others had to destroy.

Another shift, to what might have once been a lake, an obsidian expanse veined with perhaps lava, and in its midst, that book in its tree of stone and bone and bleeding wood. In Aidan's memory the book is beautiful, its copper brilliant, the same heart symbol from the door on the cover, along with the swimming words. Another voice, but not aloud, more as if in the blood: From death comes life, and from life... death. The book opens, the ground shakes, the obsidian begins to crack; the tree's branches and roots lengthen, reaching toward Aidan and his fellows. This time the book's voice is the roar of a waterfall: Death is NECESSARY. Absolute knowledge again: only fire can do this.

It's the same fight, but a different perspective. Shed your blood for me, demands the book as it attacks with its branches, and as Aidan and at least one other are indeed hurling fireballs at it. The book explodes, the obsidian collapses, they fall through nothing -- then float. A tiny light forms, becomes a tiny, wrinkled amber seed. A drop of their own blood lands on it, and again come words, as a tiny sprout and tiny root shoot forth: We all come to the end together. And the beginning. For we are one blood and live in between.

The image dissolves, leaving Aidan taking another deep breath, and then another. Memory is always imperfect, but that appears to be his. "...I mean. I could argue I did what you were saying. From life comes death, and from death, life." A little gesture toward the being; Ash is manifestly alive over there, or as much as these things go over here, anyway. "And you were definitely destroying that kid's world, which is kind of messed up. But I chose 'cause of what people told me and I wonder, if you were infected and corrupted, what if I'd tried to heal you? And I'm sorry I didn't think to at least try that first." Even with those branches and roots approaching? Maybe.

The burn on Ruiz's hand doesn't seem to effect Ash so much as Ruiz's reaction to it. He sighs, seems about to reach for Ruiz's wrist, stops when Ava gives her objection.

And oh, something about what she's said sets him off all over again. The look he gives Ava is withering; a monarch blessed with true divine right couldn't produce an expression of such disdain if they tried.

Distraction, again: this time from Aidan, showing his view of these events. 'Ash' swallows, sighs, runs a hand over his face. There's a sense of frustrated exhaustion about him, palpable to Ruiz at this distance with his Mental Aspect juiced to such an extent. To Aidan, it's more of a faint whiff, with a hint of nihilism on the tail end.

Ash shakes his head abruptly, points at Aidan, then Ava, holds his hands apart, half shrugs. He jerks his head at the judge as well, perhaps to echo what she's recently said: What do you actually want?

The reporter next to Leila touches his lip with his stylus, thinking. "Is anything natural? Nergal, the Lord of the Underworld, creates pestilence and plague but we still consider them natural, don't we?"

The kangaroo rolls her eyes. "Not everybody here is from Ancient Sumeria, Shullat."

The reporter -- whose name apparently is Shullat -- shrugs. "You brought us in to bear witness because our king created the first code of law in writing in the history of mankind. The gods rule nature. If a god creates something, it's natural. What is this Vivisectionist, a god of these so-called modern people? If she is, then what she does is natural."

"And you're an idiot," supplies the kangaroo, helpfully. "Now shush. Bearing witness means shut up and watch."

"Quiet." The Judge raps her gavel against the wood of the table. "We appreciate the counsel from the court of Hammurabi but this court is not subject to Babylonian law. The defendant may receive healing if any healers are willing or capable." She looks directly at the Vivisectionist.

The Vivisectionist giggles -- that aggravating repeating laughter that sounds like an audioclip on repeat: tee-hee-hee, tee-hee-hee. Then she shakes her head. She takes out a pink ball pen and writes on her pink little notepad before looking directly at Ava. "The defense submits that some people create unnatural life forms of their own."

"And here I thought viruses were made from plasmids," Leila mutters towards the reporter, "No need for a lord there, reality is harsh enough."

When Aidan takes over to give his version of the events, Leila inhales sharply and sits back, her fingers gripping into the corners of her seat as she stares wide-eyed. "Whaaaaat," she whispers under her breath as she tries to make sense of what is going on and the trial before her. It isn't until the images disappear that she manages to find her voice once more, "If only all trials had moving images of people's perspectives," she whispers once more, not wanting to interfere just yet.

When the judge asks if there are any healers, Leila raises her hand to offer her skills, her pen still held between her fingers as she flicks her eyes towards the Vivisectionist. The mention of 'creating unnatural life forms' is enough for her to suck air through her teeth at the thought, a look of confusion etching across her features as she peers towards Ava.

Javier tenses slightly at Ash's gesture toward his hand, like he's about to jerk it away. No, his firm refusal to the offer of healing. Then Ava speaks, and the other man stops himself. His gaze cuts from Ash, to the Coroner, to Aidan for a long moment as he shares his own view of events, and back again.

"The Hymns of Blood and Ashes," he elucidates for Ava, speaking the name slowly, carefully. His accent smudges the vowels one into the next like charcoal, and he chuckles as he finishes the last word. It makes sense that this man calls himself Ash. Ash, who can see the truth of his mind well enough to know that there's no censure, no judgement in him. Not for this. "Who the fuck corrupted who, anyway? Huh?"

Ava keeps her hands firmly on the desk, frowning. There is just way too little here that she understands fully and all it is doing it leaving her feeling like she's been dunked into a no-win situation. Eyes close as she sucks in a deep, steadying breath. Lips press as her mind rolls over all the different ways to handle the situation. "I could read the title of the book," she murmurs. That doesn't help much. Except that it does, it just takes a moment for her to get there. Ashes. Ash. Oh. There's a long sight that follows as multifaceted eyes finally open to peer in the defendant's direction. She doesn't appear to flinch under that withering gaze, just offering a compassionate gaze back. "I'm sorry. I didn't understand." She gestures towards Ruiz's arm. "That was rude of me."

She settles back down into her seat, reaching out a hand towards Aidan, maybe just needing the steadying from a friend. "Can you tell me," she wonders of Ash, "if the effects on our powers is an effect of what happened, or a punishment because of what happened? Because that matters in terms of what we'd request, I believe." She glances towards Aidan for his thoughts on the matter.

Vivisectionist's laugh draws her attention back, and her entire expression alters, brow ticking upwards. "First of all, what happened with Nimue was an accident. Second of all, if you want to bring that into play and talk about nature and powers given, and all the chattering about Gods creating things... I can play that game. We could argue I granted life to a Veil creature outside of the Veil, outside of my body. I would call that ruling nature. God-like."

Her finger lifts. "But it doesn't make me a God, does it? It just means I have power. Or that I got lucky. Or that I did a crazy experiment and things came together in a crazy way and I just so managed to create a new life form. To some, they would call it God like. There are some who would look at what they had created and call themselves Gods. Those people are assholes. Like you. Just because you have more power does not give you the right to abuse others with it as you see fit. I created a life, and so I am working to do what I can to protect it, to find out if there are others like her so that she can grow and live a happy, peaceful life."

"I use my gifts to heal, and to try to figure out to protect people from further harm. You use your abilities to amuse yourself and to hurt others. Do not think to compare us. Do not think yourself better than me simply because you have more power. You have more power and you cause pain with it. If anything that makes you lower than me in every conceivable way and you should be ashamed of yourself."

If Ava needs steadying, Aidan's going to do his best to provide it. He takes her hand when it finds his, and gives it a squeeze. Partners here, right? Her question to Ash gets a tiny nod that suggests that, at least now that she mentions that, he kind of wonders too, but he doesn't add his own immediately, instead looking rather like someone in the middle of trying to solve a particularly tricky math problem. And then there's that laugh and accusation, and Ava's reply, and he just watches that part silently until she's done.

A beat, and then, rising to his feet, "Um. Also, objection?" Aidan was never meant to be a lawyer, and certainly never trained as one. If he'd ever at least played the Phoenix Wright games maybe he'd get some proper conviction and drama in it, but as it is he sounds more like he's asking for permission. "'cause I'm pretty sure the prosecution's not on trial right now. And also just going like 'okay what about her though' isn't a defense they even accept in Kindergartens."

He takes a breath, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks back at Ash, brow furrowed. The Hymns of Blood and Ashes. He knows that; he read it the first time they 'met'. And the man and the book are the same, that's clear enough to him too. But something else has him focused there, trying to make the various shapes in his mind resolve into a picture he's sure is there. A blink, head tilting, and though something clears in his eyes, the furrow doesn't lessen at all. "I want... to understand better," he says. "So, Ava's question, but also... I think friends of mine saw you, last year. They went through a door too, and found you in a tree. I think it was you?" It wasn't a hugely detailed description, but what he remembers fits. "They asked if they could help and you did a mime like you were hungry. Is that right? And do you still need help? And-- what do books eat?"

There's a hesitation before the next question. "If you're the defendant about her," the Vivisectionist, his glance says, "sending those notes and not allowing the healing... you're the book of Essence?" Others have other names for the power, but hopefully the concept comes across. "Does it come out of you?" One would think these are things the Prosecution ought to know, but maybe that hasn't occurred to Aidan just now. And after all, no one's told them. "I would want--" a flicker of a glance to Ava, "I would ask for our healing to work how it used to. When we could help people a lot, and help a lot of people." His eyes widen slightly, as though a thought's just hit him, almost blurting, "And for the flames to dance for us again." Almost sheepish, briefly, but he's not taking that back. "...and to help you if you still need it and I can, and to understand better."

The sheepish gets past 'almost' as he looks to Ava, "I mean. I'm not saying that's our official request? It's not like. Unilateral. Just that's, you know. If you ask me what I'd request." He sits.

Ash watches Ruiz withdraw, nods his (presumed) understanding. Offered and rejected, his part in that end of things is done. Thus, he turns his attention to the rest of the conversation. His eyes dart between Ava and the Vivisectionist, frowning in confusion. More-so when Ava and Aidan lay out their list of expectations. He tilts his head, obviously uninformed on this angle of things. His expression is one perhaps of a medical student first learning, from a surgeon, the inner workings of their own body. That's what my spleen does??

Oh! But hunger, that he comprehends. He grins at Aidan, a little too wide, a little too eager. His teeth gleam, there's a hint of voraciousness in his eyes. He looks from Aidan, to Ava, to Leila, seems to dismiss each in turn. He glances at Ruiz, shakes his head. Ruiz has already paid his dues, so to speak.

Now his eyes fall on the Vivisectionist. He studies her a time, thoughtful. Smiles again, sweet and guileless this time. He looks sidelong at the others in a sweeping glance: are you paying attention?

His hand darts out, grabbing the Vivisectionist by the throat and lifting her off the ground. Is he bigger? He might be. Ruiz can certainly see him changing: there's a bark-like texture to his skin, a dark, purple-red shade to his black eyes. His hair seems vaguely leaf-like, in a way.

He's not choking her, per se, though she certainly has trouble breathing. No, he's doing something else: a gleaming, red-bronze dust streams out of her, not blood though definitely blood-like. The loss of it seems to be desiccating her somehow.

Later on, the kangaroo will tell her joeys that that's when the screaming began.

No more recorded laughter on repeat. No more pink post-its. The pink ball pen goes flying; where it ends no one sees. The bombshell nurse screams under her mask -- a long, wailing keen not quite befit a human throat; a sound of terror, of deep and genuine existential horror. The scream of someone who knows that death is imminent, of someone who expects not a single soul in this court to step up in her defence.

The macaques chatter. Popcorn bags are exchanged. Bets are made. One macaque finds the pink ball pen and hides it. There is much excitement, pointing and baring of yellow teeth.

In the stands, the reporter on Leila's right cries, "He's killing her!"

The reporter on Leila's right cries, "She's already dead!"

And someone behind him adds, "Twice. At least."

"This is most unseemly," says the kangaroo, indignant. "The execution happens after the sentencing. This is improper."

Judge Justitia raises her gavel -- and then she does not rap it against the wood. Instead, she leans forward and looks at the people on the bench of the prosecution. "Well, is this what you wanted?"

The big Mexican on the defence's counsel, in his douchebag suit and thousand dollar shoes and slicked back hair, just sits there and watches the show from two seats away. Reminds him a little of the time they walked onto that factory floor, and Isabella chopped her down like a tree. Maybe she'll fucking stay dead this time. He plucks a kernel of popcorn from the table in front of him, and flicks it away in disgust.

"Como un naufragio," he begins in a low, scratchy murmur, maybe to the Vivisectionist as she's dessicated, maybe to Ash. Maybe to no-one at all, "morimos entrando en nosotros mismos, como si nos ahogáramos en el interior de nuestro corazón." He glances over briefly at the comments from the peanut gallery of reporters and macaques. "Como si viviéramos cayéndonos de la piel al alma."

Ava seems in agreement with Aidan's general requests about what they'd like. "For our powers to work again, yes. For the people we tried to help and were denied, to be helped as much as they are able to be. I understand now that one of the people I tried to help might not be able to be the way that I first thought, but maybe something can be done to help him have more control over the pain?" Ava sighs. "Mostly, I want to be able to better understand, too. So maybe access to a place where we can communicate and nobody gets hurt? A place to work together?"

She is paying attention. So when Ash picks up the Vivisectionist, Ava's eyes go wide in horror. Oh god. "Ash, please! I was hoping for peace, not for death. Can you... can you feast on the powers without taking the life?" Her eyes move to the judge. "Her death may be what some people want, but not me. I... want her to be stripped of her powers. Can she be returned to human without her mind breaking?" It's easy to imagine that could make one more insane than the woman already is. Ava glances over towards Ash and Vivisectionist, frown deepening.

Leila jumps as the reporters scream and Ash reaches for the 1950s Nurse's throat. She leaps up to her feet as well but, despite her action, she seems to be at a loss on what to do. Her eyes dart from Ava to the judge who seems to refuse to smack her gavel. Is she supposed to help? And if she is, who is she helping? So while on her feet, the woman in the pencil skirt and smart blazer remains in her place with her pencil and pad still in hand. She is definitely paying attention, Ash.

"No!" It could be an answer to the judge, and in a way it is, whether Aidan intended it that way or not. He hasn't quite stood again, but he's leaning diagonally forward, the direction from which he just sat, with one hand gripping the table and the other the back of his chair. It almost looks like he might launch himself up and forward that way, but he doesn't yet move any further. "No, please don't--"

It's possible some might feel a faint swell of his power, not the wash of any major use, but a gentler probing not unlike assessing someone's aspect abilities, or their health. Whatever he finds adds an extra unsettled layer to his already-distressed expression, but his shoulders shift, squaring up, and he takes a deep breath, eyes staying on Ash.

Ava's question about the Vivisectionist being returned to human gets a small, quick shake of his head, though really, how would he know? Might just be a hunch, but if so, one he's relatively convinced of. "Please let her go, I think I understand now." At least broadly, at least where his questions about help and hunger are concerned. "If you. I'll." Another breath, his jaw and shoulders both tightening in some sort of internal fight, and his hands tighten against table and chair as he speaks again, faster. "If it'll help and you won't eat me entirely I'll try to feed you some." It's out. Can't unsay it. The tension through him doesn't so much lessen as just shift slightly in character. "...if it'll help. If we can fix things together?" Another breath, and a swallow. And he waits, watching.

Ash is, it seems, utterly unmoved by everyone's comments. (Well, he agrees with Ruiz, actually, might even flick him a sidelong glance of 'hell yeah' if he weren't otherwise occupied.) The Vivisectionist continues to crumple inward; much more of this and she'll be a husk.

The door at the back of the courtroom opens. It's the sort of entrance that, in a procedural, heralds a massive change, the impending judgment being reversed or overturned, or things otherwise altering course. Maybe that will happen, maybe not.

The woman who walks through is older, probably in her 60s or 70s, with tawny skin, freckles, black, coiled hair dusted in white and gray, allowed to sit around her round face in a simple, bobbing halo, and black brown eyes. She's a small person and walks with some care; possibly arthritic.

"Sorry I'm late, I forgot to set my alarm." Her voice, mellow with age, has a faint, southern US accent. She smiles a greeting to Ruiz, murmuring, "Javier, so good to see you," as she draws close. Her eyes take in each of the others, one at a time: Leila, Ava, Aidan. "I was supposed to be here to help translate, you see my brother here doesn't use his words so well." She gets a conspiratorial gleam in her eye which possibly means, 'Well, not at all, if we're being honest with ourselves, but who's honest in a kangaroo court?' "Now, sweetheart, if you could just...stop that, for a second."

Ash looks away from...whatever it is he's doing to the Vivisectionist to frown at the woman. 'Petulant teen' would have that face drawn next to it for an example in a dictionary. He reacts to the judgment in her voice by unceremoniously dropping the Vivisectionist; she's not dead, not quite, but if before she appeared to be a misshapen doll, now she's a misshapen doll left in an attic by the window. Baked by the summer sun, dried out by the heater running in winter, fragile and close to shattering.

The old woman nods at Ash; Ash grunts and folds his arms. He glancea at Aidan though, eyes glinting, like a cat that's ready for breakfast and not above creating havoc to stir its owners.

The old woman beams. "Now then." She runs a hand along the table for the defense, eyes unfocused. (Anyone who's watched a Mentalist use psychometry on an object, or done it themselves, recognizes what she's doing.) She sighs after a moment, turns to Leila, Ava, and Aidan. "I can see you've worked out some of it. My brother's only just been reborn, so he's a bit famished. And he," she glances at the Vivisectionist, "sorted out none of you particularly liked her, assumed you wouldn't mind if he had a bite to eat."

Javier lifts his head as the older woman enters the courtroom, and fixes his dark eyes on her for a long moment. Recognition in the slight furrowing of his brows, and in the way he goes still and tense; like one does around a creature one isn't too sure how to predict. She knows his name, and he doesn't seem surprised in the least. There's a ripple of familiarity; he doesn't move a muscle, though. Not even when she starts with the mind games.

No, for now, he'll just watch and see how this unfolds. Don't mind the blood leaking from his nose and ear, and trailing slowly into his beard; backlash is a bitch.

Plink is the little, easily ignored sound made when de la Vega flicks a kernel of popcorn away in disgust, and a giggling macaque promptly flicks it back. Plink.

Judge Justitia sits in her high chair and watches, with the interest of a toddler watching mummy and daddy argue in the kitchen. Maybe this is why the traditional movie prop is missing -- there is no pitcher of water on her table; she'd probably push it off the table for attention when the arguing gets too bad. Or not exciting enough.

Heads turn to watch the youth called Ash literally suck the very life out of the woman they call the Vivisectionist; 'woman' may be a too generous term there -- the Veil bureaucrat who appears in the shape of a woman at least twice dead, put back together at least once with duct tape, strong silk thread, and bad attitude.

The Babylonian reporters discuss quietly among themselves; they're betting that somebody will appear in a moment to change the narrative, because somebody always does -- there has to be a plot twist, after all. Know your story telling tropes. The one who objects to a female judge points out that he was there when the first story of some dude getting a lot of animals on a boat to escape a flood of Biblical proportions (geddit?) was written; don't expect him to not know his archetypes.

The macaques point and laugh, and elbow each other, and point some more, and take bets. They have no language that any human ear will recognise but the body language speaks volumes. One of them has fallen asleep face down on his buddy's shoulder. One picks lice off a companion while quite obviously wagering one (1) bag of popcorn on the -- heaven only knows because who understands macaque chatter?

Oh. Looks like it might be Leila they're betting on as she stands there, trying to decide whether to help Ash or the Vivisectionist. Break them up? Stand and watch? Help one murder the other? Which one?

Macaque heads turn as Aidan makes his offer. The kangaroo's head turns as well and she stares at the young entertainer. "You're right suicidal, that's what you are. That goes on the court record. The prosecution is nuts. The prosecution is entirely within its rights but it's bloody nuts, mate."

She's Australian. She has to say 'mate' at least once in every conversation.

The macaques fall silent as the middle-waged woman (where middle-aged means you expect to live to 180) enters with dramatic gusto. One Babylonian grumbles and counts out three shekels, silver coins, to his reporter colleague; plot twist time.

"Better late than never," Justitia tells the lady and then leans forward to rest her chin on one hand and toy with her gavel with the other. "They're all terribly upset but none of them seem to really know what they want. How am I supposed to pass some kind of judgement when I don't know what people actually want? Those two -- " she nods towards Aidan and Ava respectively " -- seem to lean towards hugging and making up. That one -- " a glance towards the Chief " -- wouldn't mind seeing the Vivisectionist disassembled again."

A cat-like grin appears on her youthful face as she glances at Leila. "And that one has no idea what is going on here or why. It doesn't get much more impartial than that, I figure. Maybe we should ask her what the verdict should be."

"I'm not convinced that's how a court of law works," the kangaroo objects.

"Who got to be judge?" The cat's smile widens.

"You did," the kangaroo cedes carefully. "But this is a kangaroo court so I get a say too."

"I've got an excellent recipe for kangaroo steak somewhere." Justitia smiles, beatifically.

"Right." The kangaroo straightens up. "The prosecution has made its case. No one likes the Vivisectionist, experimenting on mortals bad, yada yada, we want all the power back, yada yada, do I have it right or do I need to check my notes? The defence has made its case which boils down to, Isabella Reede didn't kill the Vivisectionist hard enough. It is time for closing statements before the verdict is passed. If the defendant would kindly stop chewing on the other defendant long enough -- "

She sighs and rummages in her marsupium (handy thing to have, don't you wish you had one?), before taking out an airhorn.

BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!

"I said, if the defendant will stop chewing on the other defendant, the mortals here may make what requests they feel is appropriate. Any last questions? The court reminds you all that the charge is denying access to healing power to mortal wielders -- not past incursions in the mortal world, however pleasant or unpleasant these may have been. The Honourable Judge Justitia will consider your requests before passing the final sentence."

Sharp breaths in and out. Every time Ava feels like she has a handle on something, another thing is added in and her head is reeling again. At least this woman seems to be able to understand Ash, which is helpful. "Well, he was right, we don't like her. But we'd rather see her without power and imprisoned where she can't hurt anyone else. Rather than dead." There's a pause, eyes flickering towards Javier and then back towards the older woman. "With one exception," is added with a smirk.

"As for what we'd like, we've already stated. Aidan wants our powers returned to when we could help a lot of people, and for the flames to dance again. If our powers can't be restored that far back, then I would like them to at be returned to what they were before this most recent change. And for those we tried to help be granted the help we tried to offer. With the cavate for the one I mentioned earlier who I understand may be an exception."

There's a glance towards Aidan at his offer, and a slight frown. She looks back to Ash and offers a nod. "I can help, too. Rather than draining all from one, you may be able to take some from many. Volunteers. As long as there's no permanent damage, we can certainly help you with the hunger."

The old woman entering elicits a gasp from Leila, loud enough to rival the best gasps that escape during a telenovela. She watches her march up to the cut room and towards the dried out Nurse. A shudder passes through the reporter as she drags her dark eyes away from the Vivisectionist. The woman's explanation of what was going through Ash's decision making process forces an eyebrow to pop upwards, "I'm...I'm glad I am not hated," she mutters as she tries to swallow drily.

Leila's 'What the fuck' face is only heightened by a thousand as Judge Justitia points her out. She lifts up her hand as if to offer a promise, "Hey, I am more than happy to pass off the verdict if you're looking for one." She is getting that none of this makes sense, but she isn't one to pass off power if she can snag it from this carnival of a court room. Then there is that threat of kangaroo steaks and that causes Leila to settle back down and away from Judge Justitia's attention, she doesn't want to be on the Judge's menu either.

Leila's eyes falls on Ava as she offers everyone for Ash's hunger, "Wait-what? I mean, if its going to help end this court and any dangers..."

Aidan continues to look distressed as Ash continues to drain the Vivisectionist. No, he doesn't like her, at all. That doesn't mean he enjoys watching her be slowly and clearly painfully killed. Is he going through thoughts of how to try to break that up without ending up destroying someone himself (again)? If so, the list isn't immediately bearing fruit, and it's definitely impaired by the way his jaw tightens at the kangaroo's commentary, and the sharp look he shoots her. "I am not 'nuts'." It's perhaps uncharacteristically definite and direct, but controlled. "Not suicidal, either, I just don't like letting people suffer, okay? I said about not being eaten for a reason. And even if I was how come that'd be an issue but homicidal's fine?"

And then an unexpected woman is walking in like-- well, like she's expected. "Um. Hi." So that's pretty Aidan-normal again. He takes a breath, drawing it in and letting it out slowly. "...I'm Aidan. Nice to meet you."

He nods general agreement with Ava regarding the impromptu-capital-punishment thing, and a firmer one at her assertion that they have, in fact, stated what they want. Taking another breath, he stands. "Basically what Ava said, yeah. To be able to heal people the way we used to, when we could help a lot of people a lot. For the flames to dance for us again. Specifically to help the people who had it denied with those notes when we," this is clearly a broad 'we', since he didn't get a note himself, "tried. I mean I'd be pretty happy if there was also a rule made that forbids the Vivisectionist or others like her from doing stuff to beings who didn't freely and fully consent, and if the charge did include, um, past incursions I'd maybe be okay with a jail kinda thing, but either way I'm not looking for anyone to be killed or starved or... I mean, making someone suffer doesn't fix anything. And Ash's already suffered and seems like he still is, and I don't think that's good for... basically anything. We don't want revenge; we want restitution."

A pause, glancing to Ava and her volunteering, then toward Leila, then across to Ruiz, and on to the judge. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and for a moment, almost looks as though he's listening to something, though no one's speaking to him just then. He should say something else, right? "Um... thank you." Right. He sits back down in his chair.

The Vivisectionist is now a pile of...something...on the floor. Still alive, nominally. The old woman surveys her, sighs. "Well, I can't blame Javier for that--she's done terrible things with the Art. Turns out, when you do terrible things, people don't rush to prevent your demise. It's almost as if you reap what you sow."

She blinks at the airhorn, frowning in perplexed amusement. Still, she gives Leila a thoughtful look when she doesn't offer much despite being given a brief offer of passing judgment, falls silent to listen to Aidan and Ava. Her eyes shift between them with obvious focus and interest. Ash watches them too, though unlike her he doesn't hide his reactions: he rolls his eyes at requests for fire dancing, snorts at the idea of jail, seems confused about...notes. The woman gives him a sidelong look that seems to quell anything he might have been about to do. He grunts, looks resigned.

"Well." The old woman gestures at herself. "Perhaps an introduction. I'm the Psalms of Air and Darkness, I guess you'd call me an avatar of the Mind Art. As to your requests." She settles back against the defense table, half-sitting on it. "You're talking like your Art's broken. It's not. Not anymore than your hair lightening up from more time in the sun is a breakage. It's a change, maybe one you didn't sign up for, but we don't always get a say in how the world changes us. Stop thinking of your Art as a thing set in stone. It's not, anymore than you are. Floods put rivers on new courses. Earthquakes level mountains." She half-shrugs. "That's just nature.

"Those things said," she gestures at herself and Ash, "the Hymns and I, and the Canticles too, we exist to allow changes in the Art to be directed. But if you want that to work, you can't do a lot, and you can't do it all at once. That's how you get disasters." She tips a head at Ava. "We can't reach back and...retroactively change it, either. Sure, if you alter the Hymns in a way which lets you heal more freely, that's from here on out. It's not going to go back.

"As for jail, or preventing misuse? That's not something the Art itself can do. Not anymore than, a river can refuse to be dammed up." She points at Aidan. "That's your job. You police you, and the Vivisectionist, for all her faults, is human." She pauses, peers down at her. "Well, was. Now she's a bit of several things--but first, she was human." The Psalms shrugs. "Point is, the Art can't tell if what anyone wielding it wants is right or wrong, not any more than a sword or a hillside could." She pauses here to smile. "Fancy tales about the King of England not-withstanding, of course."

She shifts on the table to half-face Ash. "You think you're willing to let them make an edit?" Ash frowns, throws Aidan, Leila, and Ava a cagey look. The Psalms holds up a hand. "I know, you're worried about last time. But they're not him. You're free now." He relaxes a fraction, nods once, holds up a single index finger at Leila, Ava, and Aidan. One change.

"There." The Psalms waves a hand at the prosecution. "One alteration, for now. You'll see how it's done."

"Fire, walk with me. Er, you. More healing mojo. No more experiments on people without people's consent." The kangaroo checks her notes (and tucks her airhorn back into her pouch). "Have I got that right?"

The Judge leans forward and glances at the kangaroo's notes too. "Don't forget no people eating. Do we need to discuss who can give consent on someone else's behalf?"

"Let's please not," the kangaroo murmurs. "No means no. We're not faerie, are we?"

"Well, no, you're not," Justitia agrees, lazily and reaches for her gavel. She raps it against her desk three times in rapid succession.

"Let it go on record that the entity known as the Vivisectionist has subjected mortals to physical discomfort as great or greater than what she herself has suffered at the hands of mortals and, uh, the Hymns of Blood and Ashes." She adjusts her pince-nez on her hawkish nose and glances at the pile of human parts in a surgical mask that once was and probably will return to being a blond nurse in an old-fashioned, not too practical looking uniform. "Let it go on record that this court awards the prosecution the right to make one -- one, gentlepeople! -- edit to the Hymns of Blood and Ashes, and that said Hymn must consent to the alteration."

A sharp glance towards the pile of Vivisectionist. "After all, consent seems to be the theme of this trial, does it not?"

The nurse -- or what's left of her -- mumbles something into her mask.

"What was that?" asks Justitia and cocks her head to listen.

"Excuse me," says the kangaroo and hops over to bend down and listen closer.

The nurse mumbles.

The kangaroo looks up brightly. "She says, they started it, Your Honour."

The Judge rolls her eyes. "What is this, kindergarten? She gets to continue to exist. They get to tamper with reality a little. Everyone wins. Anyone who doesn't leave this courtroom feeling like a winner may appeal but before they do, consider the fact that I have a hot young thing waiting for me at home and the longer I have to sit here and listen to people argue, the grumpier I'm going to get. Any questions?"

The macaques chatter. Some of them point at the Vivisectionist -- some of them at at the Judge -- and some of them at each other. Then the one with the popcorn bag empties it over the head of one of the Babylonian reporters. They all get up and, without further ceremony, walk out. One returns de la Vega's pink bobblehead pen first, though.

Ava listens quietly, her eyes firmly on the Psalms as she speaks and explains the essence of Power and how her own existence allows it to be altered. It's a lot to take in all at once, forcing her eyes to shift now between Psalms and Hymns. An edit. To Power. "Does making an edit also force a change to Ash-- Hymns' being? Personality? Or yours, if it were to happen to you? That seems like it might be cruel, whether it's agreed upon or not."

Still. There's a glance towards Leila, but she's too far away from the prosecutor's stand to really hear what Ava is murmuring as she leans towards Aidan and the two of them begin to whisper between themselves. There is a lot of back and forth as the pair deliberate, and another glance shot towards Leila, a hopeful look that she's in agreement on the choice being made here.

Ava turns to look back towards the others, her hands clasping in front of her. "We know what we'd like. It's easy to say more power, or let us be more dangerous, or what have you. But honestly, when it comes down to it, we just really want to be able to help more. At the moment we're only able to help heal someone once within a span of twenty-four hours. We'd like to be able to help people more than that." A glance back towards Aidan and a firm nod.

Listening to the newly arrived woman does give Leila some answers, but it also opens up a whole swathe of questions with it too. She tries to follow it as much as she could, as abstract as they are along with this dream, but she knows when something important is being conveyed, and this feels important.

As Ava and Aidan keep looking in her direction, Leila leans forward as if she could hear; but well, that's impossible. Still, she watches them intently to wait for their answer. When Ava speaks and mentions healing more than one person, Leila's eyes widen as she stands up yet again. "Yea, what she said!" She blurts out without thinking, already agreeing to the proposal. Healing more than one person a day would be incredible.

"Nice to meet you, Psalms of Air and Darkness," Aidan says, inclining his head to the humanoid book in question in not-quite-a-bow. It's respectful, at least. Avatars. It matches with what he was working out, and yet it's still kind of mind-boggling. "Um. Thank you both for existing?" Even he doesn't have confidence in the phrasing, but the underlying sentiment seems sincere.

"Just-- to be clear, the rule part, I didn't expect the Art," not his term, but he seems to fall easily enough into using hers here, "would do it, it's-- I mean this is a court and we were asked what we wanted and execution got mentioned more than once so I was kinda figuring there's, you know, laws. Rules. About how it's used and what you're allowed to do with it, 'cause usually breaking laws and agreements is how you end up in court, right? And we kept getting asked what we wanted so... given the implication there's rules somewhere I was saying that's what I'd want one of 'em to be. But I didn't think that was something the defendants would do." A small pause. "Well I mean aside from her ending up obeying it, hopefully. So if the court can do that it'd still be good I think." A glance to the Judge, "I guess 'is that a thing the court can do' is a question, Your Honour?"

Not one that needs to hold everything up, though. He gives a small, firm nod to the stipulation that any editing of the Hymns should require that book's consent, but Ava's question clearly surprises him a touch; he looks faintly chagrined not to have wondered that, looking to the books, particularly Hymns, as related thoughts follow. It's a good question. "If the last-- if whoever did it before caused that corruption..." He looks directly to Ash, "I don't want you to go through that again. No changes that would harm you."

As for what changes might not -- well, there's a lot of whispering, all right, and a little sigh when they seem to have settled and he straightens back up. He returns the nod Ava sends him just as firmly, and can't help a quick little grin to Leila for her enthusiastic agreement before adding to the others, "I would like... I would really appreciate if we can find a way to talk about the fire thing, in future. Maybe soonish? And see if we can find some agreement? But we're here today because of healing and yeah, the change we'd like to make is for that, to be able to heal more people more often again. That's the change we'd like to make."

And next to the Books is the Vivisectionist. He studies her husk a moment. "I didn't start a thing." His jaw tightens a bit again, a moment of internal conflict. It is not kindergarten. A fairly heavy but silent exhalation, and maybe a touch reluctantly, "But we could try and end one not-shittily. You want me to see if I can heal you some?"

The Psalms makes a low sound, slides off the table. "It wasn't the changes that corrupted us. It was neglect. The so-called 'sources'," the Hymns scoff, the Psalms cut him a tolerant is exasperated glance, "locked us away, not wanting anyone but them to make changes. What they didn't account for was Them."

She and Ash looks right at the macaques. "They saw us sitting there, alone, unguarded, and did Their worst. And we became things we didn't want to be: destroyers."

One of the Hymns' hands forms into a fist. The Psalms grip his shoulder, gentle and firm, and he relaxes. She looks back at Aidan. "But this a kangaroo court. You'll see no rules or laws coming out of here. That's on you lot, and the Veil itself. So get to it."

The Hymns slowly, grudgingly, stop staring fire and death (figurative, for now) at the macaques, turning to Aidan and Ava and Leila. He nods, slowly, though there's a bit more in his eyes than mere agreement. "He agrees to let that change be made," the Psalms say. "The fire, or anything else, you can discuss in the future. Now, to do this, you'll need to give him a bit of your Art. Not all of it, not even most--just some from each of you. You'll be weaker for a little while as you refill, but you will refill."

A glance down at the Vivisectionist. "Healing won't help her. What he did was what you're about to do willingly. He just did a lot of it. Should be a few decades before she's back to strength." She steps around the pile of Vivisectionist (Ash very pointedly steps over her) to cross between the two tables. "So, if you're all in agreement?"

Ash holds out his hand, as if to...taking something? Shake hands? It's not clear.

Several bags of popcorn change hands. A couple of macaques hand their bags over to the nearest (surprised) Babylonian reporter and then proceed to shuffle out of the court room. Others remain where they are, and look quite defiant. One is asleep. There's a significance here, no doubt, but whatever it is, it is not being advertised at this moment.

Justitia watches. So does the kangaroo (though she looks somewhat offended at the idea that her court is somehow less valid. Really. Rude).

Ava glances towards the macaques at the mention of that and frowns. Her fingers clench at her side, fire dancing around her aura. But it subsides as they get back towards the meat of the agreement. "I think that she could use a couple of decades without having access to so much power," Ava says, looking at the crumbled pile of Vivisectionist on the ground and resisting the urge to try to go and talk to her.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you both. I'm sure you're more than capable of handling yourselves, but if someone comes for you again and we can help, let us know." She glances back to Aidan, clearly meaning the pair of them. She can't really speak for the others, but she seems fairly sure that he's of the same mind. "Well help how we can. And if you ever need more food, you're welcome to visit my dreams and let me know, I'm happy to help when I can." That's for Ash as she reaches out a hand towards his to shake. And for him to take some of her Art.

Javier's been silent throughout all this. Certainly he'd have been more than happy to see the Vivisectionist brought to an end. Not because it's her death he wants, so much as her inability to cause more suffering. He watches the pile of what remains of her on the floor for some moments, and then the old woman who's entered, calling herself the Psalms of Air and Darkness. She knows him, of course; and he knows her. Intimately well.

He pushes off the bench eventually, swipes the blood off his cheek with his knuckles, and approaches Ash. Wrong flavour of Song; sharp and hot, ozone and smoke rather than cool and sweet and verdant. But the power coursing through him is plenty potent, as he makes contact with the other man.

Aidan's expression shows a hint of relief at the assertion that it wasn't the changes that corrupted them -- or maybe the implication from that answer, that it won't rewrite the Book's essential self in the way Ava'd worried -- but that fades as Psalms goes on, and the attention, his included, moves to the macaques. Ava isn't the only one giving off that sense of fire, and his eyes narrow a bit, but also look faintly confused. Things this side aren't always what they appear, he's known that as long as he can recall, but... is it the macaques that did it? Or do the Books just feel they're connected or responsible in some other way with those (Those?) who did?

He watches for a moment, the muscles in his neck and shoulder and across his back starting to tense up, and his eyes close, both hands coming up to rake back through his curls as he turns back toward the 'defense'. His hands end up laced at the back of his neck, elbows up and forearms pressed against the sides of his head; if that has the effect of blocking his ears for a second or three in the process, that's surely coincidental. He takes a deep breath that way, then drops his arms, head lifting and eyes reopening. It's the Vivisectionist he looks at again, then nods. A few decades of recovery. That seems... fair, maybe? Maybe fair for a kangaroo court, at the least.

To Psalms, then to Hymns, a flicker of a sidelong glance Ava-ward, and he nods again. "If we can help keep you safe and well, we'll try." Almost certainly the same 'we'. He closes the space to meet them halfway, hesitating briefly before he says simply, "Thank you," -- then offers his hand, and his magic.

What difference does a sacrifice of power make? What is the colour of a heartbeat? The sound of a butterfly's sigh? If nothing goes on record anywhere else, at least some long-dead Babylonians have made margin notes on their clay tablet, and the kangaroo remembers.

Judge Justitia bangs her gavel against her desk. "Let it go on record that Ava Brennon, Javier de la Vega, Aidan Kinney, and Leila Al-Theeb gave of their power willingly, whether theirs is of the Hymns of Blood and Ashes, or of the Psalms of Air and Darkness. It is the verdict of this court that a healer shall be allowed to help more people, more often. The extent of the healing done shall continue to obey the current limitations -- we are not lifting the ban on bringing back the dead, you people made such a mess last time somebody got back up and walked around. Severe illness may sometimes be accommodated, but not all conditions can be cured."

"What's that about?" one Babylonian whispers to another.

"Something, something, religion," another whispers back. "Apparently there's going to be so many cases of people coming back from the dead that they start fighting wars over it. Also, gold."

"The future is silly," the first concludes.

"Be quiet," the kangaroo hisses.

"Nah, it's fine," says Justitia and twirls her gavel. "More healing, blah blah, still not curing cancer, yada yada, still not getting to yank Lazarus or anyone else back out of the cave three days later."

What is the colour of a nightingale's heartbeat? What is the gale force of a butterfly's wings?

A butterfly beating its wings can lead to amazing effects elsewhere.