LET THE BODIES HIT THE FLOOR ☆ o, mock trial

[gael]

♛

The game of mock trial belonged to the faerie's youth.  A practice meant to fine hone his and his cousin's minds -- diplomacy and leadership came with responsibility to understand judgement.  A number of trials, the most vivid through his mind's eye, Gael and Raziel argued opposite sides of a simple debate, rather than for the sentence of an accused.

Briefly, he attempted to snatch shifting grains of sand, the memory of one trial they did deliberate over a potentially 'guilty' party.  Raziel's parents certainly found that amusing.

Sharpened with gold, Gael's hazel eyes locked thoughtfully on Redvox.  Paws dipped in shadows trotted forward, ears perked.  Slowly, his head slanted as he spoke, "point me where to go." He assumed the harbinger decided the role everyone played after all.

A fragment of his heart murmured a careless thought -- grief for the time gone past, thoroughly enjoying himself through the words he traded with Raziel.  Quickly, the wheels turned towards Aine instead, who often pounced behind his paws; hopefully she found the mock trial interesting and participated.  Fun he worried little for -- she simply needed to be engaged, which fun often followed.

"ISN'T IT LOVELY?" —-- gael ó broin / faerie / pittian / lamby

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