[PRP] Evidence (Shiloh&the Burning Man)

[shibrogane]

After the first part of the trial, Shiloh is shown to a side room. It is depressingly bare, concrete walls, concrete floors, metal chairs and tables. At the table sits the Burning Man, relatively unscathed, unbound and flickering with flame. But he doesn't move, or even acknowledge that the door to his little containment cell has been opened until it's closed, and Shiloh is inside.

"Advocate," he says, and his voice is a deep gravelly rumble.

Melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

The door shuts behind him. Court is, for the moment, adjourned.

Shiloh did take a moment—somewhere between the door closing and the Burning Man's acknowledgement of him—to draw a simple looking symbol on the door. A lock. He tapped the mark, the door exhumed a soft hum, and the knob remained as deadbolted as ever. It wasn't that Shiloh expected anyone to try and force their way in—and really, he trusted the magic of the Court to keep things contained—but Shiloh was... paranoid.

And not at all suited for this.

"Burning Man," He said quietly, because he wasn't sure whether to refer to him as Ezra anymore even though that's who he was, in a sense. "Let's talk."

Shiloh took a seat.

"There's some things I want to get out in the open first." Shiloh said as he set his hands on the table, "I want you to understand that I volunteered for this position, but that I was basically the only one capable of filling it. Silk didn't want anyone tithed by you or tithed by your tithes, and Algernon was the only other one who fit that criteria. I also kind of doubt you'd want to see Algernon across the table from you right now." Shiloh sounded sarcastic in almost a sympathetic way. He wouldn't want to be across the table from a Mercer either at this point. "So that's why I'm here versus anyone else."

"Second, I'm only interested in the truth and I'm hoping this trial system will produce that. It's what I visualized the Court would become." His hands smoothed over the table, "However, if you plead not guilty, then that's the stance I'm required to take. I promised I would put my bias aside to make sure you were properly represented." He didn't much look like Shiloh Beaumont, the full time student at Raider Waite, the kid who worked part-time at a flower shop in Ashdown, the idiot who stayed up way too late gossiping with his boyfriend in bed about this or that. He looked like Shiloh the tithe, the one the Spinel Lady had molded him into. Despite that, there was still a grave, exhausted look to his eyes. "So, that being said..."

He took a deep breath. "I want to hear you speak first, if that's okay. Tell me whatever it is you think is important for me to know, and we can work from there."

shibrogane

 

[shibrogane]

The Burning Man had no eyes to stare at Shiloh with. His human form beneath the flames was nothing more than shadows and the smudges of ash he left on the tabletop. It seemed the containment of his powers did have one effect: the healing which kept him alive had slowed. Where he had presented a solid, fearless front before the Court, now his breathing sounded as if he were in terrible pain. He left smudges of ash where he never had before. When he spoke, his words were a harsh rasp, slow and hesitant.

"You'll have a difficult time arguing I coerced or threatened many of those whose thumbprints I took," he said. "I told them the truth of what their magic was responsible for, that I intended to fix it, and in many cases, they surrendered their consent willingly. The prosecutor is the only one who can argue I used force to obtain her consent. She wanted to wait until the day of.

"None of them can argue that I did this knowing that they wouldn't approve of what I was doing. None of them know what my intention was." He paused, a heavy rattling inhale.

Melancholies