tamingthemuse | Prompt 403 Zygomancy - Trial - naughty_bangles

Title: Trial
Prompt 403 - Zygomancy
Rating: Gen
Summary: This was the end of the road.

The judgement was sure to be biased. There was no way she would weight less than a stupid bible.

Not that her acusation would prove anything: she was definitely guilty. She just had chosen not to confess.

The inquisitor looked at her sternly. She threw a little flirty smile at him. His eyes lit up with contained hatred, and that little something more he wanted to conceal more than anything. That he tried to erase in himself by erasing it in others. She knew men of his kind. Always the most virtuous, always the purest, always the most tenacious. Always the one with the filthiest fantasies, the most twisted needs. Some indulged themselves far from the glaze of their church. Some repressed their impulses by inflicting pain to themselves, or to the one who dared do what they cannot. This one was from that last category. They were going to be cell neighbors in hell.

When their eyes met, he realised she knew, and he broke eye contact. He turned toward the mob, gathered around the wooden rig to enjoy the show. She couldn't repress another smile, this one derisive. People were drawn to blood and filth, a lot more than she had ever been. The only difference between her and them was that she hadn't wait for the show to come to her to look at; she had lived it. It didn't end prettily, for sure, and so long before she came to stand on that rig, minutes away from her death. She didn't regret most of it, though; she wouldn't have been capable to endure a simple life of hard work and poverty. Her life had been short and exciting, defying every precept society had try to force upon her. Her death would be the same, she would go before her time, by the hands of men. The hell hounds would have to find another bone to chew.

The inquisitor was giving an solemn speech now, warning the pulic against giving oneself up to its basic instincts. Brandishing the Book that was about to seal her fate, he praised the Lord, letting his speech be the judge of her sins. She rolled her eyes; God didn't have anything to do with that. Mankind was condemning her at this very moment.

The inquisitor turned back toward her, and gestured to the men that were framing her to drag their prisonner to the giant wooden scale in the middle of the rig. She resisted a little for the game, but she already knew she wouldn't stand a chance against the two of them if she tried to escape. She wished she had been powerful enough to kill them all and resume her free life. She regretted she hadn't worked harder to get that kind of power. There was no time anymore, now.

They pushed her against one of the scale trays, and she stumbled over it. She got herself up, throwing them a dirty look, and sat down on the tray without anymore protest. It was her time. The inquisitor walked to the other tray, and waved the Book once again, adding stage-like drama to the scene. The mob went silent,waiting for the Book to touch the tray, for the scale to give its judgment. The Church man put the Book down, slowly, and stepped aside to let the public see it freely. The tray shivered a little but, predictably, she stayed the heaviest of the two. After a minute or so of this deafening silence, the inquisitor declared with his gravest voice :

"God has judged."

Everything went fast after that. The mob errupted in an angry clamor, claiming for blood. Her two guard pushed her out of the tray, and she fell on her knee. Before she could get up, one of them prevented it by placing his foot on her back. She heard the sound of a blade drawn out of its sheath, and suddenly there was nothing, nothing more than darkness around her. Witnesses would say for years that she had looked annoyed at all this.