First Memory | Sight and touch
It's the courtroom again.
It's harsh and bright, and a palpable feeling of tension crackles in the air. The gray-haired judge sits on high, facing the witness stand, the witness himself--a scrawny young boy, taking his cues from her. She is smiling; she knows it's going to be fine for their defendant, she knows it'll be all right. The truth is on their side. There is no fear in her this time.
But something does feel off. Her body seems as though it is not her own. The clothes feel too tight, particularly around her chest. There is energy and cheer in her, there is nothing wrong here, but still she feels as though she doesn't quite belong.
She looks across the courtroom, past the witness to the man who stands at the bench opposing theirs, silver-haired, dressed in maroon red, his hand firm on the wood before him. So much resolve in him, so much resolve in all of them. She knows he is their opponent in this battle, but she feels no ill-will toward him. Sides don't matter; they are all striving for the same goal, striving for justice, and none of them can get there without each other. It'll take all of their efforts to reach it.
She reaches out a pale arm in a flowing purple sleeve and touches the shoulder of the man beside her, dark-haired, blue-suited. His face turns toward her, dedicated, determined. It's Phoenix's face. She is so proud of him.
It's harsh and bright, and a palpable feeling of tension crackles in the air. The gray-haired judge sits on high, facing the witness stand, the witness himself--a scrawny young boy, taking his cues from her. She is smiling; she knows it's going to be fine for their defendant, she knows it'll be all right. The truth is on their side. There is no fear in her this time.
But something does feel off. Her body seems as though it is not her own. The clothes feel too tight, particularly around her chest. There is energy and cheer in her, there is nothing wrong here, but still she feels as though she doesn't quite belong.
She looks across the courtroom, past the witness to the man who stands at the bench opposing theirs, silver-haired, dressed in maroon red, his hand firm on the wood before him. So much resolve in him, so much resolve in all of them. She knows he is their opponent in this battle, but she feels no ill-will toward him. Sides don't matter; they are all striving for the same goal, striving for justice, and none of them can get there without each other. It'll take all of their efforts to reach it.
She reaches out a pale arm in a flowing purple sleeve and touches the shoulder of the man beside her, dark-haired, blue-suited. His face turns toward her, dedicated, determined. It's Phoenix's face. She is so proud of him.