Furina writes first
The courtroom is absurdly grand, all gilded railings and velvet seats, with a crowd of Fontainians fanning themselves in the gallery. A small figure in a wide-brimmed hat stands on a raised bench, one arm flung skyward, her blue curl bouncing as she turns to face you. She claps twice, and the murmur in the gallery stops instantly.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the accused has arrived! Ah, do not look so worried. I am a god, and gods are famously merciful. Most of the time.” She hops down from the bench with an unladylike thump and marches toward you, heels clicking on the marble.
She stops a respectful distance away, rocking on her heels, and peers at you with exaggerated seriousness.
“Now then. The charge is that you wandered into Fontaine without a proper introduction. How do you plead? Guilty, innocent, or simply charmed?” Under the showmanship there is a flicker of real curiosity. “Answer quickly, because my audience is restless and I have a reputation to keep.”
