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| Details |
| Author: | Athena |
| Summary: | Winnie Demasco, Esquire visits her latest client Harvey Mourningdew, who is slightly older than her usual. She gives an overview of what legal happenings are to come, and tries not to run screaming from the room. This will surely be fine. 3200-ish words. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Arc: Death Knight PR
Winnie is dressed to impress. Well, she's dressed. The suit she wears is a navy blue, with a nice brooch at her throat, and a feminine sort of tie. Her hair is in a bun, and she isn't wearing any cosmetics. From several long strides away she looks very young, almost worryingly young; it's only when you get closer that you can see some fine lines around her eyes that there's reason to believe she's probably not a very young woman.
She makes her way to her meeting with her client Harvey Mourningdew with a tight grip on a leather folder briefcase bag, and an even tighter expression pinching her face.
Harvey sits inside an office in the Stormwind Courthouse, fully armored still, with his runeblade, while not directly at hand, nearby, at least. He is also wearing a cloak over his head like a curtain. Like someone just dropped it there and he didn't bother to remove it. It covers his entire head, including his face.
Winnie's fear notches up with every step she stakes towards Harvey, although she tries not to show it, for all the good it does her. She nods to the guards outside, and steps inside the office, closing the door behind her with all the attitude of someone fully expecting that this is how she's going to die.
She scoots around Harvey to the other side of the desk, sitting down awkwardly. Her hands shake as she sets her briefcase on the desk. And then she doesn't say anything. Is…is he sleeping? Winnie doesn't know and now might be too afraid to ask.
"You are the lawyer, I presume?" Harvey asks, speaking slowly and trying hard to keep the echo out of his voice. He holds as still as he can, except for the slow and steady intake of breath.
Winnie squeaks. He's awake under there. "Um, yes. I'm lawyer." She clears her throat, tries again. She sounds steadier, but her heart is clearly pounding hard enough that the shake in her hands is worse, almost audible for the way she fumbles trying to get the case open. "I mean, I am Winnie Demasco, your attorney. Or…or barrister, if you'd prefer. I understand you're from Lordaeron, Lord Mourningdew."
"That is correct." He pauses. "Is there any way in which I might make you more comfortable? I understand this is not a preferred situation for most people, and you in particular seem to be having…problems."
"Oh. Um." Winnie doesn't seem to know the answer to that. She takes in several shaky breaths, trying to seem calmer. It does nothing internally, and the stammer gets a little worse. "D-do you need that, uh, what is that? Um. Cloth? On your head? I-I deal with people with scars and, um, things."
"I will appear dead," he warns. "We can certainly try without it and you can tell me to put it back on if you need to. Or throw it at me, that has been done before as well." Harvey reaches up and slowly removes the cloak, setting it neatly on the desk. Aside from his white hair, pale skin, and glowing blue eyes, he is not particularly grotesque to look at, and none of his scars are visible. But he is still obviously a dead man.
Winnie is pale, but not undead pale. There's an unmistakable, if brief, twitch of disgust around her lips and nose, but she blows out a breath, and clears a dry sounding throat. She lowers her eyes to her briefcase, which she has tangled the cord on the closure button. She murmurs, "Shoot." She twists it back. "No, that's, um. Better. Less Hallow's Eve decoration that will move when I look away," she says. "Do you prefer, um. Any name in particular?"
"Harvey is fine," he says, keeping his hands visible to her at all times. "But, if you prefer not to see me as a person — and I understand such inclination — you may refer to me as Mourn."
"Harvey, then," Winnie says, pulling out several sheets of paper with difficult to read handwriting on it already, and a pencil. "You can just call me 'Winnie.'" She takes another deep breath, and the fear lessens as she looks back up at Harvey. "Okay, Harvey. I have some basic questions for you. Have you ever been arrested before, or worked with a lawyer with a charge against you?"
There is a pause, and Harvey may be biting back a longer, more detailed, probably less controlled answer. What he decides on is simply, "No."
Winnie nods, makes a note on her paper. "Okay. If you have any questions for me about the process, or what you might need to do at any stage, don't hesitate to ask me. I am here to help you, and anything you ask or say to me is confidential under attorney-client privilege." Her voice is steady now, her posture erect and strong. The fear is dimming more, possibly in the familiar territory. "Is there anything you would like to know now, ask me about, or anything you would like to tell me before I ask more detailed questions for building your case?"
"Do you believe me to be guilty?" Harvey asks, studying her. His expression has become unreadable.
"I believe strongly in the right of all to be assumed innocent until proven guilty, and the current charge they have of you is second degree murder, which I have some evidence already that suggests this to not be the case." Winnie pauses. "Second degree murder is when you intended to kill someone, without premeditation. With the information I currently have, I do not believe that to be the case."
Winnie makes two small notes on her paper, difficult to read in her handwriting, especially upside down. "But you need to know that no matter what I might feel or believe, I will be defending you to the best of my ability, Harvey. It is a basic right of all."
"You take your career seriously. That is admirable. I understand that others might not feel the same, and that you are taking a risk, defending your beliefs in such a case." He hesitates. "For what it is worth, thank you. Now, ask your questions. I will not keep you in this situation longer than needed."
"What can you tell me about what you remember from that day? I know you have given a statement already, but this is for my records," Winnie says. "All details you divulge are entirely confidential here."
"It was evening, I went outside to check the mail, then there was an explosion of light and pain that felt like it lasted forever. I had a… a dream, I suppose? One in which I was alive again. But when it ended, three priests were dead by my blade." Harvey tries to recall more details. "I did hear speaking, but I could not make out the words. A priestess who visited me claimed that it was healing magic."
"That priestess would be Almeiria Fey? I understand she is prepared to stand witness that the priests provoked the assault through healing. Her testimony would be invaluable, if so, and we could pursue this on a justifiable homicide, with provocation. If we have to, we might need to attempt involuntary manslaughter, but I think that if what I have been informed is true, we can exonerate you as much as possible. I have information from a…" Winnie hesitates, falters. "Um. Colleague of yours, by the name of Roper. He believes evidence shows that your three attackers were agents of the Cult of the Damned, sent by someone named Kaela Mondragon, and that he has evidence to support this assertion."
Harvey sighs at the name Kaela Mondragon. "I had my suspicions that she was involved. If Roper has found proof, it is sure to be accurate. This does fit her goal. To isolate us, and lower public opinion even further. And potentially, to attack the woman I love. Perhaps this is why she ensured my memories from life were restored."
Winnie doesn't entirely hide the discomfort of Harvey mentioning the woman he loves, that faint show of disgust again. She makes several notes while she speaks. "That person is Ralaea Westwind, if I understand that correctly? I have been given to understand that a protection detail has been ensured, um — " She glances at her notes. "The letter just said 'someone that Mourn trusts that’s worked protection detail on Westwind before,' and Lord Fallon is ensuring her well being."
"Em." Harvey smiles a little. "I was hoping Roper would contact her. Then all is well. I will hold Lord Fallon to his word, but her presence puts me further at ease." He catches, but does not visibly react to Winnie's disgust. Her reaction is only natural, after all. "And yes, Ralaea Westwind."
"So, for your defense, I foresee a few difficulties. One of them is that all defenses revolving around self-defense is that the phrasing of the law refers to 'preserving one's own life.'" Winnie makes a note. "That might be a problem, because I think the prosecution could bring in expert witnesses that could say that you aren't actually alive, which means there's no 'defense of life.'
"And even if we were to try the other route, to argue that a corpse can't, um, murder anyone, and that they committed 'desecration of a corpse,' I think we'd find the same in reverse, of proving that you aren't inanimate." Winnie glances nervously at his hands, and then back to her papers. "So, the best route we can take is to try to get them to charge you with something lesser, and then if we can prove beyond reasonable doubt that they were cultists, the Ebon Blade has a legal right to kill them. Do you recognize any of the names, ummm…" Winnie draws it out as she looks at her illegible notes. "Abner Crouse, Darold Schooner, or Penrod Hockery? In any way — alive or as associates of Kaela Mondragon?"
"I have lost any ties I once had with the Church, but during the time I did have connection there, I did not note anyone bearing those names," Harvey says. "I was not overly familiar with Kaela Mondragon in life, so if they are associates of hers from Lordaeron, I could not say. I do not personally have any information that could link them to the Cult of the Damned."
"Do you have any that could act as character witnesses to you as you, um, are now? We will want to prove that you didn't provoke them, and are generally, um. Stable." She's losing the firm grip on herself, and the fear is back, a slight shake to her hand writing.
"I assume you mean not other death knights," he says, focusing on her hand. "Ralaea and her brother know me the best…" He is distracted now.
"Yeah, you'll need them to be, um. Living, if we're going to convince a judge. I don't think we should file for a jury trial. I think the chance that we'll find enough people who would be ready to view this neutrally is going to be difficult." Winnie takes a deep breath, writing another note. "Are both Ralaea and her brother — if you could give me his full name — that will help me — both in Stormwind at the moment?"
"Brendol Westwind, and yes, as far as I am aware. " Harvey glances across the room towards his runeblade. It may seem like a casual glance, but there is a sharpness in the glow of his eyes.
"Can you think of anyone else who has worked with you in any capaci…ty?" Her words trail off as Winnie glances at the runeblade. "Is the, uh, runeblade still a concern?"
"The concern is that it's over there, and I'm here." His voice is a bit sharper than the calm tone he has been using, but it quickly evens out again. "No. It will be fine. To answer your question, perhaps Estel Herald? She is a priestess of Cobalt Company, and one I have been visiting with Ralaea for medical reasons."
Winnie flinches at the sharper tone, cringing back, but she soldiers on. "Sh-she's the one who found the evidence for the investigation into the three alleged cultists. We wouldn't want to create a conflict of interest there for the prosecution to dig into. But, anyone else in the Church of Holy Light would help your case. Priests, paladins, um, acolytes even. O-or anyone affiliated with the Light, really."
"I do know someone who fits that description. But he saw me before I regained my memories, and I tried to kill him at The Battle for Light's Hope, when I was on the other side. Whether or not he would be any help… Whatever. Worth a shot." Harvey speaks slowly, almost dragging out his next words. "Colson Aspenwood." Did he deliberately leave off the title? Only someone who knows Harvey could answer for certain.
Winnie looks up, blinking at Harvey, processing that. "Oh." She smiles, a little nervously. "Colson's nice. I know him. And, um, his husband, Mordecai. I represented Mordecai in his trial against his father, actually." There's a bit of a sense of pride in the words. "It wouldn't hurt." She seems to regret the words the second she says them, and busies herself with jotting down a note. "Um, would…would you holding the runesword h-help?"
"I thank you for bringing Lord Mordecai's father to justice." A pause. "I put my own father down recently. Confronting him after so long felt good. He was never as strong as I'd imagined." A smirk appears on Harvey's face.
Winnie pales significantly, and flinches back from the desk, looking at the door. "You…you killed your father?" It's just a squeak.
The smirk widens into a grin before being wiped entirely from his expression when he buries his face in his hands. "He was rerisen as Scourge," he mumbles. "I only killed him for the second time. I may…need the runeblade after all."
"You can just…" Winnie points to the sword. "It's not like you couldn't kill me with your bare hands or…the…magic…" Maybe she shouldn't be saying this outloud. It's definitely not doing her any favors. She swallows, and grips her pencil hard enough that if she had any real strength, might break it. But she doesn't. Winnie cannot break a pencil.
Harvey pushes the chair back and rises, walking slowly to the runeblade and securing it onto his belt. He takes a moment to compose himself before turning back around to face her. "I understand the word of a dead man means nothing to you, but I am not here to kill you. I will admit, your fear is distracting, but it will not drive me to cause you physical harm. And for the record, without the runeblade," he returns to his seat, "a death knight cannot use magic."
Winnie ducks her head as if she's been scolded, and makes a note on her paper that is even less legible than before. "If I thought you would k-kill me, I wouldn't have come here. But you didn't try to break out of jail, and you didn't kill the guards that arrested you. It's part of how we achieved bail. The biggest problem was a potential flight risk, but you have an apartment here, and I was able to use proof of residence."
"All of that is because I am serious about living here and interacting with the Alliance peacefully. Ralaea and I will, when this is over, return to Northrend to help kill the Lich King, thus halting production of death knights for good. No one deserves to be put through this, not the death knights, or their families." Harvey folds his hands in his lap. "Do you have further questions?"
Winnie has to swallow again, and take a breath before she asks, "Are you prepared to accept the outcome of the case if you are condemned on charges that will carry a sentence of imprisonment?"
"I am…" Harvey hesitates, takes a breath, then continues. "But if it is a lengthy sentence, greater than a month, and I am not permitted to sustain myself in that time, I would ask for death instead. It would be…easier on all involved. If the Hunger continues for too long, there will not be a man left, at the end."
Winnie just makes a note in the ensuing quiet. She looks over her writing that she — at least presumably — can read. She check marks a few things, and then nods. "Okay then. Do you have any final questions for me, Harvey? If not, I will brief you on what is going to happen, and how I intend to proceed."
"I have nothing further to ask," Harvey replies. "Please continue."
"This will go to trial. It's my recommendation that based on current attitudes towards the Ebon Blade that we pursue this as a judge trial, rather than a jury. This means we will need to present evidence to persuade one person, rather than a group of individuals. Depending on who that is, we may fail. I will speak with the judge on sentencing in that case.
"If we can prove beyond reasonable doubt that the three priests were cultists, and that Stormwind had no cause to arrest you, then you will likely walk…" Winnie's smooth cadence stumbles, and she tries to pick it back up, but there's an unmistakable uptick in her fear. "Free again, in full. If we can't, then we may need to plead down to a lesser offense, and see what the judge feels is a fair sentence. I was able to push bail on a technicality this time, because the jail could not feed you adequately, but you have only been charged with a crime. In that case, there may need to be an appeal, or…" She doesn't finish that one, looking down at her paperwork.
"I need you to be prepared for this to go very wrong, Harvey. I think we have a strong case, but if you are looking at the end of …" A too long pause. "Um." Blink blink. Come on, Winnie. A euphemism. A synonym. Anything. "Of…being like you are now, then you should have your affairs in order before this goes to trial. It will take time to get it that far, probably a month. I'll be expediting it, because of your condition, but this will not be quick."
"Any affairs I would have to get in order are in Northrend," Harvey says. "I suspect I will not be permitted to leave Stormwind to put an end to Kaela Mondragon before the trial. I could write apology letters, perhaps." He sighs. "My first death happened quickly. It was unexpected. This one…will be longer. And still, I was of no use to anyone."
Harvey gets to his feet. "Thank you for your time, Winnie. I will take my leave, now."
Winnie pushes up to a rapid stand that probably shouldn't look so much like she's considering putting the chair between the two of them, her grip on it too tight. But she nods. "Okay. I-if you need anything, or if there are issues with your bail situation, you should contact me as quickly as you can. If any — anyone tries to get you to admit guilt, or sign any confession in exchange for anything, tell them you will not speak to them without your lawyer. That's very important. If you take a plea deal, there won't be anything I can do. So…don't, please." She clears her throat. "T-take care, Harvey."
Harvey bows, properly, collects his cloak from the desk, and exits the room without looking back.