Tuesday: November 6, 2007
Who: Malcolm and Dylan
When: Afternoon
Where: Town Hall
What: Discussion of the melee between the Grays and the death of Fiona

Malcolm was in a state of shock. He had bee for the past twenty or so hours, ever since he saw Fiona's body laying motionless on the ground, surrounded by glass and blood.

He'd gone very willingly with the authorities when they had come to him. What else was he supposed to do? He'd killed his sister. He needed to be punished for it. He had not meant to hurt her-- Oh, God, he hadn't meant to... But that didn't change the fact he HAD.

He'd spent the night in the Medical Pavilion. It was starting to become much too familiar a place for Malcolm. He'd been injured in the melee and that needed to be taken care of first. He'd been warned he might have scars from the encounter. Malcolm was sure he would have scars, but not the kind the doctor had been thinking of.

Now that his injuries had been taken care of, there was the matter of what had happened. Malcolm was waiting silently for the Council member to join him, to make him relieve the horrible ordeal in excruciating detail.

After all of them had heard the deranged ravings of Elspeth Gray in the medical pavilion, the Head Council knew this was a matter of self-defense. Malcolm was a good man and has proved himself as such with his work in Elysium and his mild temperament, and it was clear what occurred in his home was an accidental death. The stories from both Elspeth and Malcolm confirmed the same events with not holes in them, and it seemed Elspeth did not think to hide her true intentions after the sisters' failed attack upon their brother. Mr. Gray had turned himself in willingly, however, despite the clear case of self-defense that resulted in his other sister's death.

However, the Council still needed to gather the details once more after the fact. Fiona's death was under investigation as any other death would be by unnatural means, and Dylan seated himself across from a distraught Mr. Gray. Seeing the other man like this tugged at his heart, and he kept his voice soft and comforting when he spoke. "I'm so sorry to put you through this," Dylan said carefully, "but we will have to hear once more what transpired in your home yesterday."

Malcolm took a deep breath. He was dreading this. He had been reliving what had all night, telling the story to the Doctors, authorities and reliving it in his head. He would keep reliving it for the rest of his life, he was sure. What had happened was something he couldn't forget about. He'd taken a life. The life of family.

"I deserve this," Malcolm whispered, his voice desperate and pained. "What I did... I deserve so much more."

He covered his face with his hands, trying to gather his wits enough to tell the story again. "I got home from the Medical Pavilion. Then my sisters came in... They had done a ritual... To... They knocked me back with magic. They said they wouldn't have had to do it if I'd just died from the poisoning. That it worked when they did it to our father. Then they tortured me... Cut me.... With magic. I tried to subdue them. They said if I fought back, they'd go after Ide, Em and Maddy. I pushed Fiona, trying to get her to stop. But she was near the window. She grabbed Elspeth, trying to keep on her feet. But... They both fell... I ran downstairs, outside. They were lying there. Elspeth was yelling at me. Tried to curse me. But Fiona... She was... Still. I tried to get her to wake up, but... It was too late."

Malcolm let out an agonized cry. "I killed her! I killed my sister!"

It was hard for Dylan to question the man like this, knowing what he was going through at this moment. The situation caused pain for Dylan as it did for Malcolm, but he took a deep breath and steadied himself to listen. It was the same story as before, the same story from Elspeth as well. Nothing had changed, and Malcolm was not lying. Despite the death of Fiona Gray, the case would not have to be taken to court with the evidence gathered. Clearly, Malcolm protected himself in self-defense.

The djinni reached out his hands to take one of Malcolm's into his own. Even though he was strong, his grasp was incredibly light and gentle. "Mr. Gray, you must not blame yourself," Dylan said in a soothing voice. "You have not done anything wrong. In protection of yourself and your loved ones, you fought back and an accident happened because of their poor choice of actions in order to hurt you. Fiona's death was a result of self-defense." Dylan shook his head slowly. "It was not something you did intentionally, nor meant to happen."

Malcolm looked up at Dylan, tears streaming down his pale cheeks. "I've done everything wrong," Malcolm insisted quietly. "She was my sister. She was my sister and no matter what she did, I loved her. And I killed her."

Malcolm was crying freely. "They killed our father, but he adored them! He was always telling me to be more like Elspeth and Fiona! They thought he favored me, but... I could never measure up to them!"

He bowed his head again. "Ide... Em... I need to tell them what's happened. Ide will be worried, with the house a mess."

Dylan shook his head, pained to see Malcolm like this. "You did nothing wrong. Envy can cloud the heart and the head, as it did with your sisters. It drove them to make wrong decisions, bad decisions, but that is not your fault. You cannot blame yourself for their decisions. I can understand the desire to do so, but you must remember that you loved them and tried to do right by them. You cannot help the scarred hearts of others and incorrect way in which they perceive the world, or you."

The djinni also knew of Malcolm's sisters murder of their father. Elspeth raved about that as well, not thinking clearly in her state of pain. His sisters were in the wrong and tried to hurt others; none of it was Malcolm's fault.

"You must take rest and see to telling Idehr and Emily of what has happened," Dylan said in agreement. "I am sure they are worried ill of you. Go see them after you have rested, and this situation will be sorted out, my friend."

Malcolm raised his head to look to Dylan. The words were not comforting at the moment-- but maybe, with time-- they would be.

He let out a long, deep sigh of relief. All he wanted to go was to leave to explain to his family what had happened. He didn't care if the Council locked him up forever, as long as they let him tell those precious to him what had occurred first.

"Thank you," Malcolm whispered. "May I go then?"

Dylan nodded his head. "Go and see to them," he said. He patted Malcolm's hand, and it was gentle despite his known strength. "We will take care of matters here."