RP:City of Cenril versus Alvina Landon
Part of the Through A Glass, Darkly Arc
Summary: Alvina's bail hearing commences. She is released under house arrest sporting a magic-laden anklet.
Cenrill Courthouse
The modest courtroom is packed for Alvina's bail hearing. The front row is occupied by Alvina's family: Hudson, the children, and his mother. Hudson's men sit behind them and create a buffer between the Landons and agents of the press as well as other nosy third parties, who sit in the back.
The room is noisy, the volume dipping only briefly to acknowledge when the bailiff enters from a side door and begins to escort Alvina, who had been briefed and given a fresh outfit by her lawyer, to the defendant side of the room.
"Mommy!" Bryce, not comprehending at his age that it isn't permissible to go and hug the defendant, wriggles in E.L.'s lap. She has her arm locked around him like a seatbelt and looks put-upon. He strains against it. This is his second outfit of today. Unfortunately, it was bad optically to have Marge attend: it was important to stress that Alvina was the primary caregiver and irreplaceable.
For their part, the girls know not to move. "Hi mom!" they whisper in a chorus as Alvina approaches. Luna, in a Sunday best style dress, waves very animatedly at her mother. Harper tentatively brandishes a small sign she's made that reads, "We love you Mom" in her handwriting. The sign had charmed the reporters and will be in the papers. Hudson won't mind. What he will mind is the subtext of judgment in the description that will accompany Harper: she's wearing pants and a button-down shirt, her hair short, pageboy style.
For his part, Hudson, in a suit and tie, grins at Alvina. Hi baby, he mouths, as she and her attorney stand behind their table.
Alvina is led into the court room with a stiff mask of indifference. She’d been warned against being overly emotional. It was a bad look, her lawyer said, and could give the impression that she was unstable and thus more likely to be suspicious (as a werewolf). Racism is real. That mask breaks immediately upon seeing her children and becomes the bright, pained expression of a mother partitioned. The buzz of chatter continues around them while Alvina whispers rushed greetings to her (mostly) well behaved babies. It’s for the best she hadn’t seen Harper’s sign or she’d have burst into tears on the spot.
Alvina and her lawyer take their place behind the table while the muted chatter bolsters her heart rate. Anxiously, she smooths away a faux wrinkle in her navy suit skirt and fiddles with the button on her open jacket. Because her lawyer is a sane person, Alvina does not have a crazy colored shirt underneath her suit jacket. They both took the court proceedings very seriously. While fusing over her outfit, Alvina catches Hudson’s eye. She offers a thin lipped smile, the angle showing the more visible slope of her stomach under her shirt. She looks softer. Her eyes read a tense; ‘What if the bail plea is quashed? What will we do?’. It wasn’t a real fear because her husband had his ways but she still forced herself to swallow the possibility.
Not long after her entrance, the bailiff moves away to announce the judge selected to preside over Alvina’s case. She replayed her lawyer’s reassurances. No past criminal history. No reputation for violence or aggression. Employed by Frostmaw. Mother of three. Alvina hoped that, in and of itself, would be enough to let her leave with her family today.
Everyone rises for the judge, though the children are slightly delayed as they require the translation from Hudson that "all rise" means "stand up." They are seated a moment later, while the case is called: City of Cenril versus Alvina Landon.
The prosecutor is asked to asked to speak first. It's a middle aged woman. It would be a bad look for a man to prosecute a pregnant woman who also happens to be a beloved socialite. The prosecutor is nervous and her voice shakes slightly as she addresses the judge and the room. "May it please the court," she begins. She commences by strategically explaining that the city of Cenril is appreciative of Alvina's past service and the Landons' generosity, but that this case is a simple application of the principle that laws apply the same to the rich and poor.
"Are we rich?" asks Bryce, in his halting toddler voice, a little too loudly. Luna shushes him, with spittle.
The prosecutor doesn't show if she found it humorous. She continues, growing more confident. Alvina is alleged to have maliciously attacked an innocent woman and turned her into a werewolf against her will. This is a very serious charge. Any other defendant there would be no question that bail would be inappropriate, as there would be a fear of the crime happening again.
Harper and Luna, having been advised by their father that all of this was basically Racism Against Werewolves, begin mean mugging at this, until E.L. taps them on the shoulder and shakes her head.
The prosecutor is still speaking: in this particular case, there is even more of an argument for no bail, as the Landons unquestionably have the means to secrete Alvina away if they wanted to protect her. She is a flight risk who could leave Cenril.
"That's bull," whispers Harper, before she's admonished by a look from her father and grandmother.
Indeed, continues the prosecutor, the Landons have the means to ensure childcare in her absence. However, she pauses, given the foregoing .. Cenril understands that Alvina is pregnant and that werewolf pregnancies might be difficult.
(Not altogether true. Sometimes, however, anti-wolf racism could be twisted to work in one's favor.)
Therefore, concludes the prosecutor, the City would accept a two million gold bail and tracking ankle bracelet arrangement.
Hudson's face registers surprise. They'd prepared for a fight, but perhaps they hadn't wanted one after all. Perhaps Mayor Uma had applied a little pressure. Either way, he'd take it.
"Thank you," says the judge, in a smooth motion gesturing at Alvina's attorney, who had taken a step back to confer with Hudson. It had been a quick conference; she'd barely whispered the words 'Is that' before he'd responded, 'Fine.' The judge waits for her to retake her place before asking her, "Do you accept these terms?"
"Yes we do, your honor," she states, putting a hand on the small of Alvina's back to guide her toward the bailiff.
"Mr. Landon may post bail and collect his wife outside the courtroom after she is fitted for the ankle bracelet," announces the judge, who then bangs his gavel. "Can the clerk please call my next case?"
Amid the sound of the clerk reading out the names of the parties and their attorneys stepping forward to take their places before the judge, the Landon family and their entourage rises, filing out.
Alvina acknowledges the prosecutors words with a fraught blankness. A list of good things and what Cenril are thankful for, like a bad breakup, proceeds the accusations. A cushion of compliments before the blow.
Any time her children speak, her head swivels in their direction. Hudson and E.L. are managing them but she feels both buoyed and suffocated by their opinions. They are so strong and mostly well behaved!!
When the verdict passes, faster than she can process, she is fitted for her ‘jewelry’ and escorted out by her attorney. The two have a rushed conversation while Alvina greets her children with frantac maternal concern. She’s able to praise them all, in their own way, before the attorney reappears. A slim woman with an easy smile and cool demeanor, she stops and pats Alvina’s arm in a silent ‘congratulations’ before guiding the Landons to their carriage through sea of bystanders. Alvina, now holding Bryce, searches for Meri and Khitti among the strange faces. The scribble of ink to parchment is drowned out by reports shouting questions at them. One asks to see the anklet. Alvina frowns but doesn’t stop until they’re all piled in. “Here, girls, come on.” E.L. sits next to Hudson while Harper and Luna squish in beside Alvina. “Such a great sign, what a beautiful dress.” They chirp individual opinions about werewolf fairness and Alvina nods her support with a small smile. Good lessons, less than ideal situation. Their driver wastes no time departing.
The Landon Estate
They arrive home, after dropping E.L. off at home, with the children talking over one another to tell her what she’d missed. Harper rats Hudson out (as she wont to do) about how many times they ordered out for pizza while she was gone. Luna reports, matter-of-factly, that Bryce’s bad biting habits have escalated. He’s deflating kick balls and daddy had to pick him up from school once; ejected from the game for bad sportsmanship. Bryce rotates between asking for pancakes and asking if they are rich. He didn’t understand the term (or why he can’t have pancakes at 2 in the afternoon).
They order the hollow equivalent of take out for dinner, huddled together in the living room (it’s an EVENT to eat away from the table). The kids cling to Alvina, bickering between them for space and attention, until Marge (who is a saint and agreed to stay the night) rounds them up for bed.
The cost of Alvina's bail is only a mild annoyance to Hudson. None of the children seem phased by the amount, or care to inquire in a substantive manner whether it's normal to calmly hand over that much. They've forgotten the somewhat traumatic arrest that had occurred and are focused instead on telling Alvina about what she missed. The evening slips into normalcy, everyone talking over everyone else, without anyone making much effort.
Hudson lets Marge deal with bedtime and joins Alvina in the bedroom after taking out the garbage, since he can't abide the smell of stale takeout in the house. Proof that he's evolved with a little help from her: he wasn't always this way.
"I was taking out the trash. Marge is doing bedtime," he greets her, crossing the room. "Dude, Harper is such a snitch." He's gone to the bathroom to wash his hands. He speaks over the dull roar of running water. "How cute were they in court? I thought like, eight out of ten score well behaved." He wipes his hands and joins her in the bedroom, standing near where she's reading and gazing down at her while climbing out of his trousers and undoing the buttons of his collared shirt. "It feels like you never left," he remarks, as he peels the latter off his person, giving it a sniff before discarding it in the nearby hamper. In his undershirt and boxers, he sits on the bed by her and reaches to touch the ankle bracelet with his hand. "My wife, the hardened criminal," he remarks.
Alvina slips into the bedroom while everyone else is otherwise occupied and flops face down on the bed. It smells like their house; their laundry powder, their soaps, their skin. She’s changed into her sleeping gown by the time Hudson reappears, now lying horizontally across the bed on her back, holding a book overhead. She’s grateful their lawyer brought her a skirt to wear in court, so she didn’t have to struggle in and out of pants with her law abiding shackle. It’s heavy and uncomfortable. They told her it would need to be charged with magic daily and a curfew applied. She had limited access to shifting. Annoying, so far, but not unbearable. Only time would tell if it’d remain that agreeable. She worried about what people might think if they see it. It looked like a leash or muzzle. She’d have to wear longer dresses this summer.
Hudson’s talking about Harper, so she tunes back in. “She gets that from me,” she chuckles, tilting her head backwards to see her upside husband drying his hands. “They were really cute, I was on the very of tears the entire time. That little sign!” She rests the book on her chest to consider his routine actions with new appreciation. She’d taken it for granted before. “Hardly,” she smirks at his remark on her dastardly status. “Funny how I’m the good one but I’m the one wearing the anklet and the bad news.” She thought about all the people she knew who might see that paper and imagined their faces scrunched up in disbelief. This is what she got for marrying a wolf. “Do you think this thing is wired?” She lifts her leg, feeling it’s weight anew before it falls back into his lap. “Is it like I never left?” What a strange remark. Is their routine so unremarkable that it only took her being in the room to repair the damages. Their kids felt that way. Alvina felt differently. Sure, her prison time was as luxurious as prison time gets but it didn’t replace being home. “So proud of you, putting things in the hamper.” She quips, waiting for him to finish rubbing her soft legs. It’s a reflex now, whenever presented, even though she had the hair magically removed. The old days of razors and LIMITED SOFTNESS never really go away. “Meri came by the same day I saw you. I didn’t get a chance to say so earlier but she was very sweet in saying she’d help. I don’t love her being put in this position.”
With a frown, Alvina shifts the book to the duvet and sits up beside him. “Any word on how this happened…? Who we should be staring down?”
Hudson emits a thoughtful grunt at the question of whether Alvina's anklet doubles as a listening device. "I dunno," he muses, amusement touching his tone, "What are you worried they'll overhear? Us talking about how I need to buy milk at the store tomorrow? Oh, I'm going to buy you that milk, baby. I know you're a thirsty girl for it." He grins to a certain effect and strokes her leg out of old habit. Women were always soft and his wife is no exception. He's not surprised Meri had come to see Alvina, but it was good to have that confirmed. Everyone is on the same page. "She's good people, we owe her," he agrees, pulling Alvina's foot into his lap and kneading his fingers into it out of automatic habit. Her question is an unpleasant pivot. "Not really," he says. "Meri had a few ideas when we spoke. Sterling Townsend, that guy we had to beat for Fitz to get elected. I mean... going to look into it, but it's like ..." The sentence trails off, and he heaves a sigh. "It all still feels pretty amateur," he admits, catching her gaze. "Did you get a lot of detail out of Meri when you guys spoke?" He won't elaborate out of an abundance of caution. Instead, he nods at her ankle bracelet.
Alvina flushes and looks away. “Look, it’s just, I wouldn’t…” Her chokes on Hudson’s innuendo. “Hudson! Please!” She hisses.Thankfully, he moves on to Meri, resetting the color of her cheeks. “She is good people.” She agrees with quiet conviction. Her body slacks with a hum as he rubs her foot, promoting blood flow to the put upon limb. He talks about Sterling and her face crinkles. “Yeah I don’t know much about that guy but it seems like old news that he lost? Would he really go underground just to publish slanderous remarks? I guess one of those stories was about Uma but…” It hadn’t painted her in the best light. Hudson’s serious demeanour followed by the nod to the device suggests caution. “Just that she’d planned to write a letter saying the paper was wrong. That it was a decision she made, not some random attack.” She frowns into the lie. “She also said no one’s been saying anything to her. The media or anyone else. It’s suspicious that no one wanted her opinion on this ‘supposed’ attack. They took whoever’s word for it, which is concerning. They must have some weight.”
Hudson has hardly thought about Sterling Townsend himself. Only lately has the guy been front and center in his mind. It just feels far too messy for someone who'd been a professional politician, but maybe that's the wrong way of thinking about it. Maybe this was a desperate man's last hurrah. Alvina's talking about Meri now, though, and Hudson nods. "Yep," he agrees, grunting thoughtfully as she opines on the strangeness of nobody having fact checked the claim in the first place. "I agree with her. Especially considering it's a claim about someone who could fight back. Not saying that it's alright to publish nasty stuff about people who can't, but you can see how it might seem less dangerous." He switches the current foot he's holding for the other. He kneads into the ball of it, looking at her in an increasingly apologetic manner. A silence stretches out between them. Maybe she knows what he's going to say before he says it. "I'm sorry this weird stuff is happening because of me, babe. I appreciate your patience."
Alvina, propped up on her palms, studies him fondly. His hair is getting long again but he'd styled it (in the lazy way men do) and he shaved for the hearing. He’s objectively handsome and so unlike any other man she’d ever known. Maybe because she’d watched him evolve from a lazy, party going excuse for bad decisions to a father, a husband who took care of things. He had a better job than she did now. He had momentum and purpose, a drive he didn’t have before. She likes to think she helped nurture him into this man. Her internal ballad is cut short by his apology. “This is the life I wished for.” She tells him, trying not to sully their reunion with past mistakes. “I love you. You are my husband,” She sits up straight and fiddles with the neckline of his undershirt. “ - and my mate. Wherever you are is where I want to be. No matter what that means.” It took her a lot of heartache, abandonment, and just plain stupidity to say it with such certainty. After a beat, she looks up at him. Eyes large, she parts her lips to speak but thinks better of it. Instead she smirks. “Are you going to spend all night being so apologetic? Or are you going to welcome your wife home?”