Prejudices

A stern-looking judge faced the defendant in a packed courtroom, "You are Vivi Ornieter, eleven years of age?"

A diminutive black mage in the defendant's bench answered nervously, "Yes, Your Honor."

"You have been accused of multiple charges of murder. You allegedly killed thirty eight people in an alley of our Industrial District. Is this the truth?"

"I didn't kill them…"

"That is not for you to decide," said the judge, looking at the defendant's first witness, "Mister Amarant Coral, is the defendant an associate of yours?"

"Yeah. He's never hurt anyone," replied Amarant, rubbing his claw-concealing knuckles, "And I'd think that he'd stay that way."

"We have ten witnesses that say otherwise," retorted the judge, "Mister Fish?"

A fish-man stood up, "I was putting out some beef scraps for the stray cats when I saw this mage cast a flame spell on the deceased. He looked mighty pissed."

"And what did the flame seem to be made of?" asked the judge, staring at the fish-man.

"Bloody fire, I suppose," was the fish-man's flippant reply. Laughter leaked out of several observers in the stands.

"Order!" snapped the judge, pounding his gavel, "Mister Fish, I warn you that you are on the verge of being charged with contempt of court."

"Your Honor, perhaps we should get back on the case?" whispered the Bailiff.

"Right. Right. Very good," said the judge absent-mindedly, "Tell us what happened, Mister Ornieter?"

Vivi's POV

A group of people surrounded me as I walked alone on one of Lindblum's quieter streets. Why did they stare at me like that? Is it because I'm a black mage? Black mages are living beings, too…

Living? You're gonna be non-living black mage if you don't do something soon…

More people are gathering, trailing me. Why do they still hate my fellow black mages and I for the crimes of Queen Brahne? Those mages have been destroyed, but yet these people harbor hatred for us… Why can't they let go???

Feelings can't just die like that, you fool... Some wounds run too deep to heal…

It was only a matter of time, I guess, until they actually started to physically attack me. The first thing that was thrown at me was a wine bottle. Light, but it hit me hard enough to knock me over. That seemed to be the catalyst, and all Hell broke loose.

You're screwed… They're gonna lynch you into the next century…

They dragged me into a deserted alley, all the while mouthing obscenities, brandishing weapons in my face, and clawing at me like some hot item at a bazaar.

Hot item? Hah, more like a piece of particularly succulent meat that is about to be cooked…

My hands were bound, and they started lashing out at me with whatever they had. Sharp objects like knives and shards of glass cut me deep, hard objects like rods, fists and even my own staff were used to pummel me senseless…

Feel the pain? This is the ugly face of prejudice…

Mist flowed out of my many wounds. The sight of Mist made the lynch mob even angrier, apparently. They doused me with a pungent fluid, and threw a lit rag at me. I was set aflame.

Ooh, things are heating up… Why don't you just admit to yourself that these bastards are too prejudiced with hatred? KILL THEM ALL!

No, I was never a killer, and will never intentionally hurt an innocent being. These people have a right to be angry…

And you'll be the one to satisfy their 'rights'? Dream on, you moron! KILL THEM!

They have their… rights…

KILL THEM!

I'll… never… be… a… killer…

KILL THEM!

ARGH! STOP SCREAMING IN MY HEAD! No…

KILL THEM!

END