When Anita had boarded the flight to Ireland she had little idea, little expectation, about what the trip would entail. Siobhan’s invitation was vague but slightly suggestive. Some time away in a foreign country with family, coworkers, and former lovers seemed like it would just be a simple week or so of drinking mixed with exploration of the Irish countryside. Things had gone sideways immediately, not a single plan had come to fruition. Instead, Anita had taken part in a very strange cultural exchange and she was still working to make sense of all that she had observed, all that she had taken part in. 

Given the family she had come from, Anita was never one to judge where others came from or the unique customs of their people. After all, if she invited a group of strangers into a lamia den she could only imagine the impressions they might walk away with. But it wasn’t just strangers that had walked away - Siobhan returned back to Wicked’s Rest, too. She was wrapped up in thought about the trip when she spotted a familiar face out of the corner of her eye. For a second, since the face seemed to be out of place, Anita thought her rumination about the trip was causing her to see things. But after a quick double take, she confirmed that her eyes were not playing tricks on her. 

“You’re that judge,” she said rather bluntly as she turned on her heels, abruptly changing her direction from heading towards the common to heading down the side street where she spotted the familiar face. “What are you doing here?” As Anita approached the other person there was a strange feeling that grabbed hold of her stomach, squeezing it just enough to make her feel discomfort. What was that? Was it concern? And if so, concern for who? 

_ 

When they walked it felt like they floated sometimes. Like their body disconnected from their mind and it was something else making their legs move. Wynne had felt like this before — at the trial, for example, but also back at home. At the barn. When Ariadne had gone missing. There was a common link for this symptom, but there was no part of them that took any action. They just floated. It was nicer, to not feel their feet hitting the pavement as hard. To not feel as much.

They were on their way to campus to see Ariadne. To maybe try and figure something out there, too — to see if there were booklets lying around that they could take home to quietly wonder about their options. Even if they didn’t feel at home in their body at this moment, they wanted to move on. It was supposed to be a day rooted in Wicked’s Rest. The local greenery. Their girlfriend. Their looking ahead to a future they’d made for themself. But in stead there was a voice cutting through their normalcy. A voice they’d heard once before, belonging to a face that they’d seen before.

It was the lawyer. It was Siobhan’s lawyer. It was tibia or fibula, it was Regan’s wings to be removed (and later, truly removed). It was Siobhan acquitted of all charges. They were blinking. They were letting their mouth sink open. “I am —” They gulped for air, forgetting to breathe. “Not a judge. Just … once.” And not because they had wanted to be. Wynne didn’t want to make decisions like that. They didn’t want to be looked at like that. “I live here.” It was as if their legs were made out of something else than bones (among which tibia and fibula) and flesh, rather something more akin to frogspawn. They tried to shift their weight. “I live here. Not in this … just, you know. In this town.” 

_ 

Anita wasn’t quite sure what she expected would happen when she confronted this judge. This was definitely not it, though. They seemed shocked, maybe even scared? Of all the people in this world who may have valid reason to look at Anita and feel scared, this person didn’t seem to obviously fall into that category. As they spoke it was rather obvious that they were not Irish, or at least that they did not speak with an Irish accent. That didn’t make Anita trust them though. That wasn’t something she gave out freely even before all of this banshee bullshit. 

“I live here too.” Anita said with some hesitance, “Obviously also not right here, but, in town.” Had they moved here after the trial? Regan had suggested that people from over there had come to town. Maybe they would be coming again after everything that went down. She felt fairly confident that if this person was going to do her any harm they would have done it immediately, so Anita decided to just try and figure things out before she jumped to conclusions. After all, she listened to facts before issuing judgments. “How long have you lived in town?” 

_ 

They felt very small, even if the other was shorter than them. Wynne just wasn’t sure how to exist and breathe around the fact that someone from Ireland was here. Of course, there were others here too, like Regan, Elias and Nora, but they had made work of getting them home. They were all tied together with red thread and they all existed here now, because this was where they should be. But this was Siobhan’s lawyer, presumably another banshee who bore witness to their judgment. To them saying tibia. 

“Oh. Oh. Okay.” It made little sense. Was she here to come get Regan? Regan had to stay in Saol Eile for a hundred years, after all, and she wasn’t. “Um, for about … more than a year, now! I moved from Worm Row to another neighborhood since, though, because of all the goo, but yes it’s been more than a year.” They nodded. It felt important to note that they had been here for some time, because they were wondering the same about the other. “And you? Just recently or also longer? I – are you –” They shook their head. “Local?” She sure didn’t sound Irish.

_ 

“You aren’t one of them?” The question was, perhaps, more antagonistic than Anita intended it to be. On one hand it might not have been so surprising that someone else, another random outsider, was involved in the trial. But Anita was just a fake lawyer, for a friend, she had not been tasked with issuing judgment. (Not formally, anyway. She always issued some informal judgments). “Yes, the goo was… quite as problem. Still is, I suppose. An ongoing recovery.” 

The next question was rather unexpected. Nobody had ever thought she was a local, to this country let alone to this city. “Longer, but I’m not a local. I’ve lived here for just over four years. I’m out near The Pines.” Anita recalled that Regan mentioned a handful of people who had traveled with her to Ireland, but it seemed antithetical to have a friend of Regan’s to be the judge in that trial. Little else made sense in context, however. Which, also based on her conversation with Regan, it seemed like maybe Anita was searching for logic in a space where logic was not welcome. “Why were you there? Why were you…?” Anita paused herself, took a quick deep breath, trying to recollect her thoughts which felt scrambled. Everything felt disconnected after getting back home. “I’ve just been trying to understand. I’m a bit tired of being told that what happened is beyond understanding.” 

_ 

They shook their head without doubt. “No,” Wynne said, before repeating the word twice more. “No, I’m not, no.” They were human, fully and without an asterisk to make clear that there was something extra about their humanness. Just human, not in the way Van or Emilio or Teddy were — and certainly not appearing as a human. Wynne found that complicated enough. They looked at the woman across from them and wondered what she could be then, if she’d been here for four years. If that was true – and maybe it wasn’t, as people were proven liars – then why had she been in Ireland?

It seemed the other was wondering the same. They breathed in, holding their breath for a moment as they pondered their words, having an internal battle between the truth or an attempt at dishonesty. “I — well, at the — I was a judge because they made me,” they said, which was something they still didn’t understand. “I don’t know why. But — I was in Ireland because of …” Wynne lifted their shoulders. “I went for my friend. Why were you there? Why — do you know Siobhan?” Siobhan, who had separated Regan from her wings. Who was now proven dangerous. Was she back, too? They shifted their weight, feeling something press down on their chest.

_ 

Anita studied the body language of the other person intently, wondering if its movements might provide more answers than their words did. They seemed more uncomfortable than she did with the circumstance, which Anita found to be curious. But without anything to compare their demeanor to, it didn't really give her much more to go on - she had no knowledge as to whether they were a naturally awkward person or if the awkwardness was born out of, or perhaps heightened by,  this particular interaction. 

“They made you,” she repeated, as if saying the words herself would help her understand. Their shoulders raised up, curious. Anita knew that this person was not part of Siobhan’s Ireland crew, and if she had been from here and gone over for a friend, well, that really only left one other option. But she did not say Regan’s name, she only mentioned Siobhan. The shoulder’s were not some newfound confidence but perhaps posturing out of concern. “I do know Siobhan. We both teach at UMWR.” Antia wasn’t actually sure if Siobahn would be back next semester, but that didn’t seem worthy of noting at the moment. “But I also know others who were in Ireland.” 

Maybe it was because Anita and this other person had both played an actual, literal, role in the trial that she felt compelled to say more. “I feel more than a bit foolish to admit it aloud, but I didn’t quite grasp the weight of everything when I agreed to take part in the show. And I certainly did not realize Regan was going to be in Ireland, let alone on trial herself.” 

_ 

They did not want to be reminded of what had happened in Ireland. There was too much there, too many metaphorical sore spots on their body. There was the corpse that had appeared in the clinic, Elias’ pale skin, the ruling that they had somehow had a hand it even if they hadn’t wanted to. Wynne wondered if the other thought them a cruel judge, because in a way they had been — even if they hadn’t meant to be one. There was no logic to tibia.

“I don’t know … why. Maybe because they were mad I was there. And because …” They shrugged. “They’re cruel. But – I am not like them.” They took in the other woman and figured it made sense that she was a professor, as she did seem very professional. Not very wise, right now, but that was okay. Wynne was also confused when it came to all of this. “She removed out her wings,” they stated dumbly. “I mean, I know her from work … from making coffee for her.” 

They were not sure what they were even saying. Wynne wanted to press their face into a pillow and scream. “I went for Regan. And another friend, too. I … never thought — I never expected that they would do that. To their own. I tried to – we should have left earlier!” 

_ 

It was, ultimately, rather disappointing to learn that this other participant knew just as little as Anita did about these banshees, about their customs, about their punishments. It didn’t seem as though there would be much useful information to come from this conversation, so she wondered if it could at least become entertaining. “Mad because you are human?” She had no way of knowing if they were human, but Anita recalled mentions of Regan bringing humans into their community and the other banshees seemed greatly upset by that. 

“I went because I was told it was going to be an Irish vacation. I didn’t learn about trials or leprechauns until I was already there.” Anita hoped the leprechaun comment wasn’t addressed further, as she wasn’t entirely sure why she had mentioned it. They hadn’t been part of the trial, though they were apparently intended to be. “It is interesting, isn’t it? How they claimed themselves to be superior to humans, yet, at the end of the day they did just what the humans do to punish their own. Different physical action but the same intention. I certainly would have thought them to be more civilized.” 

_ 

“I … I guess.” Wynne wasn’t sure if it was because they were human, that the banshees were mad. They were also mad at Nora, and she wasn’t human. “I think they were mad because I’m not a banshee. And because I knew how to get there. I guess they are secretive.” For good reason, it seemed. The things they did at Saol Eile were not acceptable in the world outside of it, just as the things done at the Protherian estate hadn’t been acceptable. “I don’t know. They aren’t rational.” That statement they could make with complete confidence. Using bones to judge someone was irrational.

They frowned a little, not recalling any leprechauns … but that was because Siobhan had failed to bring one. “So she brought you there under false pretenses?” That was really messed up of the banshee. Not as messed up as taking off someone’s wings, though. “Are you a lawyer?” Wynne wasn’t a judge, so who knew? “I don’t think anyone is better than anyone. But they certainly are just cruel and senseless. They just make no sense. They are so into murder and hurting. I don’t think most humans are like that, to be fair. But they have other ways to be cruel. It’s all so stupid. Everyone should just be kinder and start making sense.”

_ 

“No, they are not rational. They isolate themselves from the world, seemingly both because they fear persecution and because they wish to be left to their own devices, unimpeded by having to deal with others.  I did not personally spend much time within their secretive walls. The time I did spend there showed me that they are no better than humans - putting one another on trial, the banishing, the mutilation.” Anita tried not to draw the parallels too closely. She tried not to think about her own effective banishment from her family. She tried to ignore the pieces of information that disproved her hypothesis, shoving them into different boxes even if they didn’t fit quite right. 

“Yes, as a matter of fact she did.” The unfulfilled promise of breasts seemed unnecessary to discuss with Wynne, but that didn’t change how false the pretenses were. “No, I am most certainly not a lawyer. I know I dressed the part and did an exceptional job, but I’m just a scientist. Like I mentioned, I know Siobhan because we both teach at the university here in town. Entomology and ecology. I guess you could say I teach certain laws of the natural world, but not stuffy legal laws.” 

Anita thought that many different people were better than other people. She had heard people make the same statement at Wynne had, numerous times throughout her life, but it always came across as them saying what they felt they should say opposed to what they intended. “There are more humans in this world than banshees. If you put all the humans and all the banshees in one room, regardless of who seems to be more “into” murder and hurting, which species do you think would come out on top?” Surely, for a human, it must be easy to think that banshees or other species are abnormal for their focus on violence and death. It must be easy to think that way when you have strength in numbers. “But I agree with you, everyone should start making more sense. Fae seem to really thrive on things not making much sense. Sometimes I question if, through all the chaos, they even know what’s going on.” 

–

The notion that isolation from the rest of the world was a bad thing was met with an immediate reflex to disagree from Wynne, but they caught themself before verbalizing it. They agreed with the other, after all: such isolation was bad. It was what allowed their former commune to do what they did. The knee jerk reaction was still within them, though, to defend what they had once known. “They might be worse than humans, actually. I’m pretty sure they are.” Even though humans were bad, too, what they had seen at the aos sí was forever instilled in their brain. Not even at home had they been so cruel to rulebreakers. 

Wynne blinked at the woman as she explained that she was a professor, mostly because they had no idea what entomology was. It was something with nature, though, which they liked. “You were a good lawyer, yes,” they said, even if they weren’t sure if she had been — Anita had been the first and only lawyer they had ever met, and she hadn’t even been one as it turned out, “That sounds very nice. Teaching about natural laws. I understand those better than those in the rea— in the world, or in that place. What is entomology?” 

The question Anita posed was sure to give Wynne a headache and so it would, as they would think for it for much longer than this mere conversation. “There would not be a room big enough for that,” they answered after a while, “And I don’t even know how many banshees there are on the planet. But maybe they’d all scream and everyone would be dead. That would not be great. And then they would have no one to sacrifice any more, so that would be bad for them.” They weren’t sure what they were saying. It was a nonsensical hypothetical that they couldn’t solve with a clear answer and yet they wanted to, just as they wanted to know what species the other thought would come out on top. “The ones I’ve met seem confused, sometimes. But the ones in there mostly certain.” They shrugged. “It is … over, at least. For us.”

_ 

Were they worse than humans? Anita wasn’t sure that was something she could agree with - mostly because she wasn’t sure that she and Wynne were using the same definition of worse. But they didn’t need to see eye to eye on that to agree that the fae were bad, that much was apparent. “Entomology is the scientific study of insects.” The seeming slip of the tongue, as if they were about to distinguish the real world from something else entirely, was quite curious. For two people who were talking of banshees and fae with such openness, Anita wondered what would have caused such hesitance. 

There was something almost beautiful about how they tried to rationalize a response to an impossible question. Anita couldn’t help but see a reflection of a past self in how they worked through their answer in real time - evaluating the competing nature of the two species that had been hypothetically pit against one another. Had she become too cynical to see the nuisance anymore? No, no; she shook the thought away. “Those who seem certain are often not asking enough questions. Or aren’t capable of comprehending a reality where what they think might be wrong.”