It was unusual for a Council session to be held without the victim of the trial. It was equally unusual for a Council session to have a neutral observer - another human, especially.
Yarver Bakema was not usually easily summoned by anyone, but he made an exception for Jagdish whenever his schedule permitted, and the Taqnateh gymleader had been lucky in that regard. Tips of white hair coiling on the ground behind him, Yarver sat with the curve of his spine lightly touching one of the Council room pillars, attention cast into the room, legs draped into the casual variant of a lotus, elbows lightly set down on his thighs near his knees, fingertips of his hands rested against each other. The respect he felt for the Sehto legendaries was certainly in part fearful, especially given that the memory of his own trial, however many years ago it might now lie, was simply not fading - but now he had a steady air, attentive, not infected with the nervousness that he had briefly shown a hint of during his arrival in the subtleties of his bow.
Jagdish had asked him to watch over the proceedings and he would stay for as long as it was requested of him. The subject matter was clear to him, and it infected his stare along with a gravity that Jagdish certainly wasn't going to be able to ignore.
Of course, that was the point.
Jagdish Tsukinaka himself was currently half leant, half sat against the edge of the altar, not quite central to it, staring out toward the entrance of the room, gate-like but without a gate as it was, leading into one of the halls that had collapsed years ago, leaving it open to the air and entirely accessible to the legendaries. They were almost complete.
The ruined hall and the landscape beyond is cast in the long shadows of the cathedral's spires, the sky turning to a deep blue as the sun sets somewhere behind them, hidden by the stone walls of the structure. A glow of white light slowly begins to build in the hall - weak ambience at first, building until it's bright enough to cast shadows from the ruined sections of wall. Then the source is visible, at last - a raptorian pokémon, bathing the hall in light shining from his scales. He steps towards the threshold into the Council's chambers proper, before casting a glance over his shoulder. A moment later, a second pokémon, this one with dark crimson scales, steps into view.
Solalon nods once, turning his gaze back into the chamber and stepping forward, towards the other gathered legendaries. ~I apologize for the delay,~ he says. ~Crinyx was… distracted on his way here.~
The Blood-type legendary gives a soft snort at that particular explanation, but does not raise a psychic voice to object. In truth, he disliked Solalon treating him like a petulant child, and this exaggeration was no different, but he'd hardly fix his reputation by going off about it. It was true that he'd much rather have strayed from the path for an evening meal and 'distraction' was probably the least offensive way to put that, but it was precisely that trait that made it so hard to bear. His metallic plume rattles lightly as he jiggles his neck, silently making his way past Solalon into the chamber, letting his gaze travel down to Yarver Bakema.
Another human. How peculiar - and unwelcome. His lips draw back from his teeth, but his expression doesn't quite morph into a full-on snarl as he passes the Vale gymleader, letting his gaze break off him the moment he does, as if he were of no consequence. Then he pauses, before turning to the rest of the Council, posture proud yet respectful to the raptorian participants, announcing: ~It would seem we are now complete. Let us discuss this matter, then… providing any of us feel there is truly something to discuss.~ Despite the obviously venomous reference to obscenity of the case, even if the tone it's presented in is pleasant, the barb is not directed at any of his raptorian companions, and they would know him well enough for that - if one of them truly deemed it worthy of discussion, he would hardly be mistaken as trying to forbid as much, he's simply assuming a consensus obvious.
A mildly irritated expression briefly crosses Solalon's features, but it's quick to dissipate, barely noticeable in its transience. ~Much as I might wish there weren't, there is,~ he replies. He pauses briefly, eyes scanning across the room to ensure he has his fellow legendaries' attention before continuing.
~Here is the situation as I understand it. During his trial, Dakarai N'Sehla… greatly exaggerated his account of what transpired. In particular, his stated motivations and perceptions for his actions were entirely fabricated. Jagdish only discovered this after the trial concluded, and after informing me about it, requested that we reconsider his sentence given that much of what we based our decision on was untrue.~ He pauses, glancing over towards Jagdish, before turning his gaze back to the others and adding, ~Were it anyone else, I might recommend a retrial. However, given the circumstances, that would only succeed at being exceedingly unpleasant for everyone involved. I took the liberty of… interviewing the accused, and any relevant questions I can't answer, Jagdish can.~ His eyes find Jagdish once more, and he asks: ~Is there anything else you'd like to add?~
Half of the statement was known to all participants of the trial already, making for very little commotion, though Stasycl shifts in a nervous motion, thus far the member of the Council most unsettled by the notion of a 'false' verdict.
An awkward silence lingers between the occupants. Crinyx gives a light snort, derision intended against Dakarai rather than the Council members, and a light glare comes to rest on Yarver, the Blood-type legendary wary of the man's motivations. He'd been informed that Solalon had permitted a neutral observer to partake in the Council, but the Light-type legendary had neglected to mention that it was going to be a human watching over them. Crinyx found that wholly unfitting, almost offensive - the notion that a human being could be allowed to judge any of them, however silently, did not sit right with him for a second.
Jagdish, meanwhile, has clasped his left hand against his right arm, casting his gaze down and working his jaw for a pensive moment. The past days have been interesting for him and certainly complicated the matter. Where he'd been viscerally inclined to argue against his own objective request back when he'd summoned Solalon, now he was less certain, but hardly stemming from more reasonable motivations. In a word, Dakarai N'Sehla confused him, and his biggest emotional objection to letting him live was that some grain of him refused to trust his words. It was bizarre, given that it'd been established by now that Dakarai could not be anything other than truthful to him - he wasn't a particularly good liar if he tried to lie to anyone about things they weren't hoping to hear, at least. Nonetheless, he couldn't shake it. The surreality of the whole thing gnawed at his psyche.
“I've had the unfortunate chance to speak with him quite intimately the past days,” Jagdish comments, pressing his lips to a thin line for a moment, then raising his gaze to Solalon, unease subtle in his posture. “For what it's worth, he is still greater at ease with the notion of his punishment continuing as initially assessed than he is with his own survival, which I feel speaks for him. I understand granting him survival is difficult not only from your emotional understanding of justice, but from a logistic point of view as well. For that last aspect, I would like to share one insight: I believe we have his unflinching loyalty if we do choose to let him live.” 'Against better judgement?' the part of him smothered in scepticism hisses at him, but finds nothing to present as evidence.
Yarver's expression darkens subtly and in his bubble of social isolation, he sucks on his teeth quietly, discontent with the palpable tension. This entire Council session felt like it was asking for trouble.
Solalon pauses briefly at that comment, before nodding slowly. ~I see. We'll keep that under consideration.~ His muzzle turns back towards the other legendaries. ~There are at least three independent issues at play here. First, there's the general matter of whether a scenario like this, where potentially exonerating evidence comes to light after the trial, means that we should adjust our sentence accordingly after-the-fact. Second, there's the matter of whether the evidence in Dakarai's case should actually reduce his sentence. And third, there's the logistical question of what exactly his new sentence should be, should we choose to reduce it. Unless there are any objections, I suggest we start with the first and move down the list.~ There's a momentary pause, followed by a simple prompt: ~Thoughts?~
~By all means,~ Psynateh remarks, inclining her head in a single gesture, the subtleties of her tone suggesting her speaking for all pokémon participants in the room. Of course, with her connection to the other legendaries, that's likely to be the case - and in any case, no one is speaking up to correct an onlooker in that impression.
Instead, the first point on the agenda finds itself addressed. ~As I understand the matter,~ Crinyx begins. ~The human in question lied to worsen his own punishment.~ He raises his right forepaw to scratch idly at the side of his sinuous neck, his expression suspended somewhere between a distant, aloof resentment and boredom. ~Would it not stand to reason that we accept such manipulation in light of all participants' clear agreement with the outcome? This is hardly a case of someone getting off too lightly,~ he argues. ~If someone wishes to suffer, who are we to deny them that?~
Of course, anyone who knows Crinyx would recognise his tone of voice, that attempt at sounding indifferent, as something wholly different. He's not interested in doing the human a favour. He's not interested in doing any human a favour, ever, which makes it that much easier to spot, of course. No, instead, he's far more interested in simply knowing someone who's portrayed such psychotic behaviour in as much pain as the Council would possibly allow for. It's no secret he deems most judgements too lenient.
~For the same reason we'd deny them the wish to get off lightly,~ Fyrrcla deadpans, although without much conviction behind those words, simply poking the obvious hole into the narrative because it was there for the poking.
Solalon nods slowly. ~Indeed. On the one hand, had the opposite occurred, and they'd lied to get off light, we'd hardly be having this argument right now. On the other… if the trial is intended to give us enough understanding of a person to decide their fate, and we only later discover we were manipulated into making the wrong decision, what purpose exactly does the trial serve?~
~Exactly,~ Crinyx comments, evidently choosing to ignore Fyrrcla's barb with his practised indifference. ~We can't go around changing our decisions whenever we so please, that makes a mockery of the whole ordeal.~
Stasycl's posture has shrunk a little, caution infecting her, the current spoken train of thought alien to her and mildly intimidating. It takes a moment for her to gather herself enough in light of all of it to speak to her fellow Legendaries: ~Respectfully, I disagree. If the purpose of the trial is to enact justice, which I am sure we all agree it is, then we must pursue that very same justice if circumstances reveal new evidence. I daresay not doing so would undermine our efforts far more than otherwise. Surely we are all aware that the trial cannot be perfect in its assessment every time it is done? Trivial deviations will hardly require additional intervention, but I for one trust the Arbiter enough not to present us with such cases for reassessment in the first place. And this is certainly no trivial deviation.
~It is unfortunate that evidently none of us were lucid enough to catch on to the manipulation, but as much as it enrages, consider that it is our group that decides on the fate of the human so-called 'pokémon trainers', and it is arguably a greater insult to us all to let the manipulation stand. We have always transcended judgement on personalities but in the most basic form of aggression-potential - it is actions that concern us. We may not like Dakarai N'Sehla or others that lie to us, but that should not poison our judgement - it is far too precious to be corrupted so easily.~
There's a brief glare from Solalon at Crinyx's enthused endorsement - he's supporting it only because it means harsher punishment for the accused, or at least that's the impression he gives. After a moment of silence, though, Stasycl thankfully speaks up, and makes a number of good points. One or two of the others are even beginning to nod in agreement. ~Good points, all. Any other thoughts on this matter, or do we have a consensus?~
~I doubt we do,~ Crinyx comments, managing to quash his annoyance at being effectively ignored. ~They may be well-spoken points, but alas, they hinge on one detail - when exactly we consider 'justice' to be attained. By her own reasoning, the answer is 'practically never'. As such, I don't see any particular reason why our best efforts to come to a fair decision should be changed after the fact. I suspect any further attempts at 'correcting' an initial assessment would be so bogged down in some form of prejudice - or rabid overcompensation for it…~ - he lets a glare touch Jagdish for a moment - ~… - that we'd be more likely to undo whatever good we hope to attain.~
Solalon considers this argument for a long moment, then a light grimace distorts his features. ~By that logic, when, in a case like this one, our judgement in the initial assessment is regrettably impaired by prejudice, we're doing much more harm than good by holding the trial in the first place. We are by no means infallible, and no matter how much we might wish it, we never will be, as rare as our errors are given our collective judgement. Is denying ourselves the option to fix the few rare errors that occur really a better alternative than allowing ourselves that chance?~
~I'm not in disfavour of 'allowing ourselves the option',~ Crinyx argues. ~I'm in disfavour of treating it as a moral obligation, which is what Stasycl has presented it as. Meetings such as these are hardly easy on the resources,~ he observes. ~And if there is no net gain by them, we are, to use frank vernacular, wasting our collective time.~
There is a long pause as the radiant legendary considers Crinyx's argument, before he finally nods, though with a bit of reluctance. ~I agree,~ he replies. ~However, I'd also argue that there are cases where meeting to reconsider them is a net gain, and that this in particular is one such case. For one, we have the opportunity to correct an error - and I have sufficient faith in our judgment that we can do so fairly.
~But in case that's insufficient reason for you, Crinyx,~ he continues, his tone still filled with his trademark polite patience. ~Then consider this: Our allies among humanity are few and far between, and regardless of your stance on humanity in general, you agree that having such allies is necessary. We have the opportunity to potentially acquire another at this point, and while we certainly shouldn't let that affect our judgement of his case, I should hope it serves to show that this isn't by necessity a waste of our collective time.~
Though outwardly maintaining his calm, Crinyx find himself almost in incredulous shock at the response. The notion of considering Dakarai N'Sehla as a potential ally twists nausea into his gut and he finds himself uncomfortably aware of the geometries of his own throat, natural moisture lining it adopting an imagined tang of bile. He wasn't altogether willing to consider that Solalon had meant that as anything other than a barb - surely he couldn't be serious?
Whether any other raptorians are similarly affronted by Solalon's insinuation is hard to tell - although it's certainly likely at least Fyrrcla finds it in bad taste - as none of them speak up to challenge the statement. An uncomfortable silence lingers in the room for a moment… but it seems a begrudging consensus about retrials has finally been reached, at least.
As that particular line of discussion settles down, Yarver's tension dissipates fractionally. It feels like a significant hurdle that had been overcome - whatever the reason for Crinyx's silence, it could only be a blessing.
Solalon lets the silence linger for a long moment. It wasn't an option he had real desire to consider, and perhaps the only reason he felt remotely comfortable with bringing the notion up was a healthy layer of abstraction he was mentally applying to the entire situation. There is potential for an alliance, even though he has little desire to pursue it. And in general there could be potential for such in cases like this in the future. What actually happens in the case of Dakarai N'Sehla… remains to be seen.
~Unless there are any objections, I think we should move on to the specifics of this case,~ he finally states, a deep breath punctuating his comment. ~To summarize the issue as I understand it, Dakarai N'Sehla was, to put it bluntly, completely oblivious to the suffering of pokémon - and indeed to the fact they felt pain at all.~ There's a definite hint of venom in that explanation, though he's making a noble effort to conceal it. ~He was apparently singularly dedicated to completing the gym circuit, and never stopped to consider the implications of what he was doing until his trial began.~
Crinyx can't help himself - a desperate chuckle escapes him, very clearly caught up in an attempt to viciously subdue the sound. His left forepaw rises, claws idly scratching at his collarbone, a jittery hesitance to his air - and a moment later, he's shooting a venomous glare in Jagdish's direction. His assessment of the situation hovers between malevolent trick and tasteless prank, although neither are rationally considered, simply emotional reactions to a deeply uncomfortable situation.
~…oblivious? Didn't they scream loud enough?~ Fyrrcla deadpans, bitterly, distaste evident.
~Fyrrcla,~ Psynateh reacts almost in reflex. ~If you cannot present your points in a less tasteless fashion, please do not present them at all. I assure you, we are agitated enough about these circumstances without such imagery.~
The fire legendary dips her muzzle in acknowledgement and apology, though it remains a wordless one, tinged with obvious irritation and tension, but nonetheless sincere. She's displeased about the situation, certainly, but she hardly has to make it worse for her fellow legendaries.
~I suspect what Fyrrcla means to say,~ Icechel offers. ~Is that as much as none of us wish to doubt the assessment of either Solalon or the Arbiter, obliviousness seems… a little difficult to imagine, shall we say. Perhaps not so much singularly, but in light of the weapon of his.~ She pauses, before elaborating: ~Surely you do not craft a weapon unless you aim to harm - and how would you think to harm something with no perception of pain?~
~As I understood his explanation,~ Solalon begins, still not quite able to disperse the growl underlying his tone. ~The weapon was intended solely as… a motivational tool for his training.~ There's a very clear undercurrent of disgust in that remark. ~I certainly find it similarly difficult to conceive of what his thought process was, though.~ His gaze turns to Jagdish, hoping that perhaps, having had more exposure to the accused than he himself did, he could clear up the confusion.
Jagdish is still leant against the altar, now quite happy for his casual posture, given that it easily conceals the additional slouch of discomfort. His lips press to a thin line, and a pensive stare anchors itself to the ground. This would be difficult even if he felt a burning urge to defend Dakarai. He had a better grasp of the circumstances by now that he would like, but it was one thing to imagine them in abstract and quite another to find the words to explain them adequately, especially given the agitated state of the others in the Council.
To put it bluntly, he was a judge and neither a psychologist nor diplomat, and he felt wholly ill equipped to present this case. For a brief moment, he finds himself glancing up at nothing in particular - then his gaze seeks and finds Yarver in his patient observation. And lingers.
An uncomfortable silence later, Yarver raises his left arm akin to a pupil in class requesting a moment's attention, right still suspended as if it had fingertips to rest against. If he's nervous, it's not apparent, expression solemn. “May I?” The minimalist enquiry is almost offendingly casually presented, devoid of the tension that seems to be palpably layered across everyone else.
The legendary's gaze shifts to the human resting by the column. Eyes narrow as he considers the Vale gymleader's request, a tinge of discomfort at the notion. Having a human as an impartial observer in these proceedings is one thing; allowing them to speak and affect them is another entirely. To his benefit, of the humans he knows that are currently alive, Yarver is one of the least objectionable. On the one hand, that means he'd rather avoid him getting eviscerated by Crinyx if at all possible; on the other, he should know to tread carefully when in the presence of the Council.
His gaze shifts briefly to Jagdish, then back. Jagdish seems to think it a good idea, and he trusts Jagdish's judgement on this particular matter. ~If you have information relevant to the matter, human, the Council will hear it.~
“Thank you,” Yarver says, tone soft. The Vale gym leader's left arm drops back into his lap and he lets his gaze sweep the floor for a moment's cautious reflection, then raises an apologetic gaze up to Crinyx in particular. His right hand sets down lightly against his drooping left arm, no longer keeping up the pretense that nothing's changed on its side of Yarver's body.
“The observation may not be much use to you, but given the circumstances, I think it's better to impart it to be on the safe side,” he begins, steadily. “I understand many of you in this room aren't fond of human beings as a rule, and what I have to say is certainly not a flattering footnote that will assuage such notions… but I feel you should know that the human mind is exceptionally good at crafting a coherent whole out of incomplete or even contradictory information.
“If you have any understanding of human religion at all, the concept will not be entirely foreign to you - but it does not only apply to spirituality. As such, it is wholly conceivable that if the circumstances are right, entire phenomena are… misfiled.” The whole thing is dispassionately presented, his attention still rivetted to Crinyx. A pause lingers for a moment, his lower lip caught between his teeth for a moment - then he nods once, to himself, before finally letting his gaze drift to Solalon instead. “Of course, what you make of such intellectual Escher twists is certainly up to the Council to decide and I personally cannot vouch for the veracity of the claims made by the Arbiter, but I do trust he's not fallen prey to some elaborate hoax. What you describe strikes me as wholly plausible, however obscene its implications.”
Throughout Yarver's explanation, Solalon is keeping an eye on Crinyx, just to make sure he doesn't do anything rash. Thankfully, although he certainly looks none-too-pleased about having a human speaking during the proceedings, he also doesn't look like he's about to carve into said human either. ~I see,~ he finally comments with a slow nod, then turns his attention to Jagdish. ~Jagdish, does this strike you as a likely explanation, given what you've observed?~
Jagdish is silent for the duration of a slow and deliberate breath. Then he's glancing up at Solalon and nodding. “Yes,” he comments, simply, sounding a little more collected about it than he feels. He could probably be a little more eloquent about it, but if he's quite honest, 'yes' will do, and serves as a minimal target for the Council to hook more misanthropism to.
A slow, steady exhale, underlined with the faintest rumbling of a growl, spills from Solalon's throat. ~Very well,~ he comments, his attention turning back to his fellow legendaries, landing on Icechel. ~Given that, I'm willing to accept that as a plausible explanation for his state of mind - though it hardly changes his actions.~ There's a brief pause, before he adds, despite mild discomfort: ~That said, he did say during my conversation with him that he understood the weapon should never have been made, and given my understanding he came to this realization either before or during the trial itself.~
“Before,” Jagdish comments, uncomfortably, the comment almost so quiet as to pass as something he'd rather wasn't heard.
Psynateh's muzzle twists to the side and adopts a light grimace. ~So the unpleasant question we must ask ourselves is whether or not we can place his particular grotesque ignorance into the same category as the regrettably more common one about consensuality and the presumption of an affinity for violence in our kind… - or whether the nature of his misconception entitles him to a death regardless.~ A pause. ~That is the point of contention, is it not?~ Judging by her sudden shift of attention, the question is directed at Jagdish.
The Taqnateh gym leader presses his lips to a thin line, then nods.
~They are all misconceptions about our nature,~ Icechel remarks, unbothered by grouping the concepts together - they were all abhorrent to her, the others were simply more common and the Council better emotionally guarded against them. ~As such, in my opinion, the question is simpler still: Do we consider him a potential danger to our kind now that he claims to know better? Is he prone to exhibiting other dangerous misconceptions at a later time? Is whatever psychological acrobatics brought him to his now retired conclusions pathological? We excise humans for the protection of all pokémon, after all. If he is genuinely no threat, I believe we can let him live.~
A low rumble sounds from Solalon, and after a long pause, he replies: ~I can say with certainty that he… quite genuinely regrets his actions leading up to and during the gym circuit, and that all the misconceptions he came into this with are gone. As for future misconceptions… that's harder to say for certain, but I believe he would make an effort in the future to correct his errors in judgement?~ His gaze shifts to Jagdish, seeking either confirmation or rebuttal.
Jagdish resists the urge to look like a deer in headlights or adopt a scowl. If Dakarai was expected to correct his errors in judgement, someone had to watch him and be sure he did - at least given that tone, and given any notion of common sense. By all rights, Dakarai had the social standing of a serial killer amongst the Council and couldn't just be left to his own devices.
Jagdish didn't want to have to be responsible for Dakarai N'Sehla. Or rather… he was wholly happy to be responsible for Dakarai N'Sehla, but solely on his own terms - he'd not be entirely content just sending him off to do his own thing around Sehto, never to be seen again, no, he was firmly acquired property that Jagdish would jealously guard if it came to that.
The notion of formalising that did not sit right with him, even if it was a logical decision. Responsibility was one thing - perceived obligation quite another. Still, nothing about this Council session was really pleasant, so why start now?
“Quite,” he comments. “You have my word - though you won't need it. It's not his freedom we're negotiating, just his life. He'd remain under supervision - unless the Council deems that inacceptable, that is.” As if.
~Very well,~ Solalon replies, turning his attention back to the other gathered legendaries. ~In that case, it seems his death is no longer necessary. Is that the consensus?~ His eyes scan the room, lingering for a moment longer on Crinyx than on the others.
From Crinyx' perspective, those words were magical, siphoning a chunk of his unease off his emotional landscape as they passed by. The whole thing is still obscene, of course, but he can warm himself to the idea of Dakarai N'Sehla's incarceration for the rest of his miserable life. He can even begrudgingly attribute a certain just beauty to it - the longer this particular human being was let to live, the more he could, hypothetically at least, be made to suffer for his crimes.
He could think of setups more ideal than letting the Arbiter take the runt under his wing, but he wasn't about to attribute carelessness to Jagdish - quite the opposite - so he maintains his silence on the matter, bitter expression on his muzzle or not.
Fyrrcla finds herself throwing a reluctant nod into the ring, passing the implicit baton on to Icechel with a directed glance a moment later. A more refined mirror of that acknowledging, approving motion disturbs the otherwise so still exterior of Roaring Hollow's inhabitant - then her gaze in turn comes to rest on Stasycl.
~I don't believe we should be discussing necessity, but justice,~ she comments, hesitantly. ~But… perhaps that is only a semantic squabble - I do agree with the verdict.~
~Noted,~ Psynateh remarks, a minimalist variant of 'that is a fair point that we will consider for future proceedings'. If a consensus had been reached, there was no reason to prolong everyone's agitation by debating what to call its basis - they had plenty of time to do so at other opportunities that were less… emotionally charged.
“In favour,” Jagdish comments, with a weary reluctance. His gaze drifts across to Crinyx, wondering what's struck him so silent, worried out of bitter experience that he might have to guard himself against some venomous footnote that was going to manage to turn this attempt at fixing a mistake into an even worse one. 'Allowed to live' was only going to be a gain if Crinyx didn't argue for and convince the Council that Dakarai was to be set free and simply be dealt with freely by Legendaries he so happened to come across. He could unfortunately see a setup like that appealing to the pokémon Council if it was presented the right way, they were hardly a tight-knit group, and having the freedom to make their own respective decisions on Dakarai if they had the misfortune of stumbling across him would certainly strike a chord. Perhaps even in Solalon. Perhaps.
Abruptly, he stops staring across at the Blood-type Legendary, deciding that while none of the participants in the room were capable of reading his mind, the stare alone might count as some sort of inspiration.
~Then we are agreed - Dakarai N'Sehla will be allowed to live under the Arbiter's supervision once the remainder of his sentence is complete.~ Reducing his sentence further, after all, would be neither just nor feasible - his actions hadn't changed, only his perception of them, and even if he had any desire to, the opposition to such a reduction would be too strong for him to get away with it. ~In which case, I think we've dealt with all the necessary logistical details - and unless anyone else has anything to add, this meeting can be adjourned.~ Gee, wouldn't that be fantastic.
A different flavour of tension found itself washing out the old one keeping Jagdish Tsukinaka still. The ring finger of his right hand defied control and pressed against the altar's stone in sole, unsubstantial representation of a clutch at the edge of the same. Without any haste, but nonetheless devoid of any actual calm, he let his eyes drift closed, trying to sort what he felt into something coherent, the chaotic tangle in his gut serving as a seed for a cautious paralysis. Don't speak.
What did he feel? Surprise was one of the emotions - it seemed like such an unlikely victory despite everything, despite the steady, near-inevitable path the entire Council session had taken. A tinge of fear was another - any of present company could decide they still had something to add. There's a wire of nausea amongst the frey, too, born of the almost crushing sense of responsibility that came with every glance currently rested on him, and agitation at both having set himself up for it and neither deserving nor getting any pity for the ordeal.
Most of all, there was the thrill of victory, admonished by the rest of him, but crowding together and just shy of surging through him as a giddy excitement, restrained until he could be sure that no further objections were forthcoming.
His proposal had made it through Council scrutiny - and translated to the real world, he could do with Dakarai N'Sehla whatever he pleased as long as he neither killed him nor set him free. In that, he was like a not-quite housebroken puppy and there was certainly a part of Jagdish determined to both fix that and make sure he wasn't just a wall ornament. A part of him protested the notion - this wasn't a game, the idea he could turn this situation into some personal challenge was borderline obscene - but whether fueled by Crinyx' condescending air or just his role in the Council in general, he wanted to prove some good could come of this. He wasn't going to let any of them regret the decision - to equal parts too proud and too respectful for that.
Slowly, he opened his eyes, then glanced around the hall in a deliberately slow, steady sweep, taking in the expressions of his fellow Council members, insomuch as they could be read. A light smile presents itself - beneath the surface, an already predominant emotion takes hold - and he addresses Solalon in a tone that betrays none of it whatsoever: “Thank you, Council, for your consideration and decision.”
~Very well,~ he comments as the silence yields no responses from his fellow legendaries. Let us hope this is the last we have to deal with him, he stops himself from adding. ~Thank you all for taking the time to discuss this,~ he adds with an air of finality. Of course, there's still at least one more thing that needs to be done. After waiting for the various legendaries to take their leave, he turns to Jagdish and approaches. ~If it's not too much trouble,~ he says, mental voice restricted so only Jagdish can 'hear' it, ~I should speak with the prisoner and inform him of our decision.~
A stirring travels through the Council, shoulders rolling here, necks rolling lightly there, indicators that the air of formality was slowly dissipating and everyone was about ready to head out and forget today ever happened. Even Crinyx would probably try to maintain his generally feeble grasp of sanity by anchoring his attention onto more important matters.
Not so Jagdish, of course - and not so Yarver. He was simply not someone to drop a matter like a hot potato at first opportunity. There's a stillness to him for a prolonged moment, then he's slowly rising from his sit, walking across to Jagdish in very deliberate caution not to cross a Legendary's path or make himself too visible, though his posture betrays a careful nature at most, hardly fear or subservience.
Jagdish meanwhile has nodded quietly. “Of course. Do you wish to do so in privacy, or may we accompany you?” It wasn't an altogether fair question - while it was born of a genuine desire to be helpful, it was a bit of an affront to Council unity to present a decision in privacy, so it was unlikely Solalon would think it anything but rude to request to be alone even if he for some reason desired to be in the same room with Dakarai by himself.
A low growl spills from Solalon, evidently irked by the question. ~I'd prefer that you come with me.~ As if he would want to ever be alone in a room with Dakarai, ever. It would be far too easy to lose his temper and sink his claws into the human's abdomen, and that would completely undermine all his painstaking effort up to this point. No, better to keep Jagdish present. Having Yarver as well isn't entirely ideal in his mind, but if Jagdish desires his presence he won't raise a fuss.