Yasmin Djinnborn
The law is simply expedience. It is just whatever is politic for the moment. ~Yasmin Djinnborn
In the white-marbled chambers of the Xundeva Chen High Court, few names evoke such immediate respect—and unease—as that of Yasmin Djinnborn. The prosecutor moves through the halls of Shal'Azuran justice with the dual inheritance of his bloodline: eyes cold as winter lakes from his ice genasi noble mother, and words precisely arranged like diplomatic treaties from his human father. When he rises to address the court, even veteran judges straighten in their seats.
The courtroom falls silent when Yasmin rises to speak. His words flow like winter water over stone—precise, inevitable, wearing away at defenses. Witnesses who enter his cross-examination confident leave with averted eyes and trembling hands. Each verdict adds another rung to his climb; each legal victory carefully catalogued not for justice rendered but for debts owed, connections made, doors unlocked. Behind his glacial gaze lies a map of Shal'Azura's corridors of influence, with himself at their center.
Yasmin's ascent through Shal'Azura's legal hierarchy leaves frost-etched footprints. In his private chambers, he maintains a journal where each verdict is noted not by the justice served, but by names acquired—debts created. When lesser attorneys speak of precedent, Yasmin thinks of leverage. His gaze sweeps courtrooms not for truth but for weakness, opportunity, connection. The nobles who toast him at evening gatherings grip their glasses tighter when he approaches, their smiles never quite reaching their eyes.
Comments