"The Six of Wands. This is the card of triumph and pride. A card of victory. It is an acknowledgement of accomplishments, a pleasure after conflict. Too, it can preordain the arrival of good news. There is an overall satisfaction within you, for you have surmounted certain obstacles of late. Relationships will also be benefit, so you should take full advantage of it before it decreases, as it will, with time. This is a good card, and one that has already come to pass."
"Not only.. what happened yesterday. Zeb is safe, and that is muchly due to you." More accomplishments that he might have forgotten, or just chose to ignore.
"The Six of Cups." Two six's. "Pleasure renews with reflection. This is the card of good will, innocence.. and." There was a pause, one purposely made, so that when she spoke again, she'd have his full attention. Not that she didn't have it now, but this was important. "The card of childhood. Memories, dreams and visions and dreams will become increasingly significant. There could be a renewal of friendships coming, and new opportunities will soon present themselves. There should be an expectation of happiness, a wish granted, or a renewal of hope. Perhaps an awakened enthusiam for something you thought lost, or unattainable."
"You have drawn two six's. Six represents balance and harmony. A symmetry, loyalty and love. It is also.. associated with companionship and motherhood." Didn't really need to spell that one out for him either. Fate was still on track.
The third card touched, Fate's finger drawing to its edge before, with a gentle twist, it was turned. "The Ten of Wands.The Lord of Oppression." Fate swallowed, a glance upwards, briefly, eyes returning to the card. "Revenge strikes with malice. A card of burdens, overextending, of struggle. Fruitless efforts are to come and you will circle yourself for answers.. There will come a time in your future, when you will reevaluate certain situations and a heavy load will be dropped. Difficult demands will be met and inhibitions will be overcome." Fate paused a moment, closing her eyes, the whispers in her head growing more vague, her own voiced mimicking "Your talents and skills are being used in the wrong way. There will be dangerous intrigues, but you will not know who you can trust. There is injustice and possible failure, as well as cruelty and lies. The cards whisper of treachery within the ranks."
Hand pulled away, as if she didn't want to hear, or see anything further. Eyes opened and staring, before cloak was pulled tighter around her body. The worried look was there, one cast in agonizing fulfillment, but nothing more was said, for she knew all it took was one decision not yet made and the cards would change their mind, as they did often.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Vacation
I received a letter from Sophie after Zeb had been missing a few days, and notified my Circle that their assistance was required. They came from Port Cos, and we cleaned out the area of thieves, save for the woman that Zeb must have been trying to get to that resulted in his being taken. He was bloodied and had beaten several times over, but we took him back to Stylus, and disposed of the rest in our ways.
His women had been divided by myself, so that each of them went to one of us-Abby to Ramza, Mira to Kade, and Portia to myself. It was safer to not have them all in one place, until we were sure Stylus wasn't being watched. Still, I kept up my usual duties at the school and the shop, so that my activities would not be questioned by those that might be curious. I did not know where Ramza and Abby had gone, but let Kade know when he and Mira could come to Stylus without trouble.
Gemma made an appearance, and was as brisk as usual. More like myself in that, than her mother, and I didn't know her father well enough to say if it was his way as well. Fate came downstairs for a short time, and tried to make friends, but the level of tension was high. She'd already been on edge due to a dream days before, so all the noise in the house probably didn't help. During all of this, I endeavored to explain to the slave once known as Mare, what had happened regarding Nash and then myself. I still don't know if what I said made much sense, that for once I actually had good intentions, but the ones from Earth say that their Hell has a road paved with those sorts of intentions. So maybe nothing I do is ever going to make a real difference.
When I needed quiet, and a few pink-lipped smiles, I got near tears and resistence. I don't know if it's because I let the issue of the Devil go as unimportant in the overall scheme of things, and she wished I had been jealous instead or if she was smarting because of comments-true comments-about how she becomes jealous, and wishes she could do everything. She states she is aware that I am a Master, and as such, allowed to have who and what I wanted regardless of her feelings. That doesn't mean she's accepted it, and her unwillingness to perform a simple dance is just more evidence of it. The other night she asked if there was anything she could do, and I stated she had done it. True, some of it, but this is not over.
I like my son because I don't have to babysit him, and still, he's almost the youngest person I know. I like killing people, because I can shut them up when the time comes. Nothing I seem to do ever make anyone else happy, and I am getting to the point where I don't care how any of them feel. I need a vacation.
His women had been divided by myself, so that each of them went to one of us-Abby to Ramza, Mira to Kade, and Portia to myself. It was safer to not have them all in one place, until we were sure Stylus wasn't being watched. Still, I kept up my usual duties at the school and the shop, so that my activities would not be questioned by those that might be curious. I did not know where Ramza and Abby had gone, but let Kade know when he and Mira could come to Stylus without trouble.
Gemma made an appearance, and was as brisk as usual. More like myself in that, than her mother, and I didn't know her father well enough to say if it was his way as well. Fate came downstairs for a short time, and tried to make friends, but the level of tension was high. She'd already been on edge due to a dream days before, so all the noise in the house probably didn't help. During all of this, I endeavored to explain to the slave once known as Mare, what had happened regarding Nash and then myself. I still don't know if what I said made much sense, that for once I actually had good intentions, but the ones from Earth say that their Hell has a road paved with those sorts of intentions. So maybe nothing I do is ever going to make a real difference.
When I needed quiet, and a few pink-lipped smiles, I got near tears and resistence. I don't know if it's because I let the issue of the Devil go as unimportant in the overall scheme of things, and she wished I had been jealous instead or if she was smarting because of comments-true comments-about how she becomes jealous, and wishes she could do everything. She states she is aware that I am a Master, and as such, allowed to have who and what I wanted regardless of her feelings. That doesn't mean she's accepted it, and her unwillingness to perform a simple dance is just more evidence of it. The other night she asked if there was anything she could do, and I stated she had done it. True, some of it, but this is not over.
I like my son because I don't have to babysit him, and still, he's almost the youngest person I know. I like killing people, because I can shut them up when the time comes. Nothing I seem to do ever make anyone else happy, and I am getting to the point where I don't care how any of them feel. I need a vacation.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Arian Guard Found Dismembered
Stock in trade, not keeping to the safe ways, and now that he had all the women from the den hidden away, he had a job to do. Portia was one of them, and he'd placed her in one of the guest rooms, even if she wasn't permitted to sleep on the couch there. It had a fireplace, which he'd lit himself, then directed her to sleep. Madeline, already in his couch, he gave her the same instructions.
When the house was well settled, he made his way back out into the streets, and to the shop. Getting his work cart from the back alley, and slipping into a guise he'd worn when Natali had been poisoned, he and Strophe seeking a cure from the apothecary's own companion. From there, he made a few more stops that had nothing to do with his eventual mission, just stops to throw someone off if they happened to notice a slightly stooped figure in tattered brown dregs of clothing with crooked hands, and a worn out old brown hat.
Then, he was on to the former Boarding House where he had located Portia. The same guard was there, taken down by a dose of capture scent to the face, something the Scribe had learned how to do with stealth back in his Port Kar days. With the fellow out, he was dragged into the cart the Scribe had rolled there from the shop. Collapsing the man's limbs into the cart, and covering him up, he was rolled to one of the various hatches that were a mainstay of Scribe's nocturnal activities. Pulling the other man out of the cart once the hatch was open, the thing closed off in his wake. Getting him down the metal rungs was difficult, but nothing he hadn't ever done before.
Into the nearest chamber he took the guard, who was beginning to stir. With the need for more haste apparent, he strapped the man down on the table in permanent residence in the chamber. By the time he was groggily awakened, the Scribe had already embedded a stave between his teeth, and injected him with enough agent that he could not move a muscle. Feel, yes, but not move even enough to flinch. Time of the essence, the Scribe had to make shorter work of him that he would have liked, because he still had other stops to make before he could return to Stylus.
By the time the night was over, and Scribe had returned to his couch, pieces of the guard had been deliberately distributed to various locations in the city. His head, and heart, to the main city clinic for identification purposes. His arms and legs, outside the garrison, as if to allow his sword arm to continue in service to the city. His torso, to one of the stadiums, muscles taunt from the agent in a way that replicated the man's anatomy in sparring. The remainder of his vital organs, as well as what would prove he had once been a man, attached to the sign that hung over the paga den in a plain rence bag.
Of course, his eyelids were missing from the head.
When the house was well settled, he made his way back out into the streets, and to the shop. Getting his work cart from the back alley, and slipping into a guise he'd worn when Natali had been poisoned, he and Strophe seeking a cure from the apothecary's own companion. From there, he made a few more stops that had nothing to do with his eventual mission, just stops to throw someone off if they happened to notice a slightly stooped figure in tattered brown dregs of clothing with crooked hands, and a worn out old brown hat.
Then, he was on to the former Boarding House where he had located Portia. The same guard was there, taken down by a dose of capture scent to the face, something the Scribe had learned how to do with stealth back in his Port Kar days. With the fellow out, he was dragged into the cart the Scribe had rolled there from the shop. Collapsing the man's limbs into the cart, and covering him up, he was rolled to one of the various hatches that were a mainstay of Scribe's nocturnal activities. Pulling the other man out of the cart once the hatch was open, the thing closed off in his wake. Getting him down the metal rungs was difficult, but nothing he hadn't ever done before.
Into the nearest chamber he took the guard, who was beginning to stir. With the need for more haste apparent, he strapped the man down on the table in permanent residence in the chamber. By the time he was groggily awakened, the Scribe had already embedded a stave between his teeth, and injected him with enough agent that he could not move a muscle. Feel, yes, but not move even enough to flinch. Time of the essence, the Scribe had to make shorter work of him that he would have liked, because he still had other stops to make before he could return to Stylus.
By the time the night was over, and Scribe had returned to his couch, pieces of the guard had been deliberately distributed to various locations in the city. His head, and heart, to the main city clinic for identification purposes. His arms and legs, outside the garrison, as if to allow his sword arm to continue in service to the city. His torso, to one of the stadiums, muscles taunt from the agent in a way that replicated the man's anatomy in sparring. The remainder of his vital organs, as well as what would prove he had once been a man, attached to the sign that hung over the paga den in a plain rence bag.
Of course, his eyelids were missing from the head.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Making it Better
Things have been going smoothly since the resolution over the journal issue, except for a minor incident over dancing, and how a slave might better amuse her Master in a paga den than by telling him fairytales. I gave Madeline a new journal, and we've returned to what we should be. Over the incident surrounding the dance, my finding her speaking to another man and his slave because they saw her crying her eyes out, I at least had an epiphany. I read the small note, very much abused by tears that I had not been there to see shed, so they could not be counted as ones of manipulation. She loves me. I know, she's said it before, but I don't think I actually had it through my head until then.
She doesn't love me just when it's convenient. She doesn't love me only when it means she won't somehow be hurt. It's real, and I don't even know what to make of it.
We'd come to Cos so we could visit our friends, family, and 'panion. I also wanted to visit the villa here in Jad, and work on further research surrounding my father's people. Several hands ago, a woman appeared in Ar, my half sister. Her mother had passed on, and my portion of the family is all she has left. Not that I can tell her much, but I need to know these details for my own peace of mind as well.
Only, not long after I arrived here, a note was delivered. Skirt had been missing for a long period of time, we'd only seen her once in several hands time, and she was working on a secret project. Now, she is free, and has been missing from even Zeb. Just like that, and my Madeline is thrown into hurt and confusion. Was the project related to becoming a free woman, and if so, does that mean Skirt knew all along. But didn't tell Madeline? Can they still be friends or will it cause trouble? No trouble from me, and I told her we would search for Skirt when we got back to Ar, but whether we find her...another story. Does she hurt? Did she have a choice? All questions going through both our minds. Whatever happened, whatever the cause, it has hurt my Madeline. I wish I could make it better for her, even if some would say it's for the slave to work through. Yes, I know in some sense it is, for it's her mind that has to find resolution on this new point. Her heart that has to get through the mess that this brings up. I did offer her one last opportunity to beg her way out, a chance to be with her friend on equal footing. She would not take it, and I won't offer it again.
The implement of choice: hook bracelets. When she advised me of how they could be used, the snaps meant to attach them other things without their being actual locks, I think she expected me to attach her to the couch, the desk, any solid piece in the room. Instead, I wrapped them around the collar, confining Madness to itself. A few days of stinging flesh and careful movements were the follow-up, but in my opinion, it was more than worth it. I believe she might feel the same. More study is in order.
She doesn't love me just when it's convenient. She doesn't love me only when it means she won't somehow be hurt. It's real, and I don't even know what to make of it.
We'd come to Cos so we could visit our friends, family, and 'panion. I also wanted to visit the villa here in Jad, and work on further research surrounding my father's people. Several hands ago, a woman appeared in Ar, my half sister. Her mother had passed on, and my portion of the family is all she has left. Not that I can tell her much, but I need to know these details for my own peace of mind as well.
Only, not long after I arrived here, a note was delivered. Skirt had been missing for a long period of time, we'd only seen her once in several hands time, and she was working on a secret project. Now, she is free, and has been missing from even Zeb. Just like that, and my Madeline is thrown into hurt and confusion. Was the project related to becoming a free woman, and if so, does that mean Skirt knew all along. But didn't tell Madeline? Can they still be friends or will it cause trouble? No trouble from me, and I told her we would search for Skirt when we got back to Ar, but whether we find her...another story. Does she hurt? Did she have a choice? All questions going through both our minds. Whatever happened, whatever the cause, it has hurt my Madeline. I wish I could make it better for her, even if some would say it's for the slave to work through. Yes, I know in some sense it is, for it's her mind that has to find resolution on this new point. Her heart that has to get through the mess that this brings up. I did offer her one last opportunity to beg her way out, a chance to be with her friend on equal footing. She would not take it, and I won't offer it again.
The implement of choice: hook bracelets. When she advised me of how they could be used, the snaps meant to attach them other things without their being actual locks, I think she expected me to attach her to the couch, the desk, any solid piece in the room. Instead, I wrapped them around the collar, confining Madness to itself. A few days of stinging flesh and careful movements were the follow-up, but in my opinion, it was more than worth it. I believe she might feel the same. More study is in order.
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