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Terra was a hot-blooded, wild creature compared to the ice-cold Caspa, and although she had been the one to haul them into the dark fortune teller's tent, she was also the first to tire of his prevarications, storming away before much more could be said. Caspa supposed it was for the best to cut this ridiculous charade short, and also knew that as the obedient side-kick, she should have been turning to follow without a thought. Yet, she hesitated.
Macarius was smiling with patient amusement after the russet woman. Hard, but not impossible. Perhaps what you see lies to -you-... he muttered, so quietly Caspa was not sure her ears weren't fooling her. She could hardly believe what she was doing, but she approached the table again. The dingo-wolf looked up at her with wary, disapproving eyes, and she wondered if she was about to be ejected to follow Terra. Quickly she pushed her teacup at him, and in clipped tones spoke, "I do not believe in the skills you claim, but I can see in your eyes you have studied the stillness like myself." She would never have called it Buddhism, but the trance-work Alae had taught her was leading her down a road which she saw reflected in both his constantly impersonal demeanour and some of the symbolic decor in the tent: a road that it seemed Macarius was further advanced upon than she. "Perhaps I can believe that you have a clearer sight than most. Tell me what you see in my dregs. I will repay you somehow for your time." The old canine looked at her knowingly: it was a look he must have practiced, she thought. He could not know why her opinion had shifted: but perhaps he recognised the incipient stillness in her own eyes. "That will not be necessary now, but I may call on you another time," he said dismissing her offer, and then bent over the teacup. She wanted to shudder, but she also wanted to know what wisdom he could dream up for her. She remained steadfast as the elder frowned over the soggy remains. She doubted their hostile atmosphere was really conducive to his craft, which was of course all about reading the faces and movements of his supplicants.
True enough, his eyes lifted to her and pupil locked tightly to pupil, he spoke. "Old life creates new life. A battle you can't win, but you must lose in order to be free. You are seeking the end of yourself, so there is nothing else to fear." And with that, Macarius's features fell into an expression that clearly said her audience was over. She stared at him and then turned to go. She was disappointed: it was clear his words were nothing but the most vague, easy to apply to a variety of situations, but with a macabre twist probably based upon her grim exterior. As she retraced Terra's steps, the cinnamon-coated male spoke again and she could tell by his words he smiled. "My temple is always open to fellow students." But she did not stay to ask what he meant.
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