the trivial sublime

Ezekiel de le Poer · 02-21-2012, 04:42 PM

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(711) To make up for the wait here is a massive post. <3

It seemed he was captured in this scheme, for the doggish hybrid had all but included him by his soothsayer’s tongue. The coyote was glad that the woman seemed aware of such a thing, though he was put off by the idea of such magic. While he did not believe that witches and ghouls were real, he understood there was a spiritual world and he was wary of it. Demons could cross over to this world, so why could men not touch the other side with magic chants or potions or even something as simple as a deck of cards. He felt his jaw tighten and turned his attention to the man.

The hypnotic display was truly interesting. His old fingers worked with the cards as if they were alive, shuffling to and fro and finally placing the pile before the two. “You cut,” he instructed the woman. Once she had done so, he placed the cards into one pile and looked to the Aquila. “Now you.” With a faint frown, the coyote did as he was told. Satisfied, the man piled the two stacks together and began to lay out a pattern.

One car was place before him, then two below it, and three below this. The pattern mirrored itself then, with two cards and then one. “Each card speaks of what is and what will be should your path not change,” he explained. “This side is his,” the dog went on, waving his hands over the half closest to him. “And this is yours. The center card is what unites you,” he added.

Satisfied they understood, the man flipped over the top two cards. One was a drawing of a lion, the other of two horses—one white and one black. “You are Strength,” he explained to Ezekiel. “But strength must come with discipline. You are The Chariot; you will always struggle for balance.” By looking at her, Ezekiel wondered if this was true. Her half-toned fur suggested such a thing. The dingo took a breath and moved onto the other cards, beginning with the woman’s. It was a drawing of ten sticks bound together, but it was reversed. Next to it was a Luperci wearing a crown and holding a cup; this too was upside down.

“Your path leads you to treachery. Jealousy usurps the affairs of others. A man who lacks moralities and lives a dual life may draw you to evil,” he concluded gravely, though there was little emotion beyond this. It was not his place to suggest good or bad.

Ezekiel’s cards were that of eight pentagrams, also upside down, and a Luperci bound by one foot and hanging from a tree. He furrowed his brow at the sight of it. “Your path is one of dishonest dealings; what you gain now will cost you later. However, you will change—and you will learn of sacrifice.”

The two cards surrounding the center were overturned. To the woman, a horse with a cup was shown. To Ezekiel, it was a cloaked figure holding a lantern. “You,” the dingo looked to the woman. “Will find a man who brings forth change; a dreamer. You may find love in him. You,” he went on, looking to the coyote. “Have a need for prudence.”

Finally, he flipped the center card. It was a skull, drawn in sharp white in contrast to the black around it. “Death,” the old man said. “But not for you. Life is a circle, and it does not end. Death is but another change; your lives will move on from what they once were.”

Satisfied, he pulled the cards back into his hand. Ezekiel, watching his face, was less than enthusiastic about the stark acceptance he saw there. If fate was predetermined, he disliked the idea of someone knowing and being able to tell him what lay ahead. The whole system became flawed, allowing for choice; and choice often set one down a path that did not coincide with the intended. Sparing a glance to his companion, he motioned to the entrance of the tent. Perhaps she too would like to leave. The woman was quite pretty despite her odd, blue eyes, and perhaps could make some sense of the odd prophecy better than he.

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