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One of the cabins in the little 'village' that forms the center of the Freehold's sprawling all-member Hollow has a silvery, shimmering snowflake hanging on the door. This is the Cabin of Winter, bigger on the inside than it appears from the outside; like many things, it is subject to the strange architecture of the Hedge.
Inside that cabin, a tiny figure sits in a comfortable chair to one side of the living room's hearth; shrouded by a heavy dove-grey robe that's unevenly ombre'd at the bottom by dragging in the dirt, only her hands are currently visible, slowly shuffling a tarot deck. Occasionally, she flips a card, makes a non-committal noise, and then continues shuffling. A small table in front of her has a small glass pot of jasmine tea steeping and two miniature matching cups waiting on it. All in all, the aura is one of hygge, the feeling of midwinter coziness and comfort, when all the world outside is silenced by snow and within the home, calm and comfort reigns.
Marjorie waits.
Eventually, the door into the cabin opens and admits one lanky Torrent in a bad mood. Last night was rough enough, but at least it got resolved cleanly. He's still recovering, though, and hearing- or, well, texting- about a mess finds him short on fuel to handle it in good measure. So, he's grumpy when he shows up, his shadows pushing the door closed and fussing over their owner, pulling his trenchcoat off and hanging it up, pulling his hood back, fluffing out his hoodhair. Is it all essentially just him doing it himself? Absolutely. But he feels ever so slightly better to pretend he's pampering himself and he'll be fucked if he's gonna skip it just now.
"Forgive the interruption-" Vorpal said, sweeping himself through a too-smooth bow and rose, speaking only after he'd offered the greeting. "-but I've gotten a faceful of Things Winter Probably Ought To Know About just now, and I'd rather offload it than give it a chance to cause issues for someone who might be less able or inclined to handle it. You have a few minutes to spare?"
The Winter Queen stops shuffling her cards, sets them down face-down on the table, and gestures to the chair across from her. Marjorie picks up the glass teapot in which a blossoming flower of tea leaves bobs slowly; she places one delicate hand on the pot's lid, tips it, and pours two mugs. A small gesture of offering to the Helldiver, and she picks up the second mug poured.
"I'm listening."
Vorpal balked briefly as she picks up her mug, and he gestures towards it. "Could I get that one, actually? Yours? Otherwise, I'll pass, but thanks." He moves to sit across from her, folding into the chair with impossible elegance and shoving his hands through his hair. He's stressed- agitated- and absent his usual easy cool. "So we got someone being a little to free with names and associations in public. Free enough that a human acquaintance of mine knew to contact me and tell me they were worried I was getting outed by someone else."
"As it pleases you," Marjorie answers; her Mantle curls around her, a subtle thing even as powerful as it is, frost sliding across the floor and then melting away in the warmth of the hearth. She hands the mug over, offering it to him instead of the one she originally offered.
"Hmm." And then she picks up the mug she originally offered and sips from it, the cup disappearing entirely within her voluminous hood in the middle of that gesture. "That's rather unfortunate. Do you know who? Have you spoken with whoever is responsible?"
Vorpal scoops up the mug gratefully, but pauses short of drinking from it, ostensibly to answer the questions posed. He's at the very least enjoying the aroma. "I haven't talked to her yet. I tend to come down like a hammer and I figured I'd check with you to see how you wanted it approached. I'm happy to do the talking, if you like." Another slow inhale of the tea's bouquet. "It's Alexa Friday. I ran into someone I think is some sorta psychic- she does body manipulation stuff, her own and others- and we sorta sniffed each other out. She knows I play with shadows, but that's about it and she knows I don't want that in the open any more than she wants her tricks on display. Thing is, Alexa shows up at this kid's workplace, using names for her that she only shared with me, so far as she knows, and when she asked how she got them, she said it was Jack." Another long sniff. "She specifically pointed me out- scars, creepy vibe, shadow tricks. Which, I'm told, she brought up in public. Now- I haven't spoken to her yet, like I said. There's always another story- but ideally, there shouldn't have been enough said out loud in public for someone talking to a stranger to think "ah man this person sure does know too much about Jack, I should warn him.""
A long, slow breath in, and Marjorie sits for a long time with her cup cradled in her small hands, letting the warmth rest against her palms and suffuse her joints. "I see."
Finally, she sets the mug aside and picks up her cards, shuffling for a moment and then turning up one of the cards. The gold print on black cards shows a scarab beetle and ten crossing staves. The X of Wands. Marjorie looks at it for a long moment.
"For now, the matter is between the two of you, and this third party, who is outside my immediate concern. I would prefer for outside parties not to become my concern." When a psychic becomes a concern of Winter's, everyone's gonna have a Bad Time. "Go and speak with Alexa Friday, make your concerns known, and if you invoke my name at all, do so with the understanding that presently, I have spoken that the matter is between the two of you. If, again, she invokes you in this way, such that you are given concern about being exposed to non-Lost, or having your identity used in this way in public spheres... "
The Notary seems to consider for a moment. "... I will be happy to witness an Oath on the matter, such that a third incident will not occur."
Vorpal watched the card turn, eyeing the beetle curiously, and listens as Marjorie lays out her thoughts. "Aye. Works for me, and don't worry, I'm not really big on name dropping. I'm happy to keep it between us, and I don't think it'll be an issue." He lifts the cup again and breathes deep, sighing happily after. "Besides. Silver lining, if one of us is gonna have someone on their tail, I'd really prefer it to be me over anyone else. I'll watch my tail for a while and see if any attention drifts my way- otherwise, once I talk to Alexa, I'll call it settled. Otherwise, you've offered a very effective measure as a safeguard- one I'm hoping we don't need."
Her shrouded head bobs once, and she shuffles the card back into the deck, small hands deftly maneuvering the oversized tarot cards; Marjorie spends a lot of time with cards in her hands, so it's probably not surprising that she's able to easily handle the big cards.
Another card flips up, and Marjorie chuffs softly, a little puff of amused sound, at the Queen of Swords thus revealed. "I believe it should be unnecessary. Or perhaps I merely hope."
"I would not dare rush you away from Winter's hearth, but I consider the matter for now settled."
"Well, good." Vorpal pronounced, pleased to see the Queen of Swords turned up. He sniffs at the tea again, letting it warm his hands. "Oh, it's cool, I know you're just delineating. You doing alright? I had to take off to follow that Devan kid after the scene in the tea shop, so I didn't see how your evening went. Hopefully, more pleasantly than before?"
She flips the card back into the stack, going back to shuffling; the motion seems to be a comfortable one, calming. "Mmhm," Marjorie agrees, lazily shuffling the cards. "I am rarely other than well," she laughs subtly. "I spoke with your Glitch -- or rather, did a reading for him. Did you find what you were looking for when you followed 'that Devan kid'?"
"Well, found where he lives, which is what I was looking for. He was-" Vorpal ponders his words carefully. "-very unguarded about how much he knew about us. I don't think it's the last time his name is gonna pop up. I wanted to be sure we knew how to reach out if it turns out he's saying the Wrong Things around the Wrong People. Maybe get things settled some way besides the more permanent and unsavory ways. That's a lot easier when you can make a house call." His eyes- such as they can be seen- flit to the cards curiously.
"You did a reading? Can I ask about the results? Or do I need to ask for my own?"
Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. "I would appreciate it very much if his name did not pop up in my to-do list," Marjorie answers a little more wryly than she usually speaks. "Mmm," she agrees when he asks about the reading.
"That is for Glitch to choose to share. You may request, if you would like."
"Glitch has good eyes on him. The best, in my particularly biased opinion. But that's fair, I'll ask him if he's up to share." Gleams in the dark rest on the cards, considering, and then he sets the cup down. "I would be obliged if you're in the mood for a reading. Don't feel obligated, though, I'm perfectly happy to sit and talk."
The tiny Winter Queen takes in an audibly deep breath, and then she pushes back the hood on her robe, letting it puddle around her shoulders. Marjorie's made like a porcelain doll; her vaguely luminous skin scattered with what looks like legal text, floating underneath its surface. Wide green eyes blink slowly; this sort of overwhelming blast of presence is the the sort of reveal that normally comes with trumpets and the words FEAR NOT.
She leans forward, stretching out her right hand, and fixes the Elemental Autumn with that piercing gaze as she extends the tarot deck.
"Shuffle."
Vorpal has known individuals more Wyrd than Marjorie- hell, Vorpal has BEEN such an individual. But even so, even with the insulation such experiences have installed, it's a testament to his above average sense of decorum that he restrains the physiological responses his pounding heart and pulsing adrenaline insist he should be displaying. His shadows, too, for the most part, obey his demand for restraint, and remain mostly still against the wall, trying very hard not to look impressed.
One of them wiggles a few fingers in a cheery, bashful greeting at the revealed Queen, though. Give the Torrent a break- he's not entirely inhuman.
He reaches out- with his own hand, not the shadows, with digits that she's never had to fear carving into her flesh- that part of his story ended before he arrived- and takes the cards carefully, with a grateful nod and but brief contact between Elemental fingertips and Marjorie's own hand. And then the gleam of his eyes drops down to the cards, he's given a chance to show off, and he takes it.
Now his shadows move. As he shuffles, impossibly dexterous fingers bridging and meshing the halves of the deck, his more umbral hands add to the recombination, plucking cards free at random and inserting them in a rapid storm of movement. One thing stays the same, though- the face of the cards never, ever, turns towards Vorpal. He's not aiming to cheat. Just shuffling, his way.
In very short order, the deck is reconstituted without his eyes ever gracing a card's face. He offers the deck back, once more in his real hand.
There's the tiniest of smiles from Marjorie; she keeps her expression fixed when Vorpal's shadow waggles its fingers at her. A moment where she glances away, and then looks back, keeping her eyes fixed on him through the shuffling. The Winter Queen nods once, and takes the deck, cuts it, and then takes the top card from the cut.
"The heart of the matter," she begins, "The Queen of Pentacles. Matters domestic, creature comforts, practicality, security. Not the querent but the heart of the matter at hand. Perhaps a woman, perhaps a situation blessed with sensual comforts and domestic talents. Seeking to bring joy to loved ones through all the things which are worldly -- the creation of a wonderful home."
And then she flips the next card, laying it across the heart card. "The cross or challenge. Ace of cups. As with other ace cards, the Ace of Cups represents a new beginning The start of emotional fulfillment, representing the joy of giving and receiving in return. The challenge comes in allowing oneself to receive, while also knowing how to give such support as is needed."
Vorpal listens closely, watching another Queen rise from the deck. He doesnt comment at first, but his expression does so for him. The first card has him looking, in order, faintly surprised, considering, amused- and then a touch dismayed. The last is easy to interpret- that isnt at all something where his talents lie.
But then it's on to this new beginning, and his brows arch over shaded eyes, taken aback a touch to have the burgeoning emotion reflect in the cards. "Challenge, indeed," he murmurs. "I am very good at narrow definitions of support and complete garbage at most others. I begin to wonder if these cards havent been spying on me." Quietly said. Meant to be shared, not to demand to be heard.
She flicks her gaze from the cards up to him, and shrugs her slim shoulders slightly. "If they didn't, what would be the point?" Marjorie raises a hand to hook one sleek black lock of hair behind her ear, then flips the next card, placing it beneath the center card.
"Unconscious, reflecting the querent's true feelings, potentially hidden from the self. Three of Cups, Reversed." Her lips purse, here. "Conflicting feelings, perhaps. Sometimes having too many relationships and acquaintances can be harmful to one's self-development. Is the support network you have holding you back, or have you been isolated without a support group for too long, and is that what is holding you back from the next stage of your development?"
She is undeterred, turning over the next card. "The Past. What attitudes, feelings, and beliefs in past events have shaped your present situation." The black and brass colored card comes to rest on the table. "The Moon." And here the Winter Queen looks amused, and speaks with an 'oh goodness the cards really are calling you out' tone. "Night is when dreams and fantasies rule. The moon also represents instincts which we have buried in our unconscious; they come out to play in the moonlight. But the reflections we see springing forth may also be illusions. It is easy to lose your way in the dark."
It's fine, shadow boy. Who almost became a Gentry before reeling himself back in? Was it you?
"I'm sure I don't know," allows Vorpal in retort to Marjorie's initial question, settling in for that card turn. He openly restrains a chuckle at the first definition- that's not his problem, it's never been his-
And then she continues and he goes still a split second. Skepticism is on hold once more.
Her expression at the Moon has him squinting, suspicious of her amusement until she explains, and he slouches backwards in his chair, head tossed back in perfect GAWD MOM I GET IT ALREADY expression. It's not at all actually impatient though- when he straightens up, he's smiling wryly and leaning down to poke the table beside The Moon. "Tattler."
"If they weren't, what would be the point?" And here Marjorie reiterates her prior question, flipping over the next card, above the center card this time. "Conscious. How do you view the situation? What are some assumptions, convictions or beliefs that you have about your reading?"
"Knight of Pentacles. A man of utmost diligence -- he knows what he wants and is relentless in his pursuit of it. A hard worker, he completes his missions with terrible efficiency. Although his path is long and hard, giving up is not an option."
Then a card to the right of the center card. "Future. What are some influences coming in the future which affect how you perceive this situation?"
"Ten of Swords, Reversed. You bear fresh wounds, perhaps a feeling of betrayal or loss. You have come to an understanding that this loss you suffered needed to happen in order for you to move forward in some way. It was inevitable, and perhaps you have seen it coming for some time now. What is most important, however, is that now you are focused on recovery."
"Yes, but the saying of it is cathartic," murmurs Vorpal, just this side of a whine. He watches with interest as the next card turns.
The Knight of Pentacles. Hard work is about the right word for what he's been subjecting himself to. He doesn't know anyone else who's fought off their own Wyrd the way he has. He nods slowly, and the next card feels like it confirms it. He's been bleeding away his power, and necessary hardly even begins to describe its requirement. Especially in context of creating a home. Perhaps it's even referential of needing his time apart to finally shed the blazon of power hed previously possessed.
He's quiet a long few moments. "... should I thank just you, or the cards as well? The reading was accurate and yes I know." if they weren't... what would be the point? He's grinning.
She just slowly flips another card, keeping eye contact with him. Oh, you thought this was over?
"The Querent. How are you approaching this issue? How are your beliefs, fears, and the perception of yourself affecting how this situation unfolds?"
"The Six of Wands. After a tough battle, the six of wands represents a very public celebration of a victory. It is achievement as well as recognition for one's achievements." And then without pausing, she flips the next card.
"Environment. What is the climate surrounding this situation? This is the playing field from which you must operate. The Five of Cups." She pauses to take a small sip of her jasmine tea.
"This card signifies the despair and sadness associated with loss." Oh, how ironic, the Winter Queen explaining this concept. "Three of the cups are overturned, and much has been lost -- but two of them are still upright, indicating that there is still a chance to salvage what has been lost." Or Lost? Maybe.
Oh. Shit! There's more personally incisive reading?! Vorpal blanches a touch, starting to transparently appear exposed.
He looks a touch vindicated though. Even hopeful. He feels like he's been managing his Wyrdness super well, and the idea of being recognized for it is exciting. And things slide onwards- despair, sadness, and loss. He mulls that over, nodding a touch. He can see parallels there, too, for him and his motley. He knows they adore him, but there's about as much Person left in him as there are cups righted. He draws a slow breath and releases it, nodding as he takes that all in.
"Hopes and fears." Marjorie turns up another card. "What are your expectations of the situation? What do you hope or fear the most regarding this reading?"
And here, when she turns up a card, one of her eyebrows rises. "The Ten of Pentacles. The culmination of life's journeys. There's a sense of fulfillment that usually results from hard work in all of life's facets. This is the end of the path, and it is full of joy. Do you hope for joy, hope for the end of the path, or fear those things?"
Then, she turns one more card. "Outcome. Where is all of this leading? When all factors come into play, what is the likeliest outcome?" Snap. The card slaps down on the table. "Page of Cups." She blinks her green eyes twice, and explains, "The Page of Cups heralds a happy surprise of some kind. The fish that pops out of the cup may also signal one's unconscious attempting to make contact. You know what you want, listen to yourself. Sometimes you cannot understand what is being said. You may find yourself pleasantly surprised if you follow the work you have done."
Leaving the cards on the table both literally and metaphorically, Marjorie reaches both hands to pull up her hood and hide her face; she picks up her cup and sips at it. The message is clear: he can leave quietly with his thoughts and feelings. His audience with Her Majesty is over.
Oof. Vorpal grimaces visibly as his fears are called out. As the archetypical knight errant, the one thing he dreads? Reminders that eventually, the errands end, the knight returns home, and the best he can ultimately hope for is a peaceful end after a well lived life. The end of the path is anything but where he wants to find himself.
A surprise, is it? He hums, pondering that, and all of it together. There's certainly a lot to consider, and he isn't about to presume he understands it all right now. She holds herself again, and his focus stays on the cards while she does.
At last, he speaks. "Thank you. For your time and your insight, Marjorie. It never fails to impress." He muses another moment. "I'd like to thank you properly sometime. I'll have to think on how. For now, though- I think I'll take my leave. You gave me a lot to think about." He rises smoothly, offers another bow. "Until we meet again- do be well. After all- you're rarely not, right?" He flashes a grin as his shadows put his hood up and his trench back on... and then he's away.
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