cards cards cards
May. 5th, 2010 08:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yukieTITLE: Der ErhÃĪngte
CHARACTERS: Jer and Lian
SUMMARY: It's hard to find someone who's gone out of his way to make himself hard to find! Least he could have done is left a note...
RATING: PG because Jer is occasionally prone to colourful phraseology.
NOTES: Learning the Tarot by Joan Bunning is my reference book for this. ^^
***
"Jer?"
Lian stood in the doorway and dripped hopefully.
"Can I bug you for a reading?"
Jeremiah looked up, did a double take, and asked, "Did every single puddle en route to here insist on making sweet sweet love to your clothing and leap at you amorously or something? Because WOW."
Lian chortled. "Nah, just...nobody can drive. I must've gotten hit by five separate gutter tsunamis..."
Jer grabbed a towel and a cup of tea. "Ugh. Failure. ...Theirs, not yours. Did you want to borrow something not sodden to wear, and I can toss your things in the dryer? It's no trouble," he added, seeing Lian start to fret a little.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. My sweatpants my flood a little on you, but I promise you they are both dry and toasty."
"...I'd like that, yeah."
Once Lian's drenched garments were spinning merrily in the dryer along with a load of soggy towels that Jer and Vicky hadn't got off the line before the deluge, Jer beckoned him to sit down on the sofa. "Standard three cards?"
"I think so. This isn't the kind of thing that lends itself really well to the Fair Cross spread." Lian lifted his left arm so that Bogart, the Greenes' enormous tuxedo cat, could settle in his lap. "Hi Bogart. Um. I - yeah, the Fair Cross is more for relationship stuff, right, or when you have a more concrete situation?"
"I could do it," said Jer, "but if this is about what I suspect its about, three would be better. Less mystic clutter, less for you to worry about."
Lian looked into his tea. "I'm sorry to pester you about this..."
"It's not pestering." Jer purred at Lian reassuringly, and Bogey joined in shortly. "I'm not busy, and I know what he means to you. Frankly I'm a bit flaily as well - in a situation like this, MIA is much much worse than a straight up known casualty or something."
He didn't need to elaborate on the reason. Lian knew - everyone knew why a missing soldier was a focus of far greater duress than a fallen one. A fallen soldier was a horrible loss, but it was a definite loss. There was closure. There could be grief, and mourning, and recovery. A casualty was something certain.
MIAs, though, were another matter. When people vanished in battle against enemies like this one really did NOT know if one would be dealing with them in some way, shape or form later. Everyone knew the horror stories of the necromantically-resurrected platoons, the seduced-and-converted leaders...on and on. Someone missing in action only promised MUCH further suffering - for themselves and for those who once called them comrades.
Very few prisoners taken by that side ever, ever came back with their hearts intact.
Ugh. Jer shook himself and handed the cards to Lian.
"You know the drill. Seven times, think about your question, and pass 'em back over."
Lian set his tea aside, took the cards, and did as requested.
"Oho, swank!" Jer smiled, noting that Lian was able to riffle shuffle now.
"I finally learned how to shuffle like that without shooting cards all over the room and into my face." Lian grinned back. "Or into your tea."
Jer took the cards and snerked. "Well, this deck's cheeky, it tends to fling cards AT me no matter how dexterous and epic I might be..."
He drew the first card.
"Hello, Hermit - wow, if there was ever a card that encapsulates how he got before he left."
"That's like. Pilgrimage almost? Looking for something?" Lian tried to remember.
"It can be. Looking for deeper understanding, looking for the truth and damning the magic missiles, searching for someone or something - this guy's the Seeker in the old Kildean decks and there's a good reason for that. It can also be needing solitude so one can go about doing all that business I just said." Jer mrred thoughtfully. "Apt card though. Huh. Next one'll probably either explain this more, or drop in another concept that's important."
He drew the next card.
"Eight Cups - the pilgrimage analogy? You nailed it." He smiled at Lian. "You're a lot more perceptive than you think."
"That looks sort of depressing though," Lian said, indicating the abandoned goblets. "Like he's leaving something behind - "
He broke off and bit his lip.
Jer hugged him. "Hey. He didn't up and leave because you bothered him, all right I can see what you're thinking, dammit, I know what that face means, it means 'I suck' and you do NOT suck, Lian. You didn't make him go, he chose to."
"I really - I mean - he seriously just left because of that search thing. I'm not like...what he needs to leave behind?"
"No," said Jer. "The Hermit proves that. This is about a state of mind he's leaving. Not a relationship."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure." Jer tapped both cards. "The Hermit means we're zooming in on the spiritual and mindscapey aspects of the Cups' area of definition. He might've felt himself losing hope or being burned out, and realized how much his presence affects people here...and then felt compelled to go and look for something that could get that hope back."
"That sounds Gabe-ish." Lian smiled a little.
"He didn't go because of you," Jer said again. "He went because of something inside himself telling him to go. But anyhow..."
He drew the last card and turned it face-up.
"Ten of wands. He's going to have a tough go at it for a bit."
Lian was getting that little wrinkle between his eyebrows. "He'll be okay, right? I mean. That - reminds me of him a lot. He takes on so much because he's a leader, because everyone looks up to him, and I worry that he's going to just some day take on one thing too many and faceplant. And then start forearm-crawling because Gabriel Crescent does not give up to the whims of a stupid stick."
Jer snerked. "It really is a Gabe card. It'll be an uphill road for him for a while, but...it's him. He laughs in the face of hills."
"You really think it'll be all right?" Lian said.
Oh the big blue eyes! "I honestly do. He'll come through. That guy on the card, he's still walkin'."
Lian smiled again and leaned to hug Jer. "Thanks. I mean it. I really needed that."
The rain was letting up now; Phoebus was meeee-ing at the door to be let out, and as Jer stood to allow this, the dryer dinged. "You can hang out longer if you want, Lian. I won't turf you on account of because you now have dry pants."
"I'd like to stay," said Lian, "But I've gotta get home. Work and - the altar and things - "
Jer nodded, and gave Lian a slow comforting blink. "I am not offended at your needing to go. Obligations are obligations. And I'll light a candle for him too."
Once he had his own pants back on and a refilled thermos-teacup for the road, Lian got another hug from Jer and then headed out into the late evening drizzle. Jer watched him until he rounded the corner and was out of sight, then went to stack the teacups in the living room before Bogart drank the dregs and then spat tea leaves all over the house.
He was on the coffee table when Jer got there.
"HEY YOU DAMMIT," Jer exclaimed, flailing at Bogart, who leapt gracefully off the table and sprinted up the stairs, sending the tarot cards plopping onto the floor. "...Little round wanker."
He crouched to pick up the scattered cards. Once they were all gathered he started to shuffle them to 'reset' the energy before he put them away.
A card literally SPAT out of the deck at him, bipping him on the nose and then landing in his lap.
Jer stared at it.
Eight of Swords.
"Oh what the shit is this," he muttered.
Pilgrimage, searching fr the truth, burdens, and - restriction. Confusion. Powerlessness...
There was always a way out of situations this card indicated. There were always choices, always some power to be found, always some option not yet contemplated.
Gabe was liable to be having a shitty time right now, and feeling like he'd reached the queen mother of bastardly roadbloacks. Very fucking discouraging. He might feel he had no place to go from here. That this was the end of the line. A true dead end.
"Only way to get out of a dead end is to turn around," Jer mumbled, replacing the card in the deck and shuffling again. "Turn around, Gabriel."
Bogart returned from parts unknown to weave around Jer's ankles and wash his thumb. Jer patted the enormous socked feline and mumbled, "Think he can work it out?"
"Puinyuu." Bogart nuzzled his knee.
"Yeah, me too." Jer stood, cards in hand. "C'mon you. I'll feed you and then let's go light up that candle at the Lady's altar for him."
"Nyuu."
***
WHEEEEEEE yes I am a tarot dork. XD
CHARACTERS: Jer and Lian
SUMMARY: It's hard to find someone who's gone out of his way to make himself hard to find! Least he could have done is left a note...
RATING: PG because Jer is occasionally prone to colourful phraseology.
NOTES: Learning the Tarot by Joan Bunning is my reference book for this. ^^
***
"Jer?"
Lian stood in the doorway and dripped hopefully.
"Can I bug you for a reading?"
Jeremiah looked up, did a double take, and asked, "Did every single puddle en route to here insist on making sweet sweet love to your clothing and leap at you amorously or something? Because WOW."
Lian chortled. "Nah, just...nobody can drive. I must've gotten hit by five separate gutter tsunamis..."
Jer grabbed a towel and a cup of tea. "Ugh. Failure. ...Theirs, not yours. Did you want to borrow something not sodden to wear, and I can toss your things in the dryer? It's no trouble," he added, seeing Lian start to fret a little.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. My sweatpants my flood a little on you, but I promise you they are both dry and toasty."
"...I'd like that, yeah."
Once Lian's drenched garments were spinning merrily in the dryer along with a load of soggy towels that Jer and Vicky hadn't got off the line before the deluge, Jer beckoned him to sit down on the sofa. "Standard three cards?"
"I think so. This isn't the kind of thing that lends itself really well to the Fair Cross spread." Lian lifted his left arm so that Bogart, the Greenes' enormous tuxedo cat, could settle in his lap. "Hi Bogart. Um. I - yeah, the Fair Cross is more for relationship stuff, right, or when you have a more concrete situation?"
"I could do it," said Jer, "but if this is about what I suspect its about, three would be better. Less mystic clutter, less for you to worry about."
Lian looked into his tea. "I'm sorry to pester you about this..."
"It's not pestering." Jer purred at Lian reassuringly, and Bogey joined in shortly. "I'm not busy, and I know what he means to you. Frankly I'm a bit flaily as well - in a situation like this, MIA is much much worse than a straight up known casualty or something."
He didn't need to elaborate on the reason. Lian knew - everyone knew why a missing soldier was a focus of far greater duress than a fallen one. A fallen soldier was a horrible loss, but it was a definite loss. There was closure. There could be grief, and mourning, and recovery. A casualty was something certain.
MIAs, though, were another matter. When people vanished in battle against enemies like this one really did NOT know if one would be dealing with them in some way, shape or form later. Everyone knew the horror stories of the necromantically-resurrected platoons, the seduced-and-converted leaders...on and on. Someone missing in action only promised MUCH further suffering - for themselves and for those who once called them comrades.
Very few prisoners taken by that side ever, ever came back with their hearts intact.
Ugh. Jer shook himself and handed the cards to Lian.
"You know the drill. Seven times, think about your question, and pass 'em back over."
Lian set his tea aside, took the cards, and did as requested.
"Oho, swank!" Jer smiled, noting that Lian was able to riffle shuffle now.
"I finally learned how to shuffle like that without shooting cards all over the room and into my face." Lian grinned back. "Or into your tea."
Jer took the cards and snerked. "Well, this deck's cheeky, it tends to fling cards AT me no matter how dexterous and epic I might be..."
He drew the first card.
"Hello, Hermit - wow, if there was ever a card that encapsulates how he got before he left."
"That's like. Pilgrimage almost? Looking for something?" Lian tried to remember.
"It can be. Looking for deeper understanding, looking for the truth and damning the magic missiles, searching for someone or something - this guy's the Seeker in the old Kildean decks and there's a good reason for that. It can also be needing solitude so one can go about doing all that business I just said." Jer mrred thoughtfully. "Apt card though. Huh. Next one'll probably either explain this more, or drop in another concept that's important."
He drew the next card.
"Eight Cups - the pilgrimage analogy? You nailed it." He smiled at Lian. "You're a lot more perceptive than you think."
"That looks sort of depressing though," Lian said, indicating the abandoned goblets. "Like he's leaving something behind - "
He broke off and bit his lip.
Jer hugged him. "Hey. He didn't up and leave because you bothered him, all right I can see what you're thinking, dammit, I know what that face means, it means 'I suck' and you do NOT suck, Lian. You didn't make him go, he chose to."
"I really - I mean - he seriously just left because of that search thing. I'm not like...what he needs to leave behind?"
"No," said Jer. "The Hermit proves that. This is about a state of mind he's leaving. Not a relationship."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure." Jer tapped both cards. "The Hermit means we're zooming in on the spiritual and mindscapey aspects of the Cups' area of definition. He might've felt himself losing hope or being burned out, and realized how much his presence affects people here...and then felt compelled to go and look for something that could get that hope back."
"That sounds Gabe-ish." Lian smiled a little.
"He didn't go because of you," Jer said again. "He went because of something inside himself telling him to go. But anyhow..."
He drew the last card and turned it face-up.
"Ten of wands. He's going to have a tough go at it for a bit."
Lian was getting that little wrinkle between his eyebrows. "He'll be okay, right? I mean. That - reminds me of him a lot. He takes on so much because he's a leader, because everyone looks up to him, and I worry that he's going to just some day take on one thing too many and faceplant. And then start forearm-crawling because Gabriel Crescent does not give up to the whims of a stupid stick."
Jer snerked. "It really is a Gabe card. It'll be an uphill road for him for a while, but...it's him. He laughs in the face of hills."
"You really think it'll be all right?" Lian said.
Oh the big blue eyes! "I honestly do. He'll come through. That guy on the card, he's still walkin'."
Lian smiled again and leaned to hug Jer. "Thanks. I mean it. I really needed that."
The rain was letting up now; Phoebus was meeee-ing at the door to be let out, and as Jer stood to allow this, the dryer dinged. "You can hang out longer if you want, Lian. I won't turf you on account of because you now have dry pants."
"I'd like to stay," said Lian, "But I've gotta get home. Work and - the altar and things - "
Jer nodded, and gave Lian a slow comforting blink. "I am not offended at your needing to go. Obligations are obligations. And I'll light a candle for him too."
Once he had his own pants back on and a refilled thermos-teacup for the road, Lian got another hug from Jer and then headed out into the late evening drizzle. Jer watched him until he rounded the corner and was out of sight, then went to stack the teacups in the living room before Bogart drank the dregs and then spat tea leaves all over the house.
He was on the coffee table when Jer got there.
"HEY YOU DAMMIT," Jer exclaimed, flailing at Bogart, who leapt gracefully off the table and sprinted up the stairs, sending the tarot cards plopping onto the floor. "...Little round wanker."
He crouched to pick up the scattered cards. Once they were all gathered he started to shuffle them to 'reset' the energy before he put them away.
A card literally SPAT out of the deck at him, bipping him on the nose and then landing in his lap.
Jer stared at it.
Eight of Swords.
"Oh what the shit is this," he muttered.
Pilgrimage, searching fr the truth, burdens, and - restriction. Confusion. Powerlessness...
There was always a way out of situations this card indicated. There were always choices, always some power to be found, always some option not yet contemplated.
Gabe was liable to be having a shitty time right now, and feeling like he'd reached the queen mother of bastardly roadbloacks. Very fucking discouraging. He might feel he had no place to go from here. That this was the end of the line. A true dead end.
"Only way to get out of a dead end is to turn around," Jer mumbled, replacing the card in the deck and shuffling again. "Turn around, Gabriel."
Bogart returned from parts unknown to weave around Jer's ankles and wash his thumb. Jer patted the enormous socked feline and mumbled, "Think he can work it out?"
"Puinyuu." Bogart nuzzled his knee.
"Yeah, me too." Jer stood, cards in hand. "C'mon you. I'll feed you and then let's go light up that candle at the Lady's altar for him."
"Nyuu."
***
WHEEEEEEE yes I am a tarot dork. XD
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