1573/A Magikal Tarot Reading

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A Magikal Tarot Reading
Date of Scene: 08 May 2020
Location: Marie-Ange's Room
Synopsis: No description
Cast of Characters: Marie-Ange Colbert, Illyana Rasputina

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
It's a beautiful afternoon in the neighborhood, not a cloud in the sky but the sun is shining high above providing warmth to offset the chill of a steady breeze. Really, the perfect kind of day to be outside enjoying the weather and doing anything but hiding in your room.

...so of course, in her room is exactly where Marie-Ange can be found. The pale redhead seated crosslegged on her bed, her cards spread out in front of her. She's been confirming her readings all day. Every single time, the Hermit shows up in the reversed position in her future. No matter how hard she shuffles, what efforts she makes to avoid the card, it stares at her accusingly every time she flips it. Isolation lies ahead, indeed.

Her room is predictably tidy; she's not a messy creature by any means. The lighting in the room is largely sunlight through curtains, but also a couple of rose-scented candles that are burning on either side of her bed.

"I will miss this lovely place, and the friends I have made..." she complains to herself, green eyes staring down the Hermit right back, pleading with the card wordlessly to not show its face again the next time she sets out her cards.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
May certainly sings with its advantages. The lulling cries of young birds, the buzz of activity thronging through even sleepy old Salem. Westchester County is fifty years behind the Big Apple, and even those blowsy apple trees bedecked in white blossoms start to remind people why they live in the Empire State at all. Who wants to be in the library or behind it, for that matter? It's too pretty to remain indoors, at least without cracking open a window and marching around barefoot on warmer weather.

Illyana Rasputina doesn't follow normal rules, of course, never has and probably never will. Hard to say where she has been, but the black leather pants and leather cropped top she wears both serve a function, to go hunt out in the greater world at large. No sign of her usual array of weapons, but neither is she in civvy clothes, and that probably says something. Loose blonde hair sweeps back and forth over her face as she stalks the hallway, no trail whatsoever of her passage from ten minutes before. Finally, though, there comes the necessity.

The Sorcerer Supreme of Limbo is no mere matter. Not an idle title by anyone's estimation and the girl there is fairly shorn of fear, broken and battered to the point her scars wear no suggestion of terror. But rise she must. This is her calling. A knock on the door is probably predicted for the French student's deck must know her, must know /of/ her intent. It reads, divine, terrifying.

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
Indeed, the present of her situation was one that suggested far from isolation; visitors, duty. These were all things that her spreads demanded of her. So when the knocking comes to the door, the cards are quickly gathered -- but left on the bed, for the moment, before she scurries over to attend to the door.

Despite having only come out of her room for breakfast, Marie's not exactly the lounging around type; instead dressed in a blue blouse and a black skirt, with her long red hair tied back in a basic ponytail by the aid of a blue ribbon.

"Welcome, Mademoiselle Illyana." Marie greets, pulling the door open fully and standing aside to allow the blonde inside. "I suspected it might be you, today. You have come to make use of my gift, oui?" she inquires -- it's a bit of a redundant question. Partially because it's a cause for many of her visits that AREN'T Jenny, partially because she'd expressed interest the other day.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
The spreads await their sacred truths, their answers and their wonders. It's sufficient for her to consider silence, patience and grace accelerated in the tumble of stiff card. When the door echoes with a knock, Illyana stands on the other side. Hers is a patient presence, if she can ever be patient, eyes narrowed a little in thought. The corner of her mouth tucks in a bit, nipped where her teeth sink into the soft line of her cheek. Pretty attire for the French mademoiselle; something her gaze flicks over. and then centers on Marie's face.

"Marie-Ange," she says, not abrupt, not rough. But direct, as is her way. "You are well, da? I do not come only for that. To be..." God, how do you socialize as a demon queen? It's not like dropping in comes naturally or safely to most people. "We meet often in the foyer, but do not always talk. It is better sometimes to meet in smaller places, to actually converse."

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
To be fair, Marie herself isn't exactly the best at socialization. Not from lack of knowledge; she knows all the nicities required to succeed in a social situation. But book knowledge and practical knowledge are two very different things, and Marie's innate shyness makes it tough to put her knowledge to work. Especially in crowds.

One-on-one? Far more comfortable for the redhead. Her lips curve into a fond smile, "I am... in good health, oui." Words are chosen carefully in this instance, she doesn't want to burden other with her own issues! "I hope the same is true for you -- and oui, I... it is difficult for me to spend much time around so many, as well. Smaller places are far more to my liking." There's almost relief in her voice at that particular admission. "Please, come in. You would be most welcome!"

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
The niceties count, and they are appreciated even where utterly alien and strange, like the need for candles to light a table and not eating with forks. Illyana may know the rules; it doesn't mean they make a lick of sense, just as for Marie-Ange. Her native grasp of such mysteries relies on a poker face and considerable depths of resilient calm. In crows, this is a great deal easier. Not one to be shy, she deals well enough with the mysteries and wonders of humans reasonably well enough. So one can hope she's saying the right things here.

"To health. And happiness?" The tilt of her head conveys that inquiry even as she keeps her hands at her sides rather than tucked under her chest or clasped behind or in front. Easier that way. "I think last you were having cookies. Nothing too heavy on your shoulders for the weekend coming?" Her responses are smooth enough, plucking down the expected small talk with the lack of platitudes. Those questions are genuine. "So many, it can be hard to focus. Maybe it's better to have time, like over a kitchen table, where you can talk to someone. Not only at them." It all ebbs and flows as she steps inside, carrying nothing of particular note with her, not even a coat. "Thank you."

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
The followup question is met by Marie turning -- letting her face falter while she's not facing the blonde. Still, she'll answer honestly. "I... have had better times," she admits, even while her face isn't visible, the deflation is obvious in her voice. "...and this weekend I will begin preparing for what is to come. The future's clarity is not as clear glass, but hazy... still, I will enjoy who and what I have what I still do, oui?" She'll still talk to the Professor about trying to get her stay extended... though the ever-present Hermit suggests that her effort will be in vain.

Forcing the smile back on her lips, she nods towards Illyana; taking a seat on her bed and collecting the cards into her lap. Shuffling them around idly. "The kitchen is nice; I have had conversations most pleasant there... often late at night, while most others slumber." She'll catch Jenny coming in after a sneaky night out, or one of the other students who's /also/ out for a midnight snack, things along those lines!

"You are most welcome; if the candles irritate, I can snuff them." she offers as an afterthought; the comfort of her guests is always important to her!

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"When you must walk the long road, remember it is not always alone. Some can go with you for a distance." So the teleporter says, her insidious certainty not the stuff of bright confidence but grim, certain knowing. Absolute wisdom learned the hard way is completely her stock in trade, and she makes the most of it as she can. Most isn't happy, but it still considers something important. Illyana doesn't falter, preferring to sit only when it's indicated to do so. Otherwise she stands, giving a great deal of distance if necessary. "Remember that here? Here, people care. They may send you on your way with the tools to endure, even if you do not see it." Now she sounds like the deck, but it's not meant to be a problem.

Those slender fingers curl and shift, spreading slightly to gather nothing but the flossy wool of her thoughts or the prospects of castaway conversations. She isn't the sort who is likely to show up for a daytime snack, so the curt nod around late at night is perfectly understandable. The course of activity changes once the little ones go to bed.

"Candles do not bother me. I learned with them, as it was expected. Be comfortable yourself. I can endure anything." Minus Cable watching Hallmark or a nuclear blast, but that's really the defining limit.

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
"I wish that were the truth, Mademoiselle." Marie admits, bowing her head instinctively. With her hair tied back, however, it doesn't fall forward to shield her as it normally would. "Do you know much of the tarot?" she asks, spreading out the cards, letting her hand guide her across the cardbacks... and plucking one up. The same card again. "The hermit tells me that those with whom I would walk will leave me, soon. This place... it has cared much for me. I have enjoyed myself immensely, but I fear the future holds a return to my home country for me." she admits, frowning openly, now.

Tucking the offending card back into the deck, she gives her head a little shake. "...but while I remain, I can still aid those who have been so kind to me, non?" she asks, shuffling absently. "...and being able to endure is imporant. The cards tell us what will be, not always what we desire to be." As in her own case, or so she thinks. How little even she realizes what is really to come for her and the others. Without letting herself dwell for too much longer, she spreads the cards out on the bed. "Is there a particular subject upon which you seek guidance, or did you just wish a general reading?"

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"Da, I know much of it. Not as much as you, but my name and yours, they tell them who we are, mm?" Her eyes narrow a little as she focuses, her thoughts no longer spread in a whirlwind but tight and focused as the blade may be. "Are you leaving us permanently?" Illyana doesn't pry but neither is she subtle about the inquiries like a telepath could be. Hers has a smooth, elegant elevation of discussion. It sings with a kind of cordial grace mingled with the cutting force of a question, a blade. "It is a loss, if so. You embody good things. Walk proud where you go."

She has to settle, eventually, the sonnet and the song of the teller and the tale mingled together. Marie-Ange is both of those, a virtuoso with something different from a violin but no less beautiful. She inclines her head slightly. "I make two great decisions. I would know what to be aware of. One is purely selfish, for myself. The other is still for me, but could be for others. They are parts of the same path. I need them both to be free of what trouble delivered to me."

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
A soft laugh, and a nod. "They do. Tarot and Magik; we have nothing to hide here, nor to be shamed of." A sad smile crosses back over her lips now, green eyes eyeing her cards for a moment. It's a question that she's scared to ask, and hadn't even thought of. "...I hope not. I like it here. Perhaps, when what comes removes me from those I care about, there will be a way for me to return... I would like that very much." There's hope in her voice, not. Hope that she's not daring to dash just yet. Besides. She didn't spread the cards for her self. Not this time, at least.

"Of course, Mademoiselle. Select four cards from the deck, lay them out in the order selected. I will do my best to interpret what is yet to come." she offers, bowing her head slightly -- though in this case, it's out of reverance to the cards more than any sort of sorrow.