Completed Foreshadows [Dravite]

[Rufio]

9 summer dxv
14 th bell

　

Syna's Summer warmth cascaded between high, fluffy clouds, floating lazily above the tented city. Endrykas was quieter this afternoon. Many Drykas had gone hunting, or fishing at Serifal lake. Many of the Kenash merchants were taking a reprieve from the midday-to-early-afternoon heat inside their pavilions, after a bustling morning.

Business was booming, and doing well. It always did at the beginning of the season when Drykas were intrigued and keen to know what the merchants had brought with them for trade. They could afford to rest for an afternoon.

Rufio had set up a stall of sorts herself this day. Having pitched her tent-tarp folded in a unique way, fashioned into a low-shelter that could comfortably seat two in its cool shade. She sat under it, her tarot-cards set out in a fancily placed design on a chest, overlaid with a blanket, before her folded legs.

Around her she had hung on sinew strings from the wood-supports of her make-shift tent a few clear crystals in varying shapes and lengths. They caught Syna's light and creatively refracted a kaleidoscope of colours around her.

It wasn't much of a set-up, but Rufio, herself, helped the marketing. With her short-cropped hair not usual of Drykas fashion, with a band of braids woven across her hairline. Hawk feathers entwined with thread into the strands, they hung behind her right ear. Her distinct features punctuated by a gold nose ring, and her linen dress hung off her shoulders, adding to the bohemian hue.

Rufio emulated a little bit of mystery. Just enough to entice a wandering eyes, and perhaps enough to pique a curious mind, or a troubled heart, and draw them near. She hadn't had any customers that day yet, but it didn't phase her, she was but a budding fortune-reader, and she had all of the Summer to go.

Shabby, but colourful, purple and blue cushions sat about the chest, and in the corner sat a kettle, a brazier, and a couple of simple bone cups for tea-making. A pail of water sat within reach, into which she dunked a cup, and took a refreshing swig.

Sighing with relief as the life-giving liquid soothed her course throat, the woman's dark-eyes picked out a man wandering through the 'street'. She watched him for a chime, then two.

Before she attempted to catch his gaze, and lock her eyes to his in that way mystics had of giving the impression they were peering in through the eyes and into the soul. It was an art-form Rufio found natural to her, for she didn't act it out to draw clientele near, it was born of a deeply spiritual heart.

Rufio really was studying the Drykas man's eyes, trying to get a feel for his emotions, his state of mind. Who he was. Would such a gaze be enough to tempt the man over, or would it drive him away with unease? "Yo, Drykas..." Her voice held a depth to its tone, yet it was feminine, an unusual combination.

Its owner let a smile seep across her lips as she implored his inner-spiritualism. "...Ever had a wonder?" Past, Now, To-Come. Loss, love. Sadness, joy. Questions. Answers. Her sign alluded to the tarot-cards, the things they could hold for him, if he gave her a chance.

Her eyes spoke of her hope that he would. She didn't know what it was, but he looked as though his touch could set the cards alight. Something about the way his eyes felt to her, told her he had seen much in the last season or so.

　

[Dravite]

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The man had been taking it easy at work and at home. He had recently purchased a few goats from the marketplace and was growing fond of tending to the small herd; though taking them out into the tall-grass was still something he had to look forward to. After breaking his rib at the end of spring, Dravite wasn’t quite fit for riding yet and it showed in the way he carried himself; holding his right arm up as he had been instructed by one of the amateur doctors he had run into.

He couldn’t put his finger on what had brought him to the marketplace this morning, perhaps just to look over all of the new stalls and check for any unfamiliar faces. Often the same merchants returned each year to sell their goods to the Drykas people, or buy new, intricate knot-works, and designer rugs to take home to their cities; no race in Mizahar were quite as good at weaving as the Drykas were. The weather was fine, the atmosphere was one of ease, and the morning was all his to do as he pleased with.

It’s funny how the gaze of a stranger can burn a hole in one’s soul, as if to draw their attention subconsciously. It seemed Rufio had managed to do just that, for ticks before she called out to him the man had turned his smoke-grey eyes on her momentarily only to glance away again; the look not quite registering until she summoned him with her business-savvy tone. He slowly came to a stop in the middle of the street waited for a boy to pass with his tethered dog, then moved to stand outside the girl’s stall.

“I leave my fate to the gods,” he told the woman; she would have to work harder to convince a man like Dravite of card reading and fortune telling, still, something about her had sparked his interested.

The young horse lord sat down with some strain, taking up the stool provided and looked down at the woman’s setup before glancing once more to her face, the shortened hair, her floaty dress and the gold nose ring that seemed to suggest some outside influences; another race perhaps? She seemed all Drykas, and yet, well there was something he just couldn’t decide on. “Two miza,” he told the girl, scratching around in the black pocket of his trousers to take the coins and set them down on the counter; if it wasn’t enough, she could speak up until his bought time was spent.

Family, self, future, he signed, not sure how this all worked. Would she need to take his hand? Should he look into her eyes? What did the cards do? For a man with so many questions he seemed rather relaxed, setting his right arm down across the edge of the table, the pads of his fingers lightly drummed against the cloth set over locally sourced wood; it was only the smell that assured him. He hadn’t even told her his name and he was yet to ask for hers.

[Rufio]

"Well, these are tools and the gods speak through them, as does your own heart. So! You've come to the right place after all."

The fortune-teller gave an amicable chuckle. She had had her fair share of nay-Sayers, but her free-spirited nature had never garnered her their disapproval. Even non-believers couldn't help but respect the woman's conviction in her own beliefs, when she spoke of them as if she were a wise old crone.

There would be no actor to find here, not purposefully anyway. As the man set two Gold Mizas upon her make-shift table, she bobbed her head. Fair. "Since you're a skeptic, I'll give y' a special offer." Her pearly-whites permeated her features with an almost-wink, as she squirreled the coins into her purse before he could change his mind.

Setting her hands flat on the table, settling into the mood, and then reflected his sign as if to tell herself. Family, self, future. She nodded, decidedly. "Cards, then. I feel an aura about you -" Who? Her pause and sign indicated for him to fill her in on who he was.

Her hands moved quickly to gather up the large, semi-stiff cards into a neat deck-pile as she exchanged her name-sake for his. "Rufio Wildmane."

Wildmane, of the Emerald Clan, was once renowned for its Grassland wanderers and wilderness experts. Also for a mad-streak in a line of their men, who often left into the Sea, preferring its solitude, devoted to Semele, who never returned.

She shuffled with deft hands, before laying the cards on the table, the deck in halves, and folding the halves into each other. Done, she gestured for him to take them in his hands. "Shuffle them, and think about the things you want to know, or the things that trouble you."

Take care. "That your mind doesn't wander, else it won't work well." She explained as he would shuffle. "We each give off vibrations, our energy, into the world. When you touch the cards, it's the vibrations of your hands that influence them."

She smiled as if this was something to be pleased about and gave the man a few chimes to ponder on what he would. Many men, including Rufio, preferred the idea of their destiny in their own hands.

Rufio found it unusual that Dravite had said he left his up to the gods. As spiritual as she was, contradictory, she was a determined critter of self-reliance. An admiration for his trust in his gods took with her; he was a brave soul, she observed.

After a good few chimes, her deep-yet-feminine tone filled the silence again. "Alright." Set the deck down.

　　

[Dravite]

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He was quiet then, though he listened intently to each and every word the woman spoke about the cards and what he was to do with them, their power at work as he shuffled them slowly in his hands. Dravite lowered his gaze before closing his eyes to shut out the world, meditating. Of course the first thought that drift into his consciousness was that of his mother, who had not long passed, followed by the goddess he was still angry at for subsequently taking her life; or at least, as he saw it.

Dravite sifted through the cards, opening his eyes to watch them pass between his large hands. "My name is Dravite Blackwater," and I am cursed, he thought to himself, "I am a man of The Watch, a father, and a husband." He gave the woman some information, but nothing detailed, thus he expected only assumptions and broad, general statements in return that would suit just about any man in his shoes.

Rufio had asked him to try and think of one thing alone as not to scramble the power of the cards or the communication the gods sent to the weirder through them. It was Belkaia, his pregnant wife that came to mind; of the two of them she had taken it the hardest when they had been abandoned by their pavilion and the only family they had known all their lives. It had been difficult for the two of them to start over and he was unsure as to what the future held for them both.

When he was asked to set the cards down, he did so, once again resting his right arm on the table while his left hand crossed his chest to sit against his ribs. With a quiet disposition he watched the young woman across from him, wearing neither a frown nor a smile, but letting his features relax completely; anyone might think that for a second, he actually believed the woman would tell him his true fortune.

Still, for two gold miza he seemed to have purchased himself a moment of mild amusement, and a purpose for this morning’s stroll through the marketplace. Rufio Wildmane, he reminded himself of the woman's name silently; perhaps some of his peers at work would know of the pavilion and be able to tell him more. Dravite hadn't always been such a curious man, but now that he had chosen to live within the city rather than braving the sea as he had been born and raised to do, Dravite was growing more and more fond of learning about his surroundings and those that took up refuge in the city of tents.

[Rufio]

A chime of stillness. Rufio held Dravite's gaze, hers mysteriously seeking. 'Reading fortunes is less about reading fortunes and more about reading the heart. It's about understanding people, what they seek, what they've lost, what they need to hear.' Her mother's words remnants of a melodic Shiber echo in her.

Rufio noticed Dravite's vague-yet-strict responses, his relaxed expression. 'There'- the ghost of a smile flickering beneath his relaxed features, and his eyes as he looked at her. 'Was he amused?' Rufio noticed without looking the tenseness in his shoulders; 'he carries the weight of responsibility', she thought.

More obvious was the way he held himself, protective of his injured ribs. A warmth pervaded his presence, she thought, beneath the sturdy exterior. She reminded herself that he was a husband and a father. 'What else?' She wondered about the man sitting before her.

Something in the way he had shuffled the deck, the way his hands had shifted the cards. It was a depth of something, lingering behind his eyes. 'Yes, there'- gentle creases in his face, remnants of emotions he'd have held in the last while. They gave away a hint at some sort of pain. 'Sure, he's been injured somehow'- Rufio chided herself, explaining the hue of pain away with mistakenly placed logic.

Then- "Divide the deck thrice." -Rufio instructed with a gentle, low, soft tone she used when she began to fortune-read, to draw the sitter's attention into a realm of quiet.—"Take the top cards and set them here." Side-by-side, a row. Three cards: Past, Present, Future.

Rufio had chosen to use a simple three-card structure with Dravite. In part it was to complement her novice skill-level with the art, and to give a broader reading of the man that she felt he had asked for. Nonetheless, there was an element of subliminal persuasion.

Giving sitters a broad reading tended to invite more specific questions. Where then they'd be tempted to ask for further readings. Then Rufio would use a more complex card-placements to delve into the answers they sought to fears, dreams, hopes.

Rufio felt butterflies flutter in her stomach, as always it did. What would the message be this time? Would she interpret it with intuition and wisdom? Would she give a message that he would reject, would it turn into a prophesy of sorts? Would it be nonsensical ramblings?

Her sitter this day might have had an excellent poker-face. Rufio was a creature of passion and expression. Her feelings leaked into her freckled features, un-hidden. She took a breath, crafting suspense, a smile licking like a small fire beneath her freckles. Her eyes flicked to the cards, blank-side-up, then back to Dravite. "Y' ready?"

　　

[Dravite]

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The young woman held his gaze which caused the man to experience a moment of uncertain contemplation; should he hold hers in turn or cast his own aside? Dravite was highborn as far as Drykas went, his father was an Ankal, as was his father before him, and so on, but his right to inherit the large, well established pavilion had been stolen from him at a young age; and so the boy had been raised, torn, unsure of his place in the world, leader or one of the flock? One day Rufio would be able to read a man through his eyes alone, her gaze seemed to suggest as much.

She instructed him to set down three of the cards that shifted between his hands slowly. Dravite did as he was told, placing the three cards face down in front of the woman before setting the shuffled pile aside on the table. He watched the first card as if staring at it long enough might show him what was depicted on the other side. Logic told him that this was a game of chance and whatever the cards would tell, could be manipulated to award any man something of use in all of its uselessness. Still the question burned in his mind and Dravite concentrated on the thought of his wife and their future together; prosperous or full of fault?

The horse lord sat watching the cards for a spell before glancing at Rufio who seemed to be thinking about something, perhaps what the cards would tell her? Fancy trying to make a living from something like this, Dravite thought to himself; two gold miza for sitting face to face with a complete stranger only to lie directly to their face. Rufio had balls, he thought, forced to smile at that; he liked her already. "Ready."

[Rufio]

Unawares that while she was reading his body and spirit, the man in front of her was measuring hers.

"Ready." He said it with the confidence of one who doesn't quite believe. Rufio's focus honed in on his body language, ready to observe his reactions to the reading, for any tell-tale signs of accuracy, surprise, belief.

'We'll see.'- she mused, before the calloused fingertips of her right hand lifted the first card and flipped it over. On its dull, coloured surface, there were three swords depicted, piercing a heart on a stormy backdrop. The card was up-side-down to Dravite.

Rufio peered at it a moment, rifling through her memories to find the card's interpretations. The three of swords indicates loss, grief, recent hurts and heartaches. Reversed, it indicated that one is finding it hard to move on.

Rufio lifted her deep brown eyes from the card to Dravite's. Sure, she had read the faint lines in his face that told her Dravite had spent more bells frowning than smiling lately. She had dismissed it as lingering discomfort of his injury though.

Now, the true source of these signs jumped at her. 'Grief'.- her thoughts affirmed. Her voice fell into the silence, deep, assertive, warm.

Loss. "You have suffered very near in the past. The weight lies heavy on your spirit. You are doing your best to leave this behind, but you are seeing ahead with..." Empty eyes. Blind to path of healing. "This card tells you to sit with the pain, let your heart grieve, and then-"

She paused and felt memories of her own grief thicken in her throat. Empathy was a powerful tool, yet it meant sometimes it overwhelmed. This was a conversation she had had before, but with herself.

Her next words meaningful, her tone emphasized the card's message. "-then you let it go." Hurt, grieve, move on, heal, hope. "And open your heart again."

I/III

[Rufio]

His past read, Rufio moved on, lifting the next card in the neat line over to reveal the message for Dravite's present state of spirit.

Rufio's breath hitched in her chest as her eyes took in the picture painted painstakingly detailed on its surface. Her gaze darted from a star hanging above a naked woman, who knelt at the edge of a pool, with one foot in the water and the other on the land.

In the woman's hands she bore two jugs of water, one she pours onto the ground, nourishing it with tiny rivulets that flow away, the other she pours into pool. Just as the first card lay, Rufio noticed- 'The Star, it's reversed as well.'

Her mind sifted through the interpretations she had witnessed her mother once lay out for a client. 'The Star is all about the spirit...upright it's hope, renewal, peace..but like this...he has lost his faith!' As her memory revealed the card's intended meaning, wonder arched her brow.

She glanced up at the Watch-man with the look of someone who is seeing another in a deeper light. She hesitated, her lips parted lightly, before stating simply, blunt in her sign. Abandoned prayers. "You have forgotten Caiyha."

Would he be as surprised by the message as she? Her eyes flickered over his facial features. Would he be as surprised by her directness? It wasn't something she thought about. The half-blood, as blunt as she may have tended to be, was sensitive too.

"You are waiting for a sign that you are on the right path."

Rufio wondered about his grief and loss, and wondered farther: 'Is it a test of Caiyha's?' She contemplated telling him her thoughts, then thought better of it.

No grieving heart should be laden with that kind of meaning. Besides, she was no master fortune reader. Alas, she stuck to basic interpretation.

II/III

[Rufio]

Her fingertips moved on to the third, and final card, the one that was often most keenly awaited by clients. Future predictions.

It was The Wheel of Fortune. A simple spoke-wheel was drawn and painted, though part was wreathed in a strange plant with thorns. Surrounding the wheel at each corner of the card: a strider rearing wildly, an eagle, a Grassland lion, a zibri bull. As the others, the card was reversed.

Rufio was quiet as she stared at the card. A tiny flicker of fear kindled within her she knew what this represented. 'Bad omen. Death.' Had she the heart to tell him? Her deep, dark, earthy gaze peered into Dravite's, where their eyes would connect. He was a strong man, and he had sat down to a reading.

Rufio was an honest woman, in the end, and would give him the reading he had sat down to hear. The definiteness of it sat a heavy rock in the pit of her stomach. Taking a deep breath, the young half-Drykas closed her eyes. Her mind took in the imagery of cards that lay before her, gathered up the messages.

All reversed, they spoke of ill tidings past, ill faith in present, and ill to come. Before she opened her eyes, Rufio felt an utterance under her breath, a murmur that didn't quite belong to herself, or one she intended to seep out into the Summer quiet. The voice, and words, wrenched up from that pit in her gut, deep and old intuition.

"Empty eyes, loss of Self.
Abandoned prayers, a goddess forgotten.
Death to follow..."

When her eyes opened, they took in the man seated opposite her, then the cards, and the man again. What would he make of it all? She clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, and her lips moved to mirror the words he had spoken to her chimes ago, before being tempted into her tent.

"Well you say you trust in the gods, ay? This card says-" Death. "-but it can mean ending, like the night, and-" Beginning. New dawn. So she hoped.

She lifted the cup forgotten to the side, dipping it into the pail of water sat nearby. Her unshaken hands pushed the cup of water towards Dravite for him to take.

Her feelings about the reading she kept imperceptible beneath the freckles and tan complexion. Syna's warm light caught faintly on the gold ring on her nose, reminder of the Summer din that surrounded them.

III/III

[Dravite]

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He was grooming himself to feel nothing, to show the woman nothing while she read his past, present, and future. The first card, his past, was easy to feel nothing for; everyone had lost something… someone they loved in Endrykas. Dravite glanced down at the card, committing the image to memory, three swords plunged through a heart; perhaps he felt a tinge of something touch his own. The horse lord focused on the thrumming in his chest, willing it to slow; just a trick of the mind, he told himself, and with a wave of his hand he signalled for Rufio to carry on.

The next card depicted a woman and when Rufio spoke of the goddess that had forsaken him, Dravite leaned in to take a closer look, grey eyes fixed on the card. He had told no one of his lack of faith, his utter abandonment of Caiyha whom he had followed all his life; how did Rufio know? How could she possibly guess? He pinned her with his gaze, eyes searching the rich brown orbs in front of him. How? His own asked her while his lips did not dare part to speak but only so that he might roll his tongue over the suddenly dry skin. It wasn't until Rufio went to turn the third card that he realised he had worked a spare button from its keep on his trousers.

Horse, eagle, lion, bull; each he knew by name, though only three by face. When Rufio spoke of their meaning, Dravite smiled, “That is not my fate,” he said simply and reached out to set a finger over the eagle, “The horse is my blood, lives gone, and those yet to live; the lion is my pride, my heritage, my family, and the bull is my strength, fertility, and wrath.”

He took the water from her and drank before setting the cup down, after hearing about Caiyha he had needed it as the mention of his forgotten goddess had left his mouth dry. Dravite pat himself down and closed a hand over his coin pocket to check that he had not been robbed before getting to his feet, “The wolf will bring my death,” he told the girl, “as it has been foretold.”

The horse lord held out his right arm and pointed to the two prominent, white scars on his forearm, “Marked for death,” he said solemnly, “She will come again.”

Of her skill, her craft, and her foresight, the man was unconvinced, and yet, there was something about Rufio that told him their fates were aligned; that their paths would one day cross again, “Shall I tell you your fortune?” Dravite smiled and took the deck of cards from her and spread them out across the tabletop in an uneven line.

He ran his hand over the cards then before drawing back to one on the right, outer edge. The wheat haired man drew the card from the haphazard pile and stared at it for a moment, “how interesting,” he teased, for he did not know what the cardtwo cups meant and yet, some strange energy had convinced him to take it. He set the card face down on the table and placed a button on top of it, “Farewell, Wildmane.”