The Chrone had asked Dev’Ania to come to her shack as the first shift of night settled on the city. When the Konti entered the shack, she would find awareness of no soul, finding the place to be filled with the same eery and ambiguous aura that never quite seemed to leave it. Only once the Konti was well within the heart of the home did she sense the Chrone’s presence. The elderly woman with the tanned androgynous face was watching her from the doorway.
”Hello, my dear.” The slow walk of the elderly accompanied the Alheas Chrone as she stepped into the room, walking right up towards the Konti and looking up to her. The strong black eyes of the old androgynous woman echoed with worlds far beyond what Dev’Ania could see, and yet they focused intently on Dev’Ania, studying her for a tick before the thin wrinkled lips spoke once again. ”Today, I have nothing to teach you.” She said simply. The Lhavitian legacy was wild and mysterious, even to those she found curious enough to associate with such as Dev’Ania. To all of Lhavit she was a myth, a legend, a mere tale. To some she was the tunes that mothers whispered to their children, offering the hope of whimsical worlds and powers that the child may some day meet. To others, her name was a curse, uttering a fate dire enough to fear. Even as Dev'Ania learned that the Chrone was a mere woman, she remained in an eerie shroud of mystery, the veil of knowledge and time keeping her secrets for her. Although the Chrone seemed to be all-knowing, her plans rarely made sense to those not thinking inside her head. The Chrone was aware of this perception, but she did not care enough to fix it.
The old woman took one last stride towards Dev’Ania, gently picking her hand from her side, and running a light finger over the scales. She flipped the palm forward, and then ran the same tanned bone finger over the lines in the center. The elder fortune teller seemed mildly entranced, reading something that Dev'Ania was not aware of, nor did she share the information she gleaned with the child. As if the minute changes in the skin on her palms were feeding the Chrone more information than she had read from the Konti last time her iridescent palm was subject to her powers. ”You remember this yes?” When the question finally came, it was more rhetorical as she pulled the Konti into a slight twirl, facing her back towards the door she had entered only moments before. The Chrone did not elaborate further on what she intended. When the pair reached the threshold of the entrance to the Lonely Shack, the legacy finally dropped the young fortune teller’s hand. She stepped so that Dev’Ania was forced to step outside the shack, or let the old woman bump into her, leaving her whimsical and mysterious mentor hovering inside her familiar dwelling.
”Go out, meet people. Read the stories that their bodies and reactions tell you, not their words. You will understand the future you read through their palms, when you can hear what their reactions tell you. Not all are believers, and that is okay, but those who are skeptical can be... persuaded...” The Chrone’s frail elderly voice faded, and her eyes shifted up to look at the Konti, a mischievous glint in the eye. She was intending for the young fortune teller to pick up on her intentions. The Chrone wanted to see this Konti challenged, but did not want to dictate exactly what Dev'Ania could do. She was hoping the young woman would surprise her, to see if she was worth the Chrone's lessons.
”Put your skills to use, child. Then come back to me.” She finally spoke, blinking and refocusing her eyes back on the Konti. If Dev’Ania hesitated, the Chrone raised a hand in a shooing motion. ”What are you waiting for? Go child!” And then, with no more warning, the Chrone disappeared into the bowels of the house, the door slowly and gently creaking shut in front of Dev’ania. The idea that she would be watching Dev'Ania's work hung in the air, but any further action done by the Konti, would be done alone.
”Hello, my dear.” The slow walk of the elderly accompanied the Alheas Chrone as she stepped into the room, walking right up towards the Konti and looking up to her. The strong black eyes of the old androgynous woman echoed with worlds far beyond what Dev’Ania could see, and yet they focused intently on Dev’Ania, studying her for a tick before the thin wrinkled lips spoke once again. ”Today, I have nothing to teach you.” She said simply. The Lhavitian legacy was wild and mysterious, even to those she found curious enough to associate with such as Dev’Ania. To all of Lhavit she was a myth, a legend, a mere tale. To some she was the tunes that mothers whispered to their children, offering the hope of whimsical worlds and powers that the child may some day meet. To others, her name was a curse, uttering a fate dire enough to fear. Even as Dev'Ania learned that the Chrone was a mere woman, she remained in an eerie shroud of mystery, the veil of knowledge and time keeping her secrets for her. Although the Chrone seemed to be all-knowing, her plans rarely made sense to those not thinking inside her head. The Chrone was aware of this perception, but she did not care enough to fix it.
The old woman took one last stride towards Dev’Ania, gently picking her hand from her side, and running a light finger over the scales. She flipped the palm forward, and then ran the same tanned bone finger over the lines in the center. The elder fortune teller seemed mildly entranced, reading something that Dev'Ania was not aware of, nor did she share the information she gleaned with the child. As if the minute changes in the skin on her palms were feeding the Chrone more information than she had read from the Konti last time her iridescent palm was subject to her powers. ”You remember this yes?” When the question finally came, it was more rhetorical as she pulled the Konti into a slight twirl, facing her back towards the door she had entered only moments before. The Chrone did not elaborate further on what she intended. When the pair reached the threshold of the entrance to the Lonely Shack, the legacy finally dropped the young fortune teller’s hand. She stepped so that Dev’Ania was forced to step outside the shack, or let the old woman bump into her, leaving her whimsical and mysterious mentor hovering inside her familiar dwelling.
”Go out, meet people. Read the stories that their bodies and reactions tell you, not their words. You will understand the future you read through their palms, when you can hear what their reactions tell you. Not all are believers, and that is okay, but those who are skeptical can be... persuaded...” The Chrone’s frail elderly voice faded, and her eyes shifted up to look at the Konti, a mischievous glint in the eye. She was intending for the young fortune teller to pick up on her intentions. The Chrone wanted to see this Konti challenged, but did not want to dictate exactly what Dev'Ania could do. She was hoping the young woman would surprise her, to see if she was worth the Chrone's lessons.
”Put your skills to use, child. Then come back to me.” She finally spoke, blinking and refocusing her eyes back on the Konti. If Dev’Ania hesitated, the Chrone raised a hand in a shooing motion. ”What are you waiting for? Go child!” And then, with no more warning, the Chrone disappeared into the bowels of the house, the door slowly and gently creaking shut in front of Dev’ania. The idea that she would be watching Dev'Ania's work hung in the air, but any further action done by the Konti, would be done alone.
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