Solo Flipping

[Rohka]

Late evening of the 18th of Fall, 517AV

“I’m pissed off beyond belief.”

Grayson wasn’t listening. She knew he wasn’t listening. She was talking to herself.

“Why, you ask?” He didn’t ask. “Well because I feel so petching stuck, you know? Like what the petch am I doing? Yes sure, I love ‘helping’ people,” she air quoted with her fingers. “But none of it seems to actually change anything. Okay, sure, sometimes, people feel better. People learn something about themselves. Sometimes they avoid the bad things and come back and say ‘Hey thank you Rohka! That bad thing you said was gonna happen, didn’t happen!’ and their life remains the same. It’s like,” she paused and flipped her mug upside down, tracing the bottom of it with a finger, around and around in circles.

The sibyl volunteered to put the chairs up that night. They were closing, and she needed to vent, so she figured she could help while she vented. The table in front of her was actually a barrel—it only had room for one chair. She’d been sitting until she finished her drink, starting to let off the steam she’d been holding in. The drink was done. It was time now to get up and begin what she’d promised. Rohka stood and swiped the mug, placing it on another barrel to the side. Then she gripped the wooden leg of the chair she was sitting on with one hand, and the back of the chair with the other, hoisting it up and then flipping it over the barrel, heaving a sigh.

“It’s almost like, I feel like,” she hated when she started to drift, when she started to sound incoherent. The sibyl clenched her jaw and continued on, “I wish I never told them. I wish I never tried to stop the bad things from happening. I almost feel like the bad things are what changes you—makes something out of you, you know?” She turned to Grayson, her wide, burnt-umber eyes aflame with a raw spark of… was it anger? Yearning? A twisted hint of despair? “Like if somebody had told me that I could’ve avoided getting stripped of familial support and ostracizing myself from my family if I had just listened to what they told me to do, then Gods!” She shouted, hands now gripping another, lighter chair, slamming it on top of another table. “My life! All this! You!” She swivelled towards the owner and he turned to look behind his shoulder. He’d been washing the dishes. “None of it would’ve happened! I wanted all of this. I wanted it! I needed to go through all that shyke to get here, but…” she dropped a chair she’d picked up and groaned, punching it with her fist. Her energy was dwindling. “It’s not enough, Grayson. It’s been so stuffy and lifeless, Grayson, and it’s driving me mad. I need to…” her voice trailed off.

“What. Need to what.” His gruff, monotonous reply startled her.

Of course. Of course he would chime in as soon as she was on the verge of a statement of action. She hated this. She hated that she knew that he knew what her problem was. She’d talk all this crap and then not do anything about it.

[Rohka]

Rohka placed her hand on another chair. She pulled it up to her chest and then put it up on the table, pausing to catch her breath, and then flipped it over, its legs now up in the air. The sibyl put her hands on her hips. “I don’t know. I’m pretty sure I like what I do, Grayson, you know that I do. It’s just,” she looked off towards the door and caught the glint of the candlelight lamps reflecting off the water, making the night seem far more embracing near the Malt House than it was anywhere else.

“Go to bed, Roh.” He never looked back at her. He stacked a plate atop the pile to his side and picked up another dirty one. “You think too much.”

Rohka groaned again, this time kicking the chair in front of her. It slipped out of her sweaty hands when she’d tried to pick it up. “Grayson! You don’t understand, do you?!” She wiped her palms on her dark green shirt and tried again, her voice rising higher as she heaved her chair up. “Of course you don’t, look at you! What have you ever wanted to do with your life, huh? Sure, fine, this place is your place but is that really all you wanted to do?” Rohka flipped another chair, her sudden bout of fury making it almost easier to do the work. “You wanna upkeep this shykehole for people to come in and piss around? You never wanted anything else?”

Grayson picked up the towel hanging on the cupboard above him and wiped his hands before turning around to face the young, naive accuser; the smirk on his lips and the arch of his brows suggesting that her little rant proved that he knew she’d finally tell him what she thought of him. It didn’t phase him. Rohka stood straight, panting, averting her gaze to the door again, refusing to look at the stupidly amused man - to look at the face that said she was dead wrong. She knew nothing about him.

“I do what I want, Roh. Always have.”

The gentleness of his voice infuriated her.

[Rohka]

The truth was that he liked seeing her work. He enjoyed it too much to watch so he’d focused on his own task. But the woman was now raging over nothing and he needed to put an end to it.

He nodded his head towards the corner of the room she hadn’t gone to yet, with chairs still on the floor. Roh huffed and walked over to them. She grabbed the back of the chair and spun it around,

“Always, Grayson? You mean you always want to wash dishes? You want to make cheese? You really want to be at the beck and call of every patron that walks in here?”

The man guffawed at the ridiculous questions. He leaned back against the counter and gripped the edge with both hands, watching the sibyl hoist yet another chair over a cask, her wiry arms beginning to tremble; but the repulsed, resistant, resentful look on her face made him shake his head in pity.

“And have you ever actually loved doing the work for what you wanted to do, Rohka?” He grinned as she froze in place, glaring at him. The owner pushed himself off the counter and stood straight, his arms now crossed against his torso, his serious stance almost intimidating if he wasn’t staring right back at the young sibyl with playful eyes.

“My father wanted a place for men to come in and let off steam after a hard day’s work. It takes a lot to keep this city alive, kid, and there aren’t a ton of places that give people the appreciation they deserve. The Malt House gives ‘em that place. I own the means to provide revival. And I enjoy doing the work involved to keep it that way. Men and women pay me for the value I provide — the dishes, the mopping, the cheese, the drinks — I give them my best effort in return for the best effort they give to Ravok. I take pride in my work, kid. I love what I do. Don’t ever forget it.”

It was like he’d ripped the doubts out of her soul. She stood shocked, the gears slowly turning in her mind, realizing that he’d given her a key to a door she’d never thought to open. A door to a world she didn’t know existed. Grayson had spelled out his purpose so clearly that it took her aback, it took her effort to recognize the piece she’d been missing.

It wasn’t enough to want something. She had to define why she wanted it. She had to put in the effort to make it happen.

She needed to love the work.

[Rohka]

Did she love fortune telling? A part of her did like how much fun it was. Did she want to be a fortune teller? Well sure, it seemed like she had the skills to be one.

Rohka held a hand up to her face, wiping the sweat off her forehead and cheek. It would take her a little longer to figure out what it was that she was stuck on. She figured she could talk it out. “Okay, okay Grayson, I get it. You want this life. You like being the owner of this House and you like what the House means to the city. Fine,” The sibyl walked over to the other corner of the room and ignored the smirk thrown in her direction. As much as she’d teased him about his search for capital L-O-V-E, the owner knew that it was Rohka who feared the word the most. “And okay, so maybe I don’t do a lot for this thing I do. I mean I buy the candles, I take care of my table here and the Mystic Eye when I’m there, but that’s Lelia’s place, not mine, so,” she was mumbling to herself at this point, rolling her eyes as she picked up another chair. Grayson’s spiel had given her time to recover from the pace she’d been working at, so this time she lifted the chair far slower, placing it upside down on the table gently.

“Alright, I’ll admit, if I want more,” she paused to look back at the owner who still stood with his arms crossed, listening intently. “I need to put in more. Maybe I’ll go research new ways to do this fortune telling thing—I’ll go to the Den, find books or something. What was that ‘value’ thing you said?” She asked, a hand on her hip again, standing next to the last few chairs. “Wait, don’t tell me, you said that people pay you for the value you give ‘em. Okay. But see, I know I’m giving people value. The problem was that I’m giving people something that isn’t doing what I wanted it to do. I wanted to see my fortunes change things—but people are avoiding change! I don’t have control over that, Grayson!”

The owner grunted, nodding casually. He hadn’t needed to worry about what people did with what he put out. There were enough people coming into his establishment to make up for the ones who loafed around. It’s why he practically despised the children, and chased them out if they weren’t coming in with their family—the man wasn’t running a nursery—the good-for-nothing runts were a nuisance until they were old enough to make a living. They’d come in trying to treat his place like a hangout, where they could loiter and play dolls and draw on the tables.

It was then that he’d thought of something. “Roh, didn’t you say that you can paint?”

[Rohka]

Grayson went on to suggest that she could change things with her art. She’d laughed.

“I don’t know, would looking at a painting really make people change?” He’d replied by saying that nothing could force people to change, but he’d heard of patrons feeling moved and talking differently and seeing things in new ways after looking at pieces of original art at the Temple. She’d nodded. Roh had walked through the galleries before. She remembered the first time she’d laid eyes on a black marble carving of a monstrous woman sitting within the confines of a twisted, spidery, melting cage—her eyes wide and teeth bared in a menacingly beautiful grin. In her hands she’d held a sphere. The little sphere was the only point in the carving that was polished, reflecting the indoor light off its smooth, spotless surface. She remembered that she’d returned to the Lakeshore with her family that evening. It was the evening she’d asked to leave.

The sibyl broke from her reverie and tilted the back of the very last chair towards herself. She took in a deep breath and hoisted it up and over, the muscles in her arms now shaking from over exertion. The final thud of the seat against the top of the table made her smile. It was done.

Grayson grabbed his mop. “Alright, you good now?” He asked, kicking the filled bucket of hot lake water across the floor. The man had it boiling over the fire earlier, and was ready to start the last task for the night. Rohka knew this was her cue. He liked being alone while he mopped.

“Yea. I’ll think about the art thing. Thanks, Grayson.”

“Anytime.”

Rohka waved goodnight and headed up to her apartment, tired from the physical labour yet energized by the conversation. Her mind was now stuck on the suggestion to paint. To make. To create.

She’d soon find a way to add to her craft.

[Madeira Dusk]

Grades Awarded!

Don't forget to edit/delete your grade request!

Rhoka

Skills

• Rhetoric: 5xp
• Philosophy: 5xp
• Observation: 3xp
• Bodybuilding: 2xp
• Planning: 2xp

Lores

• Philosophy: theories on the process of change
• Philosophy: the meaning of life
• Grayson: does what he wants to do
• Grayson: takes pride in his life's work
• Philosophy: find value in what you do
• Art: a vehicle for change

Awards & Retribution


Notes
Ah, I love the smell of character development in the morning.

What a great read! You can feel all the emotions behind this, especially since Roh is dealing with some really (spookily) relatable stuff. Your philosophizing is on point, your characterization is hella strong, and I'm pumped to read more. Awesome stuff.