UN: ScielCandide | Video

[cache_coeur]

[The camera is fixed on a table, upon which sits a neat stack of cards –– black with gold foil in the shape of a sun and moon bisecting each other. The user’s hands pass over the deck and spreads it wide into an arc. Her hands are tanned, with two rings on her ring finger and one on her index finger, and she has so many colourful braided bracelets that some wind around her palm.

Her voice is pleasant, playful, French, a little theatrical:]

Bonsoir, mes amies!

Tonight and tonight only, I will tell your fortune with a single card. Tell me your name, and if you would like to hear about love, money, health or the soul.

If it moves you, you must repay me with an amusing anecdote about yourself.

Ready to play?

Comments

[repaintress]

Is that so? That seems rather naive. You leave yourself open for others to take advantage.

[ If your expectations are low, people don't disappoint you. ]

A confusing age. It's understandable you wanted guidance.

[cache_coeur]

[Teasing:]

Do you know something I don't, Clea?

[Still unbothered, though.]

Very confusing. I was close with my family, and loved my friends dearly, but there are some questions you can't ask anyone.

[repaintress]

Yes. Wine.

[ Deadpan, clearly playing in to the teasing. ]

The consequences of misjudging someone can be dire. A cautious approach minimizes damage.

[ Twelve and thirteen were such odd ages. She'd felt so grown, but looking back, she'd been anything but. Clea wonders if her 60 year old self will think the same of her now. She wonders if she will have a 60 year old self. ]

Quite true. Do you not fear someone may be listening?

[ Through the cards themselves. ]

Do you suppose ghosts are good at keeping secrets?

[cache_coeur]

That you do.

[She just laughs the rest of it off. Whatever, Clea. She isn't going to consider living her life in such a cynical or suspicious way.]

Never crossed my mind, honestly. It's fortunetelling with cards, there's no individual with a personality of their own or conscious thought sitting somewhere invisible feeding me answers.

[repaintress]

How can you be so certain? Perhaps there is an entire afterlife market in secrets. Yours would command a high price since you give the impression of having none.

[ Teasing aside... ]

Have you told fortunes with anything else?

[cache_coeur]

No, never. I’ve done my fair share of things others would consider a little silly, but I’m just so partial to the cards.

[repaintress]

They're one of the more flexible and personal methods. I understand why you favor them.

[ She must know... ]

What precisely would you consider 'silly', madame?

[cache_coeur]

It’s not that it is silly, just that I can’t expect others to take it as seriously as I do. Am I opening myself up to questioning how real it is if I say what?

[repaintress]

People who consider the cards silly or unreal do not understand them. Even if their guidance is only a reflection of the minds involved, art is likewise a reflection of the people creating and observing. There is value in that for its own sake.

[cache_coeur]

That’s exactly how I feel about it. Well, mostly –– it is more than just our minds, but I’ll allow your doubt.

[repaintress]

I accept that I do not know - I believe it would be exciting if there were something more to the cards, however, detractors dismiss the notion.

[ She had been speaking from their point of view, not her own. ]

You have more experience, so I would take your word over theirs. What do you believe?

[ There is a peek of interest in Clea's voice. ]

[cache_coeur]

To a believer, no evidence is needed. To an outsider, no evidence is sufficient. It’s real, plain and simple.

[repaintress]

From whence do you believe the power springs? From the universe? From a spirit attached to the cards, or using them to transmit a message?

[ Both theories Clea has heard. ]

[cache_coeur]

The same place the rest of the world’s magic comes from. What that entails, I don’t know, it’s beyond me, but it’s all part and parcel.

[repaintress]

[ A fair response. ]

Life's mysteries are often cruel and sharp, but recently I've grown more appreciative of their existence.

[cache_coeur]

Mm. I don’t want to live in a world where everything is determined by simple, unfeeling fact.

[repaintress]

There can be no hope without uncertainty.

[cache_coeur]

Too true! And I like to keep it in abundance.

[repaintress]

Uncertainty would be good for the tarot business.

[ Naturally, Sciel would have meant hope, but just as naturally, Clea pretends and teases otherwise. ]

[cache_coeur]

[For others, maybe; she’s kept her day job and never thought otherwise. Something about forking over money for a reading or a table tipping séance to speak with the Gommaged turns her stomach.]

You know, it would be. Good thing life is so stable, hmm?

[repaintress]

Yes, 'stable' is certainly an apt adjective for life.

[ Obviously not. They both know that. ]

Our current situation is just as expected.

[cache_coeur]

Mm. What do you think of all this now, then? You haven’t seemed as distressed as when we first spoke.

[repaintress]

[ The slight warmth and good humor drains out of Clea's voice, replaced with a wall that is nearly tangible, stiffness replacing her previous slightly more relaxed air. ]

I allowed the situation to get the best of me. I apologize for my behavior, madame.

[cache_coeur]

[What a reaction. Sciel pauses, and then just settles for gently teasing:]

Now, Clea, we can’t drink together and then go back to you calling me “madame.” It’s fine. No apologies necessary.

[repaintress]

[ Necessary or not, Clea feels she should - finding out Sciel is a teacher had slid some things into place. There's still a slight remove when Clea speaks. A caution. ]

I can't very well call you monsieur. You would look terrible with a mustache.