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]

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.

[cache_coeur]

[She laughs.]

Good thing most people call me "Sciel", then!

[repaintress]

Monsieur Sciel?

[ Clea is certainly the child in class who made things Difficult. ]

[cache_coeur]

If you insist! The moustache it is.

[repaintress]

An exceptionally long one that twirls at the ends.

I shall work on it post-haste.

[cache_coeur]

Wouldn't have it any other way.