Revati knew, as she walked back to Baker Street, that once again she was on the edge of things.
Revati could barely remember the first edge she encountered, four years old and holding a balloon while drones flew above.
The second edge, seeing her father’s twitching hand under the rubble.
And now, Amma standing in the doorway with Dusk.
Her arms were folded, and she glared when she realized Camilo was with them.
"Hello, Camilo," Amma remarked.
"Sugafanna! I haven’t seen you since…" he began.
"Jay’s last birthday; you drank too much of your honeymede and threw up on the walls," Amma pointed out.
"Ah, yes," Camilo blushed with embarrassment.
"And I suppose you’re here to help Revati with this insanity?" Sugafana asked coldly.
"Is saving the ones we love really that insane?" Camilo asked Sugafana, who sighed, rolling her eyes.
"I’m going to the station now, Amma; where’s Nanni?" Revati asked.
"I’m right here, Dimpy," Nanni said from behind mother.
"Don’t die while I’m gone; you’ve lasted eighty years. You can last a little longer," Revati said firmly.
Nanni pulled her down, kissing her forehead, and then draped something around Revati’s neck.
It was her precious Kasithaali, a gold chain dotted with gold and coral beads.
In the center of the chain, there was a tiny golden idol, its features finely carved.
The Kasithaali was ancient, trailing far back to the first Sheik born on Mars.
The coral beads had been picked from a long-ago dead and abandoned Earth.
"Nanni, you know I can’t take this! Raiders will try to steal it," Revati pointed out.
"Hide it down the front of your clothes! You will need Lakshmi’s protection," Nanni said firmly.
"You will also need this," Amma replied, sliding off one of her bangles.
"Why are you both giving me wedding jewelry? I’m going on a rescue mission; I’m not getting married," Revati asked as Amma slid the bangle onto Revati’s wrist.
Amma tapped the bracelet four times, and it suddenly glowed a faint purple.
"DNA approved user confirmed, current balance nine thousand six hundred and eighty-three credits," the bracelet chimed.
"It’s not a bracelet; it’s my portable bank account! You’re not going to go out into the world with no funds," Amma said as Revati stared at the glowing numbers.
"Is this a lot of money?" She asked curiously.
"It’s enough. Now here’s everything else you asked for... including your sister's hairbrush," Amma asked, handing Revati a bag, and Revati nodded.
"Good, well, I best be off then," Revati said, and Amma nodded.
Revati realized it was probably time to say something else.
"I love you both," she added before reaching forward to embrace Amma.
Revati firmly believed in only hugging on her terms.
Still, Amma deserved it.
It took a moment to realize that Brigadeiro Bun was politely following her and Camilo.
"Why are you trailing behind me?" Revati had to ask.
"He's following you as well, as well as what I suspect is the android wearing a cloak," Brigadeiro pointed out.
"I need Camilo to help me at the train station," Revati replied as they reached the maze's entrance.
"I’m pretty sure I can turn the train on for one ride; I salvaged a power cell from the dragon," Camilo explained.
"Well, I’m following you because you’ll need my tent if you want to survive the elements," Brigadeiro replied.
"You got your tent back, then?" Revati asked as they entered the maze.
In the distance, Revati could hear someone giggle among the leaves.
"Yes, Isabeau found it in the lost property pile," Brigadeiro replied.
"And you’re going to give me your tent?" Revati asked.
"I’m going to share it with you; it’s a two-person tent! My ex and I were supposed to travel together, but we broke up," Brigadeiro said with a small shrug.
"You don’t seem that upset about it," Revati pointed out as they turned a corner.
The giggling was coming from two small children in medical dress fighting with sticks.
"I was; then I went out to find diamond roses for her, and everything else happened," Brigadeiro admitted.
"So you’re going to travel with me for an indefinite amount of time? Finding my sister plus take weeks or months," Revati said as they turned right.
"Or years; when appliances want to hide things, they stay hidden," Camilo pointed out.
"Well, I’ll stay with you until we reach a public teleportation station; then you can keep the tent," Brigadeiro said, and Revati shrugged.
"Fine, that’s a fair exchange for saving your life twice," she admitted.
The maze suddenly opened up onto the grand entrance of Olde Landon.
The ticket booths, in the shape of castle turrets, had long ago been abandoned.
The giant Elizabeth Twin statue was covered in gently glowing fungus.
Revati stared at them briefly.
One of the queens was in a grand solid carved ballgown.
The other in a neat suit and hat.
Both of them had lizard faces.
"We have the exact same statue on the South West Sydney Space station; apparently, the lizard faces allowed the queens to live for centuries," Brigadeiro remarked.
"That was just a myth; come on this way," Camilo replied.
The park bullet train ran from the park to Leeryasoar, the country's capital. Years ago, the station teemed with tourists. Feet would pound over the shiny tiles, the exact same gold and purple as the domed train. Creatrix vending machines were constantly humming next to the benches. Revati remembered Amma punching in several numbers to get Dityaa a bottle of mango lassi. There had been a stand in the center of the platform selling park maps and plastic magic wands. Pink and red roses grew in orderly bushes. Holographic signs floated on the walls, stating that all data cloud technology would stop working inside the park. Revati had dim memories of her father checking the news on his communications bracelet before they went inside. The signs had long ago been smashed to pieces and were now nothing more than broken screens. The Creatrix vending machines had been looted and were now filled with spiders. The roses all grew in wild tangles flowing over the garden beds.
"Wow; these roses have gone feral! They're singing about how much they wish they could prick people with their thorns," Brigadeiro remarked as Camilo approached the abandoned purple shuttle train with his tool belt.
"Are we far enough away from the wall?" Revati asked.
"We should be! All the vending machines were, so they led the attack during the invasion! The only thing that stopped them was the station's power supply getting cut off," Camilo said, gesturing about. Camilo was right; the station was dim and depressing under the grey Martian sunlight. Revati nodded and whisked the cloak off the figure. The maternity droid stared back at her. Camilo had taken the time to repaint its face. Its lips were a deep scarlet, its eyes bright cheerful green. Camilo had also replaced its broken legs with bulky steel ones he had spray-painted blue with cheerful flowers painted down the side. The belly door had been reattached and was now filled with a healthy white light.
"Hello, I am your custom-built Materno 4000 Deluxe prenatal droid! Would you like to grow a new baby or link to your pre-existing infant?" The android chirped in a flat metallic voice.
"Pre-existing infant," Revati said, and the Android's eyes fluttered.
"Your pre-existing infant is 218 months old, is this correct?" The android asked.
"Correct," Revati said, and the android blinked again.
"Your pre-existing infant is currently out of detection range; would you like to create a new infant?" The android asked.
"No! I want to talk to the lady who was using you as a microphone before," Revati said.
"You have to tell it to open maternal communication! I turned the channel off," Camilo said from where he had managed to open the front panel of the train.
"Open maternal communication!" Brigadeiro said eagerly.
The android's eyes fluttered shut once again. There was nothing.
"I don't think we're far enough away from the wall," Revati sighed.
But then the humming began. A faint, child-like humming came from behind the Android's lips.
"Whispers in the motherboard, a haunting tune,
A phantom dancing in the light of a digital moon," Brigadeiro sang along, and Revati shot him a confused look.
"It's humming Circuit whispers! From the hit musical 'The Android of Music,'" Brigadeiro explained.
"I've never heard of it," Revati confessed.
"You've never heard of 'The Android of Music'? Praise group! Once you've rescued your sister, I'll have to take you! Everyone needs to hear 'The Android of Music,'" Brigadeiro said firmly. Before Revati had a chance to reply, the android's eyes snapped open again.
"Thank Krishna! Finally, a decent signal; it's been eighteen years," the android exclaimed in an incredibly annoyed upper-class woman's voice. The Android reached clumsily toward Revati, snatching her bag. Then it reached inside, pulling out Dityaa's hairbrush. The belly door swung open, and the Android shoved the hairbrush inside.
"Did it just do what I think it just did?" Brigadeiro grimaced.
"How else do you expect me to trace my daughter's DNA?" The Android asked, and then her belly glowed green.
"Right, the last recording of her DNA imprint was in New Singapore six hours ago! Let's go find my baby," the android said firmly and cheered as the train burst back into life.
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A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 3 - Two of Cups (reversed)
masterlist : 1 — 2 — 3 — 4
word count : 5,2k
mentions of :
wounds, bit of blood, twisted ankle, bruised hands, panic attack (if i missed anything please don't hesistate to tell me)
summary :
You've always been an excellent in student in the Academy, getting the best results and always being first in every class. But it all changes as soon as you see your name in the second place, the first being occupied by a certain Viktor.
some extra information on this :
she/her reader, academic rivals to lovers/enemies to lovers, reader is really competitive and wants to be first at everything, tarot themed fanfiction with guidelines, slow burn
author's note :
heyyy third chapter !! i have not started working on the next one yet but hey been posting lotta stuff lately soooo yea :)) hope you'll enjoy
(my native language is not English so you might find some grammar mistakes - sorry about that)
tag list : @wincestisasincest , @doctorho
Darkness, stale, earthy dust. The depths of Zaun are like a permanent gaze towards a sky as dark as a night covered with clouds of brown and purplish vapours. This is not a landscape that you forget, these are not rock walls that soften you. They harden you, metamorphose you into one of their kind. They rip you from your humanity, deprive you of your rights and send you back the echoes of screaming voices.
In a secluded corner, far below the Entresol Level, you enter a place worthy of nightmare descriptions. It's hidden near one of the few sections where Zaun's power generators are located, making a din which can drown out any sound that might be made by a human being. Screaming in this area would be like screaming ten metres deep in water.
To get there, you can take a lift that will bring you down to an almost deserted crossroads. You walk down a few urine-stinking corridors that will lead you to the first power station, only you have to pass it and get to the second. Near this one, you will find a filthy trap door on the ground reserved for customers which takes you down a small staircase. And there, it's another world.
The air smells of honeyed alcohol, tobacco and sweat, and you talk so much that you can only hear yourself speak if you raise your voice above laughter and screaming.
This entrance, you only took it twice in your life, when you entered and then when you left, when you escaped.
"Seven, Fourteen, up." growls Vome's greasy voice. "Next one will be Three and Five."
You stroke your left shoulder, no round for you tonight. Seven and Fourteen stand up, Fourteen limps, he was put against Six last night who gave him a violent blow to the ankle. The doctor just put a bandage on him and a strong smell of menthol, clove and eucalyptus.
They put it on your leg too, when Eight kicked your calf. The balm was fresh in the doctor's hand, but after applying it to you, it had been warm, very warm, a warmth that felt good and contrasted with the cool rocky ground.
You would have liked to coat yourself with this balm, to put it on your shoulder, to apply it to every tired limb of your body, to butter your heart and soul to bring back some warmth in this damp cold in which you lived.
The shouts start again, both encouraging and threatening.
"Go on, hit him!"
"Hit the jaw you idiot!"
"If you don't win this fight I'll personally take care of you!"
Flesh on young bones clashing, it's an uneven rhythm camouflaged by the screams of the gamblers. It's really ugly, to let one of the injured battle against a fit one.
But the profits that will come out of this match are strategic: one is injured, the other is not, one has an advantage, the other is bound to lose, from this information we already know what to expect for the bets.
The uproar and the shouting intensifies a great deal, until exploding in a climax and then subsiding little by little. The match is over, they have to exchange money, some swearing and others lining their pockets.
It is on a portable stretcher that Fourteen returns. His left eye is swollen, his lip is split and bloody. His ankle looks even worse than before the battle, he's passed out but seems to be in pain even into unconsciousness as he's laid down not too far from you.
You then approach Fourteen, taking his hand: the knuckles are bruised, red and studded with brown and cherry skin scabs. You hold and treat it like a candle about to go out, like a handful of sand that might disperse in the wind.
You've known Fourteen since you arrived, he's one of the older guys who's been in this for a while and you've made friends with him. Up close, he was looking more bruised than a month old apple.
"Pathetic." his voice is barely audible.
You look up, his eyelids are pressed with pain and his eyebrows are arched with pity.
"Don't move," you murmur simply, taking a rag of fabric that serves as a duvet and rolling it into a pillow-like shape.
With great care, you bring your hand below his knee to lift his leg and place the cushion under his aching ankle.
It is twisted, blue, red and swollen. A strange feeling runs down your legs, as if you've stepped in electric water up to your thighs.
"The doc will be here soon."
"If I keep going down, they'll end me."
"Don't say that. You have a fever. You're delirious," you say, bringing your hand to his sweaty forehead. Burning.
"Paint stripes on a toad, it'll never make it a tiger."
The dubious doc arrived, pulling you away and sending you back to your bed. You would never forget that sentence. You were probably like him, another toad thrown into a tiger arena.
Only they don't know the poison the toad possesses.
"Hey, you!"
You turn around, Vome is standing behind you. He looks like a bulldog, chin forward, small pig nose, brow and eyelids encroaching on his small, dark, squinty eyes.
"You're in next."
Your throat tightens.
"But I wasn't called."
"Oh, because you're answering now?"
"But it's not my turn !"
His heavy body and beer-rounded belly come towards you, grabbing your arm with a firm grip that hurts.
The sounds of the crowd are getting closer, you can hear them despite your heart pounding in your ears, the corridor is getting brighter and brighter with a dirty orange glow. You don't want to go, you don't want to, you never wanted to.
Your eyelids open wide as you take a huge breath. It's as if you've suddenly risen from deep water and finally reached the surface as your lungs burn, you missed the air and you never thought you'd have the strength to swim all the way.
You breathe hard until your inhales are so strong you can feel the air passing down the gummy wall in the upper back of your throat, your eyes are wet, it's still dark.
A nightmare, nothing but a nightmare, a ghost from the past haunting your being.
You sit up on your elbows, the sheets are soaked, your skin is beaded with sweat, as if your bathing in the worlds of dark dreams had accompanied you into reality. You bring your hands to your eyes, massaging them, caressing your cheeks and forehead to clear them of the film of sweat on your face.
You're not there any more, you remind yourself, and you're never going back.
Your shoulder burns, in fact, you feel as if your body is on fire, as if flames are licking at the underside of your skin, trying to melt your flesh and set fire to everything around you.
You quietly remove your blanket. You glance over at Sky's bed. She seems to be sleeping peacefully. Your breathing begins to settle, your deep gulps of air helping you to regain some semblance of calm.
And yet, with the committed fire with which your body burns, you tremble like a leaf in the wind. You feel like a dandelion tossed by the wind and afraid of losing its seeds. You feel so frail, as if you were made of crystal, of a very thin glass, and that you could break at any moment.
You need to centre yourself. Because you know that going back to sleep is not possible, you have experienced enough similar nights to understand that trying to go back to sleep is a waste of time.
You grab the handle of your bedside table drawer, fumbling in the dark before finding a torch. You didn't want to turn on your desk lamp and risk waking Sky.
As you turned it on, you noticed the time was approaching five in the morning. On other nights, you'd wake up much earlier, which wasn't very practical when you were working the next day.
In the quietest of ways, you grabbed one of the few bottles of essential oils given to you by Eris, applying them to your wrists and fingers to inhale the herbal scent. Blessed be peppermint and its benefits.
How to spend the time now?
Your eyes drift back to your bedside table, where your tarot card box sits.
Ah, that's right, the card to be pulled every morning.
So you take the box, its weight reassuring you, because everything you feel like you've been holding since you woke up seems to have the consistency of cotton candy. Between the smells of plants, you can make out the cardboard scent of the box.
You wedge your torch in your mouth so that you have both hands free, you remove the top part. The cards take up five sixths of the box while a small booklet is on the side.
In the centre of the back of the cards, a red flower with five petals fills a black square. Everything else forms a checkerboard of red flowers with green backgrounds and white flowers with black backgrounds.
You take the deck in your hands, wedging all the cards between your thumb, middle and ring fingers, preparing to shuffle them.
You do it as quietly as possible, so as not to wake your room-mate. At first, doing it silently is not very easy. The shuffling of the cards, the feeling of the smooth and varnished paper makes a sharp clap of air.
But miraculously, you manage to find an angle quiet enough to shuffle the cards discreetly. Once you consider the deck to be shuffled enough, this time you shuffle with an aim to get a card that will tell you more about your day.
A card comes out, flipping between the deck you're shuffling and the deck of cards in your right hand. You pick up the small booklet, looking for the card you had drawn: two of cups.
‘The card shows two people approaching one another, a young man and woman, exchanging cups and pledging their love for one another. A house involving domestic bliss and housework stands behind them, reflecting cohabitation. It is the card of the balance between the masculine and the feminine.’
Pledging their love huh ? Yet as you look at the card in your hand you get the distinct impression that the woman is frowning and displaying an emotion of displeasure rather than smiling like the bashful lover facing her.
However, this card had fallen in reverse, and you remembered that Eris marked a distinction in meaning when this happened in the readings. So you look at the next section of the booklet focusing on the meaning of the card in reverse.
'You feel lost and alone, you close yourself to others, you cannot share something of value to others.
At its essence, the reversed Two of Cups is about self-love. Love, in any form, starts with love for yourself. When you love yourself unconditionally, you accept and appreciate who you are, and you respect and honour the most authentic version of yourself. You welcome a life of happiness because you fundamentally believe you deserve it (and you're right!). When you come from this place of self-love, self-acceptance, and self-respect, you will have more fulfilling, loving relationships with others. It all starts with self-love.'
Well, that sounds like a lot of fun.
Self Love, self love... You contemplate the card, wondering at first who represents whom on it. Maybe the next few days will bring you that answer.
A lovely start to the morning.
***
What. The. Fuck. Is. He. Doing. Here.
"What will be your order ?"
The sentence comes out of your mouth in a tense way.
When your alarm clock had finally gone off later that morning, Sky had woken up as well and after getting ready as you do almost every morning, you had told her your work schedule before leaving and wishing her a good day.
You helped to open the café as you do every other morning with the same routine. Washed your hands, turned on the lights, took the hibernation syrups out of the fridge, started the coffee brewing, restocked everything by filling up the hoppers, fixing the condiment stand, making sure you did not lack sugar syrups, sugar, straws and stir sticks. Your present colleagues had previously checked the quality of the beans while you had arranged the pastries and other sweets in the display cases.
Everything was impeccable, as usual, and your first customers had not been as unpleasant as you might have expected.
So why did Viktor have to show up as a customer with Jayce and Caitlyn sitting on a corner table.
"Do you work here?"
"No, I'm obviously a simple customer."
His sly smile raises the mole near his mouth. You clear your throat before reiterating:
"What will be your order?"
He lingers on the blackboard hanging behind you, carefully reading everything that was on display among the white chalk writings and the few nice little drawings of flowers and leaves made out of aesthetic choices to soften the customers.
"What would you recommend?"
"Bleach, or maybe hydrochloric acid will better suit your taste?
"I'll stick with a Mocha," his eyes drift to the pastry case, lingering on the jasmine tea scones. "I'll also have an Espresso and a Long Black." As you took down his order, he added, "And one of those scones."
“Will that be all ?”
“Yes.”
"To eat in or take away?"
"Eat in."
"I'll bring it to you soon."
"Thanks, and please don't spit in my drink."
"I wouldn't waste my saliva on such a low blow." You say before you get to work.
As you went about your duties, you cursed Jayce. You know for a fact that Jayce had insisted on coming to this particular café. Like any good engineering student, he was a coffee addict, and since he knew you worked at the Brown Bitt, he had become a regular since you secretly gave him discounts. And since he probably wanted you and Viktor to be on ‘good terms’, he brought him here.
You prepared the espresso, and then the Long Black, and then came the Mocha. You took a cup, scooping some cocoa powder in it. You poured hot water on it, just enough to make the mixture syrupy with a spoon. And while you were making the espresso and warming the milk, you thought of the lovely design you were going to make for him: a dick latte art.
But before you could achieve this magnificent plan, a colleague of yours came next to you. Not just any colleague either: Pearl.
Pearl was a vibrant woman, slightly older than you, and with whom you used to chat at lunchtime when she wasn't already chatting with a client about flowers and flower history.
She was a florist, and worked in this café to make ends meet. She created her own floral perfumes, and put on a different one every day. Each flower having a hidden meaning and carrying a particular message towards the one who receives it, she made sure that her emotions were correctly connected with her fragrance of the day.
" Well, your friend is bringing company," she said, leaning against the counter next to you, looking at Viktor and Caitlyn. " Would you introduce me? "
"I might disturb their conversation," you say, concentrating with your milk drawing.
"I'm a charming distraction though," she smiles. "Why do you always take the orders from the tall dark-haired guy, what's his name again? Jayce? Let me serve him next time."
"Because he's my friend I guess, and we'll see about you serving him, you'd be able to pour him a love filter, or spray him with a special perfume that would make you irresistible to him," you laugh, putting your little jug down before placing the orders on the tray, not forgetting of course the scone for the stick man.
"Anyway, you look tired today."
"Yeah, I didn't have a great night."
"Let me take two-thirds of your orders for this afternoon."
"No, that would almost be overtime for you."
"I'm sorry, but unfortunately that's not negotiable." she smiled. "Go and serve this delicious tray to your friends."
You loved Pearl, she was always bursting with life and joy and smiles that any sour customer would have dropped their bad mood on the spot. And with that overflowing energy, she was even willing to work double time just for the sake of working. She was rarely lazy, and when you came in with a more zombified face than wear and tear at the coffee shop, she'd make sure to take over for the afternoon so you could get some rest.
As you walk over to the table, you notice Caitlyn's charming smile. It was nice to see her, even if it was at your place of work, which didn't necessarily allow for long conversations.
"Ah, right when we needed you," said Jayce.
"Hello to you too," you breathed, "Hi Caitlyn, I wasn't sure how you liked your coffee so you can tell me what to fix for next time," you said apologetically as you served the long black.
Jayce usually had a single espresso, and since Viktor had taken the Mocha, the long black was probably for Caitlyn.
"Don't be too hard on yourself, I'm sure it will be fine."
Viktor looked at his cup, as if the design on his hot drink was absurd. Yet you had only drawn a simple classic tulip, not the phallic design originally intended for him.
Maybe he was just surprised that you didn't do any out-of-the-ordinary design at all.
"I didn't spit in it, put hydrochloric acid in it, nor rat poison in it, if that makes you feel any better," you mutter.
"What do you mean?" Jayce asks, but Viktor, with a simple wave of his hand, dismisses his thoughts. "Never mind, we just wanted to know what your options were for this year."
"Practice of Elemental Alloys, Cinetics and Practice of Machine Conceptions and Structures, Science of the Stars and Planets, and Stabilisation of Energies. You?"
"Great! We have two in common. "
"Let me guess, you took metallurgy?"
"How surprising that someone whose house is known for forging things and therefore touching metal," Viktor said as he blew on his cup, "your deductive skills leave me speechless."
"So I hope I don't have to listen to you talk again," you reply casually, the situation made Caitlyn smile and she was obviously amused by your exchange.
"Did you get the paperwork signed for the museum trip?" asks Jayce before taking a sip of his coffee, smiling to himself for the exact amount of ingredients he liked to be perfectly mixed.
Damn, the visit, you had completely forgotten.
To start the year off on the right foot, the Academy had decided to organise a trip to the Museum of Great Inventions in Piltover during the second week of the school year. It was, in short, a strategy apparently designed to keep the students motivated, almost making them think that this kind of casual excursion would take place several times a year.
And although most of the students were of age and therefore the request for a parent's signature was not necessary, it was preferable that with the eternal tension between Zaun and Piltover the parents were warned of the places outside the Academy that the students were going to.
"No, I suppose I'll have to manage to take care of that by tomorrow night."
***
Her living room has always seemed as cold as it was warm. Burnt incense and jasmine perfume the air in the room, which is bathed in bluish darkness. Your gaze is drawn to the fire, its flames licking the wood in the grey stone fireplace.
These flames had always fascinated you deeply. Fire is usually enchanting, but this one added a dose of magic. Safphire, the fire with sapphire blue flames. Although the dried and salted wood found on the beaches was known to burn blue when lit, this wood was most common. Safphire was known for its famous violet smell that soothed those who were near it.
To your eyes, this fire looked like a real dying star, cold, yet burning and pale and beautiful.
Its icy, pale radiance shone on the bookcase walls, the armchairs and leather sofa in which you sit, the intricately patterned carpets and the curtains hanging wearily in front of the Academy's windows, effortlessly preventing the white glow of the moon from shining through the room.
You turn the thick biscuit in your hands, running your fingers over the dune-like waves of the almond pressed coarsely into the centre of the cracker. You took it from the flattened bowl on the coffee table in front of you.
Selene always had this kind of easy-to-eat sweet in her flat, bowls full of fruit and other biscuits. Blueberries, pine nuts, sunflower seeds, pistachios, almond and butter biscuits, and dried fruit she kept for herself or for special guests.
"We can thank Councillor Shoola for the delicious tea she offered me."
She comes into the room like a midnight cloud. Her dark auburn hair is tied back in a low wavy ponytail, her thin fringes almost falling into her green eyes. She wears a shawl that looks like a cut piece of a starry night: a thin, sparsely opaque indigo cloth randomly sprinkled with golden stones as big as kiwi seeds.
She had an aura as mystical, mysterious and wise as the room. She set down the varnished wooden tray on which lay two cups and a silver teapot.
Selene had been your tutor since you arrived at Piltover, and it had been a while since you'd actually visited her. It is the night before the first day of class.
"You always maintain your relationships with the council well, I wonder how you manage to put up with most of them."
Great astrologer, astronomer, magnetizer and lithotherapist, Selene was often asked by some members of the council. They would ask her for advice and she would give it to them by pulling cards like Eris did, reading the dregs of the tea leaves in their cups, sometimes in the first session she would read their palms.
But what they mostly asked for was their horoscopes, seeking guidance from the placements of the planets for their personal interests and so on.
You found it ironic, advisers taking advice themselves. The councillors were seen as all great and all wise, acting through voting, not imposition. It was mostly supposed to represent objective choices, and some were acting out of self-interest. But were these interests sincerely personal, or were they dictated by the stars for better and very little worse?
The question of choice seemed to be dressed in a different garb from her own, and whether the actions were really objective decisions or the influence of the stars was not easy to unravel.
"It's always useful to have a place on the council, even if you're not on it," she whispered, grabbing a rag and reaching for the teapot to start pouring the steaming tea into your cups. It smelled like summer: honey and white jasmine. "Anyway, it makes for some nice gifts."
"Speaking of gifts," you say before taking your cup next to you, "Eris gave me a Tarot deck."
She took her cup in turn once she had poured herself some tea, her eyebrows drawing in a 'tell me more' kind of way.
"She did a little reading for me a couple of days ago, I wanted more answers, so she gave me a deck."
"Which cards came out ?"
"The Wheel of Fortune, The Tower and The Emperor."
"Interesting."
"How so?"
"That I can't say, it's up to you to see how it resonates with you. Have you started to familiarise yourself with it?"
"Yes, I'm following the exercise she gave me which is to pull a card every morning and see how it relates to my day."
"Very good initiative, and what cards have you had so far?"
"Yesterday it was the Two of Cups, and this morning Five of Pentacles."
On the Five of Pentacles card, two people are walking in the snow with a church in the background with five pentacles in the centre of the stained glass window. The booklet stated:
'The disadvantages and difficulties of long-term relationships. The loss but not the end. Hope and salvation for those who see. The dark night of the soul.
A couple walk through a blinding snowstorm. They look weak and unhealthy. They seem oblivious to the warm glow of the church beside them. Salvation is there, if only they look.
You no longer feel safe because it has been all stripped away from you in one blow. Your ego may also be bruised, especially since success often correlates to financial wealth; losing either can be a humbling blow to your self-esteem and sense of self-worth. Similarly, the Five of Pentacles suggests that you fear you don't have 'enough' or you may lose something important to you - even if it hasn't happened yet or is unlikely.’
You had to admit to yourself that this description resonated with you. That security you no longer have is reflected in your results from the day before yesterday and your bruised ego.
"And you are able to draw conclusions from this?
"Getting to understand certain aspects is not yet evident."
"You will soon notice that there are certain redundant symbols in the tarot. By discarding the swords, wands, cups and pentacles, you can begin to associate other patterns on the cards with other features. I have an excellent book if you are interested.
"I am, please."
She blows on her cup gently, taking a sip before standing up and walking over to one of her bookshelves.
" The symbols are interesting." She begins, searching through the vastness of her books. "Wings represent speed, ascension, and inspiration, linked with the element of air and often found on intermediaries between humans and gods. Cloaks can be considered as transformation, protection and devotion, a garment often infused with the magical qualities of a magician or with the power to conceal a true identity. In the case of the Five of Pentacles, crutches mean support and healing, when snow on another hand for instance is the Crystalline form of water suggesting moments of intense transformation. "
All these elements touch you in some way. The wings that will allow you to move up in the rankings. The Cloak, the fabric that until now has allowed you to tirelessly hide all your secrets. The snow, glittering and endlessly forming new flakes melting on your thoughts and taking the lead for determination. And the crutches that brought you here, in this living room, to heal for a while...
"I've heard you have a roommate now, how is it ?"
"Oh yes, her name is Sky, she's very nice and sweet. I'm lucky to have found such a nice person."
"And... I heard that the results of the pre-exams are out?"
You take a deep breath, followed by a big sigh.
"You don't like the results...?" she said, continuing her search.
"I came second."
"And who is the unfortunate first?"
"His name is Viktor," you spit, biting your cheek before taking a sip of tea. "And I have a feeling that no matter where I go he'll be there, he's a real curse."
"What could be better than competition? Challenges sent by the universe are always the best to take, they are a change from the routine and bring movement to life."
"I don't want competition, I eradicate it like a weed. But I think I can expect this one to be tough and hard to uproot."
A silence took place, stretching into long seconds. You watched your tea, its amber colour glowing blue-green with the fire. Your thumb trailed lazily up and down the arm of the cup.
A distorted reflection, a moving mirror that showed you a different, deformed side of yourself with each movement. The tea was full of sincerity and reflected aspects of yourself that you didn't want to see anymore, but that persisted.
You wanted to break that cup, that malleable mirror that hurt you so much, to tear your hands to stuff the broken porcelain into your demons' mouths and make them swallow all the shards of your humiliation and shame.
"I had another nightmare."
These few words scraped your throat like a handful of gravel. Selene stopped her movements, turning to you.
"Which one?"
"Fourteen."
She picked up the textbook she had finally found, placing its brown leather cover on the coffee table. She came and sat next to you, patting her thighs, inviting you to rest your head on them. You comply, putting down your tea and gently laying your head on her lap.
Your eyes drift to the ceiling, which is usually navy blue, but in the darkness it is charcoal black. Painted with white shell paint, constellations stretch across its surface, some important names written in beautiful italic script.
After all these years, you can probably name all the stars or constellations. You have looked at them so much, traced them with your eyes, that you could draw this map again without a model.
The constellation of the butterfly pierced by the arrow of the warrior Arrok with its red star in the lower right wing, representing the scarlet hole of war that reaches the freedom and lightness of peace.
The eye of Fertelf, goddess of nature who had given her eye for Runeterra and allowed it to bloom forever. The star shone green.
Or the constellation of the mermaid, the compass of sailors and pirates who used to find it in the sky to navigate the ocean.
Selene brings her slender fingers to your temples.
"Loosen your jaw, you're all tense."
You follow her direction, trying to relax as she massages your face to loosen you up.
"Do you think you know why you had that nightmare?"
"Grade shock, probably."
She sighs.
"You don't have to worry about it, you'll be back on top in no time."
"That's the problem, what if I don't? What if that damn Viktor sinks me every time?"
"Don't keep that mindset, if you stay perpetually in doubt about your abilities, you'll never be able to afford to move on. Your shoulder is all rigid."
She had taught you early on, when the nightmares multiplied at certain times, that trauma tended to lodge in certain parts of the body. In your case, it was your left shoulder.
"And then keep in mind that you can still beat that Viktor in Astronomy."
"I'm not sure he's taken that option yet." You smile despite yourself.
"Whatever. It's a bit mean, but you can probably take comfort in the fact that you're probably better than him in it at least."
She had a position at the Academy as a teacher of Astronomy and all subjects revolving around stars and planets. She's the one who teaches one of the subjects you took : Science of the Stars and Planets.
"Anyway, tomorrow is another day. Who knows what the next week will bring?"
Selene was not wrong. The school year started tomorrow, who knows what the return to class would be like.
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