Okay so I Disclaim that I own nothing except my underwear and any character that I myself made up...it may take me awhile to get used to the
formatting here. Please bear with me. If you read this, shoot me a messgae real quick letting me know what you think. The Muse yanked my ear last night and
wouldn't leave me alone until I got this down. This is my first fan fic, though not my first writing piece. Hope I did okay...this will mainly be a
Sara/Ian and I'm posting here for now...should it become smutty, I will move it...I think that's it for now...Enjoy please.
She had woken from sleep, hounded by dreams she couldn't grasp. A fey whisper in
the night air told her to read the cards, for they were ready to tell their tales.
She had been wondering when the fickle spirits would choose to share their
wisdom. Thrice she had turned to her cards for answers and thrice she had been refused,
very harshly she might add. But now they were saying they were ready to be deciphered.
She pulled her deck from their heavy velvet wrapping, then from the black silk
pouch laden with fragrant herbs for cleansing and protection. The cards, though very old
and used, looked to be in perfect condition. It was a deck that her family had used for 6
generations. It fair vibrated when she began to shuffle, quietly intermixing the humming
divinatory tool.
Suddenly she felt as if someone, or something, was guiding her hands. She usually
used a few different spreads, depending on the question, but the layout that was forming
in front of her, she had never seen. It looked as if it were a wheel or perhaps a
compass.
The card that was the focal point of the layout was The Lovers. The card sitting
directly on the Northern point was the Knight of Cups. At the opposing Southern point sat
the Queen of Swords. To the East sat Justice and to the West sat The Moon.
All of this was interesting to the old woman, because never in her life had she
seen so much of the Court or The Major Arcana appear in one reading. The meaning of them
all she knew, but none of it was anything she could make sense of.
She meditated on what she saw, not knowing how to proceed. Then she again felt something guiding her hands. It
placed her hand over the focal point, The Lovers, and it seemed as if she was watching a movie.Two dark heads bent close to one another, laughing at a private joke. A dark man, sitting in the shadows, his
eyes on a woman in the middle of a warehouse. A dark haired woman, tears on her cheeks as the same
dark man lay on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. The couple entwined on a bed, candle light
blurring their vision to to everything but one another. Various pictures of this couple through time, playing
and laughing, battling and bleeding together. Dying for one another.
Her hands hovered over the Queen of Swords, seeing a woman, dark hair caught in a light breeze, green eyes glowing
in the dark. She heard the contralto voice saying many things, some pleasing, others cruel. A joke,
affection for the people she loves, insults for those who frighten or anger her. The old woman sees
a complex and brave woman, one who has seen much, one who has, over time begun to keep her own counsel for fear of
loss of another loved one.
As the old woman touches the Knight of Cups, she sees a dark haired man, head bowed, listening as a voice lectures and a whip lays open skin. Unflinching, though the pain must be agonizing. Later the same man pours over old tomes, seemingly searching for something. He finds it, the book falling open to a picture of Joan of Arc, the face an almost exact image of the dark haired woman she had seen. He sat mesmerized, lightly touching the pictured lips, and the old woman sees him visibly relax.
She runs her hands over Justice and The Moon at the same time, seeing a bracelet, the blood red stone glowing as if alive. She sees it transform into a gauntlet, a sword, a broadsword, and a suit of armor. She sees a woman, though not clearly, watching through what looks to be a portal. Pacing and ever vigilant, a warrior and a goddess.
This confuses the old woman. What did this woman and a bracelet have in common? It seemed as if the woman and the bracelet were the very same beings. But that was impossible. A sentient form inside a piece of jewelry? She understood nothing of what the spirits were trying to tell her.
Her head had begun aching, and she stopped her thoughts. She moved to collect her cards, fearing that again, the spirits had forsaken her. They had awakened her merely to play. But as she reached to the table to pick up the card, she was zapped before she could touch it.
"Wise One. Trouble yourself not to put this away. The story has only begun to reveal itself. Leave this and simply cover it with your black velvet. Sleep and ponder what has been shown to you." Came a voice from nowhere.
The old woman, used to strange things happening, after all she was a mystic, merely inclined her head, following the strange directive. She lay down, her mind buzzing with thoguhts, supposing what the spirits may be telling her. Within seconds, her eyes were closed and dreams were spiriting her away.
