Yarva Demonicus Etrigan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
personaldemon) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
taxonomites2012-07-23 12:22 pm
personaldemon) wrote in taxonomites2012-07-23 12:22 pm
Entry tags:
[Text] / [Location: a cafe in Speares]
Does anyone know if transfer of credits can be accomplished from one person to another, here? So far all I have managed is using them at the stores or with the hatches, and as it happens this 'allowance' they give us isn't really adequate.
Where I was from, I offered my services in a consulting capacity, but if I cannot get payment for such here, then that isn't incredibly practical.
....on a similar note, if anybody wishes their tarot read, it appears I'm doing this for free until I figure out a way to return an investment on the deck I just hatched.
If so, I'm at the version of the Café Procope that they have apparently stolen from Paris and transplanted here. It is in the Speares district. I may be found at one of the upstairs balcony tables.
Where I was from, I offered my services in a consulting capacity, but if I cannot get payment for such here, then that isn't incredibly practical.
....on a similar note, if anybody wishes their tarot read, it appears I'm doing this for free until I figure out a way to return an investment on the deck I just hatched.
If so, I'm at the version of the Café Procope that they have apparently stolen from Paris and transplanted here. It is in the Speares district. I may be found at one of the upstairs balcony tables.
[text] <3
I am. I am at home, now, but if you would seek such, you may come. I trust the map is a sufficient guide.
[text --> location]
Because MANNERS.
[text --> location]
Manners? What are those?
***
When Glitch arrives at the house where Jason's dot blinks away, the wrought iron gate that separates the property from the street stands open, waiting.
The door itself is opened after Glitch's first knock. Jason stands there and offers a nod.
"Before you come in, do you have anything magical or diabolical upon your person?"
Most people say 'hello', Jason.
[location]
"Um." Awkwardly Glitch points to the zipper. "This was sorta done with magic but it's really. Passive? Just keeps the noggin together."
He really has no idea how the damn thing works and he sure ain't asking Azkadellia. There's nothing to be concerned about, but hey, better safe.
[location]
The patchwork boy... If he only had a brain!
Half of anything brings only pain.
He's half a whole, half a soul
His princess gone, he plays the role
Of city's prince with weary heart
He is ill-suited for the part.
...as useful as ever, thank you, Etrigan.
Jason stands there in silence a few seconds, brows slightly drawn, squinting at the silver zipper that bisects the dark, curling hair. There is a tinge of magic to it, but nothing that sets his nerves to jangling. Likely it will not trip his wards.
"Very well. Please come in, then. I am called Jason Blood."
He steps back to allow the man entrance, into a what is essentially a closed-in patio walled with glass, an entry rug strewn across the floor. The open door on the other side of the room leads into a comfortably furnished hallway-- bookshelves, rugs, a chaise lounge, potted ferns next to windows.
[perma-location~]
His un-seaworthyness was a thing of legend by now.
"See you've settled in okay, this is a ice place."
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Jason leads the way from the front room into the hall then a hard right into a parlour of sorts; a comfortable room, couch and chairs and a glass coffee table. A bookshelf that Jason hasn't yet bothered to fill.
"Do you care for something to drink, Mister Glitch?"
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Long-ass story is wicked long. And wicked. In any case Glitch is instantly relaxed in the parlour, it's an environment he's comfortable in. He settles in one of the chairs and looks around, casually taking in details.
"Just Glitch, or Mr. Langwe but-- no, just Glitch. Um. A whisky and water, if it's not too much trouble? Or just water. What is the polite answer to that anyway?"
No seriously Jason MANNERS he's feeling intrusive.
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Whiskey, check; one of those half-sized water bottles, check as well. He pours a glass half full of the whiskey and carries glass, bottle, and water all over to Glitch; his visitor can adjust proportions further as he desires. Jason is not much of a bartender.
"I'm sure I don't know the polite response, other than to request your beverage of choice, which you did."
The parlour has very little in the way of personal details about its inhabitant. Of course, Jason hasn't lived here very long either. There's inoffensive wall art, slightly abstract landscapes in pastel hues; a record player with no records visible nearby.
The cards are still in his pocket from earlier. Jason fishes them out. He is personally quite tired of tarot after the day's readings-- Arya's had been an exhausting struggle that left him dreading the demon's next spate of freedom, Raziel's had left him bitter and migrained-- but none of this shows on his face.
The man had asked for a reading, had even asked if it were a convenient time, and Jason had said yes. So be it.
"Do you know anything of tarot," he asks, a little mechanically, as he settles into the chair opposite Glitch's. It's variant to the same questions he's been asking all day.
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"A bit. Another former...captive had a magic shop, I think it's still in Wilde, and she used to do readings and told me a bit about them." Sweet, brave Tara, with Willow and DG gone there really wasn't anything left of her but old abandoned Tamper and Trick. "I never wanted one, but..."
Then he'd been afraid of the past and almost indifferent for the future, too busy hanging on to the present. He'd needed facts, not murky symbols, but now things have changed.
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"In Wilde, you say? I will explore."
He gives the cards a shuffle. They're at least getting quite well worn in.
"But now you do. The reading I have been giving most people today is a simple one, a card for past, present, and future. But if you have a specific query for the cards, it often results in a clearer reading."
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He considers the statement and frowns. Specifics...he's rarely been good at those and right no is no exception.
"I've been here two annuals, nine months, and...maybe a couple weeks. Not much of it has made any sense." He swirled his glass and glanced at Jason. "I'm just...not sure if it's for anything, right? What's all this doing for me?"
Pause. "Okay that's not really helpful but I'm in one of those 'evaluating-your-life' phases, you know?"
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"An 'evaluating-your-life' phase is as good as any a time to seek guidance. Very well...."
The glass coffee table receives the cards, one after the other. The Hanged Man. The four of cups. Lastly, the Fool.
Jason arched a brow. The theme of running major arcana was being borne out some more in Taxon, it seemed.
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"These are those major ones, right? Kinda funny to get two of them."
We'll just let the meta ride for a moment.
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"Mathematically unlikely, yes-- however, all day long I have been drawing an 'unlikely' proportion of cards from the major arcana. Perhaps it is something in the water."
He withdraws his hands from the cards, laces them on the tabletop and studies the tableaux for a few seconds in silence.
"In the position of the past, the Hanged Man. A card symbolizing sacrifice, and surrender... It has ties to a myth of my world; a god who bound himself to hang from a tree for nine days in order that he might receive knowledge of sacred mysteries.
"Some see other stories suggested by the Hanged Man as well; the Christ-myth, Osiris or Mithras... but always a theme of sacrifice of the self, destruction of the self, in order to obtain some form of salvation or victory."
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"Yes, that's...in a round-about way, yes." If he'd told her she'd have just killed him and then there would have been no way to stop the machine. By having his brain taken, a door was left open. "Not the greatest sacrifice but it's up there. And in the end it made the difference."
Still, a hell of a lot to go through to babble numbers at some jerk in a fedora.
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How sad it is when you've only half a brain
And hang at the edge of knowledge's black abyss;
Not whole, but no longer forgetful of your pain
It proves Gray's words that ignorance is bliss?
"How does one weigh sacrifice?" Jason said aloud, countering Glitch's words. "You say 'not the greatest'; I somehow doubt there is an objective spectrum upon which one's capacity to think as one ought is carefully delineated is being lesser than some, greater than others. All sacrifices are sacrifices..."
His fingers move to the middle card, eyes studying the picture of the man sitting lost in his own thoughts.
"In the present you've disengaged. You've retreated into yourself, possibly as defense against sustained injuries, possibly as resignation. You are dwelling within the world encompassed by your head, distanced yourself from others.
"The four of cups can be considered a warning of this state-- an alarum to re-engage with the rest of the world."
ohoho
...one's capacity to think as one ought. He hadn't explained it, had he? Not all of it, no, and his eyes narrow just a fraction. Maybe Azkadellia had told Jason, or maybe his divination skills are greater than some simple card reading. Still.
"I'm still here," he says with a shrug. "That's my measure."
And he's listening again, studying the card. Opportunities dismissed, discontent, ignoring what's in front of him. He thinks of his little house, his increasingly tight circle of friends, and nods faintly.
"I keep saying we all stick together here but...it gets so easy to just close in." And there's the offered cup which he's holding back from, the happiness he's not letting himself embrace for all sorts of reasons. "I lost someone dear and I have been insulating but it's not what I want."
Or what she'd want. He looks up with a wry little grin. "I like people, it's a thing."
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This Glitch, or whatever one wants to call him, is aware and engaged in the reading-- whatever the damage to his mind, there's still both the glint of shrewd intelligence in those eyes, and insight and self-awareness in the words. Jason nods in turn.
He makes an expression that isn't quite a smile at Glitch's I like people.
"Then you seem well-disposed to take the warning and be able to act upon it. Leading us to the Fool, in the future position.
"A card of beginnings, fresh start, the open promise of a new day. It's far from a declaration that one is stupid; rather the Fool represents the querent in a child-like state of hope and optimism for the road to come, a road where the Fool pursues his passions.
"Faith and loyalty are themes of this card, symbolized by the dog, the rose.
"I said the Fool isn't a card signifying stupidity; it's not. Yet it contains warnings about the consequences of blind optimism as well. Notice the small size of the Fool's knapsack for the road: the journey has not been well planned.
"The Fool stands as both praising the positivity and optimism represented by the card, and at the same time warns the querent to be responsible and to consider consequences as he acts."
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Ambrose is dead, long live not-quite-Ambrose and all that.
Not that not-quite-Ambrose is a bad fellow to be or anything. Glitch nods and his hadn creeps out so fingertips and touch the edge of the Fool card. Faith. Loyalty. Optimism. And his little dog too.
"That's me, the wide-eyed optimist." At least it had been, and if he was going down that road again it would be wise to do so with caution. "Thank you Jason, this has cleared up a number of things."
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"Which is more pleasant to deliver than the alternative." Not that he particularly cares about 'pleasant', but... easier. Easier has its appeals.
He considers the glass of whiskey Glitch drinks from with faint, casual jealousy. Once his guest leaves, perhaps. He settles back in his armchair, hands dangling over the armrests.
"You've been here longer than anyone I've yet talked to."
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"Really?" he says and looks around. It seemed like he'd hardly been there much time at all but...well, some people don't like people. "Not really one for socializing, I take it."
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"Although, as you are the first person to be in my house, the latter also applies. Unlikely to change much, since, as you say, I am not a particular social butterfly."
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"Ah, well, glad to break it in for you." Or something. He shakes his head, which jangles the zipper's tab. "And since I'm here I may as well ask how you're coping with this place and...if you've got any weird questions about it."
He's relaxed, and donig that exuding-earnestness thing. The been-here-too-long, seen it (almost) all look.
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"How I'm 'coping'? Mnh. Are you the psychiatric counsel, Mr. Glitch?
"As for 'weird' questions... I fear my barometer for the 'weird' is not particularly reliable."
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these keywords are always apt
<3
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