taxonomites | [Text] / [Location: a cafe in Speares]

"I said that the blindfold may be a sign the querent is refusing to accept a truth about someone close to her as much as her own self," Jason answered.

He reached out to touch the card again, the standing water that the maiden was stuck in.

"Emotions stuck in the same place. Never growing, never evolving; clinging to a viewpoint of matters that springs from a child's understanding of the world."

She had assumed it had meant the witch and her own abilities. Hoping deep down that it meant they weren't that much alike, no matter why the witch had chosen her. To face that it might be DG made her blanch, leaning back slightly in her chair as her hands slid away from her mug.

"A child's understanding is all I have of my sister," she pointed out, chin lifting as her voice darkened slightly. "She was killed by the witch when I was in my early annuals as a young woman and now I will never know her as a grown woman. I have no option but to see her through those eyes.

"You have the option to look at your relationship and the things that occurred within it through the eyes of an adult," Jason countered implacably.

"That you were both children does not necessitate you continue to think of her as such."

She shifted, prepared to speak, pausing though as if rethinking her words. "An adult's eyes, those of an older sibling, sees a frightened child who did what most scared children would do."

Not what Azkadellia had done, nor would have been likely to do but had she ever truly felt herself a child?

"I either think of her as a child or a stranger. I've never known the woman she became, nor will I as things are going." Her voice cracked but she fought to keep her chin up and her eyes clear. "Not by anything more than Glitch and Cain's memories."

Jason gave a small, fractional nod when she reconsidered her words. What she wound up saying was something closer to honesty, at the least.

"Then take what you can from those memories. Try and see her for her flaws as well as her virtues: the whole person, not the eidolon constructed by affection. It is just as much a disservice to see someone as a saint as it is to demonize them."

Azkadellia opened her mouth, glancing away before she could let herself speak. She closed her mouth with a slight snap. Yet those emotions refused to stay buried, not any more than they had to.

“What good does that do now,” she asked, not attacking Jason but verbally expressing what she was feeling. “She’s gone. Sent back to the O.Z.. There is the assumption that I will not see her again unless somehow I return. What good does it do to find blame in her actions when all I have right now is my love for her, the few bright moments that Glitch remembers himself and those times I intrude on Cain and his life?”

She hadn’t meant to put this to Jason, to make him deal with her outburst and the moment the words were out of her mouth, she looked stricken and shocked.

“I… I’m sorry. You certainly did ask to deal with my pain when I invaded on your time here. You’re kind not to just walk away.” Which he might still do, and she accepted that. It was the same concern that had her remove her things from Cain’s the day after Paul returned, and why she was careful about intruding on Remus or others. Many had their lives here. Hers was part of still hiding from herself.

“I would do better making a life for myself than to try and keep hold in my heart of an Outer Zone I had a hand in destroying.” The Zone she remembered was gone. It was much more the one that Glitch and Cain remembered, no matter what had happened after DG had stopped the witch.

Jason is unfazed by the emotion in Azkadellia's voice. He leans back in his chair, strong fingers toying with the edges of the remaining deck.

"It does you the good of permitting you to proceed along the path that awaits you," he says with an almost-imperceptible shrug of his shoulders. "If you believe it is wiser to stand stationary for fear of what the path may hold-- emotionally or otherwise-- obviously that is your own affair.

"The life that you would make is rooted in your Outer Zone, whether you make it here, there, or on any of the thousand worlds that exist. Starting over never happens in a vacuum."

Her apologies, and statement that he is kind, make Etrigan giggle softly in his mind and tempt his mouth to a cynical curl. He is many things, but kind is not among them. He manages to keep his face impassive with an effort of will.

"Did you wish me to continue the reading, or is the eight of swords too divisive?"

His words struck deep, feeling like an axe swung between her shoulderblades. Fear had never held her back, though now she wondered if that was because of herself, or simply following along in her sister’s wake, not risking losing DG for her own fears.

“It is wishful thinking that this place holds a path for anyone, nonetheless everyone,” she pointed out, admitting more of her own concerns than she had meant to. It was one thing having an emotional break down as it were. Another to make revelations that should truly be kept to one’s self.

“My life in the O.Z. is over. Should I return, I can most hope that mother and DG have put it right as it should have been. I’m not there though and that life is another place and time. As for here… I will do what I promised to Glitch and beyond that there is no path or life that I can imagine.” She shrugged, pulling herself together with careful sips of her coffee and deep breaths. She might be an emotional basketcase anymore but she was well versed in courtly behavior to keep it from controlling her as often as it was.

“Please, go on,” she said, nodding at the cards. Whatever was being revealed would need to come out, but she could work well to not let her emotions be part of that. It would do no good for herself, and would certainly only become a burden on those she counted as friends here.

"Our paths are something we carry within us. Where we happen to be-- whatever plane of existence we find ourselves on-- is irrelevant. I have been accused of many things, miss Azkadellia, but I assure you that overly optimistic or wishful thinking is not among them."

He shrugged though, and looked to the next card-- two of cups, reversed. In light of her sister's vanishing it was almost a painfully obvious reading, but he took his time to speak all the same, lest there be something subtler he was missing beneath the blatant concept.

"In the upright position, an idealized relationship, often romantic but not necessarily, one of harmony and balance. In your case I would say with almost certainty the relationship in question is you and your sister.

"In the reversed position, like so: that relationship dissolved or rendered impossible. Shattered ideals, loneliness, disappointment. A sign the querent is struggling to form partnerships and relationships but wrestling with unfinished business from the past, with questions of trust and a fear of how others may react to one's true feelings and nature. Your behavior may be guarded as a result.

"The two of cups also stands as advice to accept, rather than repress, your emotions; to come to a position of stability and moderation with them, rather than fearing your own outbursts or intensity."

Azkadellia went quiet, listening as he explained the card. Yet as Jason went on, she felt her skin grow cold and clammy, shifting in her seat as she couldn't seem to lift her gaze from the card. She certainly couldn't look up at Jason, not with what was racing through her mind.

"It... it is possible that it represents DG," she agreed, speaking slowly as she carefully considered her words. "But it could mean someone else. There was... there was someone that the witch was intimate with whom I..." She made a face, trying to find the right words. "I remember him quite clearly in many ways, though I shouldn't."

He had killed Cain's wife. He was the man that had locked the tin man away. And he was a cruel bastard who was the reason she understood terms she shouldn't know. Not with her lack of experience in real life dealings.

"Of course my behavior and emotions are guarded. It is sick and wrong," she said plainly.

Jason arched a brow at the hesitant, uncomfortable confession. Etrigan, for his part, was laughing his head off.

Oh, shut up.

He settled back in his chair, collected his coffee, had a sip. "Sick and wrong-- because you had no will in the matter?"

There's neither horror nor judgment in his doggedly impersonal tones. He's far too familiar with Etrigan's idea of fun to engage in either.

Still she averted her gaze, not willing to look his way. Likely there would be no judgment there. Perhaps no emotion at all but she had no idea how to talk about this, despite how desperately she realized she wanted to get it out.

Though his words made her stomach turn.

"I... I hadn't thought of it that way. The witch... I never knew how much she knew I was aware. I was never meant to be. She wanted the body and the magic, not my conscious thoughts."

But she hadn't had any saw in the matter despite remembering moments and actions and talks.

"More so that he was a sadistic bastard who delighted in torture. I can only guess that instilling loyalty guided her actions." It was an answer she wanted to believe. "My thoughts on the matter though... that card," she said, pointing to it almost hesitantly. "Could be speaking of that as well. Though there's nothing to it. If he's alive, and I'm not certain Ca... the tin man let him live. But even if he were, were he to come here, it would be nothing. He's evil and vile and..."

And she still thought of him. Dreamt of him to wake in a panic in the dark.

Mmmnn, listen to her rush to name him 'hated';
To clarify she thinks he's foul and vile
But still sometimes she thinks of lusts a-sated
And doesn't know if she ought cry or smile.

Tremble, little princess, with the aching
Of a body trained to enjoy breaking
Of a heart that wavers, torn and quaking
With the tug and pressure of forsaking
The only lover you have ever known.
If he would let me out--
--Why, I'd throw you a juicy bone.

Jason looks away, lip curling into a small grimace-- not for what Azkadellia says and implies, but rather for Etrigan's charming narration and the mental images the demon sees fit to supply.

"Yes. It is quite possible then that your card can mean him, or her, or both. The tarot rarely restricts itself to one definition."

Another sip of coffee, to try and get the old familiar taste of filth out of his mouth.

Edited 2012-08-11 07:28 (UTC)

The flush that came with the memories of her time with Zero, well the witch's time but enough she remembered it as part of her own, creeped all the way to the tips of her ears. Both hands clutched at the mug of coffee as if fighting to keep herself here and now and not in her thoughts.

"So what does it mean? I should put the past, DG and anything else, behind me? Move on and ignore it all?" She was asking more than assuming, biting at the side of her lip as she considered the cards, tried not to think about the past except back to the time of DG as a child.

"Where does blaming others for choices I was involved in do for anyone? Especially with none of them here?"

"Not at all. The past informs us in the present. It cannot be 'put behind one', or moved on from, or ignored. It must be acknowledged. Accepted."

He crossed his forearms on the table, made a dismissive gesture with the fingers of one hand.

"I have told you. It enables you to look at them realistically. It is not so simplistic as simply 'blaming others'; it is coming to grips with the reality of what happened, and not the version that would try to spare feelings.

"It's not done for others. It's done for yourself."

“No. There is nothing of those particular memories that do anything for my time now,” she said, voice suddenly hard as she shook her head. “There is nothing to be accepted in what another woman did with my body with a man who killed Cain’s wife,” she said flatly, hissing the words as if someone, particularly Cain, might overhear her.

“I will not deny the cards are right about my life with DG and all that happened but I can not accept there is anything useful to be garnered from those memories. And you’re right. That is for me. That is me being unwilling to something even if I wanted, I can not have, not to mention focusing on something that had absolutely nothing to do with me. Just because I have memories of it, doesn’t make it my life!”

The very thought scared her and that brought out a rush of anger before she could hold herself back. “Without a thought to producing an heir to run the O.Z. when my time is past, then there is no reason to focus on any desires that may well stem from that and will not, can not, be healthy for me.”

Jason rests his chin on his hand while the girl snaps out her denial of his words. His other hand finds his coffee cup, toys lightly with the rim.

She's young. She's very young, and all fire and quicksilver. Jumping from regal hauteur to a girl's stung pride and uncertainty to the bitterness of a life ill-used by dark forces...

She reminds him of-- of too many people. Himself. Morgaine. Nimue...

He doesn't argue or say anything to her fierce anger. Jason simply looks down to the next card-- smiles despite himself at seeing the reversed Queen of Wands.

How fitting.

"The Queen of Wands. A strong-willed woman. In the reversed position, one who may have trouble listening to the advice of others," he says with the corners of his lips curled into a thin, ironic smile.

Enough play. He drops the smile, taps a fingernail along the card.

"In the upright, a powerful and intuitive woman, someone with great energy and drive, a ruler and a leader whose focus on her goals is a powerful force.

"In the reversed: that same fire without focus. Spiritual energies undeveloped. An unchecked personality, lashing out at those who do not serve the Queen's will. A woman who rules by fear rather than guidance; who is ruled in turn by anger and fear.

"Given your past, this can stand as either the specter of 'the witch' whom you wish to avoid becoming like; or a warning in yourself to be wary of such tendencies," Jason finishes calmly, and lifts his coffee cup for a sip.

He won't carry on arguing over the eight of sword and DG, over the two of cups. He will only tell her what the cards say. It is none of his concern if people listen.

That last card had been a hint of hope. Not of this place but of possibly returning and finding herself back into the life she was meant for. To be queen. Even if she knew that now it would never happen, she still thought of it. Mostly in that it meant returning to her family, to a chance of a life she wasn't sure she saw for herself here.

"Or it can mean all of the above," she whispered, bowing her head and trying to reign in her emotions. She had no idea what to think of this and was suddenly regretting the decision.

"Such a woman is useless if she losses herself to darkness and desire. Not that there is anything such a place for rulers and leaders in this city," she added, knowing this is not the life she is meant for. Not anymore. Neither in the Zone or Taxon.

"I apologize for my argumentative nature," she noted in a low voice about his comment about the cards and her behavior.

Jason's gaze slid from the cards out to the view of the street below, the Extras going about their dull scripted tasks, the buildings stretching as far as the eye could see. He sipped his coffee.

"Very few things are eternal. Most pass. I have lived long enough to believe our time in this city will as well.

"On whatever day your captivity ends here, you'll go somewhere else, miss Azkadellia. Back to your homeland, perhaps, or on to one of the thousand other worlds and realities that exists; that I don't claim to see.

"You might consider this interlude an opportunity. A window of time to reconstruct yourself without the scared and judging eyes of a kingdom upon your every move. So that if you are someday returned to your world, you go whole, as something closer to..."

He glanced back from the street to the cards, thick fingers finding the Queen and rotating her the other direction. Upright. "...the woman you ought have been, had not Fate intervened."

"As if I want to go back to the Outer Zone for anything but my family and friends," she snapped, the words coming out in a rush, heated and pained, though most of it wasn't for him. Not exactly.

"Have you met Glitch," she asked, not waiting for an answer. "Handsome, tall and pale with a zipper running the length of his head," she asked, thinking about the man she had known before he became Glitch. Tears filled her eyes.

"What happened to him was done by the witch to try and get information but..." She sniffled, knowing she was pouring out emotions that Jason probably didn't care about. "But that practice was going on long before she took over my body. The royalty of the O.Z., my mother and those before her. My ancestors! They thought the proper way to treat criminals was brain surgery," she growled, shaking her head. "I don't want a thing to do with that crown. I learned enough about leading through the witch and I'll be damned if I take over a legacy of torture."

One her mother had practiced. One she was part of. And likely as not, she was already damned. At least in her own mind.

"I don't want to be that woman. Not that one I was being groomed to be."

He hadn't met Glitch, but it didn't matter; the girl talked anyway. Jason let the wild surf of her emotions crash around the firm rock of his own dispassionate calm.

"I suppose that's one path you could take. Or you might make a plan to use the power of a crown to change the legacy that crown will leave for generations to come."

Again her youth strikes him. Passionate reaction to an understanding of the world's oft-harsh realities; the high drama of a gesture, of an I'll be damned if I take over that legacy! when discovering those one had thought to be saints had been humans after all, with all the flaws that suggested.

"Obviously you must make your own choices," he says evenly, looking back out over the balcony railing again. He hasn't been terribly curious into the so-called hamsters; Jason's life has long been one of pawn in the schemes of more powerful entities. But right now, he wonders if scenes like this are what They want.

She snorted delicately, fixing him with a look. "Would you follow a queen who had destroyed your kingdom, even if everyone assured you it wasn't really her but a wicked witch that no one but said sorceress and her sister who was raised in another kindgom have ever actually seen," she asked, being calmer with that question, and honest. "I wouldn't."

She sighed, slumping forward for the first time and resting her chin against her palm with her elbow braced on the table.

"I was raised being told what I would do, my path for being eldest born. Now, knowing what I do, I'm not sure I would want it. Even had I not been the face for torment and destruction for so many annuals."

"I'm not the correct person to ask that question of," Jason responds very dryly. "What I've followed in my life is a poor barometer of the reactions of others." He shrugs.

"Then who? Your sister, unused to the thought of rule at all? Responsibility is a double-edged sword. Obligation and power attend one another. But... as we are not in your Outer Zone... in the moment it is all moot."

"I suspect that may well be the case of many of us here in this city," she admitted because she never felt she was one with a proper answer, or even the proper question, here.

"You do realize that it is only a step above what I've been through being forced to act a certain way rather than following my own desires, don't you?" Which she had been thinking about as well, and only now mentioned to someone that likely wouldn't judge her for it.

"We do seem to be a collection of the grotesque, yes." Another sip of his coffee.

Jason shrugs, studying the Extras walking by on the sidewalk below. "Only a step, perhaps, and yet an important step. The obligation that comes with a crown is quite a bit different from compelled domination, however much you might be tempted to draw similarities between the two.

"It doesn't matter here, though. Should you ever return you can explore your options at such a time. If not, then..." He shrugs again.

[Text] / [Location: a cafe in Speares]

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lecture moar, jason, sheesh

Awww. It's sweet.

lol that is one word for it

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Fin?

Fin!