remembering the sky - Printable Version

Two years (and a bit) to the day Wilder had come to the rift in Gemini that had given her a glimpse of tragedy, she returned, soaring through the still heavily infected crystalline cavern on glittering wings. She glanced down at the white fungus below and focused briefly, setting a small black hole on the ground beneath her feet to clean up just a little bit more, while she was here.

Might as well.

She arrived, moments later, at the waterfall, where she saw that strange, shimmering rift above her head. She landed gracefully, the feathered cosmic wings dissipating into stardust as she looked up at it. She hadn't wished for anything in particular this time, at least not from any magical wishing stone, but still, she felt the magic in the air. Her own fur tingled and rippled and she felt the span of possibility widen everywhere. Perhaps...this was a day for gifts and wishes.

There was a sudden hum from the Rift as Wilder neared it, as though a resonating power (or remarkable luck) was responding to her. The shimmer brightened, and something small shot out, tumbling across the floor.

It was a smallish object, maybe five inches long and two or three wide, and about three tall, like a small brick. But upon closer inspection, Wilder would find that it was in fact a good many items, all thin and stacked atop one another, bound in a tattered but still functional little thong of leather.

Should she undo the knot, she would find a beautiful set of handpainted tarot cards, ones well-loved and -worn with incredibly detailed images on each. Gold leaf embellished the sides, backs, and some of the images, and the pictures occasionally shimmered, magical, as if the scenes and people depicted briefly came to life.

Wilder didn't flinch when the thing shot out of the rift, but did take a step back so that it didn't hit her. She waited a moment for the rift to settle before taking a step forward and carefully unravelling the gift before her.

A soft gasp escaped her mouth as she opened the delicate knot to revel the tarot cards. She didn't understand what they meant, but each one was beautiful and almost seemed to move as she carefully pawed through each, running her pawpads carefully over the gold leaf. She touched the well-worn edge and knew that there had been someone, somewhere on the surface, that had owned this set. Loved them and used them often. But for what?

She closed her eyes and focused, feeling the cards and casting her magic to divine where they had come from. The face of the one who had owned these and what they had been used for. Perhaps, down here, she could continue that purpose, if only she knew where they had come from.

Soft paw touched the cards, the feel of the bumps of the handpainted scenes clear beneath her pads. Almost at once the magic jolted, more powerful than it should have been, a surge as though they wanted to make their history known. Gemini was torn from her consciousness, replaced by

cold, cold outside; the wind was alternatingly whistling and howling, making the hide and skin of the tent shudder. The door of it flapped open, and the young man in the midst of taking his seat hastened to stand back up, securing it more thoroughly. Snow had blown in through the gap, offering a brief glimpse white mountain crags etched against the blue of a bright winter sky.

"Sorry," he said, hurrying back to his seat. His breath was a puff of frost, and he wrapped his own dark furs and leathers more closely around himself, rubbing down his arms. The table before him was light weight, old wood that someone must have carved here, because dragging it up the mountains would've been difficult or impossible. And the older woman sat across from him did not answer, but merely leaned off to her right, adding a few twists of tinder to the small brazier that blazed on one side of that table. The boy nodded to it, as if appreciating the added warmth, but said nothing.

There were a series of small 'slap' sounds. The woman had the deck of cards, and she had drawn back long sleeves to set some down in the form of a long cross. The young man leaned in, eyes wide, and the witch's gaze snapped to him. "You aren't meant to be here, are you?" she asked, abruptly, and he jerked.

"What? I--did the cards-"

She laughed quietly, darkly. "No, but you stink of 'young soldier.' I wonder how much trouble you'd get into if they knew that you'd come here. No--don't tell me. I don't want to know. I'll do this for you, for what you're paying but I won't ask why. I won't ask you, and I won't ask the cards." One finger of a weathered hand flipped and then tapped a card, and the image upon it shimmered. It was a woman in flowing white, with gold etched around her; she was holding a white vessel high, water streaming down; her head, upper body and the vessel were silhouetted by a white circle that might have been a moon or sun. "This card," said the witch carefully, "is called the High Priestess. It usually means intuition... listening to the divine. The greater voices of the world, wisdom, enlightenment. Since this position refers to the start of your journey, I guess my question's answered anyway: you came here because you felt a draw. Because something pulled you, be it something outside yourself or a belief that a new path awaited you here..."

The young man stared. "Does it... always mean that?" he asked.

The witch paused, and turned ever-so-slightly and for a jarring moment it was as though she were looking straight at Wilder. "Reading the tarot cards is a matter of interpretation, young man," but it felt like she were speaking beyond him entirely. "What is important is what you feel when you look at it. Tell me..." she went on, eyes flicking back to him, and-

Gemini came tumbling back, as though Wilder had fallen from the mountains of the surface back into the caves, falling and falling and-... she was here, paw on the cards, and mind in the present.

The woman that held the cards Wilder was now in the possession of had a look and air to her that felt right for whom she was looking for. When she turned to lock eyes with her, Wilder shivered, wondering if intuition was truly all there was about it, when she seemed to be looking through very time itself, to meet the eyes of the one now in possession of the deck of tarot in front of her.

She was pulled out of the vision and Gemini game back slowly. She sat there for a moment, ruminating on the vision while her paws gently caressed the edges of the cards. She suddenly began to dig through them, turning them over until she found The High Priestess. Exactly as she'd seen in the vision, a woman in flowing white, water, and a golden circle.

She smiled. "Thank you," she said aloud - to the rift and to the witch who had once owned and loved these cards. She had an idea of understanding, but she knew there was a long road ahead.

She gathered up the cards and returned the leather wrap around them. The astral wings unfurled once again and she grasped the cards tight to her chest as she took off, soaring out of the cave, heading back to Andromeda to study them more closely.

*exit