If Eik had thought about it before the start of the reading, he would have expected the first card to be a wolf. It represented his past neatly– fighting, hunting, living and dying as a pack. But he did not have expectations, so he is not surprised by the dolphin. It is a rather smug looking creature, he thinks, like it knows something no one else does. That’s not me. Corrdelia mentions healing, and a small frown furrows his brow. Eik was a soldier for as long as he could remember. Longer than that, in fact. But fighting to him was never about hurting, it was about protecting. Was that the same as healing? It seemed like a stretch, but maybe there were similarities… and certainly his tenure as emissary was focused on healing broken bonds between courts.
This, he thinks, is the problem with these cards. It was all confirmation bias, skewing aspects of himself and his past to match the card. Surely he could stretch for connections between himself and any animal.
Eik does not comment on what the profound blessing might be, although he feels his cheeks grow warm. His eyes are kept tactfully glued to the table in anticipation of the next card, knowing that his eyes might say things that he does not think need to be said. (not yet. it isn’t anyone’s business anyway.)
When Eik first sees the egg, it seems ominous. It is black, like something which the rot has claimed for itself. Something which did not hatch when it was supposed to, and the cradle became the grave. Thus, Corrdelia’s words are reassuring– the black color seems not to matter, not in the way he thought. At the mention of fertility and children he glances at her for just a moment– and that moment is all she should need to confirm her suspicions. His gaze is bashful but proud, hesitant but excited. Happy, but in a timid way.
(It seemed to him joy was a dangerous thing for any man to have, especially a man such as himself who was not pious to the gods. They tended to take, and delight in the taking, from their mortal underlings.)
But a child. Children. He could not contain his silent pleasure at that thought, at that future so close now it was almost (almost) tangible. Even if it was hubris, it could not be contained. It was that silent pleasure which was uprooting him from the desert. It was that silent pleasure which he would cross continents and oceans for.
But– how did the cards know?
He’ll have to ponder it later. Now, the black-scaled present yields to the rainbow-winged future. The dragonfly. Something beautiful and airborne, untethered and magical. Its wings capture and transform the light– would he ever be such a creature?
Of her words then, “calm your mind” is the phrase that draws his attention to a sharp point. He simply nods, so much like a solider given his marching orders.
When she weaves the three cards together, they… it makes sense, he thinks. He still doesn’t know if he believes in them. (A mind can only stay open for so long, especially a delicate one such as his own.) But he can see how others would. And he can see there is wisdom in the guidance, wisdom that stood on its own merit, with or without the cards.
“Thank you,” he says after a long quiet. He’s thinking of water and air, water and air. And the upcoming transition from dust to dirt, sand to grass. “I’m about to move.” It feels like a relief to finally say it out loud. “From Solterra to Denocte. To raise my children.” He would be flushed ruddy if his cheeks could hold anything but grey. Instead it’s his words that are colored with emotion. “I think I came here because I wanted to know if I was doing the right thing."
Of course it was the right thing to do, it was the only thing to do. But it was still a betrayal of his country and his people. They were crushed beneath the weight of a dictator and he was leaving, leaving the war and the endless waves of sand, to greener pastures and sad-eyed love and wild daughters. The cards gave him some clarity, but also some questions. It would take much reflection before he decided what exactly he thought of them. His instinct is to be skeptical their power, but at the same time... it was he who sought out Corrdelia, he who chose the deck he did.
There was, perhaps, never anyone as skeptical yet open-minded as Eik.
"May I stay for a little while? I'd like to learn more about what you do here." His gaze sweeps around the small hut. It is full of things he's never seen before, or things he's seen but never understood. And Corrdelia's presence is strangely comforting.
But most of all, to leave is to start the next chapter of his life. He wants to prolong it just a little longer, all the guilt and joy that waits for him to open the door and step into the future.
E I K
grief can be a kind of music
that knows how to rise like the sea
This, he thinks, is the problem with these cards. It was all confirmation bias, skewing aspects of himself and his past to match the card. Surely he could stretch for connections between himself and any animal.
Eik does not comment on what the profound blessing might be, although he feels his cheeks grow warm. His eyes are kept tactfully glued to the table in anticipation of the next card, knowing that his eyes might say things that he does not think need to be said. (not yet. it isn’t anyone’s business anyway.)
When Eik first sees the egg, it seems ominous. It is black, like something which the rot has claimed for itself. Something which did not hatch when it was supposed to, and the cradle became the grave. Thus, Corrdelia’s words are reassuring– the black color seems not to matter, not in the way he thought. At the mention of fertility and children he glances at her for just a moment– and that moment is all she should need to confirm her suspicions. His gaze is bashful but proud, hesitant but excited. Happy, but in a timid way.
(It seemed to him joy was a dangerous thing for any man to have, especially a man such as himself who was not pious to the gods. They tended to take, and delight in the taking, from their mortal underlings.)
But a child. Children. He could not contain his silent pleasure at that thought, at that future so close now it was almost (almost) tangible. Even if it was hubris, it could not be contained. It was that silent pleasure which was uprooting him from the desert. It was that silent pleasure which he would cross continents and oceans for.
But– how did the cards know?
He’ll have to ponder it later. Now, the black-scaled present yields to the rainbow-winged future. The dragonfly. Something beautiful and airborne, untethered and magical. Its wings capture and transform the light– would he ever be such a creature?
Of her words then, “calm your mind” is the phrase that draws his attention to a sharp point. He simply nods, so much like a solider given his marching orders.
When she weaves the three cards together, they… it makes sense, he thinks. He still doesn’t know if he believes in them. (A mind can only stay open for so long, especially a delicate one such as his own.) But he can see how others would. And he can see there is wisdom in the guidance, wisdom that stood on its own merit, with or without the cards.
“Thank you,” he says after a long quiet. He’s thinking of water and air, water and air. And the upcoming transition from dust to dirt, sand to grass. “I’m about to move.” It feels like a relief to finally say it out loud. “From Solterra to Denocte. To raise my children.” He would be flushed ruddy if his cheeks could hold anything but grey. Instead it’s his words that are colored with emotion. “I think I came here because I wanted to know if I was doing the right thing."
Of course it was the right thing to do, it was the only thing to do. But it was still a betrayal of his country and his people. They were crushed beneath the weight of a dictator and he was leaving, leaving the war and the endless waves of sand, to greener pastures and sad-eyed love and wild daughters. The cards gave him some clarity, but also some questions. It would take much reflection before he decided what exactly he thought of them. His instinct is to be skeptical their power, but at the same time... it was he who sought out Corrdelia, he who chose the deck he did.
There was, perhaps, never anyone as skeptical yet open-minded as Eik.
"May I stay for a little while? I'd like to learn more about what you do here." His gaze sweeps around the small hut. It is full of things he's never seen before, or things he's seen but never understood. And Corrdelia's presence is strangely comforting.
But most of all, to leave is to start the next chapter of his life. He wants to prolong it just a little longer, all the guilt and joy that waits for him to open the door and step into the future.
grief can be a kind of music
that knows how to rise like the sea
@Corrdelia thank you so so much for this thread, I loved it <3
Time makes fools of us all
