NEFERTARI
We've Become Disillusioned
So We Run Towards Anything Glimmering
Several equines from all walks of life had come and gone from the tent, some with simple questions, curious of the art of reading cards, and others to mock in their ignorance. She had grown tired of both for different reasons. While Nefertari did not mind explaining the basis of tarot reading, it was difficult to provide further context for those who did not wish to have their fortunes told to them. It was a largely intuitive artform that was best served through demonstration rather than a barrage of inquiries. The latter came in bad faith and actively fought against anything she had to tell them and would be the first to claim horseshit when her less than favourable predictions came true and tout dumb luck when the better ones bore fruit.
Cynicism was not uncommon, but the bitterness that swept through the silks of her tent weighed like a ten ton stone in her belly. Dressed in regal hues of the morning sunlight the mare carried herself with an air of superiority, thinly veiled exhaustion and a deep loathing.
Facade.
Her audits twitched, the elongated tips flicking in annoyance at the tone this mare used. Entitled. You did not simply enter some one’s abode and demand they prove themselves to you. Nefertari straightened, the falls of her golden hair shimmering about her dusky shoulders as she pushed the cards to one side, pride roaring like a hungry lion at being insulted for the umpteenth time that day.
As the clairvoyant adjusted the well worn deck of cards on one side of the table, she made pointed eye contact with the woman opposite her. “I know how to use them very well,” she said. “But I do not need them to read you.”
Golden orbs stared out from smokey frames, her usual flirtatious manner cast aside. If this mare would not show her the respect owed to another living person, she would not be gentle with her. Her eyes searched the depths of the woman’s lavender pools, as she allowed her carefully grounded walls to fall, leaning forward so that she fell squarely within the aura that allowed her to taste for a moment the turmoil that swirled around the mare who so rudely came to her tent.
“You are heavy like a stone at the bottom of a lake,” She breathed, her gaze unflinching as the stream of consciousness fell from her sooty lips. “Forgotten by those who tossed you in and covered in moss. Changing and unchanged. Passersby can look beneath the surface and see you there but as seasons go they do not notice that you are the same stone. You are nothing but a part of the background of their lives as they continue forward. The weight that keeps you buried beneath the slag of the world is your own eons.”
The mare’s audits twitched and her cranium tilted slightly, recognition flickering briefly across her face before it became neutral once more. “No one can live so many bitter and empty lifetimes without being swallowed whole by them. You are a victim to the flow of time, cursed to watch life go on oblivious to your turmoil while you sink lower and lower to the bottom of the lake, reaching forward, desperate for air, for reconciliation, for someone, anyone to remember. They do not remember, for you change and you do not change, and souls are blessed to live each lifetime anew.”
Her voice grew distant, quiet. “Except for you. An immovable stone, forgotten at the bottom of a crushing weight, drowning slowly as you grow bitter to those who once knew you, before you were covered in moss and swallowed by time.”
Nefertari let her words fade into the atmosphere, leaning away slowly, screwing her eyes shut and shuddering. Her heart struggled to beat under the weight of her own chest, lungs trembling as she attempted to take in air. The sorrow this woman felt, the betrayal, the anguish, lifetime upon lifetime, ancient hurt. It was suffocating. It took the seer several long moments to ground herself, to rebuild the crumpled wards she tossed aside to prove a point. Pride goeth, as they say.
art by pacificdash character by scapeh table by sunny
