INT - Sakura Okiya, to EXT - Seiiki district street afternoon
Dorian (alexandros.lycomedes) finally made his way to see his unlikely friend; the bloody boy he'd found in his garden up at the family estate. It had been a little longer than it should likely have been. Only Dorian had a stretched notion of time, and a socialite's sensibilities as well as rather an unusual and fantastical family to navigate atop a globe-spanning shipping empire's node to account for, see to. But here he was, with a folded cloth in hand, with a box and ceramic jug inside, admitted to Blake's room after a call warning him from the family's new, Gunner-replacing runner, Tetsuo, that he was there.
With a gentle smile, and warm voice he'd intone from the far side of a rice paper door, before, as and after he'd slid the shoji open, "Ho there, Mr. Jermyn. I do apologize that I have been away quite so long. To my credit however, you seemed to be getting along rather well in that chair."
Blake Jermyn was splayed out on one of the seating cushions in the little common room, small teacup in his hand, smile on his face. It only brightened further at the sight of Dorian's familiar blonde mop, and he pushed himself up straight, gave a cheerful little wave. "Heeeey buddy! Great to see ya again. Gotta thank ya for setting me up here, been living like a /king/ ever since." At least, by his standards, he was. Though as he spoke, his voice came out a hoarse, scratchy whisper, his vocal chords having clearly seen some abuse.
"Nah man, don't worry about it, you seem pretty busy." He certainly seemed rich, and rich people were busy, right? Not to mention a budding romance, so Blake could hardly blame the man if that was taking up most of his time. "Yeah, chair's pretty great. Takes some gettin' used to but once you do it's pretty nifty. Though I also got a guy I know who's says he's gonna get me some brand new legs soon, too. Apparently he's like, a mechanic or somethin'? So it'll be pretty fun to get back on my feet, as it were." A little chuckle.
Dorian (alexandros.lycomedes)'s blond curls were a familiar presaging to his fairly smug grin. At least one of certainty in self. He'd pass that on easily, given Blake's perceived wellbeing. This warmed a heart that long since should have stopped beating. Proved to him his family's placement helped people beyond their bloodline. So he'd set the cloth-knotted parcel by Blake and then fold himself up upon a cushion adjacent, one that was a bit less far than from across the table as before. The small box contained home-cooked buttered herb biscuits, a few strawberries shipped at great cost from England in winter, and a hunk of solid, good, salty semi-hard cheese. The jug was one of small ale from the family cellars. An old habit from days past to keep such on hand, back when water was much less potable. He'd explain, "This is the lunch my housekeeper packed. Your taking it means I get to stop by the soba stand on my way back across to the other side of town. Did Vedis see to you well? May I ask after your wellbeing on the whole?"
He did not need to speak to his own, he presumed.
Blake Jermyn's eyes went wide at the sight of the food, just like the little gremlin's always did. "Awwwww man, this looks /great,/" he gasped, "I mean not to knock udon, I can see how you'd like it if ya sick of this, but ramen and udon's all the old man ever wants to eat, so it's gettin' old on my end, happy to trade ya," he said with a grin, already reaching for a fat, juicy strawberry, popping it into his mouth in one go.
"Vedis? Yeah, she stopped by a lil bit ago, had me feelin' right as fuckin' rain, I'll tell ya. Dunno what she keeps in that basket of hers but it's like magic..." Or maybe the first real medical care he'd recieved in god only knew how long. "Damn good cook too, apparently, if this is anything to go by." Somehow, his mouth was already full of biscuit. "How bout on your end? Do anything fun with ya girl lately?"
Dorian (alexandros.lycomedes) had left his shoes off, this time. Seemingly paying at least that much attention to local custom. He'd chuckle at Blake's good appetite and altogether better shape than last he'd been to the Sakura. Dorian shifted bare feet and tweed-clad hips upon silken cushion as he wound down his laughter. Clean and clean shaven, Dorian was much the same as his usual. He'd answer, "Dinah is one of the brightest stars in the sky, and her light shines even to deep places. Bouncing off of sea surface to-- well... yes. We are getting along rather well. I should say, I have no problem with the sort of thing you enjoy. With your special friend, as it goes. Love sets its eyes on whom the heart craves, everything else be damned." His grey eyes went starry and lovestruck talking about his sister, and he had to shake his head to get past that bit of not so small talk.
That was just in time for a cup of sake to be brought in, something Dorian had requested en route to his friend. The bottle was left, a cup poured for each of them. Dorian shot his as he'd done the previous time, and poured himself another, waiting with bottle in hand to do the same for his guest. "Truly though, is there aught else we can do to help you back to your... ...accustomed agency and dignity over your own person?" His blonde brows crawled up to hide behind his curly fringe.
Fortune Vendor: The robed and masked figure moved through the crowd, like wandering around dressed like a creepy cultist was perfectly normal day wear to amble about the Seiiki district. When prompted by someone curious, or desperate, the figure would stop and produce four cards in their hands to present to the interested individual. After a small verbal exchange, the robed figure would shake their head slightly and pull the cards back into the shadows of their robe and move along their shambling walk down the street at a slow pace.
Blake Jermyn couldn't help beaming as he saw Dorian light up at the mere /mention/ of his sister, the adoration writ clear in his every word and motion so reminiscent of his own, the way Deadman lit up even the darkest days he'd known. "Man, I gotta take notes, the way you talk about her is like, pure poetry. I wanna make my old man's day by tellin' him stuff like that..." He shook his head, grinning like a fool. "Yeah, I know it's kinda weird, like what's a young guy like me doing with an old man instead of a pretty girl, but... It's funny, I used to be real focused on the girls, didn't want anyone to know I was, interested in anythin' else, but then I met him and I just... Stopped caring. Nothing else mattered. But... You probably get it, huh?" He laughed. "I'm just preachin' to the choir over here... Oooh sake!"
Grabby hands reached for the cup as it was brought out; his clothes might be clean and neat now, but his uncouth urchin's soul always shined through. "Man you are WAY too good to me," he said, referring both to the sake and the outpouring of generosity that he'd recieved since meeting Dorian. "I really ain't askin' for anything over here, honestly all I wanted was just, for even /one/ other person to know the truth." A small dimming flicker of his ever-present smile.
Dorian (alexandros.lycomedes) could readily be seen appreciating company that did not see fit to judge him. Even if it was uneven and the other guy talked in a way that took a second longer to process, eventually Dorian could easily reply, "I think I do ahh --get it, so to speak. And allow me to say, if you will, that your expenses are *rather* modest. Do not worry much about it. As regards the truth of matters, I suppose I should speak to them."
With cups poured teetering for them both, he'd set the bottle aside. Once that was done, he'd raise his eyes, quicksilver and flashing to his cohort's and remark, "I am dueling him soon. We did want to learn more about him, afterall. What better way?" The golden brows waggled at his great concept of intelligence gathering.
Blake Jermyn shook his head, in awe. "Man you got me livin' like a fuckin' king, rather modest my ass... After all, when one was used to abandoned buildings and alleyway dumpsters, anything was a step up. However, the smile was knocked clean off his face when Dorian spoke again. "You're gonna WHAT?!" Immediately, a thousand different emotions flashed across him like a thunderbolt. Exuberance, horror, shock, schadenfreude, concern. "Dude! I-... I thought I told you to lay low but honestly? Fuckin' SCHOOL his ass, for real. I... I can't really do anything about him. Whenever I talk to my old man about it, he just gets so sad and starts blaming himself for everything..." A deep sigh, his shoulders drooping.
However, as a shadowy figure skulked past the tea house door frame, his head cocked, curiosity piqued. "Dude... What was THAT? Looks weird, you wanna check it out?" Seeing no reason for further thought or concern, he immediately scrambled on hands and stumps to his wheelchair which sat patiently in the corner, hoist himself inside. "Let's go!"
Dorian (alexandros.lycomedes) got himself up to his feet and his oxfords and silk socks back on. Just in time to potentially push Blake out of the little room to follow after . He'd remark with good humour as he took a spot up by the chair, "In any case, either way the thing goes ahahaha, we will know more. Soon. It is only to first blood. And absolutely!"
It could be certain Sang's staff would wrap up Blake's stuff then place it in his room. They were top notch staff when it came to seeing the influx of English money which did not nitpick the expense sheet. Not to mention what information they might gather on Windgrace-urchin relations. Having not fully seen what Blake did, he was all eyes on both his unlikely companion and the street abroad. Following a madman, and getting the convalescing person to better cheer were equally valid and entertaining possibilities. Let alone a friend.
Fortune Vendor: The figure wasn't moving terribly quick and certainly didn't seem in any great hurry to move along at anything like a rapid pace. It was almost as if it was walking a circuit around, a patrol of some sort or a marketing route. Hard to say since it didn't seem to care too much about the surroundings or people until stopped and it certainly wasn't looking to sell its wares with the way it turned people aside and their interest in the cards. Once again it stopped, this time a group of urchins grabbing at the robes and the cards. The figure just stood still as hands grouped for pockets or treasures only to find neither. They pulled back, shivering a little as if chilled and oblivious to the dark strands of aether that clung to them invisible to all but supernatural senses. As Blake and Dorian made their way out to the main street, the figure stopped and turned standing their patiently. It could be a young man under the robe or a female, as the thick folds only seemed to make it clear that the person below the robes was neither tall nor broad.
Naoki Sato was eating. As was often the case when a JIkininki was eating, he was rather focused on his food and mildly oblivious to the world around him. There was a small cup of matcha ice cream in his hand, some rice cakes of various colors surrounding it on his palm, balanced almost precariously if not for the unseen blood spikes keeping them in place.
Blake Jermyn shook his head. "Ya crazy for this one, man... But I love it. I guess ya ain't wrong, even if ya lose, you'll get a good look at how he actually fights. I'm rootin' for ya, though, believe me." He couldn't help beaming at Dorian, grateful that he was boldly going in the one direction Blake couldn't bring himself to tread, even if he thought the move was just a /bit/ brash and thoughtless, jumping the gun. This, from /Blake Jermyn/ of all people.
As the other street urchins drew away from the unsettling figure in black, Blake only leaned forward, instantly fascinated by the unsettling aura the individual gave off. "Hi," he called out, showing off his own propensity for the brash and the bold course of action. "Are you a performer or something?" A brief wave and fingergun was also offered to Sato as the man ate, though his focus quickly returned to the riveting masked figure.
Dorian (alexandros.lycomedes) jumped all kinds of guns, and thus his father had forbade him firearms, long ago, in a dog-related accident. And uncle. But his father was more concerned about the hound. In any case, sure of his sword arm, and glad to appear pristinely clad in the continent's finest fabrics and fashions, he'd quietly hang beside Blake after chuffling a few huffs of laughter at the man's strange patterns of speech and what of them he understood, with some moments' thought.
Spying strange types this side of town did not phase him much, generally self-assured a man as he was. it was no reason for his smirk to leave his clean shaven face.
Fortune Vendor: "No," the voice was raspy, the intonations clipped like someone who called the Victoriana side of the river home. It was higher pitched, possibly female though much like the figure itself, ambiguous enough to be clocked as a boy's voice or a deeper woman's tone. "You may call me a fortune vendor, if you like, but I'm not looking for coins. Are you here to see if the cards are for you?" At that low question, the figure produced cards from its robe. Just four cards in hands that were clean and human but older and worn. The deck though seemed new and expensive. The edges of the cards were gilded in what shone like real gold and the cardstock was heavy and high quality. Rather than laying them out in a spread, she flipped them down to show the faces; two men, a room and a figure androgynous but beautiful. "One card has already been delivered to She Who Deserves but I have four cards left. Perhaps one of them is yours?" The figure took a surprisingly smooth step forward. Gliding in to show the cards. "Look.
Thirteen (aimee.frakture): Closely." After giving them a long look at the normal face of the cards, the figure reversed them to invert the images and display a completely different face. "And See."
Naoki Sato looked up from his snacking, eyes narrowed at the figure and the small gathering. He caught the fingerguns. Instead of responding to them he hummed, simply observing as he finished his food - or so it seemed. Something wriggling and red like a centipede slid from one of his pantlegs, skittering over to settle near the red banner of the nearby stall.
Blake Jermyn cocked his head, only slightly disappointed to find that the mysterious figure wasn't a performer. "Fortunes, huh? ...Y'know what, hit me." Usually, he didn't go in much for spiritual woo-woo stuff, but hell, he was in a literal magical dreamworld, and the way things had been going he was starting to feel like life was too far out of his control. So why the hell not turn to fate? Leaning in, eyes wide, he watched each card as it turned over.
The first caught his eye, making him raise a quizzical brow, eyes flicking to the silver-haired man and his food as soon as the masked face was pointed away from him. However, he remained silent just yet, not knowing if Naoki wished to accept or escape this fate. The second got a grin and a chuckle. "Huh, that looks kinda like a friend of mine, maybe he's the one you were looking for..."
But as the third card turned over, he screamed.
Dorian (alexandros.lycomedes) did not think he was there for himself, he was just having a lark, working some charity that coincided with vengeance, and thus had been a sunshiney face full of merriment. Blake brought it out of him, having such a lust for life, despite being quite so down on his luck. But then... there were the cards. The voice was not one he was sure he could describe the type of, origin-wise, particularly once he'd set his gaze upon one card. One in particular. The timber of it settled hauntingly in his ears seeing something indescribable before his eyes. His mirth began to drain from his expression by shades, and he'd shove his hands into his pockets. What little he did know about the realm beyond included not tangling himself in things beyond his ken.
Things that made traumatized boys scream. Dorian was so glad to get shaken from his own concerns to look at Blake and stop thinking about what he'd thought he'd seen that he could fully throw himself into cooing, putting a hand on the dark haired chair bound guy's shoulder, "It is alright, pray, be calm. It is... some trick of light, that is all. Shhh."
The fortune vendor was unperturbed by the scream - even satisfied. As if this were a reaction that the individual was looking for. "Ah, so you do See. Good. That is good. Good enough to hear the rules. If you be deserving, you may have one card and one card only from this spread. Find me with a different spread and perhaps one of those cards will also be yours but now is now and today is today. Today I have four cards and of those you may have a single one if the card is yours to choose but look closely. Choose... wisely. Or not. The consequences be on you either way and it is no longer my concern." The figure rasped, taking another gliding step closer to fan the cards out and switch them, right side to downside to right side again slowly. "I am a but a channel for the cards to find their homes and what you choose to do with it after it leaves my hand is entirely on you."
Naoki Sato saw that look from Blake but he DEFINITELY heard the scream. The rest of his food was crunched up into the palm of his hand and seemed to... disappear. Perhaps eaten by an unseen mouth? Then he shut his eyes. The red 'centipede' scuttled behind the banner, melting into liquid blood before fluttering past Blake and the vendor and the cards in the form of a red butterfly that eventually made its way back over to land on the ice cream vendor's cart. Sato still didn't move, though he did open his eyes to watch quietly.
Blake Jermyn shook his head, eyes wide, body pale and shaking. "Dude... No, that ain't no trick fuckin' LOOK at it..." Perhaps only he would understand the meaning of that place, that accursed, wretched place... "If you see a bunch of chains and mannequins, then /it ain't no trick/...." His hand was shaking as it hovered over the reversed card, that too-tall figure wreathed in flames. "Oh man he fuckin' /hates/ fire...."
He hadn't even /looked/ at the next one, but when he did, he gasped. "Ok, now it's /obvious./ That one's me. It's gotta be me, look at his /legs/..." The second image was all too hauntingly familiar now, but the first? He leaned in so far he nearly tipped the chair over, trying to understand the image. Was that also him? Part of him disintegrating, part of him holding tight to another... And all those corpses at his feet... Another shudder rolled through his slender frame, realizing just /how much/ this mysterious fortune teller might know.
"Only, one?" He gulped, wide-eyed gaze flicking between the tall man on fire, the legless boy. "How the hell am I supposed to choose between mine or /his?/"
Dorian (alexandros.lycomedes) renewed his peering at the card-bearing figure, in light of Blake's perturbation. In light of the cards doing something he had no words for. He'd not taken notice of any centipedes nor parties by ice-cream counters, blood colouring notwithstanding. Dorian had an Englishman's stolid calm to embody, something more easily done when his sister was not involved directly. He was no unfortunate one-time colony's ejecta. He'd speak up for the poor guy who was beside himself beyond seeing something impossible, "Are you sure he cannot take mine? It seems to have enlivened him wondrous well." He was studiously avoiding looking at cards to split his attention between mysterious fortune vendor and Blake.
Fortune Vendor: She searched Dorian for a long moment, the shadows of her hood dark and deep but clearly affixed on Dorian's features as if searching. With the first deference she'd shown, the figure stooped in what could be a bow or genuflection, robes rustling. "I mean no offense to your dread lady, sir, but while some of my cards will doubtless be yours, none of these are Fortunes meant for you, I fear. They do not call to you, and thus I cannot give them." The figure flinched reflexively, head jerking up to peer up and over as if looking for a voice only they could hear. After a long pause, uncomfortably so, they relaxed once more, "But respect upon you, and your house. I swear to you, tribute has already been sent." Her gaze turned back to Blake and the voice remained deferential though clearly due to Dorian's interference rather than any respect for Blake's feelings. "You may take as long as you like. Would you like to examine one close?"
Blake Jermyn offered a grateful look to Dorian as he stepped up to help, only for it to be quickly quashed. "Thanks anyway, man... I guess this is some real magic bullshit, huh?" A long, low whistle, before he settled in with an intense, thoughtful expression that seemed almost alien on his usually exuberant face, elbows on the armrests of his chair, chin in his hands.
"Usually I'd just grab his without a second thought, I mean, he's my everything, of course I'm gonna make sure his gets to him an' not worry about me..." A pause as he gathers his thoughts, as he stares deep into the images on the cards as if just by looking, the correct path would be revealed to him. "But... Honestly, I ain't sure what good this can even do for the poor bastard. I don't think he ever wants to see /that/ place again, and fire scares the everliving bajeezus out of him, I think if I brought that thing home, I'd just end up givin' the poor guy nightmares, and he's had way too many nightmares as it is..." A deep, heavy sigh, almost wheezing as it came through his damaged throat. "So I guess I'll take that one." So saying, he reached for the one that clearly depicted his own ruined form.
Dorian (alexandros.lycomedes)'s eyes widened and for a bare moment he lost his hold on his glamour in favour of his feelings. The peering masked feature zeroing in on him and speaking words he could not help but hearken to, well, he'd stand in shock for the space of a few heartbeats as an electrum shade of unlight erased his silvery irises and his flesh paled to a color the life did not inhabit. Colored in pale runes and veins long bereft of life. it was only a moment though. A moment when one could be forgiven thinking they'd seen spectral pale yellow wings. But none of this lingered, because Dorian did what he did to cope with the unexplained, after shaking himself from stilling. He'd reach into waistcoat pocket, and before screwing a cigarette between his lips, answer with his mundane grey eyes fixed on the blank holes where the other's should be, "Blimey. Thank you, I suppose. Ahh... Right-o. Jolly good."
The family name came with a fair amount of strange attentions from years back. He'd lit up while Blake waffled, and huff a plume of smoke over one shoulder, quietly mimicking one of the chair bound man's words, "Buh-gee-zus."
The fortune vendor bent further as Dorian's glamour flickered, her head bobbing fearfully before she handed the card quickly over to Blake to examine close. It was slightly warm to the touch, the edges taking on a luminous glow not entirely unlike the one that lit Dorian's unglamoured form soft and golden. Though matte, the card's back had textures in patterns and whorls too tightly packed to be seen but felt by fingertips. The card was heavier than the size of it should be and the throb of aether was thick to anyone sensitive enough to discern it. "Here, look. Make certain. Choose well. Be /sure/. The cards may show you things that have come or could be or will never be but the images matter. Like a book, a single snapshot will only tell you so much but a chapter will have a wealth of knowledge. An entire book... well, this can change a world in the right hands." As the card left her hands, the figure stepped back with a few gliding steps to put herself out of arm's reach of either man.
Naoki Sato finally roused from whatever stupor he'd been in. Reaching out he crushed the blood butterfly in his hand, apparently having 'heard' enough of its report. Sato moved forward to join the little crew, coming to stand behind the vendor almost as if to box them in. "Where do you get these cards?" he asked, crossing his arms as he observed the hooded figure. His hand twitched as he stood here, blood working its way back into its veins. "How do you know the figures on them?" He didn't yet ask for his card. Blake's reaction to things had given him enough hesitation though the interest on the Jikininki's face was apparent. Briefly he looked past the figure's shoulder at Blake and Dorian. "The voice and stature are not familiar to either of you, correct? For this... person," he said with a nod at the masked figure.
Blake Jermyn just so happened to look up at Dorian /right/ when the man began to flicker, eyes wide as for a moment, his friend was replaced by a pale and gleaming angel, statuesque and glowing with glorious fury. Oh what the hell, was even THIS guy brimming over with magic bullshit?! Blake blinked for a moment, then just did what he figured would be polite, and pretended it never happened, covering for the other man. "...Yeah. Bajeezus. It's like when someone gets really scared, you say scared the bajeezus out of him." Clearly, Blake could return all the numerous favors that his friend had done for him by offering the fellow a good old, solid, Jermyn Cultural Education. That'll set him straight!
However, the mirth vanished from his face once more as he reached out a pale and trembling hand, carefully took the card, holding it by its edges. Eyes went wide as he stared at the throng of bodies, the way the figure that was /so clearly meant to be him/ fragmented into dust, hand clutching another's so tightly, stared at the throng of bodies beneath. Turned it over and beheld his own, ruined figure. As Sato made his way over, he just shook his head, gestured wildly at the cards. "Naw man, never heard this guy before in my life," he insisted, going primarily by voice as the fortuneteller's visage remained as yet unseen. "But I'm damn curious where they found out all this shit, too."
Dorian (alexandros.lycomedes) did not feel comfortable being *seen* though dreaded was not uncommon as he'd like, but he could play like he did, casually taking a puff from the coffin nail he'd lit up. Good Turkish tobacco. Deference and cryptic words weren't the biggest problems he'd ever faced. This week. When approached by someone whose mien scratched at his memory from a place he could not put together with what was in front of him, he'd give the masked individual some benefit of some doubt, replying, trying to keep things calm, "I reckon they're just, she's--he's-- it is just a case of making a living."
It hadn't dawned on him why he'd recognize the newcomer, but he was racking his brain to no avail.
The figure turned, silently holding out the cards for Naoki to look over. "I know of things FROM the cards. I did not create them. I convey them to where they must go. The cards are many things but they are not ambulatory," The voice rasped, silently holding the cards for Naoki to look closer at but not fully turning her back on the men behind her. "My face will not give you the answers you seek. The hood and mask is so that I may know peace when not doing the work I have been tasked with. This body must eat, must sleep and spending time in yon asylum will not see my work done any faster," the figure answered calmly. "I have seen your faces in the cards though not the ones that are for today. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow's card, oh knight resplendent," the figure replied to Dorian and then turned to Naoki and lifted its chin slightly in a gesture of respect. "And knight foreboding. Are you here for your card or will you see who else is so afflicted by your visage to claim it for their own? The cards manifest, I carry out their desires and convey them to where they must go."
Naoki Sato tilted his head as he listened to the figure. He'd missed Dorian's resplendent, unglamoured form... too distracted by the cards, the mystery, the people reflected on the pieces of cardstock. He inhaled deeply, trying to catch a whiff of whatever scent lingered around the black robes and mask - then he exhaled and shook his head. "Ba-jii-zahs..." he repeated. Dorian's title as knight resplendent and his own as knight foreboding put a furrow to his brow. He stepped forward, bending to look carefully at each of the cards, attempting to commit the images to memory for later reproduction. "I want to see them. But I won't take them," he said after a pause. "Not yet, at least."
Blake Jermyn continued to eye the card in his hand as the fortune teller spoke. "Well that ain't fuckin' ominous at all," he muttered, as they revealed just how much they were a powerless vessel for /the cards themselves,/ one of which he held in his very hands. He looked at it again, almost mistrustful this time, as if there were a living spirit within, temperamental and capricious. "God, that ain't half a bad idea," he murmured as he watched Dorian light up, "ya got another've those ya can spare?" He could absolutely go for a smoke right now, wash away all the apprehension building up within him. Sato's voice caught his attention, and he tilted his head. "Maybe that ain't the worst idea either, maybe I'm a little too eager, but... Man, what if I never see this guy again?" A gesture towards the fortune vendor. "Sometimes ya just gotta take a chance when it comes, or else it ends up lost forever."
Dorian (alexandros.lycomedes) did not mind being called resplendent, any day of the week. The silver-haired person's being called something of the opposite did send his eyes a little narrower. And he almost put the face with the past occasion, but then he was distracted, getting a cigarette for Blake, and striking up his ornate and well loved kerosene lighter for the man to light up with. He bent down in the offer, and suggested, "You took a card, while it was rather a pretty thing, I am sure no harm can come of it. Take heart, friend." FOcusing on someone else's problems meant neatly not having to figure out what the heck was going on.
The fortune vendor: "We'll meet again," the figure said simply. "The minor arcana have been drawn and wait in the space between to be called to their place and purpose. Fifty six cards to deliver to whence they belong and more still should the populace be judged deserving of the major. I shall not be released until my task is done nor given my reward." The figure settled, cards fanned out under Naoki's watchful eye, endlessly patient to flip the cards back and forth
Naoki Sato simply stared in silence for a while, eyes roaming over each card and its reverse in turn. He wouldn't remember all the little details... but the general idea, enough to figure out which cards they were to the trained eye - that was his goal. He straightened up once he was comfortable with the parts of the images he needed to recreate and took a step back. "Will we know? If someone else takes our card?" he asked, flicking his eyes up to Blake. Dorian's... friendliness was noted with a lengthy stare before he finally introduced himself, "Sato. The... Professor's apprentice. If you are... a friend of his," he said with a nod to the legless wonder, "...find me again." Without another word he turned, making for one of the stalls with writing implements - calligraphy brushes and the like - unless one of them stopped him.
Blake Jermyn breathed a sigh of relief as the ever-generous Dorian shared a smoke, lit him up. Smoke filling his lungs, he refocused, centered, calmed. All the same, he couldn't keep his eyes off the card. "I dunno man, this is a little too crazy to chalk up to card tricks, smoke and mirrors... I mean that other one, that room with the mannequins? I've /been/ there. And it's not a place a whole lot've other folks really know about, so... Yeah." A sigh, a drag, the smoke spiralling from his lips and into the sky above. He seemed to grow even more antsy and unsettled as the fortune vendor spoke again. "Chosen? Called? I mean, I swear I'm just an ordinary guy," he insisted, even as he held the very proof otherwise in his hand. "I ain't got no special purpose in my life..." The words rang hollow, more defensive than anything. At Sato's query, he just shrugged. "Fucked if I know, I mean, I just got my own, so I guess I won't be findin' out... Didn't wanna bring the old man's home to him, though. Thought it'd scare him," he
Blake Jermyn explained, as if Sato hadn't just heard all of that through the blood butterfly.
Dorian (alexandros.lycomedes) was ready to try to think about what had happened, but he did not trust his face to do that in mixed company. He was pretty sure it was some Seiiki district fortune getting ruse. So he behaved accordingly, dropping a 20 pound note into Blake's lap, "Here, in exchange for that strange bit of fun for your inscrutable-faced friend, there. I really should be getting back to the shop. It was good to see you, mate. Keep your bageezus inside of you. I trust you can find your way back home, yes?"
He was yet racking his brain about the familiar face of the silver haired one. It did not help at all that it was an evening the male half of the twinset tried to forget a large part of when the guy introduced himself. He was late in saying his name in turn, "Dorian Windgrace, good day." Later, likely he'd fit the pieces together, but only when it was not a helpful time. Like the middle of the night. Once he had convinced himself that the masked individual was someone trying to prank or bilk a Windgrace out of more cash. That was a safe mundane refuge, easier to reconcile.
To the masked person, the last to get his attention before he'd amble off, he'd give a lazy two-finger to the brow salute and a small beneficent smile as he remarked, "Good day to you too."
The fortune vendor watched Dorian go from below the shadows of hood and mask, but accepted both Naoki walking away and the deflection of anything like truth. She was nothing if not patient. The cards vanished back into those sleeves and the woman began that shuffling slow walk away, continuing to stop for any individuals brave enough or curious enough to want to look at the cards.
Blake Jermyn's eyes went wide as more money than he knew what to do with dropped into his lap. "Damn, thanks man... Aight, great talkin' to ya like always, see ya around." He gave the man a cheerful wave as he went on his way, smiling his usual bright smile. Turning to the fortune teller, he held up the money. "So, do you want this, or-..." But she was already gone, vanishing into the crowd, so, with a shrug, Blake just headed back to the tea house, his mysterious card clutched in his hand.