Cards before the Cold

Days have passed since Thyme’s last escapades. She had traveled with an unusual party through the sands where they found rest within the walls of Sol. She made comfort in a small nook of a tavern, telling fortunes of those curious enough to sit across the table; However, something within her soul thudded. The winds were changing, and the feeling of another adventure rested between her fingertips. The heavy stock card that is drawn from a deck of tarot is placed down in front of herself. The back of the card staring upwards, calling out to the fortune teller to be flipped. The Fool
“At this rate, I will not have to draw on the cards to know.” She mumbles to herself with a smile beyond the tavern chatter. You see, Thyme had gained a tip for more work and she relied on her cards to decide her answer. She shuffles the card back into the deck, tucking it into the leather deck pouch she carries at her waist.
She rises from her table and makes way to the supposed meeting point. The sun shining brightly through the sandstone buildings of Sol, dodging between curious folk. A smile tossed to an elderly man, another to a Tabaxi hiding under a torn cloak. Many faces of people with such interesting stories both in the past and perhaps in the future, should the moment be laid out for a reading that is. Not today, her mind echoes.
Reaching the gates that lead out from the city and out into the wastelands, they grind open slowly and the winds of the wastes flow in with sand and warmth of the sun. She nods to the guard opening the gate before stepping out and walking a short distance along the wall to find shade from the sun and await the other strangers for whom she would be traveling with.
The tarot is a mysterious read of the forces of destiny. The Fool signifies a new journey. Adventure. It also signifies...
"We meet again, fate reader," Dante Perdita says as if he had been there the whole time. It WAS empty a moment ago. Now there is a fashionable tiefling there as if he simply climbed out of the shadows just to deliver his message. Shadows, that greedily draw the misty smoke off of his hair before they disappear as thin campfire smoke trails.
The smoldering ember eyes of the man Thyme met by chance days earlier settle on her as if looking through her. Past her? No. At her as direct as the light of the unrelenting sun. "Isn't it beautiful," he asks, languishing there before sweeping a hand out to the wastes, "infinite adventure for the bold and creative. An abyss of sand and ruin drawing the soul of wanderers across its earthen seas." He takes a deep breath in, lungs expanding to the arid cuts of the hot air. The smile on his face makes his praise of the dead lands sound sincere.
The corner of her mouth curls to a faint grin as a voice flows out from the shadows. “Dante Perdita.” Thyme says quickly. It has been several days since their first meeting, but she does not forget names and the voices attached to them. Her head turns to catch the fading smoke just briefly as he appears. Ember eyes are met with purple ones and an expression unmoved by his appearance from the shadows. “Indeed.” She speaks before her eyes follow his hand that expand out towards the desert before them. “You speak quite poetically.” Her eyes settle on the yellow sands and blue skies stretched out for miles.
“It does stir curiosity in those brave enough to wander out, but it is rather dangerous. You would truly need fate on your side to explore it.” She smiles, facing out to the sands. Perhaps that is why I like it so much.” She chuckles at the thought before leaning back against the shaded sandstone wall of Sol. “I would assume you are also here for this job? I would also assume you already know much more about it than I do. I am afraid I was not told very much in its regard but to simply wait here.”
Dante Perdita stands heroically against the setting desert sun. The way his shadow is cast back against the fronds that billow against the gentle breeze make it look as if he had a cape of darkness cast behind him. That smiling face of his seems painted on. Like a Mask. "Tis a poetic world, no?" he asks Thyme, sliding his eyes back beyond the sparse vegetation to the wall where his fellow con artist dwells. "Like the setting sun we get to admire its beauty for fleeting moments before we are out of," he takes a sprig of thyme with its leaves as white as snow. He blows on it gently and the leaves spread on the wind like a blown dandelion, "Thyme."
An illusion, a beautiful lie, if looked at with a stern eye of truth. "Truth is boring, no?" he says, the weight of those words echoing like lead on the ears. "Lets say that there were rumors of a job that a humble sellsword would do well to sell his sword to," he says, tapping his nose, "and the rest, alas, is unclear to me." A hand clenches as if that wounds him. Not knowing something. Not knowing the moves to a fancy dance and now its all the rage. "The best adventures start without knowing it all!" he declares, "And with one who can read the winds of fate as well as a bird casts to the sky? It shall be one for the bards' songs, Thyme." The tiefling walks over to the wall, his tattooed skin favoring the shade. Leaning against the wall, he lines up near the fate reader, "But I did hear that where we are going is cold. A surprising rumor, no? Surrounded by hot death and the employer favors a cold one."
Warm winds stir across the sands, twirling and spinning like a thought-out dance of their own. It kicks sand up into the air and Thyme pulls the sleeve of her embroidered coat up to cover her face momentarily. “Clever.” She chuckles behind cloth at his play on words. She pulls her arm down after the winds settle. “Truths, boring? Perhaps. Now half-truths, those are quite interesting.” Her purple eyes shift looking to the man beside her as if also trying to read his soul.
“Pardon my boldness, but I feel as though you are more than just a ‘humble’ sellsword.” She laughs. “Smoke and mirrors usually mean more than just hired muscle.” Her eyes narrow. “Just like this job, which is showing itself to be more and more intriguing as more information presents itself. Cold weather is not something I have completely prepared for but..” She smiles. “Fire is quite a specialty of mine if needed.”
"Kind words from a cunning lady," Dante replies as he takes a gauntleted hand over his chest. There is nothing ordinary about that tiefling. Even the dark plates of his gauntlet appear to shimmer like pale moonlight in the brightness of day. It glimmers like the the light of a soul and makes it appear familiar, alive. A fingertip taps on his chest where a dull metal plate rings beneath his fine clothes. "Perhaps 'humble' is the half of my truth then," alluding to his station of interest. A painted smile on his face, "Much like pardoning is yours. You do not take me as a woman who pardons for any man, woman, or beast." The gloved hand knocks on the wall to the town behind it, "Like a cat hiding its claws. A lantern hiding its flame behind glass. For those that fail to understand the beauty of burns and scratches?"
His head hits back against the wall as if in pity for those simple souls. "Are you familiar with the Fulmen Fern?" Dante says as his head lulls to the side to Thyme. "It is a myth among travelers going along the mountain range. A fern in the mountain soil like any other. You can't differentiate it from the common variety. It hides its leaves well. Yet," a finger snaps, "it can erupt into flame and burn to the bone." A grin slides on that painted face, "If it so desired, that is. If it so desires, it hides as a simple, humble fern. But deep down there is that flame within it waiting for the moment it chooses to burn the brightest. And It. Is. Beautiful." He speaks as if he has seen it himself.
"I hope to see those fires, Thyme. I expect it to be extraordinary."
Her eyes remain fixed on him as he speaks. Folding her arms across her chest as she listens intently. “I can assure you, I am not hiding any claws.” She unfolds her arms and shows her hands to him. “See? I am as I appear to be.” She grins. “Now this mythical fern, that is very interesting! Could you imagine coming across something in disguise like that? Planned and calculated to blend in with the other ferns around it. I could imagine how many adventurers that fern has fooled in those mountains, but is it really trying to be dangerous or helpful I wonder? Fire that high up would be welcome, say an adventurer forgot his flint don’t you think?”
She tilts her head to the side with her question. The several beads that dangle throughout her dreadlocks chime slightly as she moves. “Not all disguises are malicious.” Her eyes narrow. “But some are.” Her eyes break from his as she catches a small scorpion scurry and disappear behind some rocks.
There is this deep, theatric laugh that starts deep in Dante's chest. "Ha ha!" he replies back, hands resting on his hips. One slides off, taking with it a deck of playing cards. He shuffles them in his hands, those cards, thick printed stock so that a drunkard could still read them during play. "Of course not, Thyme. Those mysterious hands of yours could not deliver greater than a," he stops shuffling to accent a point, "papercut, no? A papercut could sever the heart's liquid fire if placed so." A brief laugh, shorter simplier than the last, "Heh, but I lose myself in your intrigue, you must forgive me. It is not unlike a disguise, but a puzzle or the steps to an exquisite dance that you can't help appreciate how one motion flows to the next. That the placement is both deliberate and indeliberate. Strong and vulnerable both in the same beat of a heart." A finger points upwards, "Ah! But we were talking about a fern, were we not?" The tiefling puts the deck of cards back where they belong. "It is how one responds to the myth that is fascinating. I have heard tales of those that spend valuable time cutting and burning every fern they see. The basis of supersticion. If but one fern is a Fulmen Fern, then best to rid all. To be safe, no? I have yet seen others seek to understand the fern, but fail to remember the basis of the disguise. It only reveals itself when it wants to. Not when a scholar wants it to. They leave frustrated, bitter, or burned, no? There are those that know the fern not, this is true, but there are so many mysteries of the world that trying to understand them all would be an act for the stoic truth-seekers." His head turns towards Thyme, cracking a roguish smile, "You know, the boring people." His finger that was pointing to the sky curves to the setting sun and then finally returns to his hand, "Which leaves the topic of those who do not wish to destroy, understand, or ignore a fern. I have found, Thyme, that those others live the brightest lives of all. Perhaps because they believe in a half-truth and once this half-truth settles in their heart, they are free to truly live without concern for a fern."
The setting sun brings colors into the sky of reds, oranges, and yellows across miles of dead wasteland. The earth withered down to grains of broken land scorned by those in search of power and ego. It leaves an unlikely stand off between ember and purple eyes both knowing yet not knowing of one another. “For those that wish not to destroy, understand, or ignore this fern? That would indeed free the adventurer the concern. What then of the poor fern? It sits so lonely and bored shrouded between regular ferns in the forest, forgotten and ignored. What is the point of a perfectly planned disguise if you have no one to use it on? The adventurer never leaves his home to explore the lands to face the lessons of life, that burn of a plant he may or may not find, and the fern lives the life of a useless talent only to rot away into the dirt.”
Thyme takes out her water skin and takes a sip of water, reaching it out to his direction. “Both the adventurer and the fern at that point sound quite boring, and both sound like they need each other to feel alive.” She returns his smile with one of her own. “Well regardless Perdita, the strings of fate get pulled no matter what the adventurer ultimately believes in. Therein lies the beauty of a half truth.”
The smile of mischief curls on Dante's lips. It is almost as if the setting sun itself felt the need to cast shade on his choice of mask in that moment. Hues of red and orange warm a skin of sun kissed alabaster and tattoos of black tar that mark his infernal heritage. They make those ember eyes burn with amusement that he conveys with a, "True," with the honey of a lie. "Or rather, half-true, no?" he continues, with the truth of a lie.
It isn't until Thyme has fully taken the water before Dante takes a drink, handing it back to the fate reader with a gracious nod of the head. "The sun, she shall rise and she shall set, with or without consent," the roguish tiefling kisses his hand and spreads it out to the golden horizon in a 'magnifico' fashion. "But, in a highly unrelated course of conversation, I wonder whom else will gather here before the journey outward. What stories brew behind their eyes? We, clearly, stand at an advantage in our deep and scholastic expanse of half-truth discourse." Dante may even know what half of those words mean. "But I'd wager a gold coin on a brute," the well dressed swordsman says. He taps his nose and then points to Thyme, "We do not fit that role well enough, less you have hidden Goliath strength in your svelte frame." Its been known to happen. Little body with a big ka-pow.
Dal'ti walks slowly, deliberately across the hot sands towards the sandstone walls of Sol. His bare feet burn as he glides towards the two figures taking refuge from the brutal sun in the walls shadows. His bald head glints dimly in the blazing sun, tattoos peeking out from his silver mask. The gentle swish of his tightly bound sand-colored robes is the only sound as he draws close to the two. He bows stiffly to each of them in turn, the silver mask upon his face glinting as he does. A wolf's mask hewed from silver looks out at them, and seems, for a moment, to reguard the teifling with an exceptional weariness. He chooses his words carefully, and speaks them with an easy smoothness. "Well met, strangers. I am Dal'ti of--of Sol," He half turns to the desert behind him. "These lands' heat never cease to amaze me, even if I do live here." A slight tilt of his head, as he faces them once more. "I am assuming you two are here for this mountain expedition also?" An intense conversation occurs in the middle of the street. Two weathered adventurers using twisted words on each other, a battle of wits ensuing. Two big green eyes watch them from under a shady awning of a shop nearby. Morgana, a being of small stature, but of large ambition examines her soon to be coworkers. Luckily she had a chance to bathe and make herself presentable after her journey of actually getting to Sol with Ozymandius. Her orange red hair now cut short with a few natural curls in it. She missed her long hair from the academy, but she's learned that adventuring outside of the academy and have having long hair didn't mix well for her. A tall bald man walks up to the two, providing her introduction. 'So these are the people I'm going to be working with next? I don't know if I like the look of any of them, one is actually wearing a mask, while the other two seem to be hiding behind a mask of their personality' she continues to watch, pondering her next move. 'Working against each other won't help anything... who seems the least sketchy....' straightening up she decides what she's going to do. She walks over with all of her 3 foot self straight toward the woman. Extending her arm straight out she smiles, "Hi, I'm Morgana Flemming, I think we'll be working together on this job for Ozymandius? It's nice to meet you" An eager smile plastered on her face, hoping her cheeks don't get pinched again as is apparently custom for people just meeting her.
Thyme takes back the waterskin and as Dante questions who else would be joining them on the journey, a man approaches, unfazed by the burning sun that pushes out its last rays of light before it finds comfort behind the horizon. “Well, it would seem you won’t have to ponder over that question.” She turns, tossing a nod in the man “Dal’ti, a pleasure to meet you.” She offers up a warm smile to him until her eyes catch that of a shorter person approaching. A confident one for her size. She looks down at her and her hand out. “My name is Thyme.” She reaches out to shake her hand. “Pleasure to meet you as well, Morgana.”
Thyme looks at both Morgana and Dal’ti. “And yes, I caught wind of what seemed like an interesting adventure so here I am. Dal’ti, you mentioned you are from this area, but what about you Morgana? Where do you hail from?”
Morgana lets out a sigh as Thyme treats her like a normal person. "I'm from Crystallis, I graduated from the academy not too long ago. What about yourself?" Parts of her skin burn as Thyme shakes her hand. Where most people would have tanned, her skin has decided that burning is the only option. "I wish I could get used to the sun! I've been spending so much time with books in libraries I don't think my skin knows what to do with itself!"
During the transaction of new information, Dante is a tiefling that stays close to the sandstone walls of Sol. The available shade from a setting sun becomes more scarce as it closes towards the horizon and only a the thin frond laden trees give him the cover he seeks.
"Dal'ti of Sol," the silver tongued sellsword says, having his doubts about that but conveying it in convincingly warm flare, "and Morgana of Crystallis," he says, believing the naïve bean is from such a 'civilized' place, "a pleasure to have you along on this little adventure of ours." There is a hat tip to Morgana, although Dante has no hat so its an invisible hat tip, "Or shall I say, properly, Ozymandius' adventure?"
He offers a charming smile down to the small one, "Perhaps you are familiar with our soon to be financial benefactor?"
She smiles at the tiefling, being aware of how they typically act... or at least Ozymandius acts, she wonders if this new tiefling actually would care if something happened to her. But.... she could use as many allies as she can get, and he's definitely hiding something... but maybe it's something he'll let her know and she can help him with! She excitedly smiles "I don't think I got your name, but it's nice to meet you! I am a bit familiar with him, I recently finished a job with him to get here! He's a very good fighter, probably one of the best I've seen while traveling, and I know we need to help him get something for Jacob Whyte." She stops for a second and then lowers her voice. "Although to be quite honest, I'm pretty sure we're gonna have to steal it..." She perks back up, "but being sneaky is something I'm good at! I've got to use my small stature for something!"
"Fascinating," Dante replies back, slowly taking a roasted almond and munching on it. Munch. Munch. Munch. No, he didn't forget to introduce himself, he decided not to, yet. One needs the right moment to declare thyself. Fashion demands it.
"Stealth...is certainly something that I, too, am considerably capable with." He considers the small woman with open intruige, as though he had never seen someone so small be quite so confident. "And, additionally, it seems that our group thus far is quite...interesting indeed." He considers them all with a slow, assessing stare. Dal'ti considers the tiefling with an obscured side glance, one which his mask mercifully hid. Why did this specimen intrudige him so? Could it be the shadows this tiefling seemed to meld into? Yes, that seemed so. Perhaps Dal'ti could learn something from this odd...swordsman? He supposed that was most likely. "I do rather look forward to seeing what each of you is capable of."
Thyme lets out a small laugh. “Ah, the coastal city of Freeport. Not as warm as here and much more water where I come from.” Another kind smile forms across her face looking down at her new acquaintance. Thyme looks over Morgana, taking note of the brewing sunburn across her hands and arms. “The sun is quite the trickster, too warm to cover ourselves and yet too painful to leave our skin exposed to it. Best to find shade where you can.” Thyme moves aside to let her into the small bit of shade. “Seems we have several here with skill in being stealthy, I prefer to do things from a distance, magic of the sort.”
Humbly, Dante offers his skillset, "And I excel at all things." Now is your time to shine. A wink to Morgana. Fingerguns to Dal'ti, "Dante Perdita."
A Tan elf stumbles forward awkwardly he looks around for a brief moment before speaking "Hello everyone I seem to be a bit ways from home but i heard some rumors in this corner of the world. I'm looking for medicine and perhaps some strong restorative magic." The Elf tenses up a bit when he mentions that last bit. "Oh apologies my name is Astroix"Perhaps i can offer some assistance in exchange for some information?" Astroix takes a step forward to do a light bow.
Morgana touches her warm sun burn, and quickly scurries over to the available shade that Thyme supplies. "Thank you, I haven't yet found a way to avoid the sun other than shade. I guess that's what tall comrades are always helpful for." She lets out a small chuckle at her own joke, blissfully unaware if anyone else will find it funny. "I look forward to seeing your magic, I'm sure it'll be fantastic!" She looks to Dante, "And I am excited to see what all the things you excel at are! With such confidence, I imagine there are no bounds to your skills!" Looking over to Dal'ti, "Maybe we can do a stealth off or something!"
Dal'ti grins behind his mask and bows his head in acknowledgement. "Never will the day come that I will be opposed to some friendly competition. I only hope that you do not find your spirit crushed when I squash you like a bug." A smirk can be heard in his voice at this last.
"Maybe once we've finished the job then, and don't worry, I don't think my spirits will be crushed." Morgana turns to Astroix, "If we walk down the alleyway over there, I heard there was a healer who may be able to help, but other than that I'm not sure what other information I could help you with, I'm sorry."
A gloved finger is raised to the warm hues of a sky beholden to a setting sun. Dante makes mention for Astroix and Morgana, "Medicine in this area does not come cheap. Fortunately, you have come across the startings of an paying expedition." The hand rests back down by the rogue's side, drawing attention to the jagged gauntlet on the other hand. "The beauty of merchantilism. It adds a step between labor and goods as coin. Coin to find your goods. Coin to buy them." A helpful tiefling! Though his burning ember eyes slide to Thyme. Money to be made.
Astroix puts his hand to his chin, his head then turns to Morgana."I have not heard of a healer who practices in alleyways and i would imagine one that does probably does not have a clean operating table. But if you believe they may be useful then i will seek them." As for you Dante you are quite the peculiar fellow, you remind me of those who talk in circles but non-the-less i do not wish to insult you. If coin is what you seek for such medicine then coin is what i can provide. " Astroix snaps his finger as to get Dante's attention. "Eyes over here please your looking at that poor girl like a lost lamb in the woods."
Dal'ti cocks his head to the side, the final rays of light from the setting sun glinting off of his polished mask. He tenses, readying himself to stop the tiefling--Dante--from biting Astroix's fingers off. Deciding to change the subject, Dal'ti cut across, "I do wonder," his eyes slide over to Dante, assessing his temper. "When will we begin our little excursion?"
“That is very resourceful.” She chuckles along side Morgana and her joke. Catching ember eyes glancing at her and then the abrupt snaps from the man that calls himself Astroix. “My, what an introduction.” The small beads that rest within her dreadlocks jingle slightly as she slides off her beautifully embroidered over coat, flapping it up into the air in one quick motion and bring her arms down to let it fall carefully across the sand just in front of herself. A dark teal coat with many embroidered patterns, most notably, the all-seeing eye that rests in the center. Her aura changes, as does her focus. She tilts her head up to look at Astroix. “Astroix, was it? Come, sit.” She smiles. “I would like to assist you in finding what you seek.” A warm and welcoming smile in his direction.
Bring a hand to her side, Thyme removes the leather pouch from her belt, sliding out a deck of tarot cards. Her hands slowly shuffles the cards, waiting for Astroix to take a seat and giving a brief glance to Dante before placing the full deck on the top of the coat. “whether you are a believer or not, I am, and it helps me help you. Well I should say, I get pulled by the weave and the greater forces because of these cards.”
Astroix scratches his head for a moment a bit confused. "A fortune teller you say, well color me intrigued. I'm not to familiar with how it works although a few at my old village was able to do something similar, however they required commune from the gods." Astroix crosses his legs and sits in front of the deck of cards. "tell me do you hear voices from the gods?"Astroix body language changes as he appears to be a bit more relaxed"Well then how do we begin then? "
Dante doesnt exhibit the behavior of anger one might expect by being judged and ordered. Tieflings in Arhor'ha are often treated like criminals for existing. He lacks horns, but the eyes tend to give his heritage away, and he wears a Mask on his skin of a person not easily slighted by words. When Thyme pulls out her cards, the swordsman clicks his eyes over to Dal'ti like the trigger on a crossbow, "Tis the beauty of being an employer, you get to set the schedule, no? The employed wait, but the company is good. An excellent trait for those you will be camping out with in the wilderness." A pause. "Away from civilization." Another pause. "Sleeping, occasionally." Smile.
She nods slightly and the beads in her hair jingle once more. “They speak to me, not in the way you may think. The building blocks of all magic you see, it is all around us, gifted to us by those of higher power yes, but we draw on that magic from the weave and should you picture the world blanketed in threads, when they want to be heard its those small tugs, those small unnoticed vibrations in that very web that draw my attention and let me listen closely. The gods are puppeteers and we living creatures, and this very land are their marionettes” She taps the top of the deck. “And this is my focus.” Her eyes narrow as she looks down at her deck of tarot cards. “However, they don’t play kindly to those not willing to place an offering.” Purple eyes glance up to look at Astroix. “It is custom for it to be the price of what knowledge or guidance you seek.” She pauses for a moment, taking out a small cone shaped incense and placing it into the sand. The palm of her hand rushes with magic and a small flame forms. Placing it over the cone and lighting it to let a small trail of smoke rise. She draws a circle around the incense cone. “Whatever it is you find its price to be, you place it here, then we let the cards speak.”
Astroix leans in and relaxes a bit more and he get's the feeling he's no longer dealing with some of the hustlers he's encountered before. "I see you know much of what you're talking about i was afraid you might've been some of the other types of people I've encountered. Not all have been kind. For my offering i shall give you three things Knowledge, Coin and a piece of myself." Astroix rummages through his bag and takes out two small sticks of incense Rosemary and Sage and lights them the smoke begins to rise ever so slightly as Astroix begins to speak once again. "The gods communicate with us all the time and one thing you'll learn about the signs we seek they often come in three. Astroix then moves the incense to the center and waves a hand motion at them for Thyme to see "Second i offered you coin , these services are never free. And thirdly i offer something most important to me.Astroix reaches into his bag pulling out a small journal. He rips out a page ever so gently as to not destroy the seems of the journal. Here is an entry , promised to one dearest to me. Now shall we continue?
Dal'ti considers Dante for a moment, then chuckles quietly. The first sign of amusement from the otherwise serious monk. "Good company indeed. I find it intriguing that our paths should cross here," He pauses, smirking slightly. The edges of his mouth quirking to the side are barely visible as a slight shift in the masks placement. "You shall see soon enough..I have reason to believe that some aspects of our skills are not so different." He turns towards the sunset, where he beholds the scenery for a short moment before adding, "Subtle, isn't it? The difference between me, you, and even the short one over there," He jerks his head in Morgana's direction. "And yet...so different. These strange ideals and subtleties seem to define who we are, yet...do they truly? If they don't then what does?" Facing Dante once more, Dal'ti splays his hands. "Tell me, Dante, because I am quite intrigued: What defines you?"
She watches him rummage through his belongings, offering three things to the weavers of fate. “Knowledge of the gods favor, a tip to the teller, and an entry from a journal that you hold dear.” She repeats them over and nods to herself. “This will suit us greatly.” She smiles at him and places a hand on the deck, shuffling them once more with one hand before spreading the entire deck out across the coat in a quick yet careful motion. “I want you to look at the cards here laid out before you. As you look at this deck, I want you to think about what it is you want to know. That haunting in your life you don’t have any direction for, that haze when try to find the answer yourself, and that pain of when the answer does not come to you. Then, without second guessing, pick one card and place it in front of you, face down. Then do the same with a second card from the deck, then a third. When you select your three, flip them over.” Her eyes narrow, glancing over the spread. She is very much in her zone and anyone who would be watching would see the pure focus and seriousness she has on this on reading. “Begin when you are ready Astroix.”
There is a slow blink of Dante's eyes. Twin suns burning against a field of wet snow. Quiet predators. His smile is too practiced. It is painted on. Something that Dal'ti said? Or perhaps Thyme and Astroix. It takes a poker to the campfire of his gaze that is leveled onto the masked man's movements.
"What a question," he says as the wisps of smoke dance off of his jet black hair, "and the answer is simple, no? What do you see?" A gloved hand dusts the stray sand off of his light jacket, "A fashionable man seeking adventure on the edge of western civilization, no?" His eyes slide to the small halfling, "A broker of words, information and poetry alike?" Then to the ones with the divinity activity not far off, "Perhaps a devilish trickster?" But for those paying attention, his hand runs gently along the shadows cast by the setting sun against the city wall. The interaction of shadow against shadow appears as solid as any tactile exchange. "Aren't we all just shadows cast in the minds eyes of those that try to define us? In my own mind's eyes I am but one, fantastic thing," he says, tapping his nose with the jagged gauntlet as if to say 'and you know what that is, I know what that is, must we say it?'.
Astroix breaths in the smoke from the incense and allows his mind to be lifted. As he begins to think and ponder he focuses and hones on to one thought. "A Cure" Astroix whispers ever so softly hard for anyone to hear unless you were paying attention. Astroix then takes in a deep breath "Mmm" Astroix then visualizes in his mind what he wishes to find but ends at an impasse two beings one of light and one of nature, Astroix attempts to walk past the two beings but they stop him. Pain rushes through Astroix and perhaps even a little bit of adrenaline as you can see his muscles tense up. Astroix in his mind can feel agony. He shoves through the beings and at this moment and this moment only Astroix picks up three cards at once revealing them. "That was difficult for me but let us see what fate has in store"
His eyes flicker down as Dante interacts with the shadows, and he feels the urge to hold back the mild surprise creeping onto his face. But he wears a literal mask. What is there to fear? Nothing. Dal'ti casts a masked grin in Dante's direction. "Well said. Well said indeed." He finds himself enthralled. Excited. As there, finally, is one who could not only keep up with his words, but parry them as well. "Is it the minds eye that matters, or the judgment of others that truly counts? If many see you one way, but few see you for another, then which is correct? Which actually matters?" He pauses for a moment, his eyes wild with an excitement he had not known since--not since the days of his monastery being pure and whole. "It is the perspective that truly matters. One may consider herself beautiful and confident, but be a decrepit old coward who cares only for herself," His mask turns slightly towards Dante, as though he had been previously staring off into space. "Or, another may consider himself stylish, when, in fact, he is only a drab fool, limiting his own mind with foolish misgivings." A smile, discernable, even through his mask. But.. even more so, a challenge.
"Judgement is a shepard's crook and a child's lullaby," Dante replies ask if commenting on a warm venom served at taverns that is generally considered a safe sedation. "Perspective, however, is as joined as two fingers to judgement," the tiefling continues as he raises his gloved hand, moving his middle and ring ringers independantly with a small amount of play of one influencing the other. "Both are such a beautiful failures in the senses that make the half-truths more exciting. Knowing, would boring, no? We are not books to be read while our story continues on. Exciting stories of dragons to be slain. Airships to cruise the clouds. Mountains to climb. Relics to claim. How could one tell such bold tales without the judgement of what to tell from the perspective of a singular narrative. Yet, a child believes the single tale the full. Heros becomes villains. Cowards become tacticians. All from perspective and the judgement that comes with it." Coming from the city gates is another tiefling. Unlike Dante, who has no horns, this one does. Morgana recognizes him as Ozymandius. Ruddy pink-red skin warmed by the last rays of sunset. He doesn't look old at all, a young man in his late teens trying to pass off as older by the hardened look on his face. "No one gives a fuck about your judgement," he comes in, keeping in a long tradition of verbally haymakering Dante the moment he is met, "the only one that matters in this expedition is mine. If you have a problem with that, get the fuck out of the group."
As a bardric herald, Dante does an aristocratic sweet of his gauntleted arm to the young tiefling hauling a large maul with him, "Ozymandius, I presume."
"Its 'Sir' to you, and everyone else that wants this overpriced gig. Its three times the normal rate so I'm paying all of you to get the job done and not ask me stupid questions," Ozy says, "We leave an hour into dusk. Bring warm clothes. Its a two days journey. You get paid when we get back to Sol with my property."
Thyme sits patiently, legs crossed, and hands folded on her lap. Her eyes look briefly over to Dal’ti, Dante, and Morgana, then they fall back on the man sitting in front of her. She watches him take a big breath and fall into the lure of mysticism. Its quite fascinating to watch, pondering on their inner thoughts before they select their cards. She just barely makes out the small utter of words from his lips. A cure? She thinks to herself but her attention shifts as he looks to be struggling. With himself? She watches him quickly grab three cards, no second guessing, a sure draw of each.
“Death, reversed. ” She says out loud as the first card is flipped.
“Page of Wands, upright.” She continues.
“Ten of Swords, upright.” There is a pause and her head remains lowered, looking down at the cards. “Do not fear the death card.” She taps its with the tip of her finger. “Its not as ominous as it appears. What you are seeking, you are frustrated because of it. You want to find that solution now, right this moment, but the threads of fate will not give that to you. You have to be patient, change is coming.” Her finger trails across the Death card and pauses on the Page of Wands. “They see you as fearless in this endeavor. This is the part of you now, the one that so boldly approaches the group without second guessing and seeks that answer. There is positivity in this card, you will find something soon that will give you hope about the cure you seek, you will find your answer.” Purple eyes look up between strands of dreadlocks. However,” She pauses and slowly glides her finger over the last card with a tap. “You may not like what that answer is.” The Ten of Swords sits ominously at the end of the three-card spread. A man laying bloody face down in the dirt with ten swords impaled down his back. “A sudden ending. The answer you seek will crush you. Figuratively speaking that is. Its not a good card and it is not a fate that you can change or avoid. You have to endure the truth of the matter. Your cure that you seek may ask you for something more destructive than the disease itself.” Astroix sits listening patiently."fearless" Astroix whispers. A thought crosses his mind, of her what would she say at this moment. His face giving hints of melancholy. And then the next card is read, he's caught by surprise. "A clue? perhaps it'll reveal itself soon" He whispers to himself.Astroix grits his teeth as the last card is read but then his face relaxes to your surprise"Answers like these always have a high price, doubly so if magic is involved" Astroix leans forward and clasps Thymes hands "I thank you, you have given me some answers for the moment and i am at ease.He lets go as you can see for a brief moment that the tips of his hair change color from a cold winter white to a slight autumn tinge. He stands tall and faces the group. "I shall begin making preparations at once. Rest assured everyone i will protect you like one of my own"