[flashback]Visions of things to come (Wrenmae)

[Mac]

Fall 15, 508 “OK, stop! Just…stop already.” MacMac glared down at the tent peg that somehow protruded from the stone flag of the street. “You’re going to make me end up flat on my nose, you know?” she said sternly, with a good bit of frustration underscoring her words. “I don’t want you, alright? Seriously. No. I do not need your services.” The last sentence was directed more towards the tent itself, than the peg and the obstructing rope that anchored the gaily striped material to the street. Her gaze had lifted from what had once again almost tripped her, to the tent, inside of which, she assumed, would be found the Konti. Okana, or more precisely her tent, was really getting on the girl’s nerves. Even her friends were beginning to make jokes, about how the tent seemed to be following her around the city. Or maybe she was following it? If the latter, then it sure wasn’t by her own volition. It just seemed that everywhere she went lately, there it would be, waiting for her. It lurked, she was sure of it, and sprung itself at her from the most amazing places. She laid the blame for this unwanted stalking behavior clearly at the feet of the fortune teller herself. After all, the tent surely wasn’t just…acting of its own accord, was it? Well, this was the city of illusion. Perhaps the tent was sentient. It certainly wouldn’t be the oddest thing ever seen on these fluctuating byways. Still, it was annoying, and now it was getting dangerous, at least in terms of putting her at risk of walking around a corner and tripping over it, as she had almost nearly done a moment before. Hands on hips, she glared at the offending fabric, and huffed a bit, blowing an overlong strand of pink hair out of her face. This wasn’t really effective, so she ran her fingers through the long shag that fell down over her forehead. For some reason, the hair then stood almost straight up. Her fingers had that effect on her hair. She put out her hand, then, index finger pointing. “Stay! Do not follow me!” she commanded. For emphasis, she repeated a bit louder, “I don’t need you, Okana. No disrespect intended, but could you please tell your tent to quit following me about?” Listening, she heard…nothing. With an exasperated sigh, she made an exaggerated step around the tent, and continued on her way, knowing that it was futile. The tent wanted her, for some reason. She had no idea why. No-one ever did, when Okana and her fortune telling abilities sought one out. A few of her friends kept telling her that she should just give in and go in and get it over with. That she should find out what it was Okana thought she should know, good or bad. One said it would be exciting. Another said maybe romance lay in her future. Her mother, instead of dismissing it as nonsense, had frowned pensively and then shrugged and said that it was up to her, to go in and face whatever it was the Konti had to say. Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps…it was something. Something important – a need to know type of situation. But that was just it. MacMac didn’t want to know. In a way, she was scared, a bit. It might be something terrible. But more than that, she just didn’t want to know what lay around the corner, besides that darn tent. If she knew what was coming, wouldn’t that of necessity affect her every action and decision? She didn’t want to be influenced by a certainty – and the Konti’s predictions were usually deadly accurate. For instance, if her one friend was correct, and Okana told her that this boy or that was destined to be her one true love, or some such nonsense, wouldn’t that forever flavor the way she looked at him? The way she acted around him, or thought about him, or how she spoke to him? Or if an adventure was the prediction, wouldn’t that also influence her, to think about going here, or there, in the world? To dream and then to go? It all was very confusing, to think about it, knowing about the future. So she preferred not to, for now. Maybe when she was older. For now, her young brain just wanted to dream, without knowing. The tent obligingly did not follow her, like some stray dog. But it never did. She would leave it behind, only to have it spring out at her in some other location. She could evade, but not avoid. So, she did what she always did and walked on, two dead rabbits hung over her shoulder, the fruit of that day’s labors. An odd girl in an odd town, though to her, everything about her life was perfectly normal.