9th day of Summer, 519 AV
Though her dark eyes watched the Divinist with curiosity, her stomach churned with a familiar anxiety. Nothing ever prepared her for these sessions of teaching, and she knew that this one would be different from the rest. The rest had been standard, things to help her hone the craft of the cards, but tonight would be a simple lesson in—
“Djed. Learn the word now. Take it and see it as a force within everything around us. It can’t be destroyed, child. It can’t even be created. It can only be transformed. You’ve experienced a great transformation, blessed by Rhysol himself, through the djed of his released chaos,” and the Divinist pointed to the appendage that now laid by their feet, unmoving. “Your present shame will become your future boon if you see it for what it is. That tail, Rohka,” and she pointed at it now, still staring into the young sybil’s dark, worried gaze. “That tail has more purpose than you have found in the last year.”
The churning sunk lower, spreading through her core, making her feel sick to hear a truth that she only wished to fight. Lelia had proven once more that she could know a person’s story merely from their appearance. She was right, the last year had felt largely devoid of usefulness, despite the few insights she’d been able to give and gain. To hear it said so harshly—to realize that she agreed with the piercing assessment—only made the sybil’s heart sink with the rest of the organs now collecting at the bottom of her internal pit.
“You hate hearing it, yet you know you need to. Rhysol's blessing is a part of you now, and the sooner you accept that fact, the faster you can train yourself to use it to your advantage. Find your way, Rohka,” the advice felt more like it was given as a practiced speech, and the young sybil couldn’t help but raise her brows at the expression. Lelia closed her eyes when she noticed, and took a deep breath to find her centre.
“My child, your tail is capable of seizing, grasping, taking hold of whatever it needs in order to support you. Can you do the same?” Lelia asked the question gently, aware that the young sybil had begun to see its potential. “You’ve done a fair job of supporting yourself this year. Fair. A common life with its common needs. Are you meeting all your needs, Rohka?”
This was a question that required more thought. It was a question she had been asking herself since the beginning of the season. She broke their connected gaze and looked down to her cards haphazardly strewn across the table, seeing the wheel of fortune immediately, as if it jumped out at her.
“Good, even just the knowledge of djed makes the flow of the aura quicker to catch. Remember Rohka, everything has an aura. Absolutely everything. The amount of the flow varies, depending on what or who you’re looking at. Your cards, the table, the candles, these simple things have ones that flow thinly around their boundaries.” Lelia had been getting quicker at sensing and responding to the young sybil without her ever having to speak. It was a welcome change for once, not feeling the desire to be the one talking. Roh had always been asking as much as she could to the Divinist, and had only ever gotten answers that seemed sparse. But she still learned. She still felt as if she picked up something new every time. She felt like what she picked up was always for the exact moment of practical use. Yet it never felt like she picked up enough. Could it ever be enough?
“Do you notice the edges, dear?” Lelia asked, pointing to the card she’d eyed, trying to bring her attention back. “Do you see a shift beginning to form?” Rohka tried to see what she meant and could pick up nothing but what she thought was a glimmer, with a faint scent of pine, which she quickly dismissed as a childhood memory from when the same card caught her eye in the forest by the lakeshore so many years ago. It just felt like a distraction, like a piece from the past that she had no reason to remember.
“Focus, feel into it, and you will see it in time. It takes time,” said Lelia, slowly lifting herself out of her seat. “Now come, it’s almost time to open, and I am expecting a client in a couple bells. I must prepare. And I know you have questions, but remember,” and she looked into the young sybil’s eyes once more,
“You have time.”
Lelia smiled and walked around the table towards her apprentice, touching her shoulder reassuringly to signal that they must switch seats before strolling towards the back of the shop. She approached a door, ornately engraved and produced a key from her pocket, opening a lock and strolled inside, giving a Rohka a nod before closing the door behind her.
The sybil had the front of the shop to herself now. This was always her time to practice. Early mornings, the least busy, but also the most intriguing. Syna’s fresh light came in through the windows, illuminating the simple bookshelves, the multiple draperies of cotton and wool of several colours, and mysterious artifacts all crowding the small, discrete place of business. Several candles had already been lit, and so had a couple incense sticks. The sybil enjoyed the smoky atmosphere and tended to get lost in rapture watching the air dance around her. On slow days, she would give every swirl of smoke a name and pretend to tell its fortune, attempting to predict its change in movement and space. Most days weren’t slow, however. Lelia had built a sizeable reputation, especially for her connections to the Black Sun, so her clients frequently brought her news and sought her advice. Roh was now known as more of Lelia’s secretary than a fortune teller herself, but occasionally, clients would turn into willing partners.
Considering this had made her realize exactly what Lelia had done. The Divinist had left her alone at the front of the shop in her current, novel predicament. She would have to explain her situation to anyone that walks in. Rohka hadn’t had the chance to buy a new pair of simple pants, so she’d taken to wearing her long, dark green shirt as a short dress. The belled sleeves of her shirt covered the length of her arms, but her legs were bare under the table, and the thick, dark, iridescent tail had no place to hide as it laid neatly curled by her feet.
She sat at the table in wait, her hair kept back with her headscarf and her cards being shuffled absentmindedly in her hands. Two silver dice sat by the singular lit candle, and a blank piece of parchment was held down by an ink vial with a blue-green peacock quill dipped within, standing tall.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
“Come in, we’re open!”
WC = 1187
“Djed. Learn the word now. Take it and see it as a force within everything around us. It can’t be destroyed, child. It can’t even be created. It can only be transformed. You’ve experienced a great transformation, blessed by Rhysol himself, through the djed of his released chaos,” and the Divinist pointed to the appendage that now laid by their feet, unmoving. “Your present shame will become your future boon if you see it for what it is. That tail, Rohka,” and she pointed at it now, still staring into the young sybil’s dark, worried gaze. “That tail has more purpose than you have found in the last year.”
The churning sunk lower, spreading through her core, making her feel sick to hear a truth that she only wished to fight. Lelia had proven once more that she could know a person’s story merely from their appearance. She was right, the last year had felt largely devoid of usefulness, despite the few insights she’d been able to give and gain. To hear it said so harshly—to realize that she agreed with the piercing assessment—only made the sybil’s heart sink with the rest of the organs now collecting at the bottom of her internal pit.
“You hate hearing it, yet you know you need to. Rhysol's blessing is a part of you now, and the sooner you accept that fact, the faster you can train yourself to use it to your advantage. Find your way, Rohka,” the advice felt more like it was given as a practiced speech, and the young sybil couldn’t help but raise her brows at the expression. Lelia closed her eyes when she noticed, and took a deep breath to find her centre.
“My child, your tail is capable of seizing, grasping, taking hold of whatever it needs in order to support you. Can you do the same?” Lelia asked the question gently, aware that the young sybil had begun to see its potential. “You’ve done a fair job of supporting yourself this year. Fair. A common life with its common needs. Are you meeting all your needs, Rohka?”
This was a question that required more thought. It was a question she had been asking herself since the beginning of the season. She broke their connected gaze and looked down to her cards haphazardly strewn across the table, seeing the wheel of fortune immediately, as if it jumped out at her.
“Good, even just the knowledge of djed makes the flow of the aura quicker to catch. Remember Rohka, everything has an aura. Absolutely everything. The amount of the flow varies, depending on what or who you’re looking at. Your cards, the table, the candles, these simple things have ones that flow thinly around their boundaries.” Lelia had been getting quicker at sensing and responding to the young sybil without her ever having to speak. It was a welcome change for once, not feeling the desire to be the one talking. Roh had always been asking as much as she could to the Divinist, and had only ever gotten answers that seemed sparse. But she still learned. She still felt as if she picked up something new every time. She felt like what she picked up was always for the exact moment of practical use. Yet it never felt like she picked up enough. Could it ever be enough?
“Do you notice the edges, dear?” Lelia asked, pointing to the card she’d eyed, trying to bring her attention back. “Do you see a shift beginning to form?” Rohka tried to see what she meant and could pick up nothing but what she thought was a glimmer, with a faint scent of pine, which she quickly dismissed as a childhood memory from when the same card caught her eye in the forest by the lakeshore so many years ago. It just felt like a distraction, like a piece from the past that she had no reason to remember.
“Focus, feel into it, and you will see it in time. It takes time,” said Lelia, slowly lifting herself out of her seat. “Now come, it’s almost time to open, and I am expecting a client in a couple bells. I must prepare. And I know you have questions, but remember,” and she looked into the young sybil’s eyes once more,
“You have time.”
Lelia smiled and walked around the table towards her apprentice, touching her shoulder reassuringly to signal that they must switch seats before strolling towards the back of the shop. She approached a door, ornately engraved and produced a key from her pocket, opening a lock and strolled inside, giving a Rohka a nod before closing the door behind her.
The sybil had the front of the shop to herself now. This was always her time to practice. Early mornings, the least busy, but also the most intriguing. Syna’s fresh light came in through the windows, illuminating the simple bookshelves, the multiple draperies of cotton and wool of several colours, and mysterious artifacts all crowding the small, discrete place of business. Several candles had already been lit, and so had a couple incense sticks. The sybil enjoyed the smoky atmosphere and tended to get lost in rapture watching the air dance around her. On slow days, she would give every swirl of smoke a name and pretend to tell its fortune, attempting to predict its change in movement and space. Most days weren’t slow, however. Lelia had built a sizeable reputation, especially for her connections to the Black Sun, so her clients frequently brought her news and sought her advice. Roh was now known as more of Lelia’s secretary than a fortune teller herself, but occasionally, clients would turn into willing partners.
Considering this had made her realize exactly what Lelia had done. The Divinist had left her alone at the front of the shop in her current, novel predicament. She would have to explain her situation to anyone that walks in. Rohka hadn’t had the chance to buy a new pair of simple pants, so she’d taken to wearing her long, dark green shirt as a short dress. The belled sleeves of her shirt covered the length of her arms, but her legs were bare under the table, and the thick, dark, iridescent tail had no place to hide as it laid neatly curled by her feet.
She sat at the table in wait, her hair kept back with her headscarf and her cards being shuffled absentmindedly in her hands. Two silver dice sat by the singular lit candle, and a blank piece of parchment was held down by an ink vial with a blue-green peacock quill dipped within, standing tall.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
“Come in, we’re open!”
WC = 1187
Boxcode credit to Antipodes