the reading is meant for someone else, naturally. death-as-transformation and death-as-threat are a hovering beacon over them — and yet, the message reaches another. in her line of work, these are things that are meant to be. synchronicity. ]
[ And here, he has no therapist — just her. A wraith with cold hands, shuffling a deck of cards in her lap, pulling them and interpreting them for a captive audience she thinks is (someone else). Her promise stands, though. It has been given, actualized and now rests its head on his knee, silent. ]
When you were a child, there were ten cups, all empty. You eventually stopped pretending that you could eke out happiness from a barren well.
[ A perplexing pain stings her fingertips whenever she is drawn to select the next card for her reluctant client. ( Pale eyes, in the dark. ) She opens pale eyes in the dark of her room and bites her tongue. ]
Oh, it's not the cups, then: it's the well that you are filling them from. The more that is given to the well, the higher the waters rise and the closer it comes to escaping.
Must I draw again? I'm so sorry, I don't think I was meant to do this for you. But, I am now and I did promise. It's all for you, dear stranger.
With you, dear stranger, I do not know the outcome. Intentions are but a beginning, and the rest will always change us for better or worse. So, I'll tell you. I'm worried, and I want to help, whatever will happen.
[ ( knowledge is meant to be shared; it hungers to be fed upon, balm and poison alike. ) ]
Inside of the well is the Moon. Sometimes the only thing left to be full of during long nights.
The Moon is my favorite card. When it appears like this, it speaks to uncertainty and the unknown, to things hidden below the surface.
This message suggests that something is rising to meet you. The difficult part is discerning what, precisely. As we seem instinctively united in our worries, I doubt it will be an easy meeting.
no subject
the reading is meant for someone else, naturally. death-as-transformation and death-as-threat are a hovering beacon over them — and yet, the message reaches another. in her line of work, these are things that are meant to be. synchronicity. ]
Give it a name, dear. I promised to help you.
When was it?
no subject
he shouldn’t believe any promise of that kind, and yet: ]
okay
[ like therapy, except he only had a few sessions with the specialist before getting pulled here. ]
when i was a kid
call it fifteen years ago
no subject
When you were a child, there were ten cups, all empty. You eventually stopped pretending that you could eke out happiness from a barren well.
How do you fill yourself now?
no subject
you eventually stopped pretending. he can picture the moment in his mind’s eye, when he finally stopped fighting it. ]
uh
i spend time with my friends
no subject
Oh, it's not the cups, then: it's the well that you are filling them from. The more that is given to the well, the higher the waters rise and the closer it comes to escaping.
Must I draw again? I'm so sorry, I don't think I was meant to do this for you. But, I am now and I did promise.
It's all for you, dear stranger.
no subject
you don’t have to if you don’t want to
i want to know though, whatever it is you see
i’m worried something bad is going to happen
[ because he can feel it. the waters, rising. the riverdark, encroaching. ]
no subject
So, I'll tell you. I'm worried, and I want to help, whatever will happen.
[ ( knowledge is meant to be shared; it hungers to be fed upon, balm and poison alike. ) ]
Inside of the well is the Moon. Sometimes the only thing left to be full of during long nights.
no subject
thank you
[ a relief, to have his worry validated. a terror, to think something is indeed coming. ]
that doesn’t sound so bad
i’m supposed to be like the sun but the moon is good
no subject
This message suggests that something is rising to meet you. The difficult part is discerning what, precisely.
As we seem instinctively united in our worries, I doubt it will be an easy meeting.
no subject
no
no it will not
[ he thinks of the void, shadows climbing his arms. ]
i have this
other side i guess
i try to shove it down
no subject
You mean that literally, I assume. Like in the Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.
What happens when you cannot shove it down any longer?
no subject
[ a bolt of fear, enough to cleave him in two (in three). ]
it takes over
other people get hurt
[ nevermind that bob, too, suffers. caught in a terrible, recursive loop. ]