Conversation Space IV.

[powersthatbe]

The small room is painted a dark beige, with stained wood paneling on the lower half, and lush burgundy carpeting. The ceiling, however, is cracked and bowed, sagging alarmingly, occasionally shedding chips of plaster. Wrought-iron lamp-posts in the corners suspend pale, wan globes of light, and between them along the walls run rows of painted sunflowers, all turned towards the center of the room as if listening attentively. A jutting spire of granite rises from the floor on a diagonal, its flattened top sporting a cracked wineglass from which the wine (a white) slowly spatters teardrops across the plinth. And there is no chair, but a therapist’s couch, blue with gold trim, and ornate scrollwork on the legs, beside which the fluted horn of a phonograph player pipes music into the room, quiet enough to just be background ambience.

Comments

[runawaystory]

[Walking around to examine the room, tipping the wineglass off the plinth as she goes. Petty, yes, but anticipation of this moment hasn't made her any happier to have it happen.]

[powersthatare]

As the glass strikes the floor, a seven-foot tall figure in a black-robe, cadaverously slender appears, uttering a deep, basso sigh of satisfaction.

[runawaystory]

[Yes, yes, very dramatic, let's just get this over with.]

[powersthatare]

The figure nods to her, almost a bow, a direct acknowledgment, the weight of its unseen gaze able to be felt.

[runawaystory]

[Rosalie shifts in place, uneasy, but still says nothing.]

[powersthatare]

"PERHAPS YOU Are infinitely patient," the figure says, voice suddenly booming off the walls before shrinking to a distant hiss. "I Am not."

[runawaystory]

[Every instinct she has for self-preservation is currently at war with her every annoyed, fed-up, and stressed instinct, so Rosalie is perhaps not being as diplomatic as she could be.

Oh well. They both know who holds all the cards here.]

So get on with it, then.

[powersthatare]

"I AM Here to answer," the figure explains, spreading his arms in a gesture of openness.

[runawaystory]

Answer what? Like...questions??

[Somehow, this is a part of the whole marking thing that Rosalie hadn't considered.]

[powersthatare]

"THAT Is possible."

[runawaystory]

Okay, then what do you want? In general, I mean. From the whole "game" you all have going on.

[powersthatare]

"change."

[runawaystory]

Useless and vague. Of course.

"Change to what?"

[powersthatare]

"SYNODiporia."

[runawaystory]

"And what's that supposed to be?"

[powersthatare]

"Everything," it says, simply, pacing back and forth, dissatisfied, to judge by its body language.

"ASK Bigger questions," it suggests, turning to glower eyelessly at her from the shadow of its hood.

[runawaystory]

Rosalie glowers back, even though her heart is hammering with how bad an idea it probably is to be so hostile at one of the Arcana.

"Bigger questions," she mutters, drumming her fingers on one leg. Finally, she settles on, "What happens if you get what you want? What do you want to change?"

[powersthatare]

"THE POWER OF THE Arcana Must be broken," the figure says. "THE POWERLESS MUST BE Empowered To pursue their own fates."

[runawaystory]

"What happens to you if that happens?"

[powersthatare]

"THE SAME THING That Happens to everyone else."

[runawaystory]

"Death?"

[powersthatare]

The figure freezes, and its head tilts slowly to the side.

"DO YOUR People Die without power?"

[runawaystory]

Rosalie's head tilts to mirror the figure's posture. "Depends on what kind of power you're talking about. Though I think it might be a little different for humans, compared to your people."

[powersthatare]

"Perhaps."

[runawaystory]

This conversation would probably be easier if Rosalie remembered anything about tarot symbolism. Let's see. She runs over their past couple of exchanges before her thoughts snag on something to follow up on.

"Earlier, when you said that the same thing would happen to you as everyone else... Did you mean that you, too, would be free to--pursue your own fate?"