milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Mary Anne comes downstairs with a piece of paper in hand.

"Bar darling, you mind delivering this to Random for me?"

The note vanishes into Bar's surface and Mary Anne heads out the front door.

~~~

Several hours later, she comes back in looking a little sunburned, but content. She takes a seat at the bar, orders something cool, colorful and alcoholic, then spins around on her barstool to look around the room.

[ooc: As of 1:45 AM eastern time, this post is open for tagging.]

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He looks at her and taps his fingers on the table.

She smiles.

"I told you I would try."

"So you did," he agrees easily enough.

"Are there any other things I could attempt to answer for you?" she asks.

His fingers pause and he bows his head slightly to one side, still watching her with his dark-bright eye.

"Why are your eyes so blue?" His soft voice is as matter-of-fact as when he asked about the Bar.

"Ah."

She looks down at her hands, folded in front of her, and smiles very softly.

"That's because of who I am."

A moment's pause. "Do you know anything about the tarot, Kit?"

"Very little, I am afraid."

"Then I have a little explaining to do."

She slips one hand off the table (presumably into her pocket, but you can't be quite sure), then sets a deck of cards on the surface.

"I don't know if anyone's told you," she begins, dealing cards off the top one at a time,

"but there are all kinds of people that come here. Some are perfectly normal, some are dead, some are gods, and some are other things entirely. Some are personifications of things, like the tarot."

She taps three face up cards in turn--Ten of Swords, The Moon, Queen of Swords. "These are some of the ones that frequent this place. And these two...made me an offer. To become like them." She picks up the third card. "And so this is who I am now. Among other things."

"Not human," and his voice is a velvet whisper.

"No."

And God how much that hurts to say.

"Not entirely."

He doesn't ask as he reaches out with those long poet's (murderer's) fingers and picks a card up.

Ten of Swords.

Ruin.

Holding it between his thumb and forefinger, he studies the image and then looks up at her.

"Why would you, then?" Not a challenge, just a question. Take it as you will.

Ten of Swords.

Her husband.

"For the chance to help people I care about," she murmurs.

"It was something I considered for a very long time, before I accepted. It's been almost a year, and there's still things about it I'm adjusting to."

"How could you help, as one of these?"

"You see things," she says.

"You have foreknowledge of things, and while you might not be able to prevent them, you can prepare for them. Also, I can travel between worlds...and I am much harder to kill."

"But not impossible?"

She smiles faintly.

"I have been told it is impossible. And for now I believe it. But I also believe that it is a wide and varied multiverse and that there are many things in it."

"So you don't, in fact, believe it, and are just holding that opinion with the openess of being proved wrong."

"But also the hope that I won't be," she adds.

"Naturally."

"As for my family that frequents this place, my sister--"

She taps the Moon card.

"--is the patroness of dreams and visions, among other things. She can be a little strange a times, but she means well. That..."

She trails off, looking at the card still in his hand.

"...is my husband."

"Your husband?" She gets a raised eyebrow.

She raises one right back.

"Mhm."

He spins the card around so it faces her, the man with ten swords in his back.

She knows the card (the tattoo the symbol the man) very well.

"He stands for ruin."

"Really." That soft voice is like silk, smooth and cold.

(this cecil is a traitor men killed for less kit marlowe the playwright is dead killed in deptford)