eight_or_eleven (
eight_or_eleven) wrote in
milliways_bar2013-03-11 04:51 am
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Milliways has a meditative quality to its silence at this hour of the day.
Most of the patronage has gone to sleep. And the ones who are up at this time take full advantage of the early hour to get things done with minimal interruption.
Strength and Wheel [who this morning looks to be a middle-aged man] don't worry too much about interruption. Much of their purpose revolves around interruption. It's what they do. It's who they are.
And as the night owls go about their business, the two tarot go about theirs.
Laying down cards on a table. Tarot cards.
To divine meaning? Gain insight? Maybe.
Or maybe tonight/this morning they just feel like looking at pretty pictures.
Interrupt if you want to know what it's for.
Most of the patronage has gone to sleep. And the ones who are up at this time take full advantage of the early hour to get things done with minimal interruption.
Strength and Wheel [who this morning looks to be a middle-aged man] don't worry too much about interruption. Much of their purpose revolves around interruption. It's what they do. It's who they are.
And as the night owls go about their business, the two tarot go about theirs.
Laying down cards on a table. Tarot cards.
To divine meaning? Gain insight? Maybe.
Or maybe tonight/this morning they just feel like looking at pretty pictures.
Interrupt if you want to know what it's for.

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"Okay," he says, sipping his tea as he crosses to the cards' table. "I'll bite. Is the lion a pet, a familiar, or someone transfigured?"
He's betting it's the latter.
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Shujaa, meanwhile, lifts his head. First to look at Utani, then to Autor, then back again. Perhaps the young man cannot see her from where he sits?
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"That is correct."
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He takes a bracing drink of his tea. "Might I have a better definition? I see you and your companion enjoy the Tarot."
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"Please. Sit down with us," she offers.
Then, "I am a woman, because that is what I choose to be. I am not a woman, because to be one I would have to be human, like you are, and I am not."
Wheel smiles. It's warm and inviting and hints at sympathy.
"We should," he says. "Because that is what we are."
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"I'm a fr--er, I know the Fool," Autor says, correcting himself. "Would you then be Strength?"
Then he turns to regard Wheel, and stretches again as he shuffles through his folders. His shoulders are terribly tense. "I'm not entirely certain, but are you the Hierophant?"
He's not quite sure where that look is coming from.
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"I am, yes." She looks down at her feet. The lions get up onto their haunches. And stare. Over the table top. Lions—even real ones—are very big animals. These are no different in that regard.
One lion. One lioness.
"I am the Wheel of Fortune," says the man. "We've met before, though not like this."
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"Have we?" Autor says guardedly. "When?"
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"You saw me when I was making paper animals."
Something is being strategically left out.
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And now he rallies again. "It was a very pretty origami ballet," he says, sipping his tea. "Why did you out Rabastan as a pureblood? He was obviously uncomfortable about it."
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Despite all the vibrations he's giving off.
"Thank you." Pause. "That is interesting. Any other person considered a pureblood would be happy about it. And yet he's ashamed of it, because it's a symbol for something greater. Something he is not happy about."
He asks the rat at his feet for some chai.
"Oh. The outing of his status? I only meant to weigh in on how his opinions about Muggles was at odds with others of his status."
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Yes, he knows more than he should, Wheel. But for some reason, he doesn't appreciate your hinting at something so painful. His hackles raise until he draws a breath through his nose.
What's wrong with me, he thinks, annoyed with being annoyed. I was fine in the library. Just fine. Maybe I should go back?
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Why?
Fleas.
Why else?
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"Is something biting at you, brother?"
You see what she did there? :3
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And he's not THAT disruptive.
"Fleas."
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"Ah." Pause. "Is it time to give Jocundus his bath yet?"
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This is one of those statements that sound utterly like the Fool and yet is also utterly very Milliways at the same time.
"And they won't go away."
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Snerk.
"Ask Bar for some soap, if you have fleas. I don't want Shujaa and Utani—"
They move out of the way, to avoid the fleas.
"—getting any."
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"I've taken a bath. Several times. They just haven't gone away."
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"Have you asked Skill for her help yet? If she can't find a way..."
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He scratches absently under his hat and moves down to his ear. It's rather cat like, actually, which is sort of ... expected.
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"Would you like some Gold Bond for your itching?" asks Strength.
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"I thought that was for feet, not fools."
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"Shall we get you some?"
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