"You Have Become a Battleground"
Apr. 9th, 2006 09:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stuntie_jedI wake up on the floor again. It's getting worse, the losing time. I get up, my muscles protesting, fuck, I shouldn't feel this grotty, I'm in decent shape. I thought I was. The mirror gives me no joy, I look like I'm still pissed.
Back to the kitchen, make an extra-strong pot of brew, hoping to jump start my mind. This has got to fucking stop. I don't know what else to try though. Everything else seems like a fucking fairy tale.
Ah, fuck, I've tried every else, might as well take a trip to la-la land. I haul out the phone book and search the business listings. Madame Delores. She'll do.
No appointment necessary. I grab my keys and hit the bricks.
Madame Delores: I stick the roast in the oven after dousing it with thin broth and some scraps of limp vegetables. Lots of onions. Anything to disguise the fact that it’s such a cheap cut of meat I should be embarrassed to chop it up for the dog. I tsk tsk at these modern times again – how am I supposed to make a living when the telly’s filled with self-help shows, the shops have books that specialize in every conceivable problem, and I won’t even think about what those internets are probably spewing out of everyone’s computers. How’s a good old fashioned psychic supposed to get along when everyone’s getting along on their own?
Someone knocks at the door, and I groan as I slam the oven door shut. If that’s Nyree wanting to borrow the truck again, she’d better have money for petrol because the old beast’s on fumes. I sigh and pad over to the door, my fuzzy slippers scuffing along the worn floorboards.
I shove my hair out of my eyes and stare at the stranger fidgeting on my porch. He looks miserable, tired, and like he’d want to be anywhere but here. I stifle the urge to grin. A client. It’s been a while. “Ah, come in, come in young man. Please, wait in my parlor and I will be with you shortly.” I open the door wider and give him a knowing nod. “I didn’t expect you until tomorrow, child. But you are the impatient sort, I suppose…” I wander off to get into more decent garb, leaving him to wonder how I knew he was coming. He doesn’t need to know that’s what I tell everyone, and why ‘no appointment necessary’ is one of the most powerful tools I know of.
Jed: Fuck, I don't know exactly what I was expecting, a dumpy gramma wasn't it though. Beads and feathers, or are those drag queens? I follow her into the sitting room, wondering where she keeps her crystal ball. I ignore her statement as part of her spiel. She disappears and I look around, wondering what the fuck I'm doing here.
Cause you're at the end of you're fucking rope, ya piker. I barely get to live my own life anymore, fucking exhausted every morning, like I've been moving all night.
If I'm cursed maybe the crackpots can do what the legit shaman couldn't.
Madame Delores: I get my hair tied up in a colorful scarf and dig my caftan robe out of the closet. I’d forgotten about the rip at the waist, but another scarf sashed around hides that. I take a few deep cleansing breaths and re-join my client in the dining room, which gets called the Parlor during working hours. “So, then. I am Madame Delores. You are here because you’re searching for answers. You haven’t been sleeping well, have you?” I sit next to the man on the divan and pat his hand comfortingly. “Tell me your name, and what worries you, troubled one. Names are quite personal, and often cannot be sensed. They must be spoken aloud.”
His hand sends a chill right up my arm, even though it’s warm enough. My smile falters, but only for a second.
Jed: She comes back looking more the part, but she can't bloody well divine my name, so I guess my brass is gonna contribute to her wardrobe upgrade and not do me a fuckload of good. She seems harmless enough, so I don't think it'll hurt anything.
"My name's Jed. And I don't know whether I've been sleeping well or not." I'm guessing not, but when I'm not around to live my life, who the fuck knows? "Do I need to grease your palm or cross it with silver or something?"
Madame Delores: I give Jed my most appalled, slightly hurt expression, one hand flying to clutch my chest. “This is not a circus tent, Jed! I was born with a talent, and to not use it would be a sin. I offer my help to souls in torment. If I can help you find your peace, it is my reward.” I clear my throat and square my shoulders, then reach to take up your hand and turn it palm up, muttering. “However, food and shelter does help an old woman continue to be strong enough to tap into the spirit world. Which takes a certain amount of money, of course, and my standard rates are on a chart on the wall by the door.”
I bend to the task of studying his palm. His Head line is weaker than his Heart Line, he’s very physically active, that’s apparent, and his Life Line…. Oh. My. I squint, peer closer, then set Jed’s hand on his lap while I polish my glasses. I take up his hand again and trace a curved line down the palm of his hand with a polished fingernail. “Have you always had two lifelines, Jed?” I look up at his face, curious. I’ve never seen a hand like his before.
Jed: Shit, shouldn't have said anything at all, she'll read way more into it and then pretend it's her amazing psychic powers. I sigh. "I've never paid much attention to the lines on my hands, so I couldn't really tell you."
Two life lines? Is she trying to say I lead a double life? That goes back to the idea that I'm crazy, that I've slipped a gear and all these times I've lost has been my other personality taking over. Bloody ridiculous.
"Is that common?"
Madame Delores: It’s not common. In fact it’s so uncommon I’ve never seen it before. I’m fascinated and confused and rattled enough that I don’t have a line of patter to feed him. “No, it’s not common. I’ve done readings for identical twins and they didn’t have that, and I’ve never heard of a near-death experience causing a second Life Line to branch off. Well. A first time for everything, isn’t there? I’m not so old that I can’t learn something new now and then. Only a fool closes their mind to the wonders of what the universe holds…” I manage to slip into my patter and regain my composure, while reaching for my Tarot deck. “Let’s see what the cards have to say about you, my unusual young friend.”
I think I get a glance of you rolling your eyes as I lay out the cards. But these are familiar, comforting territory for me and I push the image of the palm of your hand to the back of my mind for later thought. I breathe deeply and turn over a card.
It is The Tower, a powerful sign. “Jed, there is disruption in your life. Much change, and conflict. You’re experiencing loss. Your lifestyles gone out the window and your familiar routines went with it. You’ve had to move lately, haven’t you? Whatever you do with your life can affect many others beside your self, be careful! But there is hope. In the end you may find freedom, and enlightenment.”
Jed: I think it's obvious to just about anyone that I've experienced a loss and those end up with moves more often than not. But I nod in agreement with her. She seems to be a kind person, concerned, although maybe that's another part of the act.
"Glad to hear there's hope." My smile is wry, remembering Father Wu, who seemed to think the same thing. How the fuck to these people maintain they're chirpy attitudes? Probably has to do with getting enough sleep. Cause I never feel like I've rested when I get up anymore.
"What's the next card?"
Madame Delores: Jed’s nodding, and seems to grudgingly be coming around. The cards may be more within his comfort zone than other means. I give him a knowing smile and turn over the next card. It is The Moon, but upside down. “You desperately need help in your life, you may not always be able to tell fantasy from reality. Beware of those who would try to trick you, and take advantage of your confusion. You’re vulnerable right now, Jed.
I turn the next card, and gasp. It too is reversed, and side by side with the reversed Moon, their position binds them. “Oh, Jed, Jed. It is the Devil card. The force seeking to trick you is truly evil. It does not care for your well being, but only for it’s own greed and ambition. You must fight this! It seeks to bond with you, and will twist your emotions to blackmail you!”
A chill fills the air and I wish I had my shawl with me. I clasp my arms across my chest, and am filled with a sudden sense of dread. This is wrong, what we are doing, who we are seeking, I cannot! I scoop up the cards quickly and set them aside. “I have told you all I can. Please, you must go now. I will take no money for this reading. I would only buy myself trouble with it.”
Khamûl: The dark thing watches the old woman's fear with amusement. She has wasted her power with cheap tricks.
Jed: That's a bite on the bum. What's her problem?
I'm afraid partly, but part of me is nodding frantically, knowing that all along that the shit is beyond fucked. I've got to get this solved and it's gotta be bloody well soon. Pete needs me to start going over his story boards and blocking stunts. I can't let this fucked up boohai screw up my chance to do something I really want to do, and my chance to move on from the shit between me and Glory.
So I've got to know and I can't let this woman back down. "What are you talking about? Bugger all, I've got the swag. Tell me what you see!"
Madame Delores: I pace nervously, wishing this troubled man had never found me. “You are in danger. Evil forces wish to own you, and I am afraid for your life. I am afraid for my own if I help you!” I wrench open the door and look at you with pleading eyes. “I am just an old women with a bit of the sight. I can see that you have become a battleground, but I cannot help you win the war. It is beyond me. I am sorry.”
Jed: I calm down, hurting women has never been my thing, and neither has scaring them, and she is, no doubt about it. I swallow my own fears and leave a wad of notes on her table, getting out of there quickly cause I don't want anything to happen to her.
I walk down the streets, wondering where I can go to get the help she thinks I need.
Back to the kitchen, make an extra-strong pot of brew, hoping to jump start my mind. This has got to fucking stop. I don't know what else to try though. Everything else seems like a fucking fairy tale.
Ah, fuck, I've tried every else, might as well take a trip to la-la land. I haul out the phone book and search the business listings. Madame Delores. She'll do.
No appointment necessary. I grab my keys and hit the bricks.
Madame Delores: I stick the roast in the oven after dousing it with thin broth and some scraps of limp vegetables. Lots of onions. Anything to disguise the fact that it’s such a cheap cut of meat I should be embarrassed to chop it up for the dog. I tsk tsk at these modern times again – how am I supposed to make a living when the telly’s filled with self-help shows, the shops have books that specialize in every conceivable problem, and I won’t even think about what those internets are probably spewing out of everyone’s computers. How’s a good old fashioned psychic supposed to get along when everyone’s getting along on their own?
Someone knocks at the door, and I groan as I slam the oven door shut. If that’s Nyree wanting to borrow the truck again, she’d better have money for petrol because the old beast’s on fumes. I sigh and pad over to the door, my fuzzy slippers scuffing along the worn floorboards.
I shove my hair out of my eyes and stare at the stranger fidgeting on my porch. He looks miserable, tired, and like he’d want to be anywhere but here. I stifle the urge to grin. A client. It’s been a while. “Ah, come in, come in young man. Please, wait in my parlor and I will be with you shortly.” I open the door wider and give him a knowing nod. “I didn’t expect you until tomorrow, child. But you are the impatient sort, I suppose…” I wander off to get into more decent garb, leaving him to wonder how I knew he was coming. He doesn’t need to know that’s what I tell everyone, and why ‘no appointment necessary’ is one of the most powerful tools I know of.
Jed: Fuck, I don't know exactly what I was expecting, a dumpy gramma wasn't it though. Beads and feathers, or are those drag queens? I follow her into the sitting room, wondering where she keeps her crystal ball. I ignore her statement as part of her spiel. She disappears and I look around, wondering what the fuck I'm doing here.
Cause you're at the end of you're fucking rope, ya piker. I barely get to live my own life anymore, fucking exhausted every morning, like I've been moving all night.
If I'm cursed maybe the crackpots can do what the legit shaman couldn't.
Madame Delores: I get my hair tied up in a colorful scarf and dig my caftan robe out of the closet. I’d forgotten about the rip at the waist, but another scarf sashed around hides that. I take a few deep cleansing breaths and re-join my client in the dining room, which gets called the Parlor during working hours. “So, then. I am Madame Delores. You are here because you’re searching for answers. You haven’t been sleeping well, have you?” I sit next to the man on the divan and pat his hand comfortingly. “Tell me your name, and what worries you, troubled one. Names are quite personal, and often cannot be sensed. They must be spoken aloud.”
His hand sends a chill right up my arm, even though it’s warm enough. My smile falters, but only for a second.
Jed: She comes back looking more the part, but she can't bloody well divine my name, so I guess my brass is gonna contribute to her wardrobe upgrade and not do me a fuckload of good. She seems harmless enough, so I don't think it'll hurt anything.
"My name's Jed. And I don't know whether I've been sleeping well or not." I'm guessing not, but when I'm not around to live my life, who the fuck knows? "Do I need to grease your palm or cross it with silver or something?"
Madame Delores: I give Jed my most appalled, slightly hurt expression, one hand flying to clutch my chest. “This is not a circus tent, Jed! I was born with a talent, and to not use it would be a sin. I offer my help to souls in torment. If I can help you find your peace, it is my reward.” I clear my throat and square my shoulders, then reach to take up your hand and turn it palm up, muttering. “However, food and shelter does help an old woman continue to be strong enough to tap into the spirit world. Which takes a certain amount of money, of course, and my standard rates are on a chart on the wall by the door.”
I bend to the task of studying his palm. His Head line is weaker than his Heart Line, he’s very physically active, that’s apparent, and his Life Line…. Oh. My. I squint, peer closer, then set Jed’s hand on his lap while I polish my glasses. I take up his hand again and trace a curved line down the palm of his hand with a polished fingernail. “Have you always had two lifelines, Jed?” I look up at his face, curious. I’ve never seen a hand like his before.
Jed: Shit, shouldn't have said anything at all, she'll read way more into it and then pretend it's her amazing psychic powers. I sigh. "I've never paid much attention to the lines on my hands, so I couldn't really tell you."
Two life lines? Is she trying to say I lead a double life? That goes back to the idea that I'm crazy, that I've slipped a gear and all these times I've lost has been my other personality taking over. Bloody ridiculous.
"Is that common?"
Madame Delores: It’s not common. In fact it’s so uncommon I’ve never seen it before. I’m fascinated and confused and rattled enough that I don’t have a line of patter to feed him. “No, it’s not common. I’ve done readings for identical twins and they didn’t have that, and I’ve never heard of a near-death experience causing a second Life Line to branch off. Well. A first time for everything, isn’t there? I’m not so old that I can’t learn something new now and then. Only a fool closes their mind to the wonders of what the universe holds…” I manage to slip into my patter and regain my composure, while reaching for my Tarot deck. “Let’s see what the cards have to say about you, my unusual young friend.”
I think I get a glance of you rolling your eyes as I lay out the cards. But these are familiar, comforting territory for me and I push the image of the palm of your hand to the back of my mind for later thought. I breathe deeply and turn over a card.
It is The Tower, a powerful sign. “Jed, there is disruption in your life. Much change, and conflict. You’re experiencing loss. Your lifestyles gone out the window and your familiar routines went with it. You’ve had to move lately, haven’t you? Whatever you do with your life can affect many others beside your self, be careful! But there is hope. In the end you may find freedom, and enlightenment.”
Jed: I think it's obvious to just about anyone that I've experienced a loss and those end up with moves more often than not. But I nod in agreement with her. She seems to be a kind person, concerned, although maybe that's another part of the act.
"Glad to hear there's hope." My smile is wry, remembering Father Wu, who seemed to think the same thing. How the fuck to these people maintain they're chirpy attitudes? Probably has to do with getting enough sleep. Cause I never feel like I've rested when I get up anymore.
"What's the next card?"
Madame Delores: Jed’s nodding, and seems to grudgingly be coming around. The cards may be more within his comfort zone than other means. I give him a knowing smile and turn over the next card. It is The Moon, but upside down. “You desperately need help in your life, you may not always be able to tell fantasy from reality. Beware of those who would try to trick you, and take advantage of your confusion. You’re vulnerable right now, Jed.
I turn the next card, and gasp. It too is reversed, and side by side with the reversed Moon, their position binds them. “Oh, Jed, Jed. It is the Devil card. The force seeking to trick you is truly evil. It does not care for your well being, but only for it’s own greed and ambition. You must fight this! It seeks to bond with you, and will twist your emotions to blackmail you!”
A chill fills the air and I wish I had my shawl with me. I clasp my arms across my chest, and am filled with a sudden sense of dread. This is wrong, what we are doing, who we are seeking, I cannot! I scoop up the cards quickly and set them aside. “I have told you all I can. Please, you must go now. I will take no money for this reading. I would only buy myself trouble with it.”
Khamûl: The dark thing watches the old woman's fear with amusement. She has wasted her power with cheap tricks.
Jed: That's a bite on the bum. What's her problem?
I'm afraid partly, but part of me is nodding frantically, knowing that all along that the shit is beyond fucked. I've got to get this solved and it's gotta be bloody well soon. Pete needs me to start going over his story boards and blocking stunts. I can't let this fucked up boohai screw up my chance to do something I really want to do, and my chance to move on from the shit between me and Glory.
So I've got to know and I can't let this woman back down. "What are you talking about? Bugger all, I've got the swag. Tell me what you see!"
Madame Delores: I pace nervously, wishing this troubled man had never found me. “You are in danger. Evil forces wish to own you, and I am afraid for your life. I am afraid for my own if I help you!” I wrench open the door and look at you with pleading eyes. “I am just an old women with a bit of the sight. I can see that you have become a battleground, but I cannot help you win the war. It is beyond me. I am sorry.”
Jed: I calm down, hurting women has never been my thing, and neither has scaring them, and she is, no doubt about it. I swallow my own fears and leave a wad of notes on her table, getting out of there quickly cause I don't want anything to happen to her.
I walk down the streets, wondering where I can go to get the help she thinks I need.
