A lovely memento mori by @bylacey: the skull of a squirrel surrounded by morning glories. Squirrels diligently enjoy life and the morning glory’s bloom-and-death cycle represents the beauty of mortality. What a wonderful reminder!
“You see I usually find myself among strangers because I drift here and there trying to forget the sad things that happened to me.”
F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
Tuonetar Bloodfury slants a smile at Timmelith. “Your turn.” She pats his cheek once, gently, and withdraws her hand.
Timmelith knits his eyebrows together in response. “I do not think this is wise.” A grim stare settles upon Vespther with his concluded statement.
Vespther smiles thinly, the action placid. “All things speaking of the future are covered in disclaimers, Magister. My craft is no different.”
Tuonetar makes a point to remove her gauntlet before ruffling Timmelith’s hair. “Oh, come on. Show a little spirit–like you did that night.” She waggles her brows.
Timmelith grits, “I understand its dangers. Voren'thal the Seer has warned us of the price which came with his gift.” His hands settles on his hair, hurriedly fixing the tousled mess. Within seconds it falls back into place and he glares at Tuonetar.
Tuonetar smiles sweetly at Timmelith in turn. “Then don’t mind if I take the second question.” She jerks a thumb at the disgruntled magister. “Am I going to bed him again?”
Vespther thumbs a bone fragment. “I don’t need the bones to tell me that,” she says dryly. “And nor, I think, do you.”
Timmelith loses all color on his face.
[Vespther]: The futures change. I won’t waste my time on a question such as this.
[Vespther]: Pick another.
Tuonetar flutters her lashes at Vespther. “If you say so.”
Vespther ’s returning smile teeters on venomous.
Tuonetar folds her arms. “Though I wouldn’t say no to you, either,” she adds.
[Vespther]: Another night, perhaps.
Tuonetar blows the oracle an air kiss. “You’re a doll.”
Vespther ’s ears swivel, stirring the lengthy tresses of poppy-red hair. “Mm, I do try,” she replies, voice droll. Her pale gaze slants back towards Timmelith.
[Vespther]: And your next question?
Timmelith opens his mouth. His voice cracks and he quiets, all before a sharp narrow shapes his eyes. “I will ask,” he forces. “Reprieve. Will I receive any at all in the coming future? Broad, but specifics are perilous.”
Tuonetar cants a questioning look down at Timmelith, but outwardly she says nothing.
Timmelith anxiously taps his fingers on his knees. The blush has reached his collar.
Vespther stills all motion. The color leaves her face as she snatches her hand back from the vibrating bones; pinning the other with a hard stare.
[Vespther]: Speak your request carefully, Magister.
Tuonetar smirks.
[Timmelith]: I am. Desist looking at me in such a manner. I’ve committed no crime against you.
Timmelith ’s tone is sharp and impatient. He glares at his Blood Knight companion.
[Vespther]: .. Generally speaking, my clients are fools who wish to tamper with their future. Very few wish to speak to the lingering dead.
[Timmelith]: Wh-
Tuonetar lifts her chin and looks sharply at Vespther.
[Tuonetar]: What?
“Is that not your request?” The oracle inquires. Her tone softens some, verdant gaze drifting between a space by the Magister’s shoulder and the ornaments that whine on the cobbled ground in between.
Tuonetar uncrosses her arms gradually. For a moment it looks like she might start forward, but she tucks her helm back under her arm instead.
Timmelith ’s skin sheens to a pale white. He stands up slowly, directing his ornery stare at the oracle with renewed purpose. “I said… -reprieve-.”
Vespther ’s lip curls at the tone. “The reprieve you speak of is unlikely,” she drawls. The runes begin to dance and flash, howling with renewed purpose. The oracle sends them an uneasy glance, her lips twisting. “Spirits are not so easily deterred - much less to send away or lay to rest. I’ll be no use in that endeavor, I’m afraid.”
Tuonetar parts her lips, then closes them. She lowers her head an inch and watches the bones. Her eyes soften.
[Vespther]: In any case, contact with a spirit is difficult without a medium - possible through ornaments of the craft - but not impossible without.
Timmelith points at Vespther. Heat rises from his direction, warming the air surrounding him. “Enough,” he growls, his voice uncommonly harsh and commanding. “Cease this at once! Miss Blood Knight, she is a fraud of the cruelest sort. I ask for reprieve from this invasion. From that shark dog!”
[Timmelith]: Not–
Vespther’s gaze cools considerably. “You ask for reprieve,” she says shortly, “but not from what. Or who.”
Tuonetar raises her arm. She lifts her gaze to the oracle’s face, her own expression neutral.
[Vespther]: It is not my fault you are fearful or hurting, Magister. Do not take your anger out on me.
Tuonetar glances at Timmelith. “She has a point. You were vague.”
Vespther silences the bones with brush of her fingers, nimbly looping them through the thin black rope. The oracle rises, expression leery - she looks ready to turn on her heel and flee, eyes narrowed at the simmering heat that fills the atmosphere.
Timmelith sucks in another breath through his nose. “Many of our people were left grieving after the fall. If you think this proves anything, if I am–”
Tuonetar closes her elbow over her helm and pulls on her gauntlet. A curt nod is directed at Vespther. “Thank you, Miss Nettlesting. A good evening to you.”
Timmelith clenches his hand into a tight fist. He turns on his heel and storms off, “It is your gold, miss Blood Knight!” A chilling burst of air explodes from him, cooling the air upon command.
Vespther ’s mouth opens and shuts. She inclines her head into a short nod.
Tuonetar ’s eyes linger on Vespther before she pulls on her helmet.
[DATE OF LOG: 10/26/14. OTHER PARTICIPANTS: @timmelith / @eriene, @illuminest.]
