song_tra_bong | (no subject)

(no subject)

As a rule, Mary Anne doesn't sleep with her head under the pillow. That's useful weapon storage space and sleeping with your face near a knife is just silly.

But when you're trying to avoid that damn ray of light that keeps sneaking in through the blinds and stabbing you in the eye, and you're not inclined to get out of bed and draw the curtains, under the pillow is the best option. The knife has been knocked to the floor in the course of this exercise, and she is muttering insulting things about the sun under her breath.

Any possible discomfort or annoyance this may be causing her bedmate has not been taken into consideration.

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"I can't see why he would be involved beyond the norm," Goldy replies after a bit of frowning consideration. "He and I are just... fuck buddies, as far as I know."

"I mean, he's a nice guy, and funny, and interesting in so many ways. And he likes me too. But... no. There's nothing deeply emotional between us."

She nods.

"Just checking. Since you were so sure of your defenses."

And she's not smiling like she knows the feeling at all.

Snorting, Goldy gives her top shoulder a gentle shove.

"Give me a bit of credit."

She laughs.

"So...aside from credit-giving--which I do plenty of, by the way--what's next?"

A passionate kiss. Hot and tempestuous.

Apparently.

From out of nowhere.

However, there's heartfelt gratitude in the act as well. And when she draws back, teasing Mary Anne's bottom lip between her front teeth, the same deep-seated thanks is written in her eyes.

She jerks her head just enough to free her lip.

"Any time, gorgeous."

She punctuates it with a return kiss--maybe not as tempestuous as Goldy's but just as fun a way to say 'you're welcome.'

Goldy smiles and rests her head back down.

"I don't suppose you can use your magic tarot-ness to materialize a couple of cups of coffee down here?"

She shakes her head.

"Not my jurisdiction, sorry. Although..."

She chews her lower lip and stares at the ceiling, lost in thought.

"Of course not," Goldy says, chuckling lightly.

"If it was, you could have turned the heating on by clicking your fingers, and we would still be all toasty warm in your... fairly comfy bed," (hey, that's not a bad concession from her) "rather than freezing our cute hineys off on your not very comfortable floor."

"Remind me to ask around at the next family reunion, see who's job that is," she says, although she still sounds distracted.

"Was just trying to figure out if my magic tarot-ness didn't have a few more practical applications."

"Oh?"

Goldy's dainty eyebrows raise as one. Not quite absently, she draws a finger along Mary Anne's jawline, and up towards her ear.

"Like what, specifically, honey buns?"

She looks interested.

Despite the attention being lavished on her, Mary Anne only succeeds in looking distant.

She can do this. She's just never done it before. Except that she knows exactly how to do it. Weird only begins to scratch the surface.

"Like finding out how Miho is."

Beat.

"Like maybe even finding her."

Goldy visibly sobers again, her hand dropping away from Mary Anne's face.

"Really?"

She nips her bottom lip between her teeth.

"How?"

"Cards."

She sits up suddenly, eyes bright and focused. She turns her right hand over and there's a deck of cards resting it it, pulled from nowhere. She starts shuffling quickly.

"I can cast a reading for her--I mean, I know her well enough to read for her without her here. Plus, I think the tarot-ness might factor in somewhere there...Anyway, I should be able to find out something about how she is. And that should be enough of a focus for me to open a door to her."

"Oh. Cool."

Goldy doesn't look quite as enthused as Mary Anne might expect. Her smile is very watery. She swallows, harder than she wanted to be seen.

"What if... she doesn't want us to open a door? Do you not think that might be kind of intrusive to her?"

The cards go still in her hands.

"It very well might. She also might not be able to get back here any other way."

She gestures with the deck, slower and calmer than a few moments ago. Her eyes, however, have lost none of their focus. "If it's alright--and tell me if it's not--I'll cast the cards. Then we'll know more and we can open or close or slam doors at our leisure." She offers a reassuring smile. "If that's okay."

Goldy sits up, legs curled back under her, bringing enough comforter with her to embrace across her chest. She gives the idea some hard thought, then smiles and nods.

"Okay. That sounds good."

Of course, what transpires over the next few minutes could confirm some fears and crush Goldy. It's a risk she's willing to take, for the events could just as easily make her very happy.

"Thank you. Again," she voices pre-emptively.

"You're welcome, gorgeous."

She kisses her lightly on the cheek, then resumes suffling the cards. After a moment, she stops, then smoothes out a section of their bedding heap on the floor.

She cuts the deck twice, taps the top once, then deals.

"Huh."

Goldy squints at the layout, then looks at Mary Anne searchingly.

"Well, Your Majesty, what does it all mean?"

Over all her years, tarot is something that Goldy has never dabbled in, or with. She's almost completely in the dark here.

She sighs. "Okay. We start at the center."

She scoots the Nine of Swords over just enough to reveal the card beneath. Four of Swords. "This is the basis of the situation--her situtation: respite, rest after illness, solitude and exile. Now, it could be any or all of that; we'll know more the further we go."

She taps the Nine. "Immediate influence...misery, concern, despair...suffering. Five of swords--her subconsciouss--conflict, defeat...degredation and dishonor."

"Chariot inverted stands for her recent past." Her teeth dig hard into her lower lip. "Failure. Sudden collapse of plans. To be conquered or overwhelmed."

Goldy's face waxes and wanes through many expressions. Lack of comprehension, incredulity, worry. There's even a flicker of pain. She has no need to cover up her emotions in front of Mary Anne. Not now, at any rate.

Overridingly, she seems tense and concerned.

"This... shit... this really isn't sounding so good," she remarks quietly. "Poor Sweetness..."

"It's gonna get worse before it gets better," she murmurs.

She taps the inverted Five of Cups. "This is her conscious mind, her goal or destiny--" And here she smiles faintly. "Hopeful outlook, return of an old friend, reunion. But the near future,"

her finger slides down to the Five of Wands,

"is struggle and violent strife."

She draws a deep breath. "Time for the sidebar. Bottom card is Death inverted, which means her attitude is one of stagnation and immobility. aI'm betting that's equal parts physical and mental. Her environment and surroundings are influenced by loss, failure and error. Her hopes and fears..."

She spends a moment staring at the Hanged Man. "...are complicated. The highlights are a life in suspension, abandonment, lack of progress, and surrender. The final outcome: debacle, disaster, self destruction."

She glares at the cards a moment longer before sweeping her hand over them. They--and the deck they came from--are gone as she stands up and heads for the dresser.

Goldy is left staring at the flattened area of blankets where the cards had previously laid.

"Fucking hell..."

Her jaw is rigid, outlining a deathly pale complexion. Her knuckles are whiter though, the comforter now clenched in tight fists is the only thing preventing her nails from cutting through the skin of her palms.

"So, essentially, something horrible happened to her, leaving her physically and mentally fucked up. And... she can't get back here?"

"That would be the short version, near as I can tell."

Mary Anne rifles through the drawers, grabbing articles of clothing and heaping them on top of the dresser until she has enough to make an outfit. Then she starts getting dressed, strapping on a knife or two in between layers. She fishes her hunting knife out from underneath the bed, then crosses back over to the closet.

"So, I was thinking..."

She pulls her gun down from the shelf, tucking it into the back of her jeans. This is followed by a wide leather belt with two curved sheathes hanging from it; she straps it on, settling the knives comfortably on her hips.

"...we stop by your room for clean clothes and more weapons, then what say you to a little road trip?"

Goldy looks up and finally lets go of the comforter that's been clamped to her torso all this time. It peels away, exposing her breasts and more as she gets to her feet.

The emotion that showed on her face before has been somehow blocked or focused or beaten back. In its place is a scarily business-like demeanor: a face that is stony and dark of expression—though perversely still quite ashen in tone—and blue eyes that are as hard and cold as ice. It's a look that portends remorseless killing. A lot of it, if necessary.

"I say yes."

Beat.

"If... you're sure she wants out."