Marie-Ange, and her cards
Apr. 6th, 2004 06:55 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsTrying to get resolution to the the problems with Doug last night, Angie casts the cards. Again, and again and again, and not a single answer is something she wants to hear.
Wooden desk, candle - for fire. Angie supposed that a bottle of water might serve as that, and well, air was everything, and she wasn't even sure why she was setting all this up. It was never necessary. Trappings of making like she couldn't just concentrate on the cards in the first place. It helped. She thought it helped, and it ... ~The -hell- with it~
She shut her eyes, and shuffled the cards. They refused to sort smoothly - the slight stickiness of sweat on her palms and fingertips making the cardboard cling to her fingers. Testing the weight of the desk against her palm, she turned over a card.
Knight of Pentacles. Take charge of the situation. Someone in charge.
Marie-Ange scowled and shoved the card back into the deck. ~non.~
She shuffled again - rifling the cards betwen her hands and tried to breathe evenly. Inhale. ~Un, Deux, Trois, Quatre.~. Exhale. ~Un, Deux, Trois, Quatre.~ Again, she closed her eyes and turned over a card.
Temperance. Purity and Desire. Balance. She sighed and tucked the card back into the stack.
Again, she shuffled, cards finally moving between her fingers with ease. Once again, Marie-Ange closed her eyes, trying to visualize the mirror-her Nathan had suggested. Blue robes, and white, and black hair and .. ~Yeux rouges.. Non. Pas cela.~ She forced her eyes open, to stare down at a card she hadn't even realized she had turned over.
The Ace of Swords. Double-edged power. Potential. Goals.
She roughly shoved the card back into the deck and started again. Shuffle. Breathe. Count. Cardboard moving between her fingers, air passing in through her nose, and back out. Marie-Ange shut her eyes, and brought up the image again. Herself. Not anyone else. A mirror. Red hair and a green skirt and grey eyes and cards in her hand, and blue robes, again. Always with the blue... She brought the cards together again and took one off the top.
The Two of Pentacles. Juggling. .. ~Jamie.~.
Marie-Ange sighed, and shut her eyes again. Talk to Jamie. More confession, more talking, more of exactly what she did not want to do. She frowned and mixed the card back into the deck. One more try. One more card to see how to resolve this.
She shut her eyes, and for a long moment, just breathed. She let her thoughts, already jumbled, drift. Doug was honest with her. She could not fault him for that, even if she hated what he was honest about. It was just thoughts. He had said he would not leave her for Marie. He had -said-. He had said, and she had to believe him. Marie-Ange divided the cards into two stacks again, and shuffled them together. As she did, her hands slipped, just a twtich of her thumbs, and cards fluttered to the floor.
Concentration broken, Marie-Ange sighed, and bent to pick up the fallen cards. As she turned them over to place them back into the deck she let out a tiny gasp. The Knight of Cups. The High Priestess. The Lovers. She shook her head. That.. had to be a coincidence. It had to be.
Swallowing against a metallic tinny taste in her mouth, Angie tapped the cards against the desk, lining up their edges. Cards that fell to the ground did not count. One more casting. She shuffled again, carefully, keeping her hands as far from the edge of the desk as she could. The tremble in her hands wasn't helping, and she tensed to keep the cards from scattering again.
Marie-Ange shuffled for many minutes, until her fingertips tingled from brushing against the edges of the cards again and again. She tried to relax in her seat, leaning back and closing her eyes again, until the deck felt -right- in her hands.
When the cards felt aligned, even and neat and tidy in her hands, she stopped, and cupped the deck in her palm. Slowly, she turned over the top card, and opened her eyes.
~The Chariot?~ she asked herself. "How.. " For a moment, she frowned down at the card. Control, over her emotions, or focus.. or. Marie-Ange sighed, and scowled down at the deck. No. Facing her fears. The card also represented facing fears and controlling them, rather than letting them control her.
With hands only steady from tension, she set the cards down on her desk, and stood. Facing her fears. She could do that. She had done it once, she could keep doing it. One step at a time, out the door, to the hall and ... .. right back over to her bed, so she could bury her face in the pillow and hide from everything she felt.
Wooden desk, candle - for fire. Angie supposed that a bottle of water might serve as that, and well, air was everything, and she wasn't even sure why she was setting all this up. It was never necessary. Trappings of making like she couldn't just concentrate on the cards in the first place. It helped. She thought it helped, and it ... ~The -hell- with it~
She shut her eyes, and shuffled the cards. They refused to sort smoothly - the slight stickiness of sweat on her palms and fingertips making the cardboard cling to her fingers. Testing the weight of the desk against her palm, she turned over a card.
Knight of Pentacles. Take charge of the situation. Someone in charge.
Marie-Ange scowled and shoved the card back into the deck. ~non.~
She shuffled again - rifling the cards betwen her hands and tried to breathe evenly. Inhale. ~Un, Deux, Trois, Quatre.~. Exhale. ~Un, Deux, Trois, Quatre.~ Again, she closed her eyes and turned over a card.
Temperance. Purity and Desire. Balance. She sighed and tucked the card back into the stack.
Again, she shuffled, cards finally moving between her fingers with ease. Once again, Marie-Ange closed her eyes, trying to visualize the mirror-her Nathan had suggested. Blue robes, and white, and black hair and .. ~Yeux rouges.. Non. Pas cela.~ She forced her eyes open, to stare down at a card she hadn't even realized she had turned over.
The Ace of Swords. Double-edged power. Potential. Goals.
She roughly shoved the card back into the deck and started again. Shuffle. Breathe. Count. Cardboard moving between her fingers, air passing in through her nose, and back out. Marie-Ange shut her eyes, and brought up the image again. Herself. Not anyone else. A mirror. Red hair and a green skirt and grey eyes and cards in her hand, and blue robes, again. Always with the blue... She brought the cards together again and took one off the top.
The Two of Pentacles. Juggling. .. ~Jamie.~.
Marie-Ange sighed, and shut her eyes again. Talk to Jamie. More confession, more talking, more of exactly what she did not want to do. She frowned and mixed the card back into the deck. One more try. One more card to see how to resolve this.
She shut her eyes, and for a long moment, just breathed. She let her thoughts, already jumbled, drift. Doug was honest with her. She could not fault him for that, even if she hated what he was honest about. It was just thoughts. He had said he would not leave her for Marie. He had -said-. He had said, and she had to believe him. Marie-Ange divided the cards into two stacks again, and shuffled them together. As she did, her hands slipped, just a twtich of her thumbs, and cards fluttered to the floor.
Concentration broken, Marie-Ange sighed, and bent to pick up the fallen cards. As she turned them over to place them back into the deck she let out a tiny gasp. The Knight of Cups. The High Priestess. The Lovers. She shook her head. That.. had to be a coincidence. It had to be.
Swallowing against a metallic tinny taste in her mouth, Angie tapped the cards against the desk, lining up their edges. Cards that fell to the ground did not count. One more casting. She shuffled again, carefully, keeping her hands as far from the edge of the desk as she could. The tremble in her hands wasn't helping, and she tensed to keep the cards from scattering again.
Marie-Ange shuffled for many minutes, until her fingertips tingled from brushing against the edges of the cards again and again. She tried to relax in her seat, leaning back and closing her eyes again, until the deck felt -right- in her hands.
When the cards felt aligned, even and neat and tidy in her hands, she stopped, and cupped the deck in her palm. Slowly, she turned over the top card, and opened her eyes.
~The Chariot?~ she asked herself. "How.. " For a moment, she frowned down at the card. Control, over her emotions, or focus.. or. Marie-Ange sighed, and scowled down at the deck. No. Facing her fears. The card also represented facing fears and controlling them, rather than letting them control her.
With hands only steady from tension, she set the cards down on her desk, and stood. Facing her fears. She could do that. She had done it once, she could keep doing it. One step at a time, out the door, to the hall and ... .. right back over to her bed, so she could bury her face in the pillow and hide from everything she felt.
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