RP:Keeper Of Your Fate

Summary: On Brennia's advice, Alvina searches for Verah in the Schezerade bazaar. Verah reads Alvina's palms, telling her she's the keeper of her own fate and the master of her own choices. The empathetic half elf refuses money for her services.

Fortune Teller's Booth

Every day, on her way home from work, Alvina took the longer route in hopes of passing this mysterious Verah that Brennia told her about. It’s strange and exciting to think that a woman could read the future as perfectly as she’d seen Brennia’s before her reunion with Niall. The bard isn’t really sure what she’s hoping to find out from the Seer but, at best, she can glean some insight into the future and at worst, it would be a fun experience. Magic strong enough to bring a person back from the dead exists but the novelty of fortune tellers was still alive and well. And, honestly, she could use a fun distraction with a lovely lady. Alvina wasn’t exactly sure what she’s supposed to be looking for but maybe she’ll know it when she sees it.

As nomadic as Verah was, it slim to come across her in a location. She spent her days timing out until she would revisit a location. Unless it was for her own theatrical tendencies of dancing for entertainment in a group she was in. She kept her hobbies low and her identity faded. Eventually, however, she is perched on a local row of vendors and entertainers. Because of the warmer air, she pitches a canopy that is orange with an embroidered sun on the top. A blonde half-elf sits on a hand-stitched, ruby red pillow on a crocheted blanket and a few pillows sit across from her. The faux fortune-teller is draped in a long pale blue kimono-like cardigan with multiple patterns of pinks, reds, and oranges. A similar patterned, thick-clothed headband rests in her hair that is pulled up in a messy bun–curtain bangs frame her face. A pale blue, flowy skirt matches, but looks like it is dyed in a pallid blue and pink dyes and a mustard crocheted top is haltered around her neck. The half-elf is glamorous in her bohemian style as she accents her attire with a metal chain of suns on her hips and large matching metallic sun earrings dangle from her elven ears. The girl sits with parchment as she scribbles across the page. A tangerine quartz, crystal ball sits off to the side--which might be an indicator of the fortune teller. The streets were dying down, and soon enough it would be time to close up services to make her trek to a local inn somewhere to reside the night, but for now, she was finishing up her scribbles.

Alvina remembers Brennia’s description of the fortune teller as being gorgeous so it’s no surprise that when the bard passes dull stall after dull stall that Verah’s orange tent would catch her attention. The half elf inside cemented Alvina’s certainty that this woman, blonde and radiating next to a crystal ball draped in colors and chains, must be the woman Brennia’d told her about. The street was growing quiet, the day winding down with a gentle retreat as people pulled themselves away from shopping ventures and friendly late lunches to go back to their jobs or families or homes. With no door to knock on, Alvina approaches with a cautious smile, afraid to disturb the woman with an abrupt appearance. “Excuse me,” she says, hesitating only because the half elf looked busy. “Are you perhaps Verah, the fortune teller?” Alvina pauses, looking around nervously. “A friend of mine recommended you, if you are her, and you certainly fit her description of a gorgeous woman in the bazaar.” The crystal ball didn’t hurt. “I was wondering if I could possibly trouble you for a reading?”

Verah’s mind bounces with enthusiasm as she writes out the letter. Scribble, scribble, ‘the guy seems hot-headed, so the only solution would be to be blunt and fight fire with fire’. A small little snicker is on her lips replying to the ‘love advice’ letter. Not that Verah really knew. Or maybe she did. She was truly a mystery. Scribble–scratch, caramel brown eyes reflect up to red hair. Eyes take in the expression of the hesitant woman who stood in the canopy. “Oh,” she was almost puzzled that the woman before her knew her name. “Yes.” She was not sure how well she wanted to be known, but she knew that she was traveling around Lithrydel frequently. It was bound to happen. “Hi,” and it was then that Alvina confessed that a friend recommended her. A small smile forms on her lips. “Please, sit. What’s your name?” The blonde asks very carefully, as if she was worried she would scare a deer off if she is too forthcoming. She gestures to one of the pillows across from her. There is a warmness to the sun-kissed half-elf, as she can feel the nerves wafting off of Alvina due to her empathic ability. “It’s really no trouble. Truly. The sun still shines,” her eyes lift to the sun casting down. “I offer plenty. Palm, crystal, tea readings. Any preference?” The illusionist questions. It was odd that the woman was searching for her. “Out of curiosity, does something worry you?” The question was genuine–even though she was a con-artist, she was one with a guilty conscience. One that liked to know stories. Verah was still a gentle, empathetic soul which was almost like a curse.

Alvina is trying to read Verah’s expression, to see if she’s indeed interrupted something, but the other woman is kind and warm in her welcome. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Alvina.” She reaches out a hand to briefly shake Verah’s if the blonde will accept. Otherwise, she’ll take a dainty seat on the offered pillow, tucking her skirt against the back of her legs. It had crossed Alvina’s mind that she should not be here so Verah’s delicate handling helps reassure her. With the options listed off, the bard doesn’t have the foggiest about what she should pick. “I’m afraid I’ve never done anything like this before, do you have a recommendation?” Nervously, she looks around the tent, like the options will hover behind the fortune teller and introduce themselves. Silly thoughts born from anxiety. Alvina blinks in surprise at Verah’s question about something worrying her. Did they need to know that? Was this like a guessing game therapy thing? “Who doesn’t have worries?” Her laugh is tight, hands fussing over her skirt with an averted gaze. What should she say is her concern? Safety? Success? Romance? Stability? Stability felt like a safe, broad subject but maybe too broad to be helpful. “I’ve been struggling with some uncertainty lately.” That was also a broad subject, between the little girl she killed and her ended marriage and four children and all the lines of red twine that could be mapped from there. Here, Alvina will look back up to meet Verah’s gaze with determination and a brittle smile. “It would be nice to know if I’ve made the right decisions. If I’m doing the right thing.” Another nervous laugh breaks the tension. “Is that enough?”

Verah shakes her head at the apologies of name giving. She understood, all too well. The blonde smiles at the hand offered before slowly reaching out to carefully shake the hand before her. With Alvina’s confession, there is a draw there. She can feel the nerves from beyond the threshold of space between them now that the woman sits across from her. “Well, I suppose we all do… have worries. Which friend sent you? Might I ask?” Verah wanted to know, but did not necessarily need to know as she heard the tight laugh. There is something troubling her. Or maybe more things. A vague one. The half-elf feels the anxiety wafting off of the red-head, and it’s shaking, but the blonde keeps steady and poised. The vagueness keeps going from the red-head. ‘Uncertainty’, ‘right decisions’... The faux seer keeps a bright eyed expression. Caramel eyes big, soft, and reassuring, but with a sly edge as mystics often held. The mimic of behavior is what Verah was good at. Good guesses, however? Not so much. “Hun, it can be enough.” She can feel Alvina’s nerves, and the guilt seeps in now… She wears that mystical gaze still through her lies. “Might I offer a palm reading? Sometimes, when one is… weary, timid, we can see a lot more than what the heart can show on the sleeve.” Meaning, Alvina would not have to express herself, but Verah can see possible timelines with her hands, but fake the… possible future. “Here,” she holds her hands up, palms open. A small, sweet smile appears on painted lips, “Rest your palms face up in mine. Let me see your destiny.” Palms would be safer than the ball.

Verah offers the bard an easy question. “Brennia.” She chimes proudly. Her friend’s name was as unique as she was. Indeed an avian impossible to forget. It lessens the tremors of fear threaded under her skin. Verah looks so certain and composed. Did she already decode what Alvina wanted to know? What she wanted to hear? Alvina swallows. She didn’t come here to hear what she wanted to hear. What did she want to hear? If she got to pick? What words could the seer say that would stitch up the gaping wound in her chest? Verah kindly tells Alvina that she’s said enough and she sighs with weighted relief. She was so nice. Not so much motherly, maybe more sisterly. It was a role that let Alvina relax by a fraction or two. She couldn’t dream that this lovely blonde woman would lie. “Palm reading.” The bard repeats, trying to pull any information her brain might hold on the subject like a filing system. Nothing comes to mind but she trusts the Seer to know what she’s doing. Alvina hangs on Verah’s every word. She was tired. Weary, defensive, timid. Words she never thought she’d pin to her lapels. She presents both of her hands, palm up, to the other woman in hopes her hands will betray what her heart can say. “I’m in your hands now.” She smiles at the figure of speech.

Caramel brown eyes look down at Alvina’s palms when the red-head consents. Verah brushes her thumb gently over one palm to smooth it as flat as possible to see the lines clearly for any faint marks, gaps. She observes the way each line curves and where it ends. “I can’t tell you if what choices you made were the right ones, as you have to believe in yourself.” A painted finger trails over a very pale fate line, but the line is long. “I can feel your uncertainty influenced by others around you. It discourages you. Family. An underlying guilt perhaps of events in the past.” She inhales her eyes and looks at Alvina genuinely. “You are the keeper of your fate. Your happiness. Don’t let others around you sway what you want or who you want to be–what choices you make.” Verah is guessing at this point. She is hoping she is guessing correctly due to the lines on the woman’s palm. “I find that, if you find confident solid ground in yourself, the rest comes easily to find peace. Others around you will adjust to those decisions, as it appears you have a lot of love in your life. And when you are confident in the decisions you make, stability will come.” Will it? Verah cannot truly see Alvina's family. Cannot see the love. The blonde smiled reassuringly–the guilt seeping in the back of her mind from the glaze of words falling from her lush lips. “Underlying? Keep being true to yourself. For yourself. Sanity. It’s okay to be selfish.” Sometimes clients just needed a boost of positivity, right...?

Alvina listens with painful attention, to watch Verah's fingers trace the lines in her palm like a cartographer mapping out her future. She looks a little deflated by Verah's explanations. All these words were words she'd heard before begging a strength of confidence and self truth. Alvina believes the sentiments and very much wants to be the person she's been advised to be. She used to be once. Doubt had crept under her skin when her first fiance left and never returned. Thinking she wasn't 'good enough' started to become a mantra that she'd call out when things failed. All the love she'd given had soured. It rotted in bottles of memories. Some dead, some despising, some indifferent. Confident, solid ground and selfishness sounded like fairytales to her spinning head. The two guilty women sit, hands still twined, when Alvina breaks her gaze away from her pale palms and regards Verah's kind smile. She was quite beautiful, this fortune teller. Was she selfish? Did she flag down the waiter if her order came out wrong? Did her beautiful face frown at a horrid remark or did her eyes shine with light when joy filled her heart? And so it goes. No one could tell her if her decision was the right one and she'd known that to be the truth since she'd started asking the question. What she'd come here for was for this unsuspecting stranger to look at her and hold her hands and tell her no one had the answers. The thing she wanted most from Verah was to be seen, the undisclosed pain that ached in the depths of her heart to be seen. Verah's words were the same but her eyes were different. This beautiful woman didn't know Alvina, not a lick, and her kindness was deeper felt for it. Alvina wipes at her eyes, sniffs and laughter as she pulls her palms back into her own lap. "A little too close to home," the bard notes with glassy eyes before digging through her purse for the fee money. Alvina places the gold in Verah’s hands with a lingering stare. “Thank you," she says and means every bit of it.

Verah can feel that tension after the explanation. The pain underneath the red-head, and feeling that pain absorbed and made the half-elf’s heartthrob. The confusion. The loss. The half-elf was a fraud–scared and hiding behind a mask toward the public around her. Internally, she felt sorry for the woman before her. Sorry that she could not give Alvina the desired request. The strict answer of ‘yes’ things are right. Things will be okay. The glaze over the woman’s eyes stabs the empath with sadness and the gold that is placed into her palm is set in front of Alvina in the space between them. A gentle hand reaches out to attempt to rest itself on the forearm of the woman before her. “This one is free. After hours, after all.” The genuinuity was something puzzling for such pain underneath it all. The illusionist has this impulse to reach out towards the stranger before her for an embrace, but that would be too odd coming from the faux mystic, so she pulls her hand back. It was the empathic ability in her for this almost impulse. Instead, she sits still and offers a smile. It was all she can really muster for an unknown. “Come back again.” Her lips twitch. It was always the sad ones that got under her skin--made her not want to compulsively lie over and over again. Once Alvina would part, Verah would stand to close up shop for the rest of the evening.