Thread: My shitty friends and their stupid psychic parties (SomethingEsoteric, YellowSmoke

The self-appointed Queen of Mystique allowed her enigma to be broken for just a moment, raising an eyebrow in a manner so smooth when Brooke inquired about her sex-life that it seemed seduction lurked in every muscle she possessed. It did not arch violently, nor was its graceful movement the culmination of years of practice fluidity of motion came naturally to Maitreya. That single gesture captured much about the woman, strengthened by the fact that she did not deign to reply, but left questions lingering in the air. Was it intended to be so seductive, so suggestive? Or was it just her innate manner? Reading the Eastern woman was like trying to read her cards nothing was solid, and it took careful intuition and guesswork to formulate a meaning. Even then one was often wrong. She sensed that she had been on the money in regards to Brooke's employment. Whether all was fine in work or not, there was an unhappiness connected to it directly or indirectly, though she doubted very much that it was at the root of the uneasiness. Whoever it was who had hurt her in the past had left behind some emotional scar tissue, baggage which itself clung to the woman's hands no matter how much she tried to let go, and weighed her down no matter which direction she turned. She felt a twang of pity for her, though only in so much as one has pity for a character in a play when Lady Luck turns her back upon them life itself was one great tragedy, and Treya would not play her part so willingly if she did not take some form of enjoyment from observing the trials and tribulations of others. She had made a choice long ago that that was infinitely preferable to witnessing and - oh, the grief - experiencing one's own misfortune. The puzzle was beginning to reveal itself, and the appearance of the Lovers on the table seemed fortuitous. The path of the weaver's needle was opened, and few knew how to knit quite as well as Maitreya. A good reader must know how to be impassive - something which Treya detested - and to act as nothing but a vessel for intuition and energy. The cards told a story written for the client and the client alone, and the good reader must not taint or bias that tale in any way. Ego was the enemy of the reader who sought to pursue their art virtuously, though ironically, Maitreya was egotistical almost to the point of narcissism, as well concealed behind silk and warmth as that fact may have been. Work is fine , she mused, for the first time seeming to fall into thought, and her eyes fell away from Brooklyn. The way she annunciated the word fine - mimicking that which Brooke had spoken - again suggested a hint of scepticism, or was it mere consideration? It was difficult to tell. The twins often suggest ambivalence... but I think their appearance intimates a change which lies ahead of you. For you, we may call them lovers... Her cool, bottomless brown eyes met with the designer's again and stared unflinchingly into them. But all will be revealed upon the next card. With another delicate turn of her slender wrist, the card-reader upturned the final tarrocho to reveal an ornate depiction of a conical tower, endless steps winding their way about its exterior from bottom to top, and silence fell across the room. Treya took some time to inspect the card, another show of mystique as she pieced together her final prediction. When at last she spoke, her words were soft, almost intimating concern or pity for her sceptical counterpart, though in the end they were matter-of-fact. Fate was, after all, unavoidable. You will fall in love, she said after her gaze had returned to Brooke's, and again her eyes seemed to look into her and not at her, or at the very least will meet someone who will fuel a fire in you which you thought had been extinguished for good. It will be a time of great ecstasy, though it will not come for free... No, it will be involve a struggle - perhaps against yourself - and in the end I fear that your heart will be broken once more. For that, I am sorry, but... who knows? Perhaps in meeting this fate, you will learn to overcome yourself. And there it was the final jab which would ensure that her words stuck the closing prick which - through whatever means of emotion - would leave Brooke unable to simply cast her prediction aside without at least a curse or a reluctant wondering. She had written tragedy amongst the stars for this woman, and like fate, the tragic was inevitable. Now it would be left to the other women in the house to cultivate the seedling with their queries and togetherness, and the brevity with which she had wanted Maitreya to conduct her business would serve only to humiliate her before her friends. If that is all, you may send in whoever is next. Treya smiled and in that moment the illusion of the Queen was broken she was just another human wishing her well, but wasn't there a smug assuredness beneath it all?