the weight of the cards (private musings)

[Zodiac]

Saint Patrick's Day was a slow time for people in her profession. Not many sought the advice of someone who made a living diving the future when the goals of the coming holiday involved consuming mass amounts of liquor, eating ethnic food, wearing green clothing, getting laid, and making a general loud *** nuisance of themselves in pubs, bars, and other places and trying not to get arrested in the process.

A curious holiday, to be sure. She could probably get behind the getting laid part, but the rest was pointless in her eyes. Besides, her new state of existence did not allow her to enjoy food or drink anymore and when one cannot speak literally, it made it hard to get loud and obnoxious in crowds. She did dress in shades of green during this time, but could not wait to return to her more favorite colors- black and her beloved purples.

A strange time, but a calm one. Despite the loss of potential profits, it gave her mind and spirit time to cool down and reflect. New Years and the thrice damned event they called Valentines Day was a gauntlet upon her nerves at best. The core concept was the same as any other time someone - living or not so living- would come to her and sit across from her in her parlor. They sought insight, clues, hints as to what was to come and how could they work to reach certain goals and avoid pitfalls. More modern methods had failed them so they turn to the more esoteric venues available to them and one of those venues was her.

If someone truly sat down and analyzed the process, it was not all the cards or anything supernatural (though that did play a part in it all beyond what some would think). Her grandmother had raised her to be a student and observer of human nature. Observant to a fault. Even without a spoken word to work with, a person gave off all kinds of clues as to what was going on inside of their minds. Body language, eye movements, how they walked, how they sat, how they looked across the table at her, and then the tones of their voice when they finally spoke. There was a treasure trove of information to work from before a single card was flipped. How attentive they were as she worked, how they reacted to the tea she served them in proper cups upon saucers with little cloth napkins. What cookies they found appealing and how they ate or drank. Their appearance in general, the cut and quality of their clothing, how they tended their hair, the general aroma they added to the room. From all those things and more, she could make a few educated guesses that more often than not were right on the money.

And then, the 'mystical'. As she explained to people more times than she could remember, the cards were simply suggestions, guideposts, hints at best. As more of them came into play as the layout progressed, a story began to form. Every card had a set of meanings to it, and by adding up all the clues she had picked up from her guest, she was able to zero in on the heart of the matter sometimes with an ease that made her guests nervous. 'How did you know that?' was a common term heard within her parlor most nights.

If she had followed a more modern path of life she probably would have been a therapist, councilor, or even a psychologist. Perhaps a motivational speaker (provided she had a translator to convert her sign language into words). She had wondered about that at times, but in reflection she realized the entire 'come into my parlor, cross my palm with silver as I consult the great beyond' deal was far more effective than a plush office with a fat couch for one to lie on. The conventional failed most people. The supernatural opened their eyes and mind to possibilities they normally would not consider and in the process were more open and far easier to read and to help. She had magicks. Oh yes. She was taught by her grandmother-the leader of her coven and had come from a line of witches. Not all of her original spells worked for her now due to her transformation but the state of mind and the processes were firmly in place within her. She was not some pathetic person with a big office and a PHD hanging on their wall who charged hundreds of dollars an hour simply to ask someone what do they think of their own questions. Here, in a back room in a combination curio/clothing/mystical shop she was Mistress Zodiac. The all seeing eyes of the past, present and future. Certainly more impressive, commanding and awe inspiring than dealing with Dr Ima Mindfreak PHD.

And, as always, it worked for her very well and her visitors found her far more helpful and easier on their back pockets that the guy with the PHD.

All of this was perfectly normal in her line of work. The stressful part, of course, were her clients themselves.



(TBC)

[Zodiac]

Not all, of course. Some took her words to heart and found answers within them. How many times a text or a card would appear thanking her for her efforts. Sometimes flowers would arrive. She adored flowers. Childish, in a way, but they always made her smile. The problem was, as much as she found herself a keen observer of human nature, was the concept of human nature in motion. A devious thing it was. All of the bad as well as all of the good rolled up into an almost impossible to predict force.

People are all different, and in the process of things people react differently when given information that can help their lives. Some seize it and act upon it like gospel, others follow it along for a time before breaking off the path and find themselves lost in a new part of the jungle of life which was fine. People needed new challenges to grow and move beyond.

But the ones that worked her nerves to the point she felt someone had taken a rusted and dull cheese grater and was slowly using it on her tits to erode them to nothing were the ones who refused to consider the fact that maybe the little girl is right and they have a serious problem that they have to work on and fix first before anything begins to change in their lives. No, nothing was wrong with them. It was the rest of the world that was the problem. No matter how amazing or self important someone considered themselves to be (real or imagined) on a cosmic scale of things all that awesome amounted to jack **** when compared to the entire big picture of life and beyond. Reality was one gigantic interactive unit and if one refused to interact and adapt or even try, the same answer was going to keep dropping out of the slot for them.

She could name them. They came like clockwork. A glace at her planner and inwardly she'd groan in distress when she saw they would be her guest for a time. New Years and Valentines Day multiplied their numbers. Everyone wanting a clue on either what was coming in the new year or would long elusive romance finally grace their lives. There were other questions too that fell into this meat grinder she imagined her breasts was enduring. One young man in particular was a prime example. 'When am I gonna have money? REAL money!' was always the question. Always complaining how broke he was and such despite the fact that getting a job seemed to be an answer he avoided like the Black Death. He had accused her of holding out on him with her answers. 'You probably CAN tell me the winning Lotto numbers. I bet you do it all the time.' And then she would calmly (yet again) write her reply saying that if she could do that she would have been living in a nice beach resort surrounded by Cabana girls long before now and he would be sitting here talking to whoever.

She probably would still be alive as well. Zodiac glanced at her calendar. There was a 50/50 chance he would be back after the first of the month, depending on when his relief check came in. How many times has she wanted to scream into his thoughts 'Why don't you take that 50 dollars and go buy a cheap suit, clean yourself up, and apply for a job instead of bothering me!'

But it would be pointless. She'd take his money and endure the erosion. He was but one of a hoard that seemed to latch onto her and keep circling around her. Each time the same questions and her instincts and the cards giving the same answers in reply. The holidays just made it worse.

'Why can't I find success?'

Because you refuse to do what is necessary to improve your chances of it. Success is not a gift, it is earned.

'What big changes are in store for me?'

If you continue as you have? Sorry. More of the same.

'Why don't girls like me?'

Because most women want a man and not someone who feels a girl is good for ******* and keeping house and not much else.

"I need a man in my life!'

Shower more often, have more than a nodding relationship with your toothbrush and lay off the bon bons.

Those were the answers she bit her mental tongue not to say, but they were the truth for some. She was not judgmental when it came to the various ways a human body could be. Tall, short, colors, sizes, shapes. People were people. It's how people acted that was the key. Large people? The way they took care of themselves and dressed made being overweight as acceptable or unacceptable as anything else. 'Lady Pinchon' was her private name for a woman who had visited her occasionally from back in the days when she operated in a tiny shop in the slums. The first time the gypsy saw her walking up to the front door, she swore the woman might have to turn sideways to manage entry. But as her observations began to flow in, any negativity she might have considered vanished quickly. The woman carried herself with grace, as if she had always been this size. Her clothing, clean, nice. Her hair, conservative, yet styled. Make up to highlight and enhance rather than screaming and under the slight hint of perfume she wore the girl smelled cleanliness. Her conciliation with the cards involved her health. Some of that weight had to go or else. She had Jennifer (her assistant) join them for the session to be sure her 'words' were clearly understood as she 'spoke'. She spoke to the larger than life woman as an adult. Most medical 'professionals' spoke to the overweight as if they were idiot children at best. The girl gave the best encouragement and advice she could offer and even told her to stop by again if she felt the need for extra encouragement.

Two months later the woman returned. The look on her face was somewhat mixed and finally she sadly admitted that she had finally lost only10 pounds. 10 pounds from a person most would swear would tip the truck scales at over 400 seemed like a joke, but not to Zodiac. They had a grand little impromptu tea party celebrating those 10 pounds. 'The first of many' she encouraged. 5 years later, the last time the gypsy saw the lady she was under 300. Her health was improving (though not yet perfect). It was a long, hard road for her but she continued undaunted.

Compared to Mr. 'You could give me the winning Lotto numbers if you wanted to', the woman was a paragon of will power and determination to make a change. Yet the world at large, with their limited perceptions of people, would feel sorry for the lazy one and scorn the fat one. Her Nana had told her as a child "If you try to understand the world and the people in it on their levels, you will go insane." and she was right.


(TBC)

[Zodiac]

Stress and a drain on her very spirit. The term 'Physician heal thyself' came to mind and caused the corner of her mouth to twitch upwards to a smile. Doing one's own fortune was a lot like a doctor performing surgery on himself. A boatload of things could go wrong in the process. Rather than try, she would use the cards to get a basic hint and stop. Anything deeper would lead to her own opinions asserting themselves over any state of objectivity. In a way, the same as a doctor ignoring symptoms or explain them away to make the ailment more easy to ignore.

She needed a 'doctor' of her own.

Arrogance kept her from seeking out someone of her own kind. That streak of Romany pride inside of would never allow her to admit she could not figure herself out. To approach another seer would be a sign of weakness in her eyes. That left her friends. Curious creatures they were. There were times they were always by her side. She could not consider them fair weathered at all. But in times like her current mood was hanging, it was like fate encouraged them all to be busy or elsewhere.

She pulled open a drawer in her desk and pulled out her purse and then exited her little office. It was quiet now. The staff was mainly on break and it was one of those rare moments in the evening between waves of people stopping in. Feast or famine was the norm for her. Zodiac made her way to the front and exited. The door chime sounding way louder than normal in the quiet as she passed and took a seat on the small bench that sat in front of the main window. It was a courtesy stop for shoppers who might need a few moments to let their legs recharge. She sat down and pulled a cigarette from her pack and lit up. The taste of herbs graced her tongue as she inhaled. Dimly she felt something in her lungs but for the most part it was simply the motions of smoking that calmed her now (along with the bonus of actually tasting something besides blood). No worries about addiction or death now. A vampire dying from cancer seemed comical considering what she had seen in her time as one of them. She felt better now.

"EXCUSE ME!" a sharp sounding voice shattered the moment of tranquility. Zodiac blinked and looked at the girl looking down at her. The college type (the gypsy's best guess at that moment) had her arms folded and was practically glaring at her. "Don't you know smoking is dangerous to yourself and others around you?" the woman thrust out her hand and offered Zodiac some kind of tri fold flyer. The title screaming about the war against tobacco. She took the flyer and began to write on both sides of the dry erase board she always carried then showed one side to the annoying woman.

Smoking is dangerous? You know what else is dangerous?

Before the woman could blink, Zodiac was suddenly on her feet and less than 2 inches from her. The opposite side of the board was in her line of sight now.

Messing with a crazy gypsy witch is also pretty damn dangerous!

Zodiac's free hand darted out and yanked several strands of hair from the woman's head. As the girl whined in sudden discomfort, the gypsy smelled them and then leaned closer to smell the girl, then finally grinned like a shark.

"You crazy *****!" The would be warrior against tobacco shouted. Zodiac kept smiling as she lunged at the girl. A sharp hiss of air escaping in the process. The woman turned and quick stepped to join her friends who were watching them from in front of the teahouse just North-East of Pandora's. The group of them entered the shop with comments and threats. Courage always did get bolder in groups. As the doors began to close, Zodiac pulled her phone from her pocket and texted the girl who was running the counter in there tonight.

Student IDs or not. Charge them punks stepping in now full price, and they start annoying anyone in there-THROW THEM OUT!

She flopped back onto the bench in disgust. The flyer and the bit of hair dropped into the garbage can. It had served its purpose, besides it would be more effort to actually hex the girl than she was worth. The gypsy picked up her cigarette and took another drag, but now it tasted flat for some reason. The moment was gone now. Zodiac crushed it out and returned to her shop.

(TBC)