not what she wanted to hear
who: wren and epiphany setting: wren's place, directly after this
Wren sent Samson a feeling of affirmation, so he knew she understood and she got to the doc then started to skirt the reservoir to intercept the young woman. She didn’t usually hurry like this but in this case she rushed her steps, knowing things had gone very poorly. She didn’t need to be a psychic or even to have heard what was said to understand it. She’d always been a student of human nature and right now, things had gone very wrong. “I am Wren,” she introduced herself when she got within earshot, walking up. “I would like to take your hand, is this alright?” Poor thing looked distraught.
Epiphany had never been someone who wanted to drown out the sounds around her. Everything inside her head and surrounding her were gifts from Atia and drowning them out felt close to sacrilege to her but right now she wanted to hear about zero percent volume from Vaughn and Samson both. As soon as she felt far enough away, she could feel the tears fall down her cheeks and she hated herself more for that. Wren was going to find her sobbing and how would that even look to the other woman?
As she heard Wren’s voice she also got a waft of the scents around her from a breeze that brushed at her robes. This woman had some sort of specific smell that Epiphany could not place. She could not identify the smells for what they were, earthy things like incense and other items that Epiphany had very little frame of reference for. But ultimately she nodded and held her arm out in front of her. “Here is my hand.”
“Thank you,” Wren said gently. She took the offered arm, lacing her fingers gently through the other woman's. The she started to lead her toward her houseboat. “This way. It isn't far,” she assured her. She had dealt with the blind before, and that much was pretty clear from her manner. “I'm sorry you are upset,” she said genuinely. She had been wary of meeting this girl herself, but seeing her in distress really shut that down for her. Wren cared for people and that was most important in this moment. “Let's go to my home, and relax for a moment. You can get your bearings.”
It was strange how secure she felt with Wren guiding her. She tried to focus on the way their fingers fit together rather than the tears in her eyes. Sniffling, Epiphany took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, something meditative if it hadn’t wavered so much on her exhale. She closed her eyes and brought up a block of messages from her followers, but reading them only served to make her cry harder.
Just as she went to read a fourth message pleading for her to come home, everything went black. Everything. Her messages, the pings in her ears, all of the onslaught of nausea-inducing guilt floating in the air around her without anything concrete to hold it. She felt isolated and cold even with Wren’s hand in her own. “What?” She murmured, reaching up with her other hand to find her face and run her fingers up over the scarred bits of skin to her temple. “What is happening? Everything is gone!”
Wren had seen people experience this before, and she was prepared for it. “Nothing is wrong,” she assured Epiphany first. “We are going to take a step from the shore to the dock, then to my back deck,” she added, laying out the steps for her. “My home ensures there is...solitude. There are no electronics or networks connected to it, it's designed to cut out all the distractions, to be apart from those things. To simply be you, in the moment you are physically in. I apologize if it is momentarily distressing.”
Momentarily? The only time she was truly alone was when she slept, and even then sometimes notifications crept in and woke her. Epiphany stopped walking and just stood there, feeling sick again as she tried to process what Wren was saying. There was nothing. Her followers were gone. She was gone. She was alone, lost in this universe of pain and guilt and harm and all she wanted to do was run back to The Temple and hide there until Atia came to save them all. “I cannot stay here,” She said, taking a step backward. “I must go home. I must be with them. I cannot leave them alone any longer.”
Wren frowned, but was glad she still had hold of the girl's hand, so she didn't bolt. “...it will not be long. If you insist on being within range, I can bring you calming tea out here. I would prefer that you were not out in the open while being so distressed, that you were someplace safe, but if you cannot handle this, then I understand. But...” she paused, then walked them a few feet back the way they'd come, where the dead zone lifted. “Nothing is gone. It's all still there,” she assured her.
The silence broke and Epiphany’s mind lit up again with sounds and messages. She pulled her log up and scrolled quickly through the timestamps to see that, Wren was right, they were all still there. Exhaling in relief, she gripped Wren’s hand and finally listened to what she had said. Vaughn had specifically told her not to drink any offering from Wren, but right now she was not sure she wanted to listen to Vaughn. Right now, she wanted to follow Wren to her safe space, knowing her life was there on the other side of this blackness, and sit. She was still recovering from her bloodletting and even though she’d slept well and even though her wounds were healing faster than they ever had before, this upset was mentally exhausting. “...I believe I would like to try and sit with you.”
Wren smiled gently. “Good. If you ever need to leave, please tell me and I will help you exit,” she assured her. Then she finished bringing her to the doc, and then onto her back porch, finally inside the sliding glass door to her home. It smelled much like she did, pleasant and earthy. It was warm. She brought her to a handmade bench, and sat Epiphany down on it before she joined her. “This is a space that is quite safe, I assure you. If you are not comfortable here, I can provide other seating. Are you adverse to lemon balm or peppermint tea, or have a preference?”
Epiphany let Wren lead her and when she settled down on the bench she gave an audible sigh. Reaching up, she wiped at the tears in her eyes and straightened her back. This was completely undignified. This was not how she had wanted to meet this woman. But at least it smelled nice here. It smelled like Wren smelled, like nothing Epiphany had ever smelled before. Everything she smelled had a sort of metallic smell to it, down in the Temple. Up here was a completely different world for Epiphany. Tilting her head toward Wren at her question, Epiphany considered the options. “I am not adverse. I like peppermint. It tingles my nose,” She said simply. They had some balms with peppermint scent to them down in The Temple. “You do not need to be this kind to me. I have put you out...and you have seen a dark moment. I had hoped to meet you under different circumstances.”
Wren got her a handkerchief, and held it to her so she could wipe her eyes and nose. “Here you are,” she said, then she stood to make peppermint tea. She usually had water in a kettle, ready to go, and now was no different, so she was able to provide it quickly, reaching out to take one of the girl's hands to put the handle of the mug into it when it was done. She had one herself, and she took her place on the bench again. “I am not put out,” she assured her. “And I'm aware. I'm not privy to what's happened, but I could see that whatever it was, it was distressing. Would you like to talk about it?”
Using the handkerchief, Epiphany cleaned her face and then ran her fingers over the fabric itself. She tried to make a mental image of what it looked like based on what her fingers mapped out, a stitch here, a little pull in the cloth there. “This is beautiful,” She told Wren about the kerchief.
The warmth of the tea in her hand calmed her more, even if Vaughn’s ridiculous warning was still swirling in her mind. It was so much easier to listen to warnings like that when everything else was so stone silent. She felt as though she was yelling here with everything around her so perfectly still.
At Wren’s question, Epiphany felt her shoulders slump a bit. At least Wren had not seen the entire battle. It made her feel less embarrassed almost instantly, but then there was still the matter of actually explaining what happened. “They are unhappy with me,” She said to start. “The bloodletting is a symptom of their concerns...or..anger. I am unsure now of what it actually is that they feel.”
Wren had noticed the bandages. She didn't know the full story, after all. “You engage in bloodletting and they are displeased,” she said, catching up. But wording did stand out to her. “...are you certain that it's you they are unhappy with, and not the act itself?” she posed. She honestly didn't know, she wasn't trying to lead to a conclusion. Though she didn't know that she viewed Samson as the type to be angry at someone so much as a situation.
It took Epiphany a moment to decide how to proceed. Did she want to get so heavily involved with Wren the very first time she met the woman? Did she even have a choice any longer not to get invested? If there was anyone out there that may understand how she felt, Wren could very well be that person.
“I believe they are upset about the bloodletting as a start, but it seems that their true issues stem from my relationship with my followers. Samson called me a slave to them. Vaughn believes the same, but he...it feels as though he spat on my Temple. And what neither of them understand, not even Samson, is that I am the bloodletting. I am the Temple. They are me as much as I am them.”
Wren listened, somewhat understanding and at the same time, her own relationship with her followers was different. But not by all that much. Still, she mulled it over as she considered. “If you are merely the Temple, you are rituals and you are them, then what Samson and Vaughn say should not matter to you,” she said. “What they say isn't in alignment with the Temple's interests.” She had more to say but wanted to see how that went first.
And here she was again, caught at a crossroads between the prophet and someone else. Some human part of her that was not the Temple. She quieted, truly listening to Wren and letting the words settle in her mind. “True, but the two of them are important to me.” At least they were before all of this backlash directed at her. “I do not wish to feel persecuted for my beliefs, regardless of if they understand them or not. I do not wish to continue feeling as though the two of them have the power to rule over my life. This is my life, my Temple, and I have let myself stray from them. I have been lured away from what I know to be right. The Temple needs me.”
Wren considered everything said. “...you need to do what is right for you, what feels right. I...would you accept my help?” she asked, reaching out to give the other woman's hand a squeeze. “A little guidance? It's what I provided for my people, before they...before.” She shut down the conversation about where they were these days, this encounter wasn't about her.
Right now, just about everything felt wrong. Perhaps Atia was challenging her, testing her to prove that she was still the perfect prophet. If that was the case, Epiphany had to be failing. The little squeeze was nice and it brought her back to Wren, where she realized again how easy it was to get caught up in her thoughts when there was no digital interference. “I would welcome it,” She answered. At the very least, she knew that Wren would be more closely aligned to her own life than either of the men ever could be.
Wren stood and got her cards, then came back over. She put them into Epiphany's hand, instructing her to shuffle them, cut them three times, then hand them back. When she did, Wren pulled a small table closer to them so she could lay three cards out before them. She studied them, then spoke. “I will be doing a unique reading, tailored specifically to you. The first card is the Fool, reversed,” she said. “This is life as it stands currently. It represents discord, naivety, getting lost on the path, misguidance.” Her voice was gentle, soft. “I feel it's clear that things are quite stressful for you now, with ideals and feelings abruptly coming to a head in a clash.”
She flipped the second card. “The second is the Moon,” she continued. “I directed it toward your circumstance with Samson and Vaughn. The Moon represents deception or illusion, internal truths that one obfuscates themselves. Not everything is as it seems, and this could apply to one or all of you. Looking inward, paying attention to your dreams, meditations, that will be helpful for you, will see past the carefully constructed illusions. Once you see past these things, it will help with understanding for all.”
The third card was flipped then, and it was not one she was pleased to see in the current circumstance. In fact, she reached out and took the woman's hand again. “Your future is represented with the Chariot, reversed. Things...” she exhaled softly. “Things are going to fall apart, in one way or another. There will be doubt, strife, instability. Your path is not going to be easy, and there will be stumbling points along it.” She was silent for a moment. “I will be here whenever you need me to help guide you further. And just because the immediate road ahead is difficult does not mean that you will not endure and come into harmony once you've traveled it. Just be prepared for a difficult time to come.”
Epiphany did not often wish she could see things when her vision was dark but she did wish she could gaze upon Wren’s cards. They sounded beautiful, the moon most of all, but the reading itself was not what she had hoped she would hear. She was living a discordant life full of deception and illusion, and the only way out was down some vague, horrible path that could uproot her entire being. Epiphany’s face fell, the full weight of her exhaustion bleeding into the darkness under her eyes, into the frown set in her lips, into the slump of her shoulder.
She could not help the words that circled in her mind, The Fool, The Moon, The Chariot, and with each one of them visions circled. If she was The Fool, then Samson was The Moon and Vaughn The Chariot. “I am being punished for my lapse in servitude,” She said, voice quiet, as she began to realize that there was no other logical reason this would be her reading. Atia was displeased.
Wren put her arm around Epiphany, holding her gently as she attempted to soothe her. “Or the illusion is the Temple, what world has been constructed through that lens. You aren't being punished. There are cards that represent such things. They did not appear. You are going through a transition. Transitions are always painful in one way or another. Your world is about to alter, choices made. But it is not because of punishment. Life is transition. When things do not, they stagnate. Life must keep moving forward, learning, evolving. You're on the precipice.” She gave the woman a squeeze. “From what I'm reading, you can either ignore the illusions and not look past, keep your eyes shut to everything, or you can truly see. What you see may not be pleasant but it will be truth.”
“If the illusion is my Temple, what will my life be when I walk away? How do you leave a life of purpose and live in a life of abyss? Where would a prophet go if she has no followers?” She wished she could see Wren’s home instead of just feel it. “How do you cope with the loneliness of losing your Temple?” She asked, not meaning to bring up such awful bits of Wren’s life but the reading frightened her enough to pull her worst fears out into the air between them.
Shaking her head, she turned it away from the sound of Wren’s voice. “I am sorry. I do not mean...If this is difficult to speak on for you, we do not need to continue.”
“Your life may not be an abyss if you leave what you currently consider your purpose. And new purposes arise all the time,” she said. “Followers, if they need someone, find someone else, or they adapt to you.” She fell quiet at the question, but didn't consider not answering. It was important, after all, and she probably had insight on the subject that literally no one else had.
“I am happy to share, should it help,” she said first. “...it is difficult,” she admitted. “I still have people who come to me for guidance, but my entire family is gone. It gets very lonely. I feel lost, I'm aware that I have no...no real place in the world outside. I cannot function in it the way others do. Samson attempted to help me, to connect me to the world, but I...failed. I could not handle it. But it gave me perspective on something else. I am myself, and I am lonely – but happy where I am. I do not wish to leave here, and I will continue to help anyone who needs me. Should followers come to replace those lost, I'm uncertain I would accept them the same way our leader did. I don't demand fealty the way he did. I want what's best for people. I want them to live their lives and be happy. To get through the hard times and come out stronger. I get through the day because I still have things to offer the world, and am more than ready to give it when people arrive in need. It doesn't take an Order, or a Temple to do that.”
Epiphany tried to see the bright side of what Wren was saying but mostly all she heard was that her followers would find another prophet if she decided to leave, or if they deemed her unworthy, The prospect was more frightening than anything Epiphany had contemplated before. Of course, she’d spent her most worrisome times thinking she might not be good enough for her Temple, but the real, true concept that her followers could simply decide they were done with her was horrifying.
What would her life even be like without a following? She had the gift of sight, but without her followers what was she even looking for? She felt pulled in a million different directions and though Wren’s words would surely comfort her later, when she’d had the time to digest them, currently they felt like a death sentence to Epiphany.
Still, Wren had been sweet and kind and Epiphany tried to shift her mind to focus on the woman next to her. “I can see why Samson adores you. You are very wise and very kind, and I am sure you are beautiful.” Someone who cared as much as Wren did had no chance of being ugly.
Wren was intuitive, and knew that Epiphany was still struggling. It was hard to see and she wished she could do more, but she really couldn’t. She’d given the woman an insight into what was to come, and what she did with that information was up to her. When she mentioned Samson, Wren smiled gently. “He is very important to me,” she said. “And I know you are very important to him,” she added. That much was completely obvious. “He cares for you deeply. I believe he would do anything for you. You won’t be alone in anything.” She didn’t sound jealous at all, and she wasn’t. Honestly, she’d sort of thought she might be, especially because she had certain opinions about the Temple and how they conducted themselves, but with the reality here, it wasn’t the same.
Epiphany took another long breath and exhaled. The words were comforting even if, currently, she was still hurt by Samson’s own words. She regripped the mug in her hands and lifted it again to her lips to take a sip, letting the warmth flow through her body. “Thank you,” She said again, unable to smile even though she did truly want to give Wren one. “Would you mind if I sat here for a few moments? I am not sure I can stomach going back outside just yet.” Not just because any movement from this spot meant she had to commit to her fate and actually start acting upon it, but also because it meant she would have to face Samson and Vaughn and she was not sure she could do either of those things just yet.
“You are welcome here,” Wren told her. “Stay as long as you need to, and feel free to return at any time,” she offered, warmth in her tone. “Before too long I’d like to do an updated reading for you,” she added. “To help with whatever comes next.” She gave Epiphany’s shoulder a squeeze, and fell quiet, letting the girl have some time to settle, to think. She’d cater to whatever she wanted or needed, and she hoped she offered some measure of comfort.