gʀɑɦɑɱ ɦɑʆɗɑʀ, ɛรquiʀɛ (businesslike) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-03-11 09:28:00 |
|
|||
It wasn’t every day that someone invited you to their home for coffee and show off their very own coffins, however, if it was going to happen, Orange County was apparently the place for it. Such an invitation may have been off putting to some, but Raistlin Majere owned a morbid curiosity. His personal library was full of books pertaining to the obscure, bizarre and macabre. He understood that not many people shared his fascination for such things, so tonight was something of a treat for him. Raistlin had dinner at his apartment. Tas was out….somewhere, meaning Raistlin was left to fend for himself. He wasn’t nearly the cook Tasslehoff was, but he had been able to turn what he found in their fridge into something not only edible, but rather tasty. He ate alone, read a bit of a new acquisition and waited for the sun to set. He gave it another hour after the last of the sunlight disappeared behind the horizon, before he left the apartment and made his way towards the address Jonathan Harker had given him. It was coming on to eight o’clock in the evening when Raistlin arrived at his destination. When the sun sank below the horizon, that was when Jonathan rose. He tried to ease himself into a ‘normal’ schedule again, wanting to be more available during the daytime hours as he helped get everything situated at the new corporate building Zelda just purchased, ready to be filled with eager energy conglomerate employees - but the nocturnal hours were helpful, still, considering many of their client base and the overseas HQ was located in London. Things would settle, he knew that. It just took time, and he had plenty of that. In preparation for having Raistlin over, he’d stocked up on Turkish coffee and also Turkish dessert - the coffee was best following a meal, and dessert in itself was more a social ritual. Friends congregated to sip from dainty glasses, their beverage accompanied by some kind of roll or pastry. Jonathan had picked a cake made by layering Turkish cream biscuits with a pudding-like filling; many sweet treats from that region were dense and syrupy, so he rather preferred something lighter, found at a Middle Eastern market. Raistlin was right on time. Jonathan opened the door, a Rottweiler with shiny black fur also poking his face around - Felix was getting big, and outgrowing the fat puppy stage which Jonathan mourned a little, but alas. He wasn’t tucked away in the other room, since Raistlin said he didn’t mind pets. “Come in,” the vampire greeted pleasantly, with a smile that briefly bared the sleekness of fangs. The heat had been kicked up a notch prior, to warm the house more (with two vampires, heat and electricity were cut back on a lot, used for the benefit of the spoiled dog, mostly - but those vampires didn’t require much of either, and could see in the dark) and he had a crackle going in the fireplace, with pleasant lighting as opposed to anything garish. Everything about the house was tasteful, and clean, large and spacious. “I’m glad you came over. It’s...we haven’t had a guest in awhile.” Seeing Felix the Rottweiler answer the door with Jonathan elicited one of the rare genuine smiles Raistlin usually reserved for the very few people he considered friends - as well as faithful four legged companions, apparently. Raistlin had always liked dogs in particular. They were trusting, loyal, faithful and without judgment. “Good evening, Harker,” he greeted his host as he stepped inside. “I appreciate you having me over at this hour.” The hour wasn’t too horribly late and might even be considered early “morning” as far as Jonathan was concerned. The heat in the home and the fire in the fireplace both were appreciated. Raistlin was tall, lanky and skinny, meaning he didn’t generate a lot of his own body heat, something that seemed to be getting worse as his Dreams progressed. It was still February in California and while it wasn’t nearly as cold as February in the Midwestern town Raistlin had once called home, it was still chilly enough. Raistlin gave a cursory glance around the house’s entry way, familiarizing himself quickly with his surroundings. Jonathan’s home was elegant and Raistlin may have been a little envious. He had grown accustomed to his cheap falling-apart apartment building. Maybe even fond of its uniqueness, but it wasn’t as if Raistlin pictured himself living there forever. He returned Jonathan’s pleasant smile with a slight one of his own. “Thank you for inviting me,” he said with a polite nod. “It’ll be nice to actually talk without the threat of monsters or carjackers for a change.” Felix sniffed the newcomer curiously, his stump of a tail wagging on his bum. He was a friendly ‘puppy,’ and liked meeting new people and playing with other dogs. But once he’d gotten his kicks in, Jonathan spoke a few words in Romanian - then the pup trotted off, obedient, relocating elsewhere. Since if he was going to take Raistlin down to the basement, it really didn’t need to involve the dog. “Exactly. It’s been quiet for the time being, so I relish that,” he said, shifting his gaze toward his coffee guest - and he tried to remember to blink. It could be unsettling otherwise, though his fiance usually didn’t bother to keep in check how unsettling he truly could be. “Vlad’s at work, so you can meet him some other time. But if you want to see the basement - “ Which sounded ominous, come to think of it, yet was morbidly amusing, “...I can show you? Then make coffee. I’m also not sure how much stock you hold in fortune telling but the Turks tend to do that once the cups are drained. I can always give it a try.” He’d studied up on it, simply because the art of it was fascinating. Raistlin was content letting Felix sniff at him. He had no idea what he smelled like. His apartment perpetually smelled like wet-dog, although both Tas and Raistlin had managed to keep the smell out of their own clothing - thank the gods. There was Hilda the crazy cat lady across the hall, so there may have been a few residual cat hairs on Raistlin’s coat and pants. But other than that he probably didn’t smell of anything too exciting. Once it appeared he’d passed Felix’s sniff test, Raistlin gave him a kind pat on the head and a scratch behind the ears before Jonathan sent him away. Now, to the matter at hand. Raistlin was very eager to see Jonathan’s basement - and yes, he was fully aware of how utterly ominous that sounded, but he was far more interested in what the basement held to really much care. If Jonathan were to make a meal out of him, he’d have done so in their past two encounters. Blue eyes had lit up at the mere mention of the basement, but he tried not to sound too excited as he nodded his head and said. “Yes, I would very much like to see the basement, whenever you are ready.” He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. As a general rule, Raistlin didn’t put much stock in fortune telling. Most real world applications of it seemed like elaborate hoaxes, with a few rare exceptions. That didn’t mean he didn’t find the art absolutely fascinating. “I’ve read a bit about tea leaf reading, but not a lot about the Turkish practise. I’d be interested in seeing it, if you would like to show me.” “I figured you might be,” Jonathan smiled again, he couldn’t help it, because it always pleased him to find like-minded scholars, people who actually enjoyed learning simply for the sake of it - people who broadened their horizons and their minds, essentially. That made him feel like he’d found a kindred spirit. “Come this way, then - it’s a little chilly down there, so we won’t stay long. I also received, from my dreams, a book on vampires - ironic, considering I am one now so I don’t really have use for it. But if you’re interested in it, I will donate it to your personal collection.” He and Vlad had given a few items away, ‘gifts’ they’d received simply because they didn’t need them or they were too ugly to exist - like that skeleton clock Vlad had given to Midna, what even was that. But the book was interesting, at least, and the perfect addition to the library of one who enjoyed all things gothic. Down to the basement they went, and Jonathan pulled the chain on the light bulb at the top of the stairs. He could see just fine, but he didn’t want Raistlin to take a tumble. At the bottom, in the space of the room, there were two coffins - one was rather dirty, made of wood with brass handles, closed, and the other was essentially a stone slab carved to fit a person. It didn’t even have a lid. “The wooden one is Vlad’s,” he said, motioning toward the box. They were both side by side, how romantic. “It took him four sets of dreams to get a coffin and that’s the one he got.” Raistlin pulled his coat a little tighter around his lean frame and buried his gloved hands under his arms as he and Jonathan descended into the basement. He hated the cold more than anything. No matter how tightly he attempted to bundle himself up, it always found a way to cut through and seep into his bones, settling in for a stay long after he’d retreated to someplace warm. However, he was more than willing to put up with any chill in order to see the coffins that Jonathan and Vlad kept tucked away below their home. It was too good an opportunity to pass up. “I am very interested in your book,” Raistlin said as he followed Jonathan down the stairs. “Particularly if it comes directly from your dreams. It would be fascinating to read and would give an interesting perspective of the overall mythos.” Not to mention potentially come in handy someday. “Are you sure you want to part with it?” Cool blue eyes squinted a little bit in the naked overhead light. Basements were often rooms filled with interesting and fascinating things, tucked away underground sometimes forgotten to everyone but time. It was amazing what one could get from simply looking around a person’s basement. This basement, however, held the most fascinating things Raistlin had ever seen. His eyes fell on Vlad’s coffin first. It was simple looking enough, certainly not the coffin one would think belonged to the great Dracula. However, it was quite fitting for the time period it came from, if what Raistlin had read about Victorian burials were true, he was certainly no historical expert on the matter. There was also something elegant about its understated simplicity that Raistlin could appreciate. Also, despite the coffin’s unassuming appearance, Raistlin was a little awestruck by it. Who wouldn’t be if they knew whose coffin it was? He had to resist the urge to run his fingers over the wood and brass, just to feel it for himself. Interestingly enough, Jonathan’s coffin seemed to demand more attention. Lidless and made of stone, it made Raistlin think of the sarcophaguses, often seen in mausoleums of the time Jonathan dreamed of. Stepping up to get a better look at it, a surprising chill ran down Raistlin’s back when he realized the man who had been buried inside was standing directly behind him, life drained from his body and yet still very much living. Raistlin swallowed hard. What had it been like to find this one day in your home? A dark omen reminding you of your own mortality and that death’s eye was squarely upon you. “When did you receive this?” He asked, looking over his shoulder at his host. “Was it before you were changed?” “My change was somewhat gradual,” Jonathan replied, letting Raistlin take in the gothic horror sights - he could even touch if he wanted, Jonathan wouldn’t mind and he didn’t think Vlad would either, if he even noticed. They didn’t spend much time in the basement and obviously slept in their proper bed. “I woke up in kind of a limbo one day, and all that was needed was the final bite to complete everything. I received the coffin the day I woke up as a vampire in transition.” In his, there was also a makeshift pillow but it wasn’t very luxurious considering it was also made of stone, comprised of smooth rocks - but for vampires sleeping in what was a dungeon, in Dracula’s baronial castle, comfort was pretty much secondary. “And I’m completely certain about the book, by the way. I’ll get it when we head upstairs. Consider it an apology gift - I know my first impression was sort of off-putting.” Things had worked out, but he still felt a little guilty about it - Jonathan was what one might call ‘tender-hearted,’ and he probably always would be, even if he hunted to survive on human blood these days. Not quite as bad as being a mortal and having your own coffin appear out of the blue, signaling a type of count down to your own demise, but still… Raistlin looked from Jonathan back to the coffin, letting his eyes move over it, taking it in in a new kind of light. There was a different kind of chill in the basement now. His desire to touch either coffin was gone. Doing so felt like a kind of intrusion on something very personal that, in a way, represented a significant change that Jonathan had not asked for and Raistlin doubted had wanted. Jonathan mentioning the book again drew Raistlin’s attention once more. One brow arched a little. He shook his head and chuckled faintly. “You don’t really have anything to apologize for. If you had actually bitten me that’d be a different matter. Besides, you helped prevent me from having to fry a man the other night, so I would say that made up for any off-putting introductions. However,” he shrugged narrow shoulders, “If it makes you feel better giving me the book, I won’t deny you that.” He smirked faintly. “That’s kind of you,” Jonathan laughed, a quiet sound that rumbled in his throat. He motioned toward the stairs, heading that way - there was no reason to linger, not when the promise of hot coffee awaited. The type of chill in a basement which housed coffins was the kind that could very easily linger even down to the marrow. “You are building somewhat of a collection anyway, aren’t you? With magic books and the like?” He climbed the staircase, holding up a finger to indicate that Raistlin should wait a moment - then in a movement that was far too quick for any human to really catch, he was gone and back with the book, which he handed over. It wasn’t some large, leather-bound tome - but rather, it was small, a paperback that was hardier than it looked, the actual pages thick and worn. The black scrawl warned about the first Nosferatu, born in 1443. That name rings like the cry of a bird of prey. Never speak it aloud... “It’s in German, sorry to say,” he added. “So a translator might be required. I can give it a shot, since Vlad’s been teaching me a little. Unless you know of anyone else who speaks German.” Raistlin moved to follow Jonathan up the stairs, pausing when the man indicated. In blink of an eye the promised book was in his hand. Raistlin had read that vampires were fast, but seeing it in action - or not seeing it as the case was - was still startling. Raistlin turned his attention to the book, turning it over in his hands. It wasn’t anything fancy, but that didn’t bother him at all. Not all the books in his collection were large, elegant or bound in leather. Some of his favorites and the ones he’d gotten the most enjoyment and knowledge from had been non-descript paperbacks he’d found through second-hand sellers. This book, however plain it may have appeared, held something special. Not only had it come from the dreams, but it had been carried by someone who had as much reverence and care for it as Raistlin had for his spellbook. He ran a gloved hand over the cover once before opening it and looking at the pages. It was indeed in German. Raistlin had taken a few German classes in school when it became apparent to him that science was going to be his path. He knew enough that if he had been plopped down in the middle of a German town he could find a hotel, the police station, the nearest university, a bar, and the bathroom, which was fine for a tourist, but not that great for translating a book on vampires. He smiled in the pale light from the basement bulb. “It’ll be fine,” he told Jonathan. “It will give me a reason to learn a little more German in my spare time.” He looked up at Jonathan with that rare smile he’d given Felix the dog earlier. “Thank you.” Felix the dog was likely asleep in his bed, crafted of the finest materials (he was honestly so spoiled, both Vlad and Jonathan knew it) but that smile was returned by the vampire, who bared his fangs for a moment - they were visible when he smiled widely, which was why he tended to favor close-lipped expressions. It unnerved people otherwise, but there was no need to worry about that now. Raistlin knew what he was. “Quite welcome,” Jonathan nodded, pleased that his friend seemed to like the book so much. Honestly, if it could be useful to someone else, and given a good home, then all the better. “Now, about that coffee...” It didn’t take long to prepare, as a general rule. They could leave the basement behind - the kitchen was much warmer. The special Turkish coffee pot was called a cezve, small and made of copper with a wooden handle. He poured the water first and foremost, adding sugar, where it would boil - then the coffee was added, where that too would boil for about three minutes. “The grinds settle to the bottom but you don’t drink those,” he instructed. “Because they’re the ones used to tell fortunes.” The cups themselves were also small, and made of thin porcelain - that was so the brew would stay hot, which was obviously important. “Perhaps something interesting will be in store for you.” Raistlin didn’t mind the fangs at all, although he could appreciate Jonathan’s desire to not want to display them openly. The fact that he did so with Raistlin was actually rather comforting. It was rare that people felt so at ease with him, both in this world and on Krynn. He wondered if the Raistlin of Krynn had known people like Jonathan Harker and Isabela, had had people so accepting of him from the start, if he wouldn’t have turned out differently. He had to believe that he would have. He had a seat as Jonathan prepared the coffee. Coffins, a book on vampires and now delicious Turkish coffee. If Raistlin didn’t know any better, he’d say it was Christmas all over again. He watched with keen interest as Jonathan went about the routine of brewing and serving. He never would have thought of drinking the grounds. “Do people actually drink the grounds?” He really didn’t put too much stock in fortune telling aside from its fascinating history and techniques, however, he was a mage and he’d be foolish to think that in a place like Orange County, there wouldn’t be at least a little merit in the practice. He was uneasy about what the grounds might tell him was in store for his future. He covered up his unease with a chuckle he hoped was convincing. “I don’t need the coffee grounds to tell me something interesting is in store,” he said with a half shrug. “Living here guarantees it, wouldn’t you agree?” “They’re supposed to be ground very finely, so the texture is kind of velvety,” Jonathan explained. “Like cocoa powder. So people drink them occasionally, I imagine, but like I said - they’re meant more for the fortune-telling. And true enough, I suppose something interesting is always on the horizon - we’ll see what the remains show us.” He let the coffee boil and went to the fridge to remove the cake he’d gotten earlier, and slice into it. If his mother were here she’d insist on an extra large slice for Raistlin, since he looked too thin - but Mrs. Harker was just doting in that way; Jonathan was too, really, he had a lot of his mother’s quirks. Which was why he cut a healthy slice and put it on a plate. Delicious. The coffee then went into the small cups, poured right from the pot on the stove. A keen sense of smell helped be able to brew the perfect cup of Turkish coffee as well - Jonathan knew right when to take it off the burner. “Here, let me know what you think,” he encouraged, since he knew this was Raistlin’s first time with the Turkish variety. Ahh, people drinking the grounds if they were ground into something resembling more of a powder made a great deal more sense and Raistlin nodded his understanding. “I see what you mean.” Raistlin raised a brow at the slice of cake placed in front of him. It wasn’t gigantic, but it was larger than a slice Raistlin would have cut for himself. He understood that neither Jonathan or his partner needed food to survive and that the cake ran the risk of spoiling if left, but Raistlin really didn’t need a slice quite so ...generous. The size of the slice also reminded him a little of the days his grandmother came to visit. Usually around the holidays. “Raistlin, dear, look at you! You’re so thin! You should eat more! If you ate more, you’d catch up to your brother.” And then she’d give him a large slice of ham or the big turkey leg to rival what his twin had taken and scold him when he was unable to finish it. “Raistlin! It’s rude not to finish your meal! There are starving children in Africa, you know.” As if Raistlin finishing what was on his plate had any bearing on what children on an entirely different continent were eating, or not eating. But, that was what he was hearing as he started to eat the cake. He didn’t want to offend Jonathan, especially after the man had shown him his coffins and given him an exceptional book. It was delicious, though. Maybe Jonathan wouldn’t mind if Raistlin wrapped it up and took it home for later. Then came the coffee and Raistlin could turn his attention from his generous slice of cake to something else. He eagerly picked up the small cup to try it. It was a lot stronger than American coffee. A lot more robust and with a flavor Raistlin wouldn’t mind switching too on a more permanent basis if not for the special way it seemed to be brewed. “It’s very good,” he told Jonathan appreciatively after he had taken two or three sips. “I like it quite a bit, actually. Thank you, very much, Harker.” Raistlin needn’t worry - Jonathan wasn’t going to sit there and watch him consume coffee, or indulge in a huge slice of cake all by his lonesome. Oh, no (plus, it was somewhat creepy to just watch someone eat - Vlad would do it whenever he cooked for his human paramour, then, and it was just strange). The lawyer had his own of both, and he settled at the table to enjoy his own evening snack. He also wouldn’t mind if Raistlin wanted to bring the cake home with him - better it go to people who would finish it, than not. “Oh, you’re welcome. I’m glad you like it,” he responded easily. “I’m sort of excited to have the real deal in Istanbul. Vlad and I are planning a vacation, traveling Europe, for a few weeks starting this month. We’ve been planning it for awhile, actually. Turkey’s on our list of places to stop in.” Where Vlad would probably...dine. Jonathan couldn’t imagine the likes of him leaving Turkey without having the last word, even if no one knew it but them. “That should be interesting for you both,” Raistlin said with a small grin. “Especially now with all that you know and have experienced.” He sipped his coffee thoughtfully and wondered what logistics and special arrangements were needed by a vampire to travel. What sorts of challenges presented to them that didn’t to the average tourist? There was the issue of taking earth from the homeland with them, perhaps? And of course it might be better for them to travel by night. Things that, had they still been living in Victorian times might prove to be more than a little challenging. Now, though, in the 21st Century with travel was more convenient than it ever had been, what may have been large hurdles for a traveling vampire hundreds of years ago, might today only be mild annoyances. There was also the ever pressing issue of food. The convenience of modern day travel didn’t entirely account for that. “If you don’t mind my asking,” Raistlin started, “what sort of arrangements have you and Vlad had to make for your trip? Do you have specific destinations in mind?” “An overnight flight, obviously,” Jonathan replied. “We’ll be gone about three weeks, and are starting in London to visit his parents - the rest of the traveling will be done by train, most likely.” Or via Chunnel, as was the case from the UK to France - he’d done that a few times while studying abroad, during his undergraduate days; traveling in Europe was a relatively simple thing, luckily. Not like the States, where it took a whole day to cross the ginormous country just because of layovers. “Paris, Vienna, a few cities in Germany, and Eastern Europe - we will be visiting his grandparents in rural Romania as well, and also Braşov.” Most notably, Bran Castle. It would be so strange, to put it lightly. But Jonathan needed to, just as he needed to visit Whitby - for the closure, for the assurance that he’d put that life behind him. To show Vlad that he was not going to end up alone in this existence, a broken creature who turned into a monster. As for the other arrangements, he chuckled a little, taking coffee sips. “It’s a bit difficult to smuggle soil through customs but I’ll manage - we need it, to be able to rest. Then we just have to hope that the superstitious people of rural Romania don’t come at us with garlic and crosses.” It was such a beautiful place though, he was looking forward to it - those parts of the country were unspoiled by technology and the urban way of life, for the most part. You’d be more apt to find cows than cars. “I’ve always wanted to travel by train,” Raistlin said thoughtfully. He continued to sip his coffee, enjoying it more and more, as Jonathan spoke. The cup was considerably smaller than mugs used for American brew, and it wasn’t too long before Raistlin had finished. “In America train travel just isn’t feasible,” he said as he set his cup down. He was enjoying their conversation a little too much to interrupt it to ask if Jonathan cared to attempt to read his fortune. That could wait until after their current conversation had concluded.. “Well,” he said after a moment of consideration. “I suppose if the nation decided to invest in the high powered bullet trains they have in Europe, train travel could be more feasible. Unfortunately I don’t know much about the logistics that would mean. I have no idea whether or not the interior structure of our current train system would support a network of bullet trains. That would fall under the realm of civil engineering, not my expertise.” Not even close. “I’ve always wanted to go to abroad,” he said with a faint, but wistful smile, “but I’ve never been off the continent. My senior year of high school, we went to Toronto for a week with our class. That is about as far as my traveling experience goes. That, and of course, moving here from the midwest.” Of all the places Jonathan had listed on his and Vlad’s itinerary, Romania was the one that held the most fascination for Raistlin. A country steeped in tradition and lore. He would love to go and experience it for himself if the opportunity ever presented itself. He gave Jonathan a bit of a smirk. “Is it likely that the local superstitious population will be tossing garlic and crosses at you?” He asked playfully. “An odd custom, but, as I said, I’ve not been traveling to those areas, so I wouldn’t know better.” Of course he knew what Jonathan meant. Two vampires roaming around Romania, perhaps at night, visiting castles? Any individual raised on folklore would lift a brow. Despite his teasing, Raistlin hoped both Jonathan and Vlad would be able to avoid any unpleasantness. “Somewhat likely,” Jonathan had to laugh though, because it was just so absurd. Even so. He and Vlad did look - well, they looked like vampires. Features that were all edges and ice, pale - at least Jonathan had more of an olive undertone to the pallor, considering he’d been darker-skinned before he changed; his ancestry was Anglo-Indian, genetics must have played a part there. And he was convinced that superstitious people just sensed things - a very faint otherworldly perception, perhaps, due to being so conditioned to the ideas of the supernatural. They’d have to wait and see. He drained his coffee cup, glancing down to observe the grains, the porcelain streaked with the remnants. “You’ll have to make a point to travel someday,” he informed Raistlin. “It’s refreshing for the soul. Now, here, let’s see if a trip somewhere is in your future - because it very well may be.” Being a man of sharp, angular features, thin and pale with a head of red hair, Raistlin understood that one’s looks could often put people off (even if Isabela stated that she had liked his cheekbones). The sleepy little suburb Raistlin had grown up in wasn’t full of superstitious people, but his peers had often avoided him due to looks alone. Or worse, the attention he did receive was at times negative. Children could be cruel in their blunt, truthful observances. This was made all the more confusing and infuriating when his twin brother, who sported the same pale features and red hair, but had actual meat on his bones seemed to attract people to him as if they were bees and Caramon bled honey. Not that any of that mattered to Raistlin now, but the memory was still quite clear and he could sympathize with Jonathan in that regard. The man did look the role he had been cast in. There was also something distinctly Old World about him as well, which Raistlin appreciated greatly. “I do intend to travel eventually,” Raistlin stated. “Sooner rather than later and while I’m still young enough to enjoy it. I was thinking maybe after I’ve settled here a bit more, learned a bit more about this place and the people in it.” Specifically his fellow magic wielders. Raistlin had every intention of learning everything anyone was willing to teach him. He craned his neck to peer into the cup Jonathan held. Curiosity and interest plain on his face. “What do you see?” He asked. “Well, for yours, let’s give it a look...” Long fingers gently grasped Raistlin’s cup and he drummed lightly on the side; you weren’t supposed to read your own cup, unless you were practicing. And not like Jonathan had done this often, but he’d researched - it was certainly quite a thing in Turkey, so it was also appreciation for the culture. First he turned the cup on its saucer to ‘seal’ it, to move the remains of the coffee all in the cup and spread it around. “Start at the handle and move from right to left,” he instructed, in case Raistlin wanted to do this again later - he doubted it, but you never knew. “It’s divided into sections - present, future, wealth matters, or love, things like that. But to see these here, in the right side?” He showed Raistlin, lifting an eyebrow. “It’s a claw, that means an appearance of an enemy who will be around. The symbol of the devil here - “ Curiously, he swooped a fingertip around the shape, not touching it, but simply pointing it out, “...it means upcoming danger, which sort of coincides with the claw. However, on this other side, there’s the symbol of a dog. That means true friendship.” Raistlin nodded his head, pleased Jonathan decided to explain how he read and interpreted the coffee grounds. However, his interest soon turned to something far more foreboding as he heard what Jonathan said. He wasn’t sure if Dreams played any part in the fortune Jonathan was telling, though he didn’t need the grounds to know that things back in Krynn were bleak and that death was inevitable. He supposed it was possible the grounds were attempting to warn him of such, especially since it was likely the dreams would eventually bleed over into his waking life. They had already done so with Tas on more than one occasion. “True friendship”, however, threw him. Raistlin of Krynn had no friends. The Raistlin of Orange County, however, did. A frown pulled the corners of his mouth down in a scowl of concern. Friendship in addition to the appearance of an enemy and danger made him think of what he and Regina had spoken about a few weeks prior. A bitter cold settled into his bones. “The dark curse,” he murmured, more to himself than to Jonathan. There may just be something to fortune telling after all. He leaned forward to level an intense gaze at his companion. “What does it mean, Harker? Can you tell me that?” Jonathan squinted, as if his own intense gaze and sheer will could force the answers to come forth. “Death,” was his response, and in conjunction with the other symbols what looked to be a coffin etched onto the porcelain was very obvious to his olive eyes. “Someone is...” Well, that was a downer, wasn’t it? Yet of course the nature of reading fortunes didn’t mean that you got exact answers. Just inklings, rather. And it was frustrating, as you turned your mind inside out trying to decipher what everything truly meant. “I’m not sure who. Someone you know, clearly, or else it wouldn’t be appearing in your fortune.” Not like they could do much about it but keep alert, focused, and also keep ears to the ground. Raistlin’s heart clenched and dropped into the cold pit his stomach had turned into. Any appetite he may have had for the cake vanished. He didn’t want to hear anymore, but at the same time was desperate to know who. Tas. Isabela. Regina. Jonathan himself. Raistlin’s breath caught hard in his throat. His mind was consumed by the possibilities. Regina had told him very little about the dark curse. Only that it possessed a person and bestowed upon them a great, dark and powerful magic and that it had come before. Despite his questions, she had not given him many details and he’d had to trust that she and hers were working on the looming problem. He’d had to trust her on that if he wanted her trust in return. He tried telling himself that it was only a fortune reading, that he didn’t beleive in any of this, but he was lying to himself. Jonathan’s fortune struck much too close to home to take any comfort in the fact that he didn’t believe. Of course he believed, otherwise he’d be laughing this off as pure fantasy. Raistlin inhaled sharply through his nose and steadied his mind as well as his hands. “Is there anymore?” He asked in low voice. Anything, anything at all the grounds could tell him could prove to be vital. “No...I’m sorry, not that I can make out,” Jonathan frowned, an edge of a huff in his tone. This was probably why fortune-tellers here, and divination experts, didn’t really promise that their gifts would be the end-all. Because there was just no way. And he wasn’t even an expert, he had simply studied the art of the whole process because he was curious and found the culture intriguing. “Maybe you could ask someone else who is good in divination about it? Potentially, they’d see something I wouldn’t.” There were multiple ways to go about foretelling the future - the hints and whispers in coffee grounds were merely one method but there were crystal balls, there was scrying, even a turn of the tarot cards. “But then again, just remember that the future isn’t set in stone,” he added. Not to mention, they weren’t supposed to know too much about it either - that was dangerous, and really no way to live. “And if I can do anything, at any time, let me know.” “I may not know until it’s too late,” Raistlin murmured more to himself than to Jonathan. He was looking at the coffee grounds hard, committing their pattern to memory. He hadn’t met anyone who had claimed to be good at divination yet, but he hardly knew everyone associated with the network, and there might be others offline he might be able to turn to for further insight. If he could glean even the smallest bit of information to help Regina and her inner circle, her family, then he would. He had long decided he would do whatever it took to protect those he considered friends. Was this what loyalty was? What an odd and unfamiliar, but driving feeling. He lifted his eyes from the grounds. “Right,” he said after a moment. “The future is what we make of it.” He sat back in his seat. “I am sorry that my fortune put a damper on our evening, Jonathan.” “Not at all,” Jonathan waved off those concerns. “I’m sorry I didn’t just see an abundance of wealth in those shapes,” he smiled ruefully. But it would work out - somehow. He, personally, had experienced a lot of hardship that seemed to fall in a domino chain since moving here, and yet he still wouldn’t have traded this extraordinary life for anything. Now to just face whatever the next wave of darkness brought, but the light would peek out again after that too. It always did. |