InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "we're not were its not it's"

ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇss ᴏғ ᴘʀᴇsᴛɪᴅɪɢɪᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ (cigam) wrote in valarlogs,
@ 2016-05-26 17:36:00

Entry tags:

!complete, megara, zatanna zatara

Who: Zatanna & Megara
What: Cousins meeting for lunch and tarot
When: Today, Thursday
Where: A low-key place with gyros
Rating/Warnings: Just gals being gals
Status: Complete

The location of this lunch date was low-key, and Zee wasn’t surprised that Meg had picked it - suited her personality, really, and after what felt like an endless morning it was where the Princess of Prestidigitation arrived for something of a pick-me-up. Typical Afghan fare she could appreciate, kebabs and wraps and things, and she also liked the mom and pop feel to the place. Attentive staff who would gladly make recommendations, but wouldn’t hover at all. She ordered a gyro with grilled veggies (despite those recommendations to try the lamb, no thanks) and, since she was determined to go back to work in a food coma added a side of the Bolani to share - fried flatbread stuffed with potatoes and spices.

You needed carbs, you needed fortification, when talking about the nuances of Valarnet. Maybe it seemed silly, but it would all make sense soon enough.

Now sipping her cup of tea, Zatanna waited at a table facing the door, to see when Meg came in. The wall art could only hold her attention for so long, as lovely as it was. Her tarot cards were also in a velvet drawstring bag beside her, and it wasn’t unheard of to bring them with her for a reading. She wouldn’t dream of using these as coasters though - they were the old, antique set given to her by her father’s best friend, her ‘uncle’ who taught her everything she knew about dipping into the intricate tapestries of divination and prophecies. A personal relic of sorts, something she would never part with.

Crowds were annoying, and while this place did well with business, it wasn’t always jam-packed to the rim and overflowing with a gluttonous crowd. Megara liked the peace of it - sometimes a woman needed quiet after being subjected to an entire day of angry hollering. Or being fired, which sometimes could accompany it depending on how bitter the urine in Hades’ cheerios was. Give or take.

Even if Zatanna hadn’t been so close the door, she was still easy to identify - her look was distinct, exotic, something that ran in their Mediterranean blood. Not to mention she would, of course, be the only one who’d bring tarot to a lunch table. “Hope you weren’t waiting too long, excuse my couple minutes of tardiness,” she chuckled, pushing the set of sunglasses atop her head. This place had incredible goat meat, which is what she ordered in her gyro when the waitress came to greet. Meg was a regular and it showed. A little. “It’s good to see you in a more controlled setting. Less embarrassing bouts of nostalgia being told around us.”

When she thought back to the events of the weekend, Zatanna’s mind still reeled - it was like a carnival ride in there, considering everything, how long it had been since she’d seen her circus kin. And then knowing they were here to watch her perform - normally she thrived on the glitz and glamour on the stage, beneath bright, hot lights, but that was the first time in awhile she’d been nervous. After all, she’d wanted to make those who taught her proud.

No need to worry though, they were every bit as fun as she remembered. She was glad to see them again, and sad to watch them go. But it had been a pleasant reunion.

“I’ve missed those embarrassing bouts of nostalgia,” she grinned, nudging the plate of Bolani toward Meg. “I suppose I’ve been so caught up in everything here that I’ve let the memories gather dust but it was nice to dredge them up again. Now, here...”

The velvet bag opened, and she took out the cards to give them a good shuffle. “Explaining the network goes hand in hand with explaining how my divination tends to be mind-numbingly accurate these days.” Getting back into reading the cards after predicting death - twice - and watching it unfold, powerless, was quite the feat but this was a part of her. Something she loved - Zee doubted she could ever fully give it up anyway.

Ughhhhhhhh. Someone was determined to make sure the both of them would return to work ready to snooze on their desks. Fine, fine, Megara would take one stuffed flatbread - one - and she smeared a dollop of that plain yogurt on the side. “You’re going to make me fat,” she said around a mouthful of bites, because this and the entree (she’d gotten a cucumber salad on the side with it, at least) was going to make her uncomfortably bloated.

It was washed down with a gulp of ice water, and as Zatanna unleashed the the weapons of fortune telling, she crossed her legs beneath the table. Today it was a casual attire, still with a dash of professionalism - pixie pants with sandal wedges, and a quarter-sleeved blazer made of thin material over a blouse with a plunging neckline. Sometimes a little bend over for a peek of chest mounds helped when it came to dealing with men in her line of work; she was never above using a dash of teasing seduction to get her way.

“But go on, butter me up with your mind-numbing accuracy,” she chuckled. Meg had belief founded in the art of tarot. Maybe it was all psychology and only a little intuition, but the ones telling fortune beneath those old, homey tents had always shed some truth. Her elbow propped onto the back of her chair. “I can take ominous death foreshadowing as long as you buy me a couple sex on the beaches. The martinis, I mean. It’s not a request for escorts.”

“I’d buy you a couple regardless - the drinks, not the escorts. I could certainly use the drinks,” Zatanna quipped, and sex on the beach wouldn’t be bad either (sans the escort part). She missed Stephen, but hoped he was happy on the east coast - still, his leaving left her heart a little tender and bruised, so she’d just surround herself with good things and good people.

Slender, agile hands laid out the cards - not too many, certainly nothing as complicated as a Celtic Cross spread. “Quick and dirty, three-card spread,” she promised instead, waving those magic fingers over the layout to absorb the energy, to get a feel for it and let it warm her skin. First one turned over...

“Oh, the effigy of a Knight in prayer, the Four of Swords...” Her voice sounded grave. “It means I’m going to make you fat.” Just kidding, just kidding - she couldn’t help the smoky chuckle, and the spark of mischief in the brightness of her blue-violet gaze. “No, it simply means your general environment as of now, which is one of a hermit’s exile. The second card...the Nine of Cups here, it’s your present. Truth, good business, and loyalty.”

For the last card, maybe she’d let Meg interpret her own. Zatanna flipped it over with a flourish. “Ten of Pentacles.” Hmmmm, how fascinating!

Hah. Hah. A prophecy in the making, then, considering Megara caved and reached for a second fold of Bolani to munch on. “You know what they thought in the good ol’ days - fatness equates to happiness.” Alright, she’d splurge a bit. It wasn’t as if she was a sloth on the couch; the movie business was very go go go, sometimes meals were skipped and walking in uncomfortable shoes for what felt like miles happened. Plus the aerial hoop fitness (it wasn’t too high off the ground that it’d send her hyperventilating) she did at home, it’d all burn off somehow.

The cards held her attention, and with every flip there’d be a spike in memory - the patterns in the meanings, how the cups were tied to water and emotion, the pentacles to earth and money. Ten of Pentacles always had a wholesome meaning, didn’t it? Fulfillment and accomplishment, usually depicted with a man enjoying the fruits of his labor with his family.

“Wishful thinking has me hope that card means I’ll be winning the lottery soon,” she snorted softly, amused but also...perplexed, because that wasn’t what it meant - gut instinct told her that much. “I take it this is supposed to be my future.”

“Supposed to be, but the cards are only one potential path, as you know,” Zatanna stated. She traced the shape of the Ten of Pentacles - an aged, wise man sitting comfortably and surrounded by that which he loved. “Fate is not straightforward like the cut of a blade, it’s instead a myriad of paths that split off like when a hammer cracks ice - though I won’t give up hope that perhaps you really will win the lottery,” she laughed.

It could be fulfillment in terms of tangible riches, or fulfillment otherwise - the type that being around people close to you brought; there were a few possibilities and either way, seeing the card for the future was a good sign.

Their food arrived then, and Zee made some space on the table to set down those gyros. Which meant the tarot cards went back into their proper home. “But things seem to be going well for you, yes? A bright future regardless?”

By tomorrow the cards could change and foretell a path to complete shit, but Megara wouldn’t get too caught up in it - things were well now. Better than what they used to be, even if there was a part of her still picking up the pieces of a wasted relationship. All that time she invested, the love and patience that was merely toyed with, it’d taken an exhausting toll and successfully brought her to the point of ‘no fucks to give.’ It was why she kept most people at a safe distance - it was kind of amazing (in a completely bullshit way) how the ones closest to you could hurt you the most. And would, without a care sometimes.

“I can’t complain,” she admitted, stabbing a chunks of feta cheese in her salad with the trusty fork. “I’ve got a gig with a movie director. Not the - no, not stage entertainment for me. Personal assistant, he’s a trip.” That was said with as much amusement as her full-bodied voice could expel; robust and husky, with that charmingly sarcastic drawl. In all truth, Hades wasn’t awful to work with. Difficult, yes. But by now she’d mastered the art of maneuvering away from those vocal explosions of anger, and nudging him out of situations where he could lose his shit. It was a well-kept balance. “At least with him I get regularly scheduled maintenance on my feet and hands? He wants me to bring you to lunch, though, so I’ll make sure to drag you along on one of his good days.”

Well, no, regularly scheduled maintenance on the feet and hands didn’t sound like a bad gig at all - color Zatanna impressed. “I’d be happy to, and I’m already looking forward to meeting him,” she smiled, adding a little more cucumber yogurt sauce (more like drenching, really, but this stuff was delicious) to her plate. “Must be long hours though?” Which was probably the drawback, but show business was a whole other world - she knew that well, and tended to thrive best on the stage. Making movies was a whole other matter, however. A lot of blood, sweat, and tears went into that.

“Sometimes we just end up in places we never thought we’d be, no?” she mused. “I’ve got...well, it’s a government job. Occult Investigation. Very much tied to the, hmm, intricacies of that network you recently joined.” Was it too late to add a glass of wine to go with lunch?

Long hours, but that was fine. There wasn’t much of a social circle to nourish. It wasn’t often that she went out, but sometimes she felt the need to break out of her self-imposed shell of steel. Timidness didn’t exist in Megara - she just wasn’t much of a personable peach that smiled and twirled her hair and went ‘tee hee’ to sucker up a group of friends. She was dry, and very cynical.

“I don’t mind it - keeps me busy when I don’t have much else going on, but you and investigating the occult? The only surprising part of that revelation is the government part,” she continued, intrigued. Well, she knew some strange things that happened that was blamed on the movie industry playing a ‘prank.’ Massive eight-legged freaks, the Storm Troopers. Meg was ‘in the know’ to actually know that wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t a problem to cared to worry about. “What, is this a ‘Men in Black’ sort of thing? Look into the red light, blink, forget that aliens exist?”

“Unfortunately, forgetting probably won’t happen.” Her tone was wry, and cynical in the sense that it matched her deadpanning cousin’s - yet Zee couldn’t help the drop of amusement, siiiiigh. Oh, Orange County. Maybe there were plenty of things she wished she could forget, yet knew that it wouldn’t be doing her any favors in the long run. Even the trying times had shaped her into who she was today - and she wasn’t all that bad, all things considered.

An olive was rescued from her gyro, and she popped it into her mouth - letting herself actually swallow before continuing. Talking with one’s mouth full, especially with family around, was a little rude. “It’s more like a...’be open to the idea of past lives, and eventually you will begin to see yours in dreams’ sort of thing. The other oddities tend to be unique to Orange County - a quirk of our reality, I suppose - but there’s also a lot of bleed-over from the past to the present, shall we say.”

Uh-huh. It was time to work with the goat-meaty gyro, carefully, to not make the entire experience of putting it in her mouth so messy (no dirty comments from the peanut gallery, perverts). Zatanna’s explanation had more coherence than the internet stranger’s frazzled explanation. Meg would chalk it up to lame attempts of catfishing or disillusion when it came to others, but this particular cousin had always been known for having a good head on her shoulders - better judgment than most, and someone she knew she could trust.

Still, taking her statement as literal truth was a very wide leap of faith to take. “You’re not the first person I’ve heard that from.” Her brows may have flared with some skepticism, but skepticism was always healthy. “I’ll keep that in mind? I’ve been browsing through the network, past through all those annoying nonsensical one-liners for attention whoring - it’s kind of like what I hear most of Facebook is.” Write something vague, get attention, milk it, profit. “But if that’s what’s actually going on, I’ll try to keep the snark to an absolute minimum. ‘Tsk’ at me if I get out of line, will you?”

She didn’t expect Meg to believe everything right away - most people didn’t. Even Zatanna herself had been skeptical, despite experiencing the dreams for herself. They were a lot to take in, and a lot to deal with. “Everyone reacts in different ways and everyone comes around to believing in their own time,” she assured - so of course she wasn’t expecting anything, or demanding that Meg take these words as absolute truth right now. Trying to stop her cousin from snarking was like keeping wild, exotic birds caged - but she would nudge about dialing it down a little, if necessary. There were ways to say things.

“I do read the network, but a lot of it is - “ Zee waved a hand, unsure how to describe the general ‘climate’ of that forum, “...fluff? But I do try to help others when I can, if it’s something I can assist with. My magic is...” Her rose-colored mouth twisted in a half smile. “It’s more real than the tricks we learned, when we were kids. I’ll give you a proper demonstration sometime.”

And perhaps that would help with convincing her too; Zatanna didn’t want it to be something drastic which tipped Meg into believing.

Maybe she’d veil it with such heavy sarcasm her comments could look sincere - Meg could try it out, even for her own amusement. Though now it shed a dim light of concern; Hazel and Nico were on the damn thing too, who knows what they could be experiencing. Hades hadn’t said anything of the sort to her, and he usually told her most things (to help keep the hectic tornado of his busy life in order).

Hm. Note to self: text him after this.

Her gyro was missing a little extra tzatziki sauce - she scooped some on her fork and kind of dug it in, trying to spread it around. “You can pull me out of a hat if you want, but don’t mess the hair up too much when you do,” Megara roguishly grinned. “Maybe the boss might hire you for some special effects help - he’s hellbent on getting an Oscar for this film. It’s about witchcraft, he’s trying to give it that old, arcane sort of feel.”

That’d be one hell of a demonstration, wouldn’t it?

“Really?” Zatanna grinned widely. “That’s fantastic. Nothing more authentic than a little bit of real witchcraft, right?” The type of magic, her mother’s magic (Sindella, a woman she barely remembered in the dreams but still wished to forge a connection with somehow anyway - she was unfortunately sentimental sometimes), was old and powerful - it had endured through the generations, and was like a crackling buzz over the skin, a warmth in the veins. Very much a soothing blanket she was comforted by, and quite attached to - if she suddenly had to give it back for some reason, she simply wouldn’t feel right. Not at all.

She winked across the table, cheekily. “See if you can put in a good word for me, then. It’s all about who you know in the business, or so I hear. Maybe I’d even get my name in the film’s closing credits.”

Oh, judging from the hyena-cackle Hades busted out in when he’d found out was raised with circus folk, it wouldn’t take much convincing to schedule something between the three of them. He’d already wanted to.

“Anyway, enough of my non-exciting life - what about yours?” Meg had teased her about having her ‘shit together’ but it seemed true - Zatanna had made herself a cozy home here with roots. Magician shows, a government job to help with...whatever paranormalities graced this place with. Not to mention the title of ‘godmother,’ which meant a lot of dirty diapers and babysitting was possibly in her future. No need to consult the cards to come to that conclusion. “The niece, the godchild, anyone else in the picture I should know about?”

The dirty diapers were par the course, and Zee would just keep getting better and better at them - she’d gotten to change a couple already, and also had some Amelia snuggles which just made the whole world seem not as terrible. How could it be, not when there was a cooing infant in your arms, a tiny little human who smelled like baby powder and sugary clouds.

It was a little different with Raven, obviously, since...she was grown. And seventeen, and really wanted nothing at all to do with her aunt on most occasions. Zatanna was determined to be there for family, but it was slow-going, and even the slightest expression of affection had Raven stuttering and seizing. “No one else, really,” her smile turned a little sad, as she sipped on the tea refill.

Seemed like Orange County Zatanna was cursed in the relationship department, much like the version in Gotham had. And she’d dated a lot too, definitely did her share of comparison shopping.

“I had someone, but he moved away. I suppose he just really wasn’t all too happy here, so I’d never hold him back. I might wait a bit before trying to get back into the saddle again though.”

Taking a break up with the grace of a swan, how typical. Guess amicable ends of relationships did happen, and while Zee wasn’t the type to sit in front of a television, gorging on ice cream because woeeeee he leeeeeeft, the heart must be sore - naturally so. Meg could detect hint of melancholy in that smile. “With the way you described this place, it doesn’t seem like it’s everyone’s cup of tea,” she said. “You can focus on you. It’s not a bad thing. Whenever you do climb on that saddle and mount the sap like a sexy bull rider, they’d be lucky to have you - and the cousin bias is talking only a bit.”

She even winked, encouragingly. As jaded as she was about that entire department of personal affairs, Megara had hope for others. Successful relationships did a exist, but it was only one slice of the cake known as life. It’d taken time out of an emotionally poisonous relationship to realize that.

“No, being here - it’s not everyone’s cup of tea,” Zatanna shook her head. “People feel compelled to come for one reason or another, and most of the time they stay. But sometimes they leave and it’s understandable.” Either they felt like they got all they could possibly get from the area, or it was simply time to let the wind blow them in a different direction - those sorts of things happened, life happened, and she would always just advocate for her loved ones to do whatever they felt was best.

Meg’s remarks made her laugh though. “Eloquent,” she teased. “That goes for you too, whenever you are ready for anything. Now, hmm...” No consultations of the dessert menu required; she was familiar with Afghan fare, and cooked enough of it. “How about some fudge to take back with you?” It was the cardamom that really did it. And the pistachios.

“Ugh.” Really, it was Megara’s slogan. That expression of complete and utter disdain. “See, you weren’t kidding, were you - you’re turning me into a beached whale.”

That wasn’t exactly a no, either. Zatanna knew she’d give in, the foul temptress with the taunting of sweets. But if she was going to splurge and poke a new notch in her belt, she’d do it in the company of family. A kind of celebration of a long-term reunion, now that they were both connected by the convenience of location too.