Finally taking that step

[Taste of Treason]

I don't believe in fate.

I know, I know, cliche isn't it? Kid with dysfunctional past believes that the cruelty of the world has to be the creation of man rather than an unseen all-knowing force.

And yet the word has followed me for weeks now. Mostly, it has shown itself in the deep green eyes of a stranger. Leona seemed to appear at all the wrong moments. Her slight features would appear in a shop window just as I tucked a loaf of bread into my pocket. Her voice would reach my ears just as I snuck into someone else's bed for a quick nap.

Every meeting went the same way. Leona would appear, seeming out of nowhere and would offer me the same deal. Food. I could eat as much as I wanted so long as I let her ask me questions.

At first the idea was terrifying. What if she asked about my past? The years in hospital? My parents? Still, I was in no position to turn down a meal.

To my surprise the questions seemed almost random. What created the evils in the world? Was there such a thing as a true 'greater good'?

I answered eagerly between bites. I wouldn't say we developed a friendship. I know nothing of the woman but her name. I did, however, develop an extreme curiosity.

And so, after several days with no contact. I set out to satiate that curiosity.

[Leona Stevvains]

The innocence of Cellar Door was what drew the Temperance card to her.

this was a woman who lived the majority of her life with nothing but books to call her friends. She was mired in tragedy, friends with the best and worst Althanas could offer, and still remained stoic and as down the middle as anyone could be given the same circumstances. Some would criticize the murder of her parents as a blemish on this record, but Leona Stevvains did not care if the girl slaughtered people or pigs, just as long as she could get the answers she needed.

That was the duty of Judgment, to be able to seek solace in Temperance whenever it suited her needs. Leona Stevvains knew her own faults; she was an alcoholic, hated questions, and often let her personal bias affect her role in the tapestry of fate. It then came, ironically enough, to the decision of a woman who believed in no such things; the young Cellar Door.

For weeks now, the prophet bribed the young book worm with meals and every so often fare for a warm bed at night. In exchange, Cellar would answer any questions Leona needed to ask, questions that would no doubt have implications on the Tarot Hierarchy as a whole. Today was just like the others, where Leona had come in to town in order to seek the guidance of her unwitting advisor. In the seer's hands rested two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, treats courtesy of Vincent Cain and Ioder. The soccer player even had a hand in pulling the strings to create her favorite jam, peach. Such things made the life of Leona Stevvains a bit more bearable.

She searched the small commute where Cellar rested her head the night before, in the barn she chose as her makeshift hotel for the past few days. The 'borrowed' belongings of Cellar were scattered amongst the hay; a hairbrush, a few hair scrunchies, and a mirror. No doubt there was some teenage girl in search of these items this morning, only to be found wanting.

"That's odd..." Leona pursed her lips to the side of her face, "the probabilities said she would be here. If she's not here then..." The prophet closed her eyes and allowed her All Sight to take her. All at once, timelines surrounded her as though they were spider webs that threatened to wrap her in a cocoon of what-ifs. Her mind quietly searched through the highest probable areas Celklar traveled. Perhaps she was found by the farmer who owned this barn, taught to make an honest day's wage, and lived a happy and fulfilling life as his heir, maybe she encountered some guards during her stroll and was now locked up for crimes only known to her and Leona.

The problem was, each one of those time lines involved Cellar meeting with Leona at the barn first. All except one.

The single thread flailed to and fro as though it were a fishing line that caught a shark. Leona tilted her head to the side (which was odd to anybody passing by as it just seemed like a crazy lady standing still and moving her head around) and reached out. When she pulled the fate thread to her, the prophet's eyes widened, and only two words escaped her lips in a hushed whisper.

"Oh....fuck."