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The days in New York City were always busy and full of activity, but when nightfall came it tended to be a little different. True, the city never slept, there was always something going on somewhere.. but often times the people who didn't /want/ to be doing something, weren't, and fewer wanted to. Why? The natural phenominon that we refer to as cold would be the answer to that question, October was here and as the days progressed closer and closer to Winter, the nights grew less and less hospitable.
Doubly so to the tired dredges of the city who call the streets their home, one of which sits alone near the mouth of an alleyway with her slender form mostly obscured by a pile of newspaper pages; fortune been kind to her today, as some fellow left an entire newspaper behind at his table. Tonight, it'll serve as Marie's blanket. The girl from Lyons sits as still as death itself, green eyes closed and mind wandering in thought. She's not sleeping, or dead, though few would be blamed for making such an assumption from her current state.
*
While the cold has stopped many from frequenting the city's streets at night, and rightly so, there are still a few who meander about. Those, perhaps, looking still for entertainment, a bit of a drink. Some, perhaps, patrol the streets to protect its citizens. Police and security, of course, are amongst the forefront of those. However, there are also those of less official means who finds themselves wandering the streets, hoping to ensure the safety of those who find themselves out at night, whether by choice or circumstance.
Walking down the street is one such protector. A man with a long white beard and long white hair, wearing robes and a pointy hat, a sword and satchel hanging from a belt around his waist, and holding a long staff, which makes a soft thudding sound as its base periodically hits the cement sidewalk. The old man peers around taking in all things natural, man-made, and supernatural. When he peers toward the alleyway across the street from him, his magical eyes catch sight of an aura of a more magical nature. Glancing right and left, he quickly starts making his way across the street, his staff thudding against the ground at a slightly more rapid pace.
*
Marie-Ange draws Knight Swords.
*
While she's slowly starting to grow more accustomed to the people here, she doesn't necessarily trust them yet, not beyond a handful of them approved of by her cards. So when the familiar sound of nearing footsteps enters the streets, Marie's aware. Then there's the thud that accompanies it, and these sounds make those eyes snap open. Her movements beyond that aren't easy to percieve beyond a rustling of newspaper, though there's a quick glance that's offered to the side, and the edge of a tarot card that briefly sticks out from the newspaper before being slid back into hiding. The Knight of Swords.
Marie waits as the sounds grow closer, emerald eyes staring forward, form otherwise motionless… at least until Merlin's moved within earshot of a soft voice, at which point her lips begin to move. "You have come for me, oui?" she asks, craning her head around to consider the man. Studying quietly while she awaits the response; though she already knows the answer in her head.
*
Approaching the spot, the girl, covered with newspapers. Merlin moves to and stands across the alley, at the opposite wall, as he gazes at her with curiosity. Others with mystical, magical potential are always a curiosity to him. He cares not whether the person lives in the highest tower and has wealth beyond measure, or if the person has nothing but the clothes they wear. What he wants to know about is the person. Who are they? Are they good?
There's a slight nod of his head. "That's right, young one." He responds in a British accent. "I have been drawn to you. A curious one, you are. Filled with potential." He taps his staff against the ground a few times as he thinks. "I hope I'm not interrupting you're sleep."
*
The cards were right; someone was going to seek her out. They also said this person would be a positive force, that's why she's still in her spot. "Moi?" she asks, inclining her head slightly. "Perhaps. We all have roles to play in fortune's great tale, and fate may yet hold a place of prestige for me." she admits, shifting around a bit against the brick wall that supports her back, papers rustling around as she tries to get comfortable. "I was sleeping not, Monsieur, and you interrupt me not. Whatever potential the future might hold, the present holds me in a far lower regard, I assure you this much."
The girl's accent is pretty clearly of French descent, but her English is pretty good, truth be told, as the bits of her home language that pepper it seem to be more a result of comfort than necessity. "Now. How may I be of service?" she asks, focusing her eyes. When people come to you, typically they want something /from/ you. What that is? Well, a fuller reading might have told her, but there wasn't time for that. Single cards are easier to manage, also, when safety is a question.
*
Sitting himself down, back resting against the wall and staff resting in the crook of his arm, and making sure the sword is adjusted properly, Merlin gazes over at the girl. Holding up his free hand and point a finger, he indicates the area around Marie-Ange. Switching to briefly to French, he says, "Young one, you have an energy about you. A mystical force that cannot, that shall not, be denied." His accent is good, almost indistinguishable from a native speaker.
Switching back to English, he continues. "You have an ability that springs from deep within you. I can see that much. You have a power to be harnessed. The question remains, young one, shall it be harnessed for good or for ill?"
*
The switch to French is one of the things that surprises Marie-Ange a bit; although it seems a common factor among the people that the cards bring her into contact with. Was it this common in America as a whole? She wasn't entirely sure, but at the same time, she didn't entirely care. It was nice to hear the words spoken as they were back home. Her living conditions tended to bring on the homesickness and, if it weren't for the certainty of the cards that this is where she would be? She'd call that thought into question. They were sure, however, and as they were, she was.
Still, the man returns to English, so she remains there… mostly, at least. Considering his words for a moment, first. How does he /know/ that she can do things? Maybe the cards told him, the same way they allow her such insights? She purses her lips a little, and speaks again. "I read the message, Monsieur, I see the pages of the story yet to come without the shadows that befall others. It is not, how you say," Switch to French, "'Good or Evil'", back to English. "but instead simply truth. One may choose to listen, to ignore, to decry as the works of Lucifer himself…" she's gotten that one on both sides of the pond, the distaste showing on her face. "…but that does not change what it is."
*
There's a moment of silence as Merlin considers the young woman's words. They have certainly piqued his interest, that is for certain. His fingers idly tap his staff as he looks at this woman cloaked in papered news. Taking a slow, deep breath in, and letting it out just as slowly, he nods. He understands her meaning. At least to an extent.
"There are many tales to be told, many messages to be read. Those who hear the story do not always wish to know its outcome. Knowing one's outcome can be a frightful thing, oui?" He smiles a little. "But to say that the story teller's words are that of Lucifer…" He scoffs. "That's ridiculous, plain and simple. Just ridiculous! The gift of foresight is just that, a gift. One's ability to unravel the story of another is not something to be feared, and is not to be attributed to a demon, even if said demon is supposed to be powerful."
*
"Perhaps." she agrees, bowing her head slightly. "Perhaps simply the ability to know what lies beyond frightens them so; perhaps they are even correct in their judgements, should such a demon exist. If he does? I have not seen him, only works attributed to him." Homeless people get to see quite a bit, even in a short amount of time. They're the forgotten, the overlooked. They don't matter. It was a blessing as much as it was a curse at times. "Their lives will turn, page by page until the final words have been spoken. If there is a life beyond? They may go there, to where I know not." Her abilities can't see into the afterlife, as far as she knows.
"A gift?" she echoes, considering the thought. "You may be right, you may be wrong. There is comfort in the knowledge of what comes next, but also a frightful anticipation that grows when the tidings ride an ill wind. It is simply what will, and must be. My story is clearer because of this gift, as you call it, but that is how my story was written."
*
"If there's something I've learned in my life, it is that these gifts do not exist because of a demon. They may, on occasion, be bestowed, I believe, but they exist not because a demon originally willed them into being." Or at least Merlin doesn't think it was a demon that brought them into being. "I would enquire as to how you read these pages." He asks of the girl, pondering her skills. "Do you see them in flashes of visions?"
He chuckles softly. "'Tis a gift as much as a burden, at times, to be certain. Aye, there'll be people who ridicule, and there'll be those that say that these abilities are because of Lucifer, but these people merely let fear fuel their paranoia. They do not truly understand." A seriousness etches across his face. From the sounds of his words and the tone of his voice, he might even know what he's talking about.
After a moment, he frowns. "Aren't you cold under all the paper, child?" He shakes his head. "Perhaps you'd care for something warmer? A blanket, maybe?"
*
"Few can understand, I have noticed." Marie admits, closing her eyes again as she places drawings to faces. "The Ace of Wands. The High Priestess. Some would look to what comes after with an open mind, and an open heart. They will value lessons learned, even if such lessons are not what they had thought." There's a smile that crosses her face as she recalls Tony and Scarlett. They were good people. This may be another. "The cards will guide me as they will. They lead me well, even if I may not understand why they lead me where they do. Even to me, not /all/ is clear."
As to the latter? Well… the demure girl isn't normally the type to be a bother. It's part of the reason that she doesn't beg, like other homeless do. She accepts her fate. But the Knight of Swords foretells the arrival of not only someone (or something) who seeks you, but someone/thing desirable. When the suggestion is made? Her reading makes it a no-brainer. "Oui, Monsieur, I am, and I would." a pause. "If it would not trouble you any, that is."
*
"Ah. I see now." Merlin tilts his head slightly. "Do you practice the mystical art of cartomancy? Or rather…well, a type of cartomancy that has come to be known as Tarot Card Reading?" He enquires. "I've never had much skill, myself, with them. However, my visions of the stories yet to be told come to me not from cards, but in another form." He takes in another deep breath.
"I have spent many, many a night without shelter over my head, young one. I know what it is, the need to keep warm." He chuckles and shakes his head. "Providing help to one who needs it? That should never be a trouble!" In quiet concentration, he holds out his free hand and murmurs softly. It takes no more than a few seconds, but in front of Marie-Ange a plush, down blanket forms. "That should keep you warm! Ah, but…something's missing." After a moment, he holds out his hand once more and a pillow appears on top of the blanket. "There we are. For you."
*
The first term used doesn't quite ring a bell; her grandmother may have used it, but she was so little when she was learning those stories that it was hard to say. When the more modern term comes up, however?Her features brighten notably. "Oui." she admits, the cards proven right again. A positive force bringing something desired indeed. "I have followed the cards for many years," Mostly in secret, almost-exclusively reading for herself. Then there's That Other Thing She Does. "…and their wisdom is unfailing." The latter admission from Merlin, however, brings a certain wide-eyed curiousity to the girl. "You… can look ahead, as well, but without the cards?" she asks, blinking. "How is such a thing even possible…?"
While she's left to ponder that, Merlin continues talking, agreeing to provide her with the offered blanket and as she's about to speak… it materializes out of nothing?! Marie's stunned silent. To have something happen that's unnatural? That's… slowly becoming as normal as the New Yorkers themselves. Houses coming alive. A man who turns turns ablaze by a touch. But this? So close to what she, too, can do? She's about to speak when the pillow joins it. Speechless again but not as stunned, she reaches one hand out of the papers and pokes a dirty, slender finger at the material that's manifested itself. Testing to see if it'll just vanish. "How… how is such a thing possible?" she asks, not /quite/ dumbfounded, but definitely curious. There's no card with such an image on it. If there was, it would've made the nights much easier.
*
"The cards of Tarot certainly hold much power…to those who hold the power to wield them." Merlin agrees. "I've met many in my journies who have used them. However, as with anything, they must be used wisely." His words hold a warning, though he does not elaborate. "To see ahead without the cards is a skill gifted upon some. There was a time, before the cards, when foresight, when visions of what would come, was one of the more common ways to see the story yet untold." He explains. "And my visions have been coming to me for a very long time. Since I was a boy, younger than you are now." His tone is soft and wistful, remembering a time long past.
"The mystical arts." He tells her, as if that explains it. "Known to some as 'magic'. It permits me to, among its other uses, to create items. Some items, such as blankets and pillows, are easier to conjure. The more complex the item, the more difficult to create, of course." He smiles a little. "Learning the mystical arts was one of my greatest accomplishments."
Clearing his throat, he continues. "I am Merlin of Camelot. I suppose I should have introduced myself earlier, but I was rather intruiged by you, to be honest. And who might you be?"
*
Marie definitely isn't the teenager who hides the box under her bed (she hid it under her mattress, but over the boxspring!) and pretends she can read them, nor the charlatan who gives general advice that could apply to anyone or anything for wads of illgotten gains; no, the mystical aura Merlin sensed was real about Marie, the cards are easily her foci, but she reads them accurately (and, in her own mind, flawlessly). "Astounding, monsieur. I cannot imagine a time existing before the cards served to guide a seeker along the path that the wheel of fate had set before them… but I am hardly one to say it could not be possible. You came to me, as I knew you were coming."
When he explains his magic and how it works? Well, she's using this time to slip the pillow carefully behind her head, as if expecting it to 'poof' if she leans back too hard, and wrap the blanket around her form. Warmth, and comfort. If it wasn't for the need to eat? She'd be content to never leave this spot.
She's about to speak when he introduces herself… and then cheeks turn red. "How rude of me!" she exclaims, aghast. "I apologize, Monsieur Ofcamelot," Interesting name. Must be American, despite the accent seeming more European. "And it is an honor to make your acquaintance. My name is Marie-Ange Colbert." A pause, and given his display? She adds, "I… believe I too can do these things you speak of. I will demonstrate, if you will like?"
Marie's picked resting in this part of the East Village for one very specific reason; at night? There aren't a lot of people around to bother her. Which also means it's an alright place for show and tell, at least as alright as any other that she has access to!
*
"It's…" Language barrier, Merlin! You should know this by now, you danged fool of an old man! "You may call me Merlin. 'Of Camelot' is more of a title to explain where I'm from. 'Tis a custom from long ago that I have held onto." He explains. "You've no need to apologize for the lack of introductions, Mademoiselle Colbert. I am the one who approached you, it was my obligation, under the rules of social engagement, that I introduce myself first!" The diplomat in Merlin, if briefly, shows itself.
"I'd ver much like to see what you can do. If you do not mind showing me." He nods, watching the young woman with curiosity, watching to see what she is capable of.
*
"Monsieur Merlin, then." A pause. "You may call me Marie." Most people do, afterall, and especially the people she could say are the closest thing she has to friends. "..and I see; Of. Camelot." she puts extra effort into recognizing the space between the words, a smile coming to her lips. There doesn't seem to be any particular bells ringing — the stories of Arthur and the roundtable, while they spoke of the Holy Grail, also spoke of magic and were appropriately scrubbed at the convent where Marie might have otherwise learned it.
Then as for what she can do? She moves around a bit beneath the blanket, actual movements difficult to tell before one hand extends, holding one of the cards. The Wheel of Fortune. Marie's eyes close briefly, and within moments the wheel itself materializes, about five feet around, a couple of feet above the ground in front of her, ever turning. "The cards are bound to me, as I to them. They do as I ask," The Wheel starts to turn in the opposite direction as if responding, "and I speak what they wish to tell, to those who will listen."
*
"Marie." Merlin bows his head in a nod, acknowledging the name. He watches as Marie shows him one of the cards. His eyes widen, however, as the wheel from the card appears in front of them. "How fascinating…" Is muttered as he watches the wheel turn. "Marvellous! What an amazing ability!" Even after all this time, the fact that he can still be amazed by mystical powers gives him hope for the future.
"I'd very much like to speak with you more about these abilities of yours." He tells Marie. "Can you often be found here? Or do you move your sleeping spot?" He enquires of her. "I'd…" He pauses. Should he bring this young woman into whatever is plaguing him? He lets out a slow breath. "And perhaps you and your cards could help me with something? I'd be more than willing to help you in return, with anything you'd like."
*
The wheel turns as the wheel wills, she'll often say… but also when she wills, as when she chooses? The wheel disappears into a quickly fading mist. "Had you touched it, you would have felt it very real… but it remains only as long as I make it, where I hope these will not disappear." …because warm and comfy. She hasn't felt that way in a /while,/ but it's a very, very welcome feeling, and one her alabaster arm retreats back into once the demonstration is over.
"I will answer all that I can; I understand as much as the cards allow, the what, the how of," she tilts her head towards where the manifestation appeared, "that, I understand little of." It's instinct for her, essentially, and it's uncertain just what she'd be able to do beyond what she already can. "I walk the path laid out for me, Monsieur. Oftentimes it does bring me here, but I will not disobey if it leads elsewhere. Fate will guide us together again should that be its choosing." A smile, now. "I would be glad to help as I may - my story is written with this 'gift' as you say because it is fate's will, and I ask nothing in return." It's not who she is. Not unless the cards tell her that she needs to ask for something. At the same time? She's not the type to say no if it's offered, either. Too polite and agreeable, this one.
*
"Worry not, child. What I have conjured for you shall not disappear on you." Pulling himself up with the help of his staff, he smiles. "I am sorry that I cannot stay longer, but the night is young and there is still much for me to do. However…" He opens up his approaches Marie, holds out his palm, and a little butterfly appears in it. "Keep this little butterfly on hand. If you should ever want or need me, for any reason, just tell this little thing, and it shall come find me, wherever I am. And then? And then I shall come to you." He tells her softly.
*
Marie looks comforted by the suggestion that her gifts won't disappear on her — they'll definitely make sleeping a lot easier, and even open up the possibility to doing it at night for a change! Then it's time for Merlin to go, and she sits — she would have offered help up, but… she's pretty frail herself still. "There is no need to ask forgiveness, Monsieur Merlin. Our paths are set, yours beckons you." The appearance of the butterfly surprises Marie, though, who's eyes widen a bit. This magic of Merlin's can do a lot of things that she can't… could she do these things too? She's honestly not sure, but it makes her think about it. "I will remember, Monsieur. May the wheel guide you on a favorable path."
*