12-06-2022, 02:26 AM
Rowan’s eye drifted over to her sister as Armande drank from the mug. The picture was almost laughable – Vale had all but burrowed into a veritable mountain of blankets and pillows. It seemed that illness had finally taken hold in the other woman. Oh, Rowan knew that her sister’s immune system would have much work to do to catch up with those that had lived on the surface of the planet. It was another thing entirely to actually see it at work. Rowan hadn’t even thought of the years of inoculations and vitamins that her parents had bestowed upon her – it was just one of those things that came with childhood. She had been terrible in keeping up with them once she struck out on her own. Seeing Vale all but knocked on to her ass with a minor cold had made Rowan reconsider that stance.
A smile touched Rowan’s lips as she stared at her sister. The woman had insisted that Armande fetch a long list of herbs to treat the ‘curse,’ but the man appeared to have returned empty handed. Much of Rowan’s own herbal knowledge was largely owed to American Hoodoo. She had ventured out into Oslo as soon as the ‘curse’ had taken ahold of Vale, but it quickly became apparent that things like horehound leaf and High John the Conqueror root were not readily available in this part of Europe. There were other remedies that Rowan could conjure for her sister, but even Rowan knew that they would not blast the sickness out of Vale in one night. Garlic, cayenne, ginger, oolong, and honey would be available at the local grocer; Rowan could collect the items the following morning and brew a tea for her sister.
Armande’s question drew Rowan’s attention back to him. She moved over to the wine and poured herself another healthy glass of the stuff. She breathed in the warm scent as she took another slow sip, considering his words.
“No, there has been nothing,” Rowan replied with a touch of exasperation. Vale’s illness had actually made Rowan excited. When the body was weakened, it helped to serve the spirit. There had been one moment in her life that had proved that. A nasty case of alcohol poisoning had pushed her to the edge at the age of twenty-two. That particular day, Rowan had heard the thoughts of those around her – if only for a half hour.
No one believed her, even when she started voicing the thoughts of her parents and her brother. They had looked horrified, but quickly waved their hands away stating it was a coincidence. The thoughts did not stop and they refused to listen. It had all become so bothersome; Rowan slipped a pair of headphones on to drown out the intrusive thoughts and when she had taken them off the telepathy had left her completely.
Rowan had never experienced it again, but she was sure it had to do with the illness. She had been close to death that day, and so the natural gifts of her soul had shown through. Everyone had that seed within them – humans were just so swept up in modern life to put any sort of focus on it.
Part of Rowan had thought that this cold within Vale might be the feather to tip the scales. It had not. Rowan’s own memories of alcohol poisoning were still vivid enough to prevent her from trying to induce the same effects in her sister – that and the fact that she would never willfully harm her other half.
“These past nights have only proven to me that we will need the four of us together to discern any finer details,” Rowan went on as she banished the memories of her twenties, “This method of divination – it is still something we are learning, my dear. It seems the old rules do not apply. What we have between us is something wholly new and mysterious. I fear there is more trial and error in our future.”
Rowan’s words were incongruent, but she could not help to apply what she knew to what she did not know. Experience was the best teacher and utilizing her past experiences would be the only way forward for them. If they did not work – well – at least they knew what did not work. She drank again from her glass, slowly and deeply. The Cabernet warmed her belly and her veins. She moved from her spot and towards Armande in a languid fashion.
“Like two sides of a coin, we need our other halves. We need you and we need the Holy Father, my dear,” Rowan cooed as she looked up into Armande’s eyes. “We have been away from our fourth for seven nights – and he has finally returned – now is the time. Tonight, we shall discover the path forward. We need you. We need the Holy Father.”
The look in Armande’s eyes seemed far off – unfocused. The mug was clenched in one hand and he made no motion to strip himself of his coat or boots. Gone was the man that had always projected an air of control and knowledge. In his place stood a man of questioning, of uncertainty. Rowan all but clicked her tongue as she set the wine glass down upon the credenza. Her hands found their way to his and she clasped them tightly, softening her gaze. With an effort, she pulled Armande into the sitting room and stripped him of his outerwear, murmuring to herself of his ruddy cheeks and wet hair.
Armande did not look like himself and that was troubling. Rowan did not know Armande or Vale nearly half as well as she’d have liked to – but the unmistakable feeling of kinship was there. This was her Soul Group. These were the people that she had been reincarnated with time and time again. It was a strange and inexpiable feeling – to be sure – but it was still there. These were the people that had made her feel complete, even if she had only known them for a few months. These people were her tribe.
Embracing the Light again, Rowan poured out a large glass of brandy for her sister and sent it sailing towards her. The mug settled upon the nightstand and Rowan let the Light go, turning her focus back to Armande. She sat the man down in the plush seat she had just vacated and pulled his boots off.
Rowan silently pulled a stool over and nestled herself before Armande, grabbing his right foot and placing it into her lap before she began to massage it in earnest. They sat in silence for a time as Rowan worked at his foot. She lost all track of Vale as the memories of the vision ran on repeat in her mind’s eye. They had not worked their visions with the men since that initial moment in the forest. That had to be the missing ingredient.
How confusing it all was. Do it without them and you will learn more. Do it without them again and you will be blind. Everything before this path in life had seemed so clear, so neatly laid out. It was both invigorating and refreshing to learn that the rules were as malleable as the tides.
A smile touched Rowan’s lips as she stared at her sister. The woman had insisted that Armande fetch a long list of herbs to treat the ‘curse,’ but the man appeared to have returned empty handed. Much of Rowan’s own herbal knowledge was largely owed to American Hoodoo. She had ventured out into Oslo as soon as the ‘curse’ had taken ahold of Vale, but it quickly became apparent that things like horehound leaf and High John the Conqueror root were not readily available in this part of Europe. There were other remedies that Rowan could conjure for her sister, but even Rowan knew that they would not blast the sickness out of Vale in one night. Garlic, cayenne, ginger, oolong, and honey would be available at the local grocer; Rowan could collect the items the following morning and brew a tea for her sister.
Armande’s question drew Rowan’s attention back to him. She moved over to the wine and poured herself another healthy glass of the stuff. She breathed in the warm scent as she took another slow sip, considering his words.
“No, there has been nothing,” Rowan replied with a touch of exasperation. Vale’s illness had actually made Rowan excited. When the body was weakened, it helped to serve the spirit. There had been one moment in her life that had proved that. A nasty case of alcohol poisoning had pushed her to the edge at the age of twenty-two. That particular day, Rowan had heard the thoughts of those around her – if only for a half hour.
No one believed her, even when she started voicing the thoughts of her parents and her brother. They had looked horrified, but quickly waved their hands away stating it was a coincidence. The thoughts did not stop and they refused to listen. It had all become so bothersome; Rowan slipped a pair of headphones on to drown out the intrusive thoughts and when she had taken them off the telepathy had left her completely.
Rowan had never experienced it again, but she was sure it had to do with the illness. She had been close to death that day, and so the natural gifts of her soul had shown through. Everyone had that seed within them – humans were just so swept up in modern life to put any sort of focus on it.
Part of Rowan had thought that this cold within Vale might be the feather to tip the scales. It had not. Rowan’s own memories of alcohol poisoning were still vivid enough to prevent her from trying to induce the same effects in her sister – that and the fact that she would never willfully harm her other half.
“These past nights have only proven to me that we will need the four of us together to discern any finer details,” Rowan went on as she banished the memories of her twenties, “This method of divination – it is still something we are learning, my dear. It seems the old rules do not apply. What we have between us is something wholly new and mysterious. I fear there is more trial and error in our future.”
Rowan’s words were incongruent, but she could not help to apply what she knew to what she did not know. Experience was the best teacher and utilizing her past experiences would be the only way forward for them. If they did not work – well – at least they knew what did not work. She drank again from her glass, slowly and deeply. The Cabernet warmed her belly and her veins. She moved from her spot and towards Armande in a languid fashion.
“Like two sides of a coin, we need our other halves. We need you and we need the Holy Father, my dear,” Rowan cooed as she looked up into Armande’s eyes. “We have been away from our fourth for seven nights – and he has finally returned – now is the time. Tonight, we shall discover the path forward. We need you. We need the Holy Father.”
The look in Armande’s eyes seemed far off – unfocused. The mug was clenched in one hand and he made no motion to strip himself of his coat or boots. Gone was the man that had always projected an air of control and knowledge. In his place stood a man of questioning, of uncertainty. Rowan all but clicked her tongue as she set the wine glass down upon the credenza. Her hands found their way to his and she clasped them tightly, softening her gaze. With an effort, she pulled Armande into the sitting room and stripped him of his outerwear, murmuring to herself of his ruddy cheeks and wet hair.
Armande did not look like himself and that was troubling. Rowan did not know Armande or Vale nearly half as well as she’d have liked to – but the unmistakable feeling of kinship was there. This was her Soul Group. These were the people that she had been reincarnated with time and time again. It was a strange and inexpiable feeling – to be sure – but it was still there. These were the people that had made her feel complete, even if she had only known them for a few months. These people were her tribe.
Embracing the Light again, Rowan poured out a large glass of brandy for her sister and sent it sailing towards her. The mug settled upon the nightstand and Rowan let the Light go, turning her focus back to Armande. She sat the man down in the plush seat she had just vacated and pulled his boots off.
Rowan silently pulled a stool over and nestled herself before Armande, grabbing his right foot and placing it into her lap before she began to massage it in earnest. They sat in silence for a time as Rowan worked at his foot. She lost all track of Vale as the memories of the vision ran on repeat in her mind’s eye. They had not worked their visions with the men since that initial moment in the forest. That had to be the missing ingredient.
How confusing it all was. Do it without them and you will learn more. Do it without them again and you will be blind. Everything before this path in life had seemed so clear, so neatly laid out. It was both invigorating and refreshing to learn that the rules were as malleable as the tides.