The Magician, The Cup I

--- o The Magician II o ---

--- o The Cup I o ---

   ❝ Cold. ❞ Very cold. Fucking cold, if you will.

   She would rather be sleeping at this ungodly hour, but noooo, someone insisted they leave first thing, before the fucking sun itself rose. She could tell from the signs on the horizon and where the Moon rested that it was midnight. The Son, Bena, or Day Moon, hung in its full glory. It is typically used to gauge the hours of the day, each part of its cycle equating to four hours.

   The Sister, Beti,  the Week Moon hung in its sixth stage, Tsaraf, the seventh day of the week, and second to last. Waning Crescent, just like the father and mother. The order they sat told her it was an odd month, the eighth month, Jona. She can’t read clocks, but she sure as hell can read the moons.

   Her breath stung and wafted in the still air around her. Thankfully, it boasted a calm day, but a cold one. But it was the excitement hanging in the air, the anticipation of embarking on her first true journey, that put a smile on her face.

   Everyone seemed to be chipper for how early and cold it was, horses and wagons astrew as supplies were checked. The shop was unusually busy with the thrum of soldiers and the like who were part of Iris’s Court, all of whom took the chance to restock their own supplies and peruse the oddities and wares Veld had to offer. He was happy, very happy with the fat sack he made sure to lock away somewhere safe, or so he told. Elly knew he always kept it on him, fuck knows how, but she suspected it had something to do with that strange bag that screams profanities whenever he opens it. She knows this because she tried to open it on many occasions, mostly to see if it could teach her new words.

   Elly dislikes coffee, but it matched her in bitterness and gave her some feeble amount of life, so she made do with it. The bitterness hung on her tongue, perhaps to stay the curse words she so wanted to speak. It did not, thankfully, prevent her from pulling the finger at that wanker at every chance she got.

   ❝ Why the fuck— ❞ Elly retreated beneath her scarf, and spoke to nobody with a quiver on her breath. The cold was an enemy to the Elly, almost as much as those, those things she saw being hoisted into a wagon in a large crate. Oranges. Just being near them made her cringe. ❛  Fuck them oranges. ❜ She sniffed, though it was hard to tell if it was from the cold or something else. ❝ Are we up— ❞ She continued begrudgingly. ❝ So fucking early? ❞

   ❝ Long journey it is indeed~ Need to beat the tides if we can! ❞

   Rhodi appeared behind her, his sung monotone voice grated at her sanity as much as the deadpan, punchable face he wore. As always, he was dribbling nonsense about his weird obsession. She wouldn’t call it religion, as he was the furthest thing from pious one could get, but he still preached nevertheless.

   ❝ It is the will of the Ein Soph, child~ ❞ His expression was always fixed in one of disdain, and the look in his eyes always set her on edge. So much for being her twin, Rhodi looked nothing like Iris, aside from having a lush head of hair that was longer than hers. But Iris did trust him; everyone did, though Elly did not, but she doesn’t trust anyone.

   ❝ That said, it also wills that you must help me move some things~ ❞ Yup, there it was. Typical Rhodi, using it for every excuse not to do things himself. Condescending, as always.

   ❝ Fuck. No. ❞ Elly replied flatly.

   ❝ Why not? ❞ He feigned a scoff as he rested his elbow on her head, messing up her hair under her cap.

   ❝ Cause’ yer a creep. ❞ She added, just as flatly. ❝ An’ I wouldn’ trust ya to fog a fuckin’ mirror. ❞

   ❝ Sooo mean! You wound me! ❞

   Too tired to fuck about with his sarcasm, Elly replied with an elbow to his groin with her left arm, knowing it would hurt. ❝ Piss off Slebog. ❞ She muttered under her breath, and it was the perfect word to describe him, after all, his nickname was Romeo, for good reason.

   ❝ I see you woke up and chose violence!~ ❞ Rhodi chuckles despite hunching over, watching Elly walk away as he leaned against a wagon. Hah, Wrong! She never slept.

   Elly winced as she hadn’t realised how sore that arm was; the cold always made it ache like hell, and Judge hadn’t the supplies to fully swap it out for something better suited to the colder months.

   ❝ You did ask for it. ❞ Iris mused as she walked by, carrying a large pallet of grain sacks. She was much stronger than she looks.

   ❝ El! Give me a hand, yeah? ❞ Iris called out to Elly, who, without hesitation, turned around and ran back over.

   ❝ Kay!~ ❞ Elly replied immediately. For Iris, anything, but not for that wanker. She gave him the middle finger and stuck out her tongue as she followed Iris. ❝ Wacha need?~ ❞

   ❝ See those boxes? ❞ Iris pointed to a stack of them by the shop front as she set the pallet she had been carrying down. ❝ Those are the supplies for the Monastery. Can you keep an eye on them so they aren’t taken? We’re still waiting for Veld to get his shit together and prepare his wagon. ❞

   ❝ Yuh! ❞ Elly nodded, saulted her, and skipped over to the boxes. She even helped Veld prepare and load the wagon.

 --- o The Magician II o ---