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@cryps1s
CRYPS1S cryp·sis (noun) the ability of an organism to conceal itself ( especially from a predator ) by assuming a form that allows it to blend into the surrounding environment.
hana sayoc, written by nic and for @redcreekfm ♡
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Sometimes, alone is safer. That’s not the conventional wisdom.
TANAYA BEATTY in THE DOOR (2025).
AUDITION / 1999 / TAKASHI MIIKE
he had to admit he’d been circling the table like a vulture waiting for the last trembling breath of a dying thing, or maybe like an insect teasing the edges of a flytrap's mouth, restless, orbiting, touching down only to rise again. the air around her shimmered with incense, and he couldn't tell whether it smelled cheap or divine. his eyes clung to the deck of cards, their quiet promise, or threat, of revelation, before lifting to meet hana's gaze, where the shadow of a smile pulled his lips downward, as though even the thought of it weighed on him. "i'm not sure -- it does sound tempting -- " he spelled his thoughts out loud " --- you gonna give me one of those stories you've already got written out and ready to sell?"
accusations of fabricated reads are hardly deepcut. anyone else would be immune to it well before their first year of reading, but for hana, it still inspires a frown to overcome her features. ❝ aw, do you think so lowly of me, soren? ❞ sighs around the words, a baited tease with just a hint of genuine curiosity. ❝ nothing pre-planned here. just me, you, and… seventy eight cards. ❞ hand finds a path to her deck, shuffling through them as if it were second nature. a card falls from the stack spurred on by a slip of her hand or divine intervention, who really knows. ❝ see? mind of their own. ❞ either way, her eyes light up, left hand turning the card to be face-up. temperance. she glances up to him, a dare. ❝ c'mon. don't you wanna know what it means? ❞
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𝞋𝞎 ˖ ⊹ 𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗮 𝗱𝗿𝘆 𝗰𝗵𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗹𝗲, “cards, huh? lemme guess—one’s gonna tell me i drink too much, one’s gonna say i scare women, and the last one’s gonna say i’ll die alone in a bar bathroom.” he smirked, tongue pressed to his molar. “ain’t gotta be psychic to figure that out, sweetheart. hell, i could read my own damn cards—just draw three budweisers and call it destiny.” he leaned forward a bit, the ghost of a grin tugging his mouth. “so, what do yours say? that i’m cursed, or that you’re just tryin’ to hustle me outta what’s left of my wallet?”
❝ you think i'm good enough to empty out your wallet? i'm flattered. ❞ one hand presses to her heart, the other is already reaching for her desk of cards. a gentle push sends them face down, into the shape of a fan and she gestures over it. ❝ which one's speaking to you? go ahead & flip it, this one can be on the house. ❞
[ HALLOWEEN FAIR, SISTER'S KEEP TENT @ 6:30PM ]
dramatic sigh leaves meticulously glossed lips, chin resting on her hand as she watches people filter through the area. ❝ are you gonna let me read your cards, or are you gonna keep hovering around my table like a scared animal? ❞
( maris racal. cis woman. she/her ) ⸻ hana sayoc, a twenty eight year old, has survived another day in red creek where they have lived for their entire life. THE CHAMELEON is known for being strategic + fickle and is often associated with staring into a broken mirror & finally recognizing the reflection; a bowl of rotting fruit; lighting a candle within the darkest place inside of you. in a small town where they work as a reader @ sisters of the moon, word travels fast. it’s hard to keep a secret, and it looks like the boogeyman knows something you don't.
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fatima aamer bilal, from moony moonless sky’s ‘you have always been a performer, never just a person.’
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