Sortes Qui Facet

Shutting off the engine of his car, Ben straightened his neatly pressed shirt as he took in the venue. Illusions of Grandeur. Ever since his rather intriguing run in with the woman-- Bea Vural, as he’d found out later-- at Coffee Plus, he’d found himself thinking more and more about her. There was something about her that had struck a chord. It wasn’t just the interest in Ovid nor was it her perspective on antiquity, though neither of those hurt. No, it was the analytical eye. The guarded nature. The way they seemed to be going through the same, practiced movements of waiting, watching, and responding. His dive into her personal page on the White Crest message boards hadn’t yielded much, other than the fact she was owner and performer at Illusions of Grandeur and that she curated a very… eye-catching Instagram. She clearly took care of herself, and her appearances. But, there had to be more to this woman than just carnival magic tricks.

Walking around the building, he glanced at the hours. Closed. Which made sense. It was a venue, it wouldn’t be open until later. But, there were other cars around which meant-- “Hey there. Can I help you?” Ben looked up and saw a rather unassuming man peeking out from the front doors, a curious expression on his face.

“Ah! Sorry to intrude, I was hoping to speak to Beatrice Vural, the proprietor?” He said with a nod. The man blinked for a moment before nodding. 

“Yeah, Bea’s in the back. Is she expecting you?” The man asked.

Ben let out a laugh, tinged with faux-awkwardness and self-conscious airs. “No, I don’t think she is. I met her the other day and was hoping to speak with her again.”

“Uh huh.” The man said, unimpressed before glancing at his watch. “We have a few hours before show time, so hey. No worries. Come on in.” And with that, Ben followed the man inside, his intrigue growing with every step he took.

A week of not paying attention to the paperwork was coming to bite Bea in the ass. It was worth not stressing over it, but now the math in front of her was swimming across the page and her brain was twenty seconds away from exploding. She closed the books and leant back in her chair, she’d have to ask John to look over all the numbers for her. He had basically run the place for a year and to hand the reins back to him after only a month felt like failing. John didn’t care, she knew that, he didn’t want to be the owner and was happy with where he was, it still felt like she hadn’t planned the right way. 

Bea stood from her desk, determined to make herself a coffee and debating if it was too early to add whiskey. She swung open her office door and made her way to the kitchen. A glorious god (most likely John) had cleaned the espresso maker and she made quick work of making herself a drink. Leaving the kitchen, she nearly knocked into someone with her drink. A small, half laugh left her, “That’s the second time I’ve almost poured coffee on you.” Why was Ben here? “What brought you to my theater?”

Following after John, Ben took in the back of house trappings that filled the space before he was led into the business section of the venue. It was a very run of the mill office set up, with the smell of hot coffee floating in the air and-- Ben hopped back out of the way when he noticed the woman in his periphery. He glanced down at his shirt, relieved to see nothing had spilled on it, before letting out a laugh of his own, “Second time lucky, I’d say. In that I haven’t gotten splashed either time.” He said with a nod and a smile. At her question, Ben reached for the answer that he had been prepared ahead of time. “I was curious about the theater after you mentioned it the first time we met, so I thought I’d look into it. Magic acts have always intrigued me and I must say, I was surprised to hear that you were the one running the show.”

“We have perfect reflexes between the two of us,” Bea teased. “Otherwise, we’d both be covered in coffee every time we saw each other.” Honestly, though it was surprising to see him, she wasn’t upset at all. He was interesting, like a puzzle, and she wanted to figure him out. “You were surprised?” She asked amused, “I must have not been dramatic enough the first time we met.” She took a sip of her coffee, “Would you like to join me in a coffee and a tour? The coffee can be Irish, if you’re up for it,” She said lightly, a mischievous look in her eye. 

“So it would seem,” Ben agreed with an obligating chuckle. At her question, he offered a shrug. “You didn’t strike me as an entertainer-- though, perhaps I’m just out of touch with the rest of society. I don’t often interact with people who aren’t either colleagues or students.” He replied. The real reason he was surprised was because he had heard things about Illusions of Grandeur too. About how the acts here had been so intricate, so incredible, so show stopping. And then, the shows had stopped. He’d read as much in the archives of the White Crest Press website. Smiling at her joke, he shook his head, “I must have been projecting. You deal with enough academics and suddenly you forget that not everyone is involved in education.” At her offer, Ben nodded. “I’d be delighted for both, but I think I’ll pass on the extra shot. I’m not much of a drinker.” He said with a sheepish expression on his face. 

“I really must have been off my game when we first met,” Bea replied with fake modesty. She hadn’t been. There just happened to be places and times for being as extroverted as a performer and Coffee Plus was not one of them. She smiled at him  warmly as she went back into the kitchen to make him a coffee, “I suppose the book I was reading didn’t help you with your assumption. We do educational events here, but I fear that doesn’t make me an educator.” Nor did she want to be an educator, she didn’t have enough patience for that. She didn’t like the sheepish expression on him, as convincing as it was, she had an eye for acting and something about it didn’t sit right with her. “I usually only have wine with dinner, but after the week I had,” She shrugged with a practiced smile. “Did John show you anything as he brought you up?”

Following the woman into the small break room, Ben glanced around at the space. Nothing out of the ordinary, just what he would expect from a small business’ break room. “That it did not. And the conversation we had, though quite refreshing, didn’t do much to change the assumption either. But, I ought to leave my preconceived notions at the door. Something to work on.” He said as he leaned against the wall, watching her fix him a mug. Raising an eyebrow at her words, he gave an apologetic wince. “That bad, huh? Well, I can’t begrudge you a little something extra to take the edge off in that case.” Ben said with an understanding nod. “No, he didn’t actually. I think I may have caught him in the middle of something?” He shrugged. He didn’t care about the random man, he wasn’t the reason why Ben was here. 

“I’m quite flattered that you thought highly of our conversation then. It’s always good to have a self reflective goal to work towards.” It certainly was something to work on, Bea thought. There were too many people in this world who thought that value and intelligence came from a stupid piece of paper. Her and her sisters were just as smart as anyone else and they certainly had not gone to school to find that out. She handed him his coffee and took a sip of her own, busying herself instead of replying to his empathy. She waved a dismissive hand, “If you had caught John in the middle of something important he would have ignored you. Which points to your luck again, that you didn’t.” John was the one Bea tended to send out when too many questions were asked, he was not afraid of confrontation, if it had a good cause. “I see two path ahead of us, Ben, we can enjoy our coffee and conversation or we can get the show on the road and I can start the tour.”

With a nod, Ben accepted the cup with a nod and took a sip, watching her over the rim of the mug. It seemed as though there was something she wasn’t saying, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what. “What is life if not the opportunity to grow and change?” He asked with a smile before holding his cup in front of him. His lips curled slightly at the wave she cast in his direction, amused by her confidence. She was certainly a woman who knew herself and the people around her, it seemed. “Well, seems like I’m quite fortunate indeed.” He said before nodding. And she liked to take charge. A trait that made sense for a woman in her position, a business owner, a performer. And one that Ben would entertain, for now. “Yes, the tour-- please, lead the way.” He smiled.

Bea kept her face straight, though she struggled with the question. Life was complex, harsh, and beautiful. It was too many things all at once. Pain had forced growth in her, but she knew others who dug in their heels and never changed. “Life is what we make of it,” She finally decided. “There are plenty of people who don’t want to life to be that.” She thought of her mother, a woman she had seen as someone with infinite wisdom as a child, and how as an adult that illusion had shattered. She thought of herself, just a year ago, and how steadfast she had been in the way she handled things. “Welcome to Illusions of Grandeur. Here we have our state of the art kitchen,” She said with a soft tease. “On this floor, it’s mainly offices, mine and John’s, and a place for our performers to relax. Downstairs you’ll find the dressing rooms and props area.”

Ben kept a watchful eye on the woman’s expression, privately amused. She was mulling over the question far longer than most would, but didn’t appear to be troubled by it. Was she? Had he struck a nerve? He had no way of knowing, which delighted him. What a fascinating woman, this Beatrice Vural. “True. Life is a series of choices and we, blessed with free will, can do with it what we will. I’m of the opinion that we owe it to ourselves to grow and better ourselves. But,” He said with a laugh and wave of his hand, “I’m philosophizing. You can put the professor on summer break, but his heart remains in the classroom.” He said. Nodding, he smiled at her joke. “Oh, top of the line.” He said. “I must admit-- I’ve always been intrigued by stage magic. Would I be able to see the prop room? Or are those trade secrets?”

“I suppose you can look at it that way,” Bea replied, “But I’m not sure we owe anyone, even ourselves, anything at the start. We can certainly live to owe people, and ourselves. You don’t owe anything until you ask for something.” She let out a soft laugh, “Though that could just stem from my distaste for organized religion. Maybe I’m getting lost in the details.” She had never really understood original sin, it seemed wildly unfair to give babies sins. She knew that wasn’t at all what Ben had meant, but that certainly didn’t stop her from voicing her thoughts. “Not a bad thing to be focused on learning, I’m not the type to do well in the classroom, but I enjoy our discussions.” She eyed him for a moment, a practiced smirk taking over her face. She had had plenty of people curious about the elements that they had seen on stage. “I’ll show you some of my performer’s secrets, but none of my own. That you have to earn.”

Her answer posed more questions than it answered, Ben thought to himself. What a curious woman. “The idea of owing something to another and indebtedness is certainly prevalent in most religions.” He agreed, “But-- you said we don’t owe something until we ask for it. What’s life without the asking, the wanting? We all have our own desires, those things we want more than anything else. Isn’t that part of the human experience?” Ben asked. Oh, how he knew about the wanting. The hunger. The desire for more. And he knew all about the owing too. “Well, I’m glad to hear I’m not a total bore.” He said before meeting her confident gaze. The smirk at the corner of her lips amused him. A strong willed woman. “And how might I earn those?” He asked with a tilt of his head.

“Everyone ends up owing someone something,” Bea shrugged. She supposed she had many people she owed, but it hadn’t come inherently, she had put herself in that position. Many people had put themselves in that position with her. “I suppose what really matters is how we react to owing or being owed. Even more so, how much we have to go through with a person until the scales are tipped the other direction.” She had owed her mother so much, but finally, the scales were tipping. Beatrice and Nisa were getting closer to balance, slowly. Soon, Bea wouldn’t owe her. Maybe, one day, Nisa would look to her eldest for something. She started to lead him to the props area, “Well, what has the same value as a secret, Ben? If you can give me that, then you’ve earned something in return.”

Everyone ends up owing someone something. Now, if Bea only knew how true that statement was. Ben had seen his father carry the burdens of his grandfather, carry his debt and forge a path of blood and sacrifice to a brighter future. The future he had dreamed of. And Ben, he didn’t owe, not yet. But he needed to prove himself worthy of His Lord before that which he craved could be his. And then, then he would owe much. And he’d have the power to pay it back in full. “I’ve always been far more comfortable owing than being owed.” Ben said, though it couldn’t be farther from the truth. The leverage, the power, the ability to apply just the slightest amount of pressure on someone because they were indebted to him… he relished the feeling. But no one would admit to such a thing. “That said, I don’t make a habit of owing people things. Level playing fields are my preferred territory.” He sad. Another lie, but she had no reason to know that. Looking around at the props, the gaudy costumes, the sparkling, glittering decor that served to distract the audience, Ben smiled, “Depends on the secret, I’d suppose.” He sipped the last of his coffee contemplatively before replying, “For the price of a secret that your livelihood rests on… I’d say that might be a bit steep for me.”

Bea didn’t believe that for a moment, no one liked that. How could anyone be comfortable in that sort of situation? Perhaps if the person owed was a trusted someone, it wouldn’t be as terrible. She wouldn’t pick it for herself though. “I’m not,” She said nonchalantly. It was an honest answer. This truth might not be comfortable, but she didn’t think it was horrible. “I have owed people in the past and the scramble to bring it back to center is not an experience I’d like to have all that often after. I’d rather hold the power, though that sounds terribly selfish,” She let out a soft laugh. She wore her selfishness as a shield, knowing that her fatal flaw was the loyalty she held for those she loved. Better people think she would pick herself over others than knowing what it would truly move her. “Well, not all of my secrets here will ruin my show in the wrong hands,” She said amused. “Maybe start with one of those.”

Ben raised his eyebrows in an expression of casual surprise, but he couldn’t help but be startled by how open she was about that. People tended to play the humble card, to downplay how uncomfortable they were in situations that tested them. Or, at the very least, they would take the easy route and present themselves as some kind of magnanimous person who didn’t mind owing others because debts could be so easily repaid. How intriguing. What had this woman owed? And to who? “I don’t think that’s selfish. I think it’s quite honest.” He said earnestly. “And even if it was, there’s something to be said about being selfish. So few people are these days. It’s refreshing.” He said, folding his arms across his chest to think for a moment. “Let’s see… I’ve always wanted to know how to pull a rabbit from a hat. What might that run me?”

The cool mask Bea kept on hid the pleasure she had at his approval. It would be a lie to say that some of her self worth didn’t come from the opinions other’s held about her. Nisa had taught her the power of other people’s thoughts and Bea was in no rush to challenge that. That piece of growth could wait until she was better fitted to deal with the pain it would bring. She tilted her head at his words, a shy smile sent his way. “I’m glad you think so. Not many people are open to ugly honesty, it scares them.” Ugliness ran deeply through each of them, it was just a game of seeing who could hide it the best. Or mold it into the sharpest weapon. She made a show of pondering, biting her lip and furrowing her brow quite threatically. “For something like that, I suppose I could take a piece of information you would share in an icebreaker exercise. Nothing terribly personal, but interesting enough to make me remember you,” She teased. 

This woman was full of all kinds of unexpected truths. Ugly honesty indeed. He was no stranger to that, not at all. But, Ben hid the truth well, covered it in velvety words and smoothed it away until it seemed harmless. Until he seemed harmless. “I think it’s less the honesty that scares people and more the act of being honest. Because if someone else has the courage to voice their unpleasant truths then, well… what are they hiding for, hm?” He mused. “The crowd has never liked those who are braver or stronger than them. Admired, feared, but never liked.” As Bea mulled over his question, Ben leaned against the wall, his stance relaxed and casual. Something from an icebreaker. If that was the price of a simple illusion, what might admitting he served a demonic lord might gain him? Nothing of value-- or at least, nothing more valuable than His Lord. “That seems a small enough price. Hi. I’m Ben Campbell. When I was fourteen, I broke my arm jumping off the roof onto the trampoline at a friend’s house.” He said, providing the work friendly lie of how he had broken his arm. In reality, he’d broken it in a scuffle with his brother’s sacrifice at the time, an overgrown sophomore at the White Crest High. 

Bea smiled, knowing all too well why people hid their own truths. For as honest as she came off, she had enough secrets that she kept close to her chest. Her honesty was an old trick, showing a false depth in the hopes no one dug deeper. Those who did were often surprised with what they found, that, at least, was satisfying. A bit like the rabbit trick itself. “Which brings up the age-old question, do we strive to be liked or admired?” Or feared? She believed herself closer to admired, feared when people saw the abilities she possessed. It hadn’t done her too bad at this point, though being liked had its own set of pluses. She smiled at his icebreaker answer, “The perfect thing to say. Now everyone who goes after you will think of their own injuries and have something to relate to you with.” There was a part of her that almost told him about her ankle, the allure of being relatable ringing loudly in her ears. That wasn’t the deal however, it was a secret for a secret, but it wasn’t her own she would be sharing. She pulled over a hat and a scarf, “For the purposes of the demonstration, the scarf will be the rabbit.” She showed him the false bottom and then delivered the trick with flair. 

“Now that is indeed an age-old question. I should watch out, otherwise there might be a new ancient philosophy and ethics professor at UMWC.” Ben teased. The answer was clear to him, as it always had been. Liked, admired… even feared-- the combination of the three was how one conquered the world. False compassion to ensure the tide of public opinion was on your side, benevolent actions with ulterior motives for admiration, and the violent, deadly truth for fear. They were the three cards that he played, one after the other, to unsurprising success. But no one liked to think about that. No one liked to think how easily they could be manipulated. “I suppose it varies from person to person, and from time to time-- goodness knows I don’t want to be admired the same way I did when I was in high school. I find myself wanting to be admired in an inspirational fashion. If I can help guide my students towards their callings and I’m admired for that, I consider that worthwhile.” He nodded. A safe answer. An expected answer.

“I suppose you’re right about that.” Ben laughed, a sheepish sound. “I never thought of it that way.” Lies. Of course he had. He crafted every aspect of his life at the university to be approachable, to be relatable. Ben focused on the trick watching intently as she demonstrated how it worked. Simple deception and trickery, a trick of the light. An illusion. “Ah… That’s far more simple than I thought it would be. But, if it works, it works.”

Bea let out a soft, surprised laugh. She hadn’t expected that sort of praise, no matter how interested he seemed in her conversation. She had always thought of herself as intelligent, though she didn’t think many people shared that opinion. Her vanity often changed the way she was perceived by others, intelligence overlooked for appearance. She didn’t necessarily mind it, it gave her something to use as a tool, but to be seen in this manner by a near stranger felt good. “I think I’d need to go to college before I truly became a threat to your livelihood.” She had never truly seen the appeal to that institution, her worth was nothing something that could be evaluated through a numeric system created by old white men. Her sisters and her were doing quite fine without that in their lives. “And where does the fear fit into that equation?” She asked. She under understood it in some manner though. Her performers were meant to look to her as a source of inspiration, a mentor when they needed one. The fear she held was not to intimidate her performers, but rather those who look too closely at them. It was a method of protection, for her and them. 

“When I first did workshops, I always tried to find an answer that made people relate to me. It made it easier to pull those with more connections than me. Maybe you’re doing that subconsciously.” Or maybe he was like her and planned his answers to these things, even if he claimed not to. She nodded, “It’s so simple that it’s almost disappointing. I try to avoid tricks like that now, if it takes someone longer to figure it out, the longer they think of my show.” The challenge of finding a trick like that was great fun for her too.

At the news that Bea had never been to college, Ben resisted the impulse to stare at her in shock. She’d never been to college? Never even taken a college course? How could that possibly be? She was an entertainer, yes, but her interests and the insights she held-- they were beyond that of what he’d expect from someone with just a high school diploma. Or, Lord forbid, a GED. Incredible. Unbelievable. But, he kept his expression calm and smiled instead. “Well, I suppose that means my job is safe for the time being.” He joked before shrugging at her question. “Fear seems a bit too Machiavellian for me, personally.”

“That could be it.” Ben agreed though her answer, once again, only made him wonder more. She actively tried to make connections, actively tried to be relatable. He could understand why she would do such things, but it still intrigued him. What else lay below the surface of this woman, who seemed just as observant and calculating as himself? “Really? Well. Could you show me one that interests you a bit more?” He asked, eyes bright as a small grin slid across his face. To her it would seem he was eager at the prospect of seeing another trick-- in reality, it was nothing more than a ploy to stoke her ego.

“Maybe I’ll have to look into it now, just for the pleasure of that,” Bea teased. Classrooms were not where she learnt best. She had always been a tactical learner, someone who had to do to get the best experience. Her interest in reading had developed later in life, after high school, when she felt free to explore her interests. The push to learn chemistry, math, and history had been bland while she was a student. Her grades had reflected her feelings on school very well. It was the one place she was allowed to do poorly. “A bit of Machiavellianism isn’t always a bad thing. Being able to use the tools one has to their advantage shouldn’t be considered deceitful or wrong. If fear is a method of keeping the playing field even, why not use it.” The Vurals, Bea found, could be considered ruthless at times, but maybe that’s what had kept them where they were.

The showman in Bea egged her on and with a small smirk, she nodded. “I won’t show you anything I’m using in my current show, but I can show you one of my old favorites.” There was temptation to pull out all the stops, awe him in a manner he had yet to be awe. She held back. This was a trick that required none of her own magic, but wonderful sleight of hand and a bit of trick fire. “Why don’t I show you first and then you can try to figure it out?” That was always a fun game and it would show her how his mind worked. What details he picked up on and what were lost in the end. She was quite excited to see how his observant eye would do. 

“Well, I’ll be able to provide recommendations of classes if you ever decide to pursue a degree.” Ben said with an easy nod. If she ever did do such a thing, and Ben got the distinct impression that she had no such interest. No matter. “Spoken like the diplomat himself. I must say, I don’t entirely disagree that one must use all tools at their disposal. But, I try my best to leave fear as a last resort. And never with students. It’s just not good practice to strike fear in the people you’re teaching.” He replied.

“By all means.” Ben said with a smile and a wave of his hand. He had an eye for detail, but prestidigitation was hardly his strong suit. No matter, he was curious to see what she had in store.

“I’m far too busy right now to consider it, I fear,” Bea said easily. She had never considered, not even as her friends were searching for colleges. Perhaps there would be skills that she could obtain from some instruction, but she was fine with her books for most subjects. “Maybe I’ll sit in on one of your classes one day,” She teased. That was an interesting idea at least, then she could see how he taught his students. How different would he be in the classroom? When she felt a lesson needed to be taught, to anyone, she had a firm hand, though she did attempt to be kind. “Students are different, aren’t they? There’s a power imbalance there already, fear doesn’t need to be added. With adults, though, we have to remind them of the power.” Remind them of who they were dealing with. 

It took a few moments to set up, but once she was ready, she held a deck of cards in her hand. She pulled out a sharpie, “Sign a few random cards for me.” A few fancy shuffling passes and the trick began in earnest. With a flash of fire, her deck vanished, her sleeveless dress giving no indication that it could have slipped somewhere that other people used. It was a simple trick by design, but no less fun to watch. “I wonder where the deck went,” She smiled. 

“I suppose I have that to look forward to.” Ben said, matching her lightly teasing tone. At Bea’s words, Ben resisted the urge to smile-- not the saccharine smile of the doting professor or the wry grin bashful intellectual. He held back the smile of one who understood the power of fear and the joy of that came with using that particular tactic. It was a smile he rarely used outside of those nights in the wood, when he was offering sacrifice to his Lord. “Perhaps, perhaps.” He said, shrugging with a nonchalant air. “The iron hand in a velvet glove technique has its place. But, I prefer to avoid such things, when at all possible.”

He signed the cards as asked and watched as Bea flashed the cards in front of him, intrigued. Ben blinked as a sudden burst of flame illuminated both their faces. Flash paper, to draw attention away from the real trick. He’d seen her hands move, watched her closely, and yet… “Don’t tell me the cards are in my pocket.”  Ben joked, patting his hands against his jeans.

There was something about Ben that tickled Bea, he pulled at her curiosity. He was magnetic to her, but, she imagined, not in the way he was to others. She wanted to take him apart until she found out what his goal was, why he was like her. She wanted to see if he truly believed some of the things he said. “I suppose that would make you the good cop and me the bad cop then,” She smiled. Did he have the potential to be as ruthless as she was? Maybe he could be worse. He was interesting enough for her to want him as a friend, but she couldn’t allow that title to go to anyone she didn’t understand. 

“No, it’s not.” She smirked at him, “If I was going to put my hand in your pocket, I’d want you to know about it.” Her smirk widened as she snapped her fingers and cards began to rain around them. His signature seen as the cards fluttered down around them. 

Ben couldn’t help but grin at her words. He wasn’t surprised by them-- he honestly couldn’t keep track of all the people who made a pass at him. But, this presented an interesting opportunity, one where he could pick Bea’s mind without needing ulterior motives. Watching as the cards fell from the sky, he spotted the cards he’d signed. Ben grabbed it from the air and glanced at it. The Queen of Spades. “That’s quite the trick, I can see why you used it in shows. I wonder how your new ones compare. ” He said, flipping the card between his fingers before handing it back to Bea. “Would dinner and drinks this weekend be payment enough to find out how you managed that?” Ben asked, his eyes bright. The mystery of the woman that was Beatrice Vural was one that intended to crack. One way or another.