#wherescleo

Marco was worried. He had only meant to be gone for a few minutes when his parents had summoned him over to meet the company’s newest solicitor. But the minutes had stretched to half an hour, and he began to feel bad that he had left Cleo all alone at the bar. He fidgeted as the man, Arthur Hastings, droned on about the latest settlement he had managed to close on Eduardo and Elizabeth’s behalf. As tall as Marco was, he was still too far away to see whether or not Cleo was still waiting for him on the other side of the hall. What an idiot he was, leaving his date all alone because he had panicked and hadn’t thought to introduce Cleo right away to his parents. I’ll be right back, he had told her. Yeah, right. The sudden feeling of someone’s hand clasping his shoulder made him jump.

“Everything alright, Marco?” His father’s deep voice was devoid of concern. Eduardo had noticed he wasn’t paying attention to Arthur’s story.

“Yes, sir.” Marco fixed his eyes on the solicitor once more. Arthur Hastings was a large, broad-shouldered man with a booming voice that caused heads to turn. He clung to to his drink with one meaty hand, his fingers as red and as large as sausages. The beads of sweat on his forehead gleamed under the sparkling chandelier lights. He certainly wasn’t a pretty sight, but Marco decided that he had to be good at what he did if his parents had hired him on. Mediocrity wasn’t a word that existed in Eduardo and Elizabeth’s dictionary.

“Remember, young man,” Arthur prodded Marco’s chest with his glass. “People will settle on anything if the price is right.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, Mr. Hastings,” Marco replied politely, watching the heavy man guzzle down his expensive drink. “You should meet my sister. I’m sure she’d appreciate your counsel as much as I do.”

“Arthur is a very busy man, Marco,” Eduardo interjected immediately. “He doesn’t have time to meet Ruth. He’s not even staying for the whole party.”

“Have you seen Ruthie?” Elizabeth’s dark eyes were on him. It startled him how much Ruth and her looked alike. “I had hoped to see her before the guests started arriving, but...” But his mother hadn’t had time to inspect Ruth’s outfit beforehand. He knew his parents all too well.

“I’m sure she’s around. I could find her if you’d like.”

Elizabeth bowed her head in thanks. Marco excused himself from the group and tried not to rush back to the bar. He scanned the row of heads for a sign of his curly-haired date, but he could not catch a glimpse of the girl who set his heart beating so wildly lately.

“Another old-fashioned for you, sir?” André’s cheery face greeted him on the other side of the bar.

“Not right now, André. I was actually looking for the young woman I was with earlier. Big, curly hair, gold dress?”

The bartender’s lips curled into a smile. “Elle est mignonne ton amoureuse.”

Marco frowned. Stupid French men. “Tu l’as vu ou non?”

“Elle est sortie dehors plus tôt avec un beau, grand mec. Il te ressemble un peu, je trouve.”

“Il était mexicain par hasard?”

“Tu le connais?”

Marco sighed and leaned against the bar with his forearms. 

“Malheureusement.”

“Alors… how about that old-fashioned?”

“Only if you make it right this time.”

@wherescleo

“Oh Cleo! Come, come, sit down.” Ruth finishes shuffling her deck for what seems like the dozenth time. “What do you want to know, my sweet?”

It seems like everybody wants to know the future these days. Ruth’s ability is all the rage, the hot new fashion, everyone wants to wear the future. Ruth, of course, is happy for the practice. If the visions can’t tell her how to prepare for their fate, maybe the cards can. Maybe it’s all pieces of one big puzzle she’s been picking over for all these months. “Let’s see what the future holds for lovely Cleo.”

As she does with each reading, she sinks into her tarot ritual, shutting her eyes and focusing her thoughts on her breath. One breath to settle into her body, one breath to find Cleo’s presence... Cleo proves strangely hard to find. Ruth knows she’s sitting there across the table but her small body, her quiet breathing, her soft energy all blends in to the air in a timid way. For a moment, Ruth thinks something might be wrong. Is Cleo too far away? Is her intention not really into seeing her future? Then it hits her. Cleo’s ability is invisibility. She has a knack for slipping through the cracks. It’s so jarringly opposite from Rory’s vibrant energy she had felt before. Cleo is dark, and small, and mysterious. Ruth tries again, breathing in Cleo’s presence. Her next breath is aimed at the cards, exhaling an imaginary light into them. Her eyes blink open. With surprise, she looks Cleo up and down again. The energy she feels and the gorgeous woman seated before her are so starkly different, it’s jarring to Ruth’s senses. She sets the deck out on the table. “Cut the deck for me, please?”

She pulls the cut deck back toward herself and lays out the top three cards. “The Hierophant Reversed, The Five of Pentacles Reversed, The Four of Swords Reversed.” Her expression darkens into an intense stare as she looks over each of the cards. “Hmmm...” Her fingers idly fiddle with the cards, turning them this way and that. “Not good, not good.” With a heavy sigh, she sits back. “You probably aren’t going to like hearing this, but things look pretty unstable all over in your life right now. Just about everything is messed up.” She rests her chin in the palm of her hand, leaning heavily on the table, while she pokes at the cards with a tense frown. “Some big nasty changes need to be made, and that’s going to require letting go of a few things you want to hold on to, and taking charge of some things you’d rather not face.”

With a nod, she shoves The Hierophant Reversed in Cleo’s direction. “You don’t want to be in charge anymore. You’re tired of it. You’ve lost that sense of purpose you once had. It doesn’t drive you like it used to. Something happened and it’s shaken you to the core of your soul, causing you to rethink your faith... maybe it’s your faith in magic, your faith in people, your spirituality... That’s not my business, but whatever it is, it’s got you retreating from the world. Rather than teaching, you’re searching for some time alone, learning and reflecting. The things you once thought were true, or set in stone, you realize are just fabrications. Now it’s got you wondering, what other lies were you trusting in? Is there any really point in following the rules? In being part of the crowd? Or are the lies just holding you back?” Ruth’s dark eyes wander up from the card to eye Cleo, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. Now the cards have her wondering what the quiet little vixen is going to do next.

She drags her fingers over to the next card. “Yet, you push those thoughts away because you have bigger problems to worry about. An upset at home, trouble with a friendship, has left your house in chaos. Just as your faith is being shaken, so too is your environment insecure. Your home is unsafe. Someone who gave you their generosity and their time has left. Now, you no longer feel like anywhere is home. You feel, more than ever, you must be vigilant, despite your desire to retreat and rest. You cannot give up until you’ve achieved the security you lost.” Ruth traces the circle of the pentagram with a soft contemplative finger while she considers what all this could mean. An upset at home? Did she and Faye have a falling out? Her frown furrows a little deeper as she realizes she really knows nothing about Cleo at all. Faye... she finds herself in many paintings, most of them featuring wolves...

@wherescleo

sam doesn’t bother dealing with jude, knowing there’s demons there that sam is not equipped or mentally stable enough himself to really deal with right now. and besides, they are still on rocky ground, even though sam is trying not to feel hostile towards him, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. he doesn’t want to touch him and incite anything from him, so he avoids that area, sees des going to him ( and des is probably a much better candidate to help him out anyway ), and slips off the couch, down onto the floor with cleo. he blinks a few times, hoping she’s not too angry or awkward with him, the two of them having not really had much interaction before this, even though she’s been inside his head, inside his dreams.

@wherescleo

he dreams he is sitting in a glass cage, and the world is constructing itself around him. he is witnessing the birth of all creation and it’s terrifying. it’s hot and burning and the earth is angry, and he can feel that anger resonate inside his bones. he is part of this planet, part of the tumultuous design, and it gives him a headache. he is gritting his teeth together, all his muscles drawn taunt and shaking from exhaustion. he cannot stop though, somehow he is the reason this box around him doesn’t shatter. if it breaks, he falls, and the lava will swallow him whole.

this is not the future, he knows that much, not one of his problematic visions mixed with the horror of his fears. it’s not really even the past either, just a stress dream, and while he is cognizant that this isn’t real, it’s still intense nonetheless, still frightening, and he is still struggling to keep everything together. even if it’s a dream or not, he doesn’t want the glass to break, he doesn’t want to fall. he sits with his legs crossed, keeping the box afloat with his mind, but amidst the chaos of steam and raining fire, beads of sweat begin collecting over his skin, and his muscles start to shake.