(no subject)

[ten_of_swords]

He had thought to let Moon retrieve her.

Just meet them at the castle--

(castle... what respectable anthropomorphic personification lives in a damn castle with battlements? None, that's what I say...)

but Moon had given him a Look before she went off to prepare things at home. Choice would be doing the actual deed. Only the Major Arcana could, and Choice made sense. Hell, Choice always made sense.

Now, he stood outside M16, wearing loose trousers and a tunic--

(gods of the multiverse, I look like a debauched poet whose been at the absinthe too long, what the hell was Moon thinking -- oh, yeah, that's right, she DOESN'T...)

--hand poised over the door. This wasn't something he'd personally done for centuries. He hadn't even been there when Sorrow or Misery were created. The only card's creation he'd ever bothered to be present at was his own. He was sure Mary Anne was expecting something painful, but Ruin didn't remember pain. All he remembered, really, was the loss of his humanity. Of course, to be what he was, the Ten of Swords, humanity was a hindrance, not an asset. For Mary Anne, just like Sorrow, it would be a positive attribute.

Ruin takes a deep breath and knocks three times, swiftly, schooling his features into an expression of disinterest.

Comments

[song_tra_bong]

She doesn't have to be clairvoyant to know it's him.
mother, the car is here
(been sitting on the edge of her bed for almost an hour waiting hands twisting in her lap)
somebody leave the light on
At the first knock, she's on her feet and crossing the room. She opens the door just after the third.
and when i dance for him
She's wearing a dress--simple white linen that falls to her ankles. The top ties halter-style behind her neck, leaving her back bare to the waist. She wears no shoes and carries no weapons.
somebody leave the light on
Her smile is soft and faintly nervous. "Hi."

[ten_of_swords]

He thinks the attire appropriate.

(virgin white but pure but not but she is but... but...)

"Hey, Legs," he says softly. "You ready?"

[song_tra_bong]

She takes a deep breath.

"As ready as I can be."

[ten_of_swords]

Now he smirks, holding out his hand.

"If you had said yes, I would've called you a liar." He gives a little tug toward the stairs, toward the bar, where the door waits to lead her on a new path. "Choice will do it," Ruin tells her, eyes straight. "Only the Major Arcana can do it, and I wouldn't trust Moon to look after my shoes--"

Although Moon had been the one to make Sorrow and Sorrow had turned out fine.

[song_tra_bong]

Her fingers twine loosely with his out of reflex.

She digs in her heels at the top of the stairs. "Hey. Are you alright?"

[ten_of_swords]

He turns to her, his brow furrowed.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He gives her a wolfish grin. "Just anxious. Never been to one of these except when I became what I am, and that night's a bit hazy for me."

[song_tra_bong]

"Ah. Just checking."

She nudges him lightly with her shoulder. "Thought it was my job to be nervous."

[ten_of_swords]

"Not nervous," he corrects her indignantly. "Anxious. Very big difference."

As they enter the bar he stops and impulsively kisses her.

"You sure? Mary Anne," he says, looking into her eyes. "It can't be undone. You have to be sure. You..." Ruin sighs, looks away then back at her. "I don't want you to hate me for doing this. Hate me for what I did to Gorlim, hate me for all I've done and will do to various sentients, but this? You can't hate me for this. I can't have you do that."

(can't have you be like her... get it then hate me for giving it to you...)

[song_tra_bong]

Her hand tightens around his.

"To be fair, you weren't the one who offered me this," she murmurs.

"The only person I'll have the right to be mad at is me. It's my choice. I won't hate you for giving me what I want. I can't."

[ten_of_swords]

He keeps his thoughts to himself. It wouldn't be prudent to say 'Well, my wife thought the same thing until she had the power...'

You don't say that kind of thing to your new lover.

Bad manners or something.

Ruin kisses her again and resumes his trek to the door, determined now.

[song_tra_bong]

Coira's choice is in the back of her mind, too.

But I'm not her. Not a replacement for her.

My choice is different.

She walks beside him, glancing over her shoulder when they reach the door.

Not like the place won't be here when she gets back.

[ten_of_swords]

He opens the door.

Opens it on deep purple skies, neither of the moons in the sky. New moon.

Darkness.

A time of beginnings.

Ruin steps through, his feet touching the sand that reflects white under the starlight. He looks over his shoulder to make sure she comes with him, his fingers loose in her hand.

"Welcome home, Mary Anne," he murmurs.

[song_tra_bong]

She follows, half a step behind, and tightens her grip a fraction. He wants her to let go, he can say something. Until then, she's holding on.

She glances up at the sky, eyes adjusting from the light of the bar.

"I guess it is now," she replies softly.

[ten_of_swords]

Slowly, enjoying the sound of the ocean, they walk toward the castle not too far in the distance.

And he begins to talk.

"I don't really remember a home other than this one. In fact, I remember my life as Perth more than I remember it as Ciaran. They took me from those disease infested streets, brought me here. I can't imagine why they chose me, but they did. You know what I think I wish the most? I wish I could remember if I was such a callous asshole as a human as I am now, or if it was becoming Ruin that did it." Ruin chuckles mirthlessly as he shakes his head. "A mother whose voice is a ghost, a father whose drunken breath is only a nightmare now, and a sister... I think it was a sister... who died before she was ten. Those are the memories of Ciaran, Mary Anne. Twenty-nine years of life in poverty and sickness, and all I can remember are those fragments."

[song_tra_bong]

And she listens.

"...do you think I'll forget?"

[ten_of_swords]

Ruin pauses to look at her, an odd look in his eyes.

"I don't know. Sorrow remembers her entire life. Then again, she hasn't been a card as long as I have." His lips form a sort-of wistful smile. "I think... if you don't want to forget... you won't. You'll always force yourself to reconnect. I lost myself. Which, I suppose, isn't a bad thing. It allows me to do my job to the best of my ability."

They walk a little further, and then a thought occurs to him.

"You know, you never asked if I enjoyed what I did to Gorlim and his god. You never revisit that, as if it didn't happen. It's not good to repress. Then again, you'll know more than you probably want to before the night is out. Unless we do so intentionally, our thoughts aren't hidden between us where our jobs are concerned. It's how come Wheel knows me so damn well."

[song_tra_bong]

She nods; she's stubborn enough to try and remember everything.

At the mention of what (he did how can you touch him) happened, her steps falter.

"I can't think about that," she whispers.
you should have asked
"Even if I should. I..." Her teeth sink into her lower lip until the skin blanches white.
you have to know
"Did you? Enjoy it."

[ten_of_swords]

"In some ways," he admits as they near the castle. "There are certain acts I didn't like performing, but others... It's easy to be swept up in the part you play. Do you know what I did to him?" he asks, casting a sideways glance her way. "The particulars?"

[song_tra_bong]

"Not for everything."

(what did he like what did he hate what made him weep what do you know what do you know)

"Some things I heard from Namo and Gorlim, some you told me yourself. But all the particulars...I would guess not."

[ten_of_swords]

"I didn't much like the use of the pear. It was unpleasant. That whole night was unpleasant. Awful night."

He sighs.

"But when I wore the faces of his lovers... or when he had to face some of his fears and he found in him a deep well of strength? They were moments I didn't feel like an utter monster. And, one day, Gorlim will come across me and speak the words he said he looks forward to saying: that he loves me." Ruin chuckles, opening one of the very large doors easily. "Loves me. I swear, only the romantic at heart could say everyone will eventually love ruin."

[song_tra_bong]

She has no idea what he means by the pear. She won't ask.

"Pleasure at the results is not pleasure in the act," she murmurs, still trying to comprehend what he would call an 'awful night.'

She smiles for the first time since the topic came up. "Be patient. There's time."

Deep down, she's a romantic--if a militant one.

[ten_of_swords]

She'll know what he meant soon enough. All the other cards knew, she would know, too.

"After you," he murmurs, motioning for her to enter. "The others will see you afterward, but right now... it'll just be you, me, and Choice."

[song_tra_bong]

"Such a gentleman," she replies, stealing a kiss on her way in the door.

She nods. "It...that makes sense." She isn't sure quite what to expect, but she fears being exposed and vulnerable in front of the assembled family. The privacy of the rite is reassuring.

[ten_of_swords]

He moves in front of her, leading her through dimly lit rooms and toward not often used back room. Choice stands in the centre of the room, candles surrounding him, his hazel eyes dacing with the light. In their ever-changing depths, one can see a myriad of paths, of choices, of chances. There is a table tall enough for him to be comfortable standing at, and a smaller table beside him filled with pots of ink.

But there is no needle. Only a paintbrush.

"You lay on the table," Ruin murmurs, his eyes on Choice. "It... I can't say it won't hurt, but it does and it doesn't."

[song_tra_bong]

Mary Anne just nods and walks over to the table. She sits on the edge, then swings her feet up and rolls onto her stomach.

She folds her arms to serve as a pillow, resting her chin on her wrist, and waits.

[ten_of_swords]

Choice dips his brush into a pot, then sets about his job. Slowly, he creates a sword, running the length of her back. It's a tedious process, for all the tattoos look quite real. Silver and black and white... various colours are added... cold and steel and magic imbued... humanity, immortality, knowledge, sight, power, wisdom...

Ruin crouches in front of Mary Anne, his eyes on her, his own memory of the experience suddenly very vivid. It had been painful for him, but Moon had told him Reue hadn't thought it all that terrible. It had been more emotional than physical for his daughter.

[song_tra_bong]

Her eyes are closed, lips pressed into a pale line.

It hurts because it is change--steel sinking into her bones and her brain and her soul and deeper still than that. It is power, a burden, and thus it brings pain.

It doesn't hurt because it's her choice.

[ten_of_swords]

The brush is dipped again, and Choice begins to create hilt of the sword with broad, sure strokes of the paint. The paint seeps, stains, becomes one with the woman's flesh, more permanent than even a tattoo -- it was now her. He pays careful mind to the way the cross-guard flared at the ends, the bulbous pommel...

Ruin stands and begins to pace some.

"Brother," Choice says, his voice filling the room with weight, as bottomless as the ocean outside the walls. "You will distract me, and neither of us desires that," he warns as he returns for more paint (the colour of dark iron).

Ruin ceases his pacing and leans against one of the stone walls, crossing his arms and watching the sword seem to glow on her back. He could feel the power -- what made him was remaking her.

[song_tra_bong]

Her mouth flickers into the barest of smiles at Choice's comment, then her expression settles back into neutrality.

(blood steel bone power paint sight marked owned and owning)

She feels the sword like a physical weight on her back. Almost finished, but not quite.

[ten_of_swords]

Choice adds the last of his highlights, then cleans his brush. When he is satisfied, he collects shimmering gold paint onto his brush. With his steady hands, he begins the crown that circled the hilt of the sword. It wasn't his mind the image that he painted came from, it was from something far deeper and older than himself. Filigree was carefully painted, shadow and light applied, and Choices eyes never left his task.

[song_tra_bong]

The gold is warmer than steel, a delicate itch between her shoulder blades.
let the circle be unbroken
(not just a sword but a queen among swords)

A weapon, a woman and more than both--she holds her breath.

[ten_of_swords]

He was but a subject to the Queen, but not. He was older than the Queen. Wiser. Colder. Harder. A Ten. Not a King, not even a Knight, but a Ten. Ten swords piercing his back -- the lowest of the low, the deadest of the dead.

Choice adds the final touches to the crown and sits back to look over his work. "Esto perpetua," he whispers. The image of sword and crown glows briefly, then fades. By the time Choice has cleaned and set aside his brush, the tattoo looks as if it had always been a part of Mary Anne's body for years. "Welcome to the family," he says as he steps to Ruin's side. "Our first Queen."

Ruin just waits, his eyes unblinking and focused entirely on her.

[song_tra_bong]

She sits up slowly, eyes heavily lidded. She swings her legs off of the table but doesn't yet stand. Her fingers curl around the edge of the table.

blood fire screaming and the flash of a sword faces shifting but the eyes stay the same the road goes ever on and off and winding and you can see it all you can't not too perceptive see right through it all you know it all oh my people what have I done unto thee

Eventually, she looks up, eyes a brighter shade of blue than belongs in a human face and far too old. She nods deeply to Choice, then meets Ruin's gaze.

Ciaran

She doesn't say his name out loud, just smiles very slowly.

[ten_of_swords]

He can hear her.

He walks slowly to her, cupping her face with one of his hands.

"'lo, Legs," he says in a husky tone.

[song_tra_bong]

She tilts her head just enough to kiss his palm, though her eyes stay locked on his.

"Hey, you."

[ten_of_swords]

He smiles faintly.

"You doin' okay?" There is a part of him--

(Coira changed changed in ways didn't know didn't expect)

--waiting for the shoe to drop, for it to all go horribly wrong in some way.

[song_tra_bong]

She nods.

"I think so."

I'm still here not going anywhere don't be afraid afraid of me

[ten_of_swords]

He bends down enough to kiss her.

What he warned her, about though, now crashes in. The knowledge of millions of various paths -- walked and unwalked -- known from those in her own sphere and known second-hand through the other cards.

She knows what he did to Gorlim, and which parts he enjoyed and which he didn't. She knows what he meant by the pear and the awful night of rape and torment of two lovers holding onto one another desperately in the middle of a hurricane invited.

Mary Anne Knows things. From Sorrow's recent endeavours with a little girl whose father had drown her kitten, to Fortune's elation at bringing some luck to a destitute family in China.

Paths.

Choices.

They are hers now to Know and oversee.

[song_tra_bong]

Her breath catches and she goes still against him.

She doesn't speak, doesn't think. She can't.

She Knows.

She sighs, a stuttering breath against his mouth, before leaning in for a kiss.

[ten_of_swords]

He looks into her too-blue eyes.

"You'll get used to it. You've got forever to get used to it."

[song_tra_bong]

"I'll learn."

She always has.

"...what now?"

[ten_of_swords]

"Now you meet your family and choose your room," he says, taking her hand to help her off the table.

Choice is already by the door. "All who have awakened or been made are here tonight to welcome you," he explains, opening the door and letting in a cool breeze.

[song_tra_bong]

She steps down, turning her face into the breeze.

"Then I should go say hello."

[ten_of_swords]

He slides his arm around her waist--

('Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone. I give ye my Body, that we Two might be One. I give ye my Spirit, 'til our Life shall be Done.')

--and leads her out the door, Choice following close behind.