[ The architecture and décor (even the locks) really are so unusual, but there is no time to linger anywhere. She's avoided as many distractions as she could; so many that she can feel it in the aching pit of her empty stomach.
Vanessa does explore the living room while leaving him to check the other rooms, running a fingertip over a side-table and noting the lack of dust. The emptiness is unnerving, but what catches her the most is one of the photographs. Imperceptible like the gravestones, but a familiar heartsickness takes over yet again. Family. The picture frame is quickly returned when he re-enters the room, left face-down. ]
It will do. [ Barely a glance over her shoulder. ] ...Will you please allow me a moment to ready myself?
[ The inquiry is an illusion. His answer doesn't matter; she is already slipping into a bedroom and gently shutting the door. The bag and coat are thrown onto a dresser, and Vanessa glares when she catches sight of herself in the mirror. Never has she seen her own reflection with such clarity. With a shudder of disgust and fear, her coat is tossed overtop the mirror to hide the unwelcome sight.
One family is already gone because of her. Another cannot follow. The only way forward is always the most dangerous, and so she knows she must better understand the manner of danger she is about to tread toward. It is the most caution she may permit herself, so Vanessa retrieves her tarot cards. Her Hell, she knows. What of Heine's?
There's no time to do a full spread, so she leaves it to three cards. How much has he suffered? How is it wielded? How will it affect their quest?
Despite feeling clear-headed when pulling her cards, each time she flips one, it’s as if cobwebs are drawn across her vision. She can blink through, but barely. As frustrating as that is, she doesn’t need to rely purely on the card’s energies or her clairvoyance to use her tools. Her perception and knowledge is still her own. She has been following everything about Heine since meeting him and she knows these cards intimately. ]
1/2 i hate myself
Vanessa does explore the living room while leaving him to check the other rooms, running a fingertip over a side-table and noting the lack of dust. The emptiness is unnerving, but what catches her the most is one of the photographs. Imperceptible like the gravestones, but a familiar heartsickness takes over yet again. Family. The picture frame is quickly returned when he re-enters the room, left face-down. ]
It will do. [ Barely a glance over her shoulder. ] ...Will you please allow me a moment to ready myself?
[ The inquiry is an illusion. His answer doesn't matter; she is already slipping into a bedroom and gently shutting the door. The bag and coat are thrown onto a dresser, and Vanessa glares when she catches sight of herself in the mirror. Never has she seen her own reflection with such clarity. With a shudder of disgust and fear, her coat is tossed overtop the mirror to hide the unwelcome sight.
One family is already gone because of her. Another cannot follow. The only way forward is always the most dangerous, and so she knows she must better understand the manner of danger she is about to tread toward. It is the most caution she may permit herself, so Vanessa retrieves her tarot cards. Her Hell, she knows. What of Heine's?
There's no time to do a full spread, so she leaves it to three cards. How much has he suffered? How is it wielded? How will it affect their quest?
Despite feeling clear-headed when pulling her cards, each time she flips one, it’s as if cobwebs are drawn across her vision. She can blink through, but barely. As frustrating as that is, she doesn’t need to rely purely on the card’s energies or her clairvoyance to use her tools. Her perception and knowledge is still her own. She has been following everything about Heine since meeting him and she knows these cards intimately. ]