The Mayor's Home - The Oracle's Pavilion [Restricted Access]

She opened the doors to her bedroom and led Krypt inside. For a moment, he'd be able to take a look and see that it was not decorated in the jungle fashion of Gaiaton, but seemed more like it belonged to the desert with its patterns and its jeweled tones. A small shrine to Amun Ra with incense burning could be found in the room, and Bedouin tapestries hung on the wall, covering the painted murals that were put upon them. Even though her room was elegant, it was simplistic, much like the woman herself.

She led him towards three arches that made a wall of one side of her bedroom, hung with gauzy curtains that chimed quietly with the golden coins that hung upon them. Pushing them aside, she walked onto a balcony that narrowed at its center to make an arching bridge over a ravine in the mountain, which widened again into another balcony, and wide steps that led up to the Oracle's pavilion.

Candles were still flickering and letting their golden shadows flickering over the walls. Sliding out of her sandals at the foot of the stairs, she lifted her robe up to her toned calves and mounted the stairs until she sat on the white cushions at its covered top, and waited for Krypt to sit opposite her.

Neferet chuckled lightly as she ascended the staircase while he unlaced his boots.

"Yes, this is where it happens," she told him warmly, seated and waiting for him to ascend.

She appreciated that he understood the traditions without having being told, and when he came to sit across her, she momentarily felt hesitation. How powerful would the vision be? Would it be clear? Vague? She had no idea. She wouldn't know until she was seeing it.

As he spoke, she moved to take up the box and set it on the table between them. She opened it and pulled out a small dagger and laid it on the table. Then, she took out a small incense burner, a small brown vial, and two small leather pouches marked with a single colored dot on their worn leather, but otherwise none of them decorated or ornate.

"I can only tell you what I see, Krypt," she said quietly as she worked, reaching first for the small incense burner. Using matches, she struck the flame on the inside. She picked up the pouch with the yellow dot, opened it, and sprinkled dry herbs inside. The scent of spice was immediately strong, pale green smoke curling from out of the holes of the metal things.

She reached for the second pouch, this one marked with a red dot, and opened it. She put two fingers inside, and pulled them out again, the tips stained blue. Closing her eyes, she marked a line, horizontally over her forehead, as if that line represented a shut eye. She closed the pouch, then put both back into the box.

Lastly, she reached for the knife and when she turned one of her palms over, Krypt would be able to see an old and ugly scar upon it, as if she had done this over... and over... and over again, the skin thickened and a darkened pink. He could see it in her face, the way she tensed, her shoulders as well, and she split her palm open down that line so that blood came to the surface against the caramel hue of her skin.

Then, she lifted those tawny eyes to his, and purposefully put the small knife on his side of the table. She put both of her palms on the table with the incense burning in between, both palms face up, blood running off of one and lightly pooling on the furniture's surface.

"There are no guarantees, Krypt. What I see, I will see, and what I see, I will tell you. It may be possible that what I see is too vague to be called a future. It may be possible that what I see is very clear. It may be that what I see will happen tomorrow, it may be that what I see will happen a hundred years from now. The Future is only guaranteed to the Gods and Amun Ra; we who live in the mortal realm are only given shadows to interpret.

Do you understand?"

She only gave him one of her gentle smiles when he insisted that she not tax herself on his account, and let her palms wait on the table. She watched as he sliced his hand, and then she closed her eyes.

Her palms were not tough and calloused, but were warm and soft. Two fingers of her whole hand were stained blue from the thick line she put across her forehead, while the other palm continued to capture warmed, pooled blood in her palm, sliding from between her relaxed fingers.

He lowered his hands, and she felt their masculine weight and the connection between them instantly. It made her inhale quickly through her nose.

For a moment, there was peace, as her own influence drifted into Krypt in a way that could only be described as spiritual. For a moment, Krypt felt as she felt, the heavy and quiet burden of her life, and the peaceful acceptance of such. Their blood slid over each other's palms, mixing, the life essences of both.

For a long few moments it was like this. Quiet. Tranquil. Neferet's eyes were closed, her lashes dark fans across her cheeks, her dark hair still damp from the bath and hung heavy over her shoulders and breasts, all of her skin and body save for her face and hands covered by the dark, yet thin material of the long robe she wore.

And then, her head snapped backwards to look up to the ceiling, her full mouth parting with a slow, audible exhale into her body. Her eyes were opened now, but they were white and unseeing, and her palms gripped his to make sure they didn't leave.

The smoke from the incense jar continued to curl around it, wafting into the air with its spicy aroma. Her hands started to shake, indeed her arms started to shake and her body jerked sporadically. She spoke, but the words could not be heard, just her mouth moving in a language that Krypt did not know.

Her head fell forward, dark hair shielding her face as her shoulders and arms and body continued to jerk again, again, strong reactions that almost ripped her grasp from his hands, and her heavy breathing was audible, the breathing of someone experiencing a dark nightmare, perhaps.

And then with a cry, she ripped her hands from beneath his and held them up, fingers splayed by her shoulders. Blood was smeared all over one palm, and it dripped down her arm. She was breathing heavy, and when she lifted her face, her eyes were closed.

When she opened her eyes, Neferet was back in control of her body.

She swallowed and shook her head to clear it, not to indicate that she wasn't alright. For the moment, it seemed that Neferet was ignoring Krypt, but as he watched, he'd be able to determine that she was still trying to get her bearings.

She reached for a small pitcher of water with two plain cups beside it. She took up the pitcher and ran water first over her hand, washing away his blood and obviously very vigorously and she picked up a white cloth from a small stack near the table.

When all of the blood was gone, she used a fresh one to bind her hand, and then offered one to Krypt. Her hands were shaking, and she was still calming her breathing when she used the pitcher again to pour them each a cup of water, and then set the pitcher down with only a slight clatter.

She drank... and then she spoke.

"I saw a child."

"I saw a child," she repeated, "born of ice and fire. The child will kill its mother, and set off a chain of events that will kill others as well. It will not be welcomed in Winter, and it will be abandoned to die. Should it live, and through its eighteenth birthday, it will lead a life that will become a legend."

She drank more water, her hands still shaking.

"You will live through your trials at Gaiaton, and you will be a great warrior and become a great leader. You will take many wives and have many more children, but you will never have the woman that you love, and you will never father another child like your first. Because of this emptiness, your people will despair. After your death, the great works that you will have accomplished will become undone, and your name will fade from history."

She was still trembling, and she reached to refill her water cup. Her hands were shaking so badly, however, that she couldn't put the water into the cup, so she stopped before she embarrassed herself even more.

She shook her head at his answer. "No. That was unseen to me."

Neferet let out a small breath and then reached with a fragile arm towards the pillows. She winced a little as she put pressure on her wounded hand, and then she laid back against them, closing her eyes and resting her black-silk draped body over it.

"Perhaps you will meet her tomorrow," Neferet said lightly, a soft joking tone on her voice. "Perhaps you have already met her and don't yet realize the depths of your heart. If you continue on this path you are walking, that is the future you will endure."

She rested her hands on the flat of her stomach and gently inhaled and exhaled, trying to find a measure of peace to calm her racing mind and heart and the pulsing sound of her heartbeat in her ears.

"Please, just Neferet," she said almost automatically. She rested while he watched her and she listened to him speak. She was vaguely intrigued with the idea of an ice queen, but more so on why he would think that he loved her if she was disfainful, cold, and distant.

When he began to speak about loving her, she withheld her want to laugh. No man loved her, and she knew that no man ever would. That was HER destiny, as had been told to her. She did not laugh, but instead waited until he was finished, aside from correcting his use of 'lady.'

"No, Krypt. I am not that woman," she told him. She did not remark on his compliment of her beauty, or the poor one of her personality. While she herself was distant, it was not with the same coldness as other people Krypt might have known. Hers seemed a reluctant and melancholy distance, as if she didn't wish it, but had to do it.

She turned her head to regard him and opened her eyes to look at him, that gentle, sad smile on her lips. "I am only the woman that has told you what she has seen. If you have not had your Ice Queen yet, then perhaps I would suggest staying away from her."

After all, the prophecy that she spoke only guaranteed that child's future IF it survived to its eighteenth birthday. If the child never existed, then perhaps the prophecies would change.

She found Krypt intriguing, given the slight glimpses into his people and his culture when he spoke. Neferet was a people watcher, undoubtedly a defense mechanism given that Neferet rarely had good news to tell those who came for their futures. Krypt, however, seemed to take it in stride, and even seemed pleased with what she told him.

"Then, for your sake, I hope your child survives to be eighteen," she told him, and genuinely meant it. Although she would ahve genuinely meant it for anyone; she really hoped that no parent had to go through a loss of their child.

The thought momentarily had her hand drifting down to her flat and empty stomach, but she stopped herself. The Oracle pushed on the pillows until she sat up, and looked down at her hands. They weren't shaking, at least, not as much, and she had caught her breath.

And Krypt's next words had her snapping her gaze upward to look at him, offering his hand to her with a look in his eye that she couldn't quite place, although she had definitely heard his suggestive tone. She even returned his sad smile, and she shook her head, almost bashful. A blush crept onto her face as she helped herself up and avoided touching him, brushing past him with the scent of jasmine in her dark hair and made her way down the steps to the bridge that connected the Pavilion to her room.