2019-12-07 - The Ice Ball

The Ice Ball exceeded expectations, from the divine food and clever cocktails to the talented band and lively environment, from its grand ballroom with its stained glass chandeliers to the cozier side rooms with plush couches and bright artwork. It struck just the right balance between formal and relaxed, ample opportunity to dance perfectly paired with plenty of distraction.

Not that they were not themselves sufficiently distracting. Yule cut a dashing figure in his tuxedo, the garment expertly tailored to his frame. The sleek black and white outfit favored a bowtie, allowing only one splash of color in a pinned red rose with a flash of green leaves and stem. It complemented Sparrow in her exquisite floor-length black gown, sleeveless with a wide-set and low-plunging neckline, cinched with a red, green and gold tartan belt. Though her heels were hardly seen at all that night, they gave her just enough added height to let her play at being taller for a while, even if only by half an inch.

The most delightful diversion of the evening was the tarot reading done off in one of the cozy nooks far from the din of the gala proper, the lights dimmed, the room smelling of black tea and cinnamon. A woman in her thirties sat across from them, braided hair drawn up from her dark face into an intricate pattern woven with gilded ribbons and charms to complement her dress, a mystic’s finery in gold and green.

“You’re new,” the reader told them before even turning over a card, inviting them to sit with a sweep of a many-ringed hand. “Let’s see how compatible you are, mm?” Her voice was warm, rich like honey, inviting despite the mischief in her words.

“Desires first. Where it all begins.” She flipped the Four of Rods over in front of Sparrow, four flower-topped posts forming a gateway framing a home in the distance, and told her, “Belonging. Place and purpose among others. With him? But it can be a danger, mm? To bind ourselves to something, to build a house knowing it could burn down.” The redhead edged a curious look toward her date, checking to see if he caught that, how she’d just been called on her fear of commitment, but she said nothing of it.

The Nine of Swords was set down next, in front of Yule, reversed, a woman with her face buried in her hands among what might be headstones. “Peace and perspective,” the reader tells him despite the somber picture upon the card. “You carry a darkness inside yourself that could consume you if you let it, and so you look for light to draw you out.” It drew a twitch of a frown to Yule’s expression, eyes kept upon the card. The faintest of nods in acknowledgement to the truth it spoke, he offered no further illumination on what it might have caused to rattle loose for consideration in his thoughts.

Back to Sparrow’s side, the reader revealed the Three of Cups, reversed, with a trio of women, cups lifted, with a huge yellow flower in the background. The woman chuckled as her index finger tapped to the card then pointed to the redhead. “You keep yourself too busy, spread your love too thin. Call it freedom, but you know how it binds you.” The blush coming quickly to the redhead’s cheeks gave her away. The reader went on, pointing to Yule without looking at him as she added, “He thinks he’s more tied down, but his chains are fewer,” sounding so very sure of it, their differences so succinctly explained.

Without waiting for any response, the dark-skinned woman looked to Yule and set another from the suit of Swords, this time an upright Eight, in front of him, a woman bound and blindfolded on the card. With a little grunt, she told them, “You are both afraid. Question your judgment, worry what others think. So new, this. How much do you give not knowing if it will last?” That came with criticism, a little cluck of her tongue to chide them for what the card had shown.

“Let us see how well you get on then, mm?” With a tap of two fingers to her chest, twice, she told them, “We start with the heart,” and flipped over the Eight of Pentacles, reversed, a man staring at his hammer. “It’s been easy so far. How you fit and how you feel. But what happens when you have to work at it, mm? When it’s not just fun?”

Next, in the center of the spread, the laid the Queen of Pentacles, reversed, an upside down woman in a spotted cloak, with a feathered helm. Looking to Yule, the woman seemed to be sizing him up before she explained, “Conflict. Friction. The woman not where she wants to be. You should ask her what she wants, mm?” So very pleased with this interpretation, Sparrow said nothing, paying no mind to the small snort of laughter from the ME, but her cheeks flared red when he countered, “I'd say the conflict is internal, not external, with uncertainty around why some things appeal more than one had expected,” and cast that amused look her way.

The tarot reader offered no objection, reading that interaction well enough to know she had it right. And so, after a tap to her temple to indicate, “Intellectual compatibility,” she set the final card in front of them, between them: the Two of Coins which just keeps coming up, this one featuring a man in a large pink hat. She said nothing. What was there to say? Looking between them, their familiarity with and fondness for that card was easily read. With contented expression bordering on the sublime, Yule noted, "Yeah. Have we had a reading yet where it didn't come up, in some way? Definitely our card."

Echoed by Sparrow, “Definitely our card.”