Redemption Arc
The art of overturning expectations, the surprise that came with a new turn of events. She turned over the last of the three cards, each one a step along the way, each one a way-station upon her journey, past, present, and future—the six of swords, the nine of wands reversed, the six of wands. Her brow furrowed slightly, her expression stern as she looked down at them.
In the compound, there had always been others to do such things for her, her handmaidens in red and orange silks closing about her, drawing cards from the deck, explaining their meaning as the three sisters had watched on, nodding sagely in their wisdom, approving of their charges ministrations over the young queene's future.
Now, in the settings of her sparse new apartment, the only life being the lilies held in the vase on the kitchen counter, a moving in present from Sakura, and a portrait of Mahāmāyūrī Vidyārājñī on the wall of the living room, she found it difficult to second-guess the meaning, to understand what she was being told.
Gently, the radio playing softly in the background, she reached out and picked up the first of the cards, a boatman ferrying a woman and child across the river, their sole luggage six, sacred swords.
Transition, she recalled Clotho saying when teaching her the cards—forward movement, the necessity of putting things behind you and steeling yourself for the future.
She glanced over her shoulder, the Weekend Driver resting upon the glass coffee table of the living room, vibrant shades of orange, colour in amidst the white of the empty apartment.
There was so much she had left behind, so much that had been taken from her, so much she had been desperate not to let go of even when things were falling apart.
She returned the card, moving onto the second one, the traveller leaning upon his staff amidst a newly planted forest, the shape of him upside down, roots towards the sky, shafts of wood directed downward.
It was never good when the cards were inverted, Lachesis had always said, yet good could come from it.
A fear of commitment, an unwillingness to start a journey, that's how the card had been described to her. That much made sense also, none of the events of the last few months had been by design—her rejection, her fall from grace, the kindness of Sakura, her acceptance into Weekend. Each step along the way, she thought again, each way-station upon a journey she had never wanted to take.
She placed the card down, turning her attention to the final card, a young man crowned with laurels riding a white horse.
Victory, success, she thought, recalling how Atropos had hissed with delight at the sight of the rider on his pale horse, and smiling at the memory. The success she hoped for, the victory she moved towards was not one the weird sisters would have wanted.
She placed the card down, the smile fading slowly. In her heart, she carried the memory of them, those who had cared for in the compound, those who had raised her as the bride of Giffu. She did not think ill of them, did not begrudge them the warmth of her recollection, but what they had wanted for her was not now what she wanted for herself.
To live, to grow, was to accept that in life, you could be different people at different times, and those who once had surrounded you were not evil despite evil intent, and could remain precious to you even though a gulf of ideology had risen up between you.
True sorrow came in not changing, in not taking those steps upon a journey that, in your heart, you knew you must begin.
Upon the glass table, the Weekend Driver remained; upon the kitchen counter, the lilies bent towards the dim light. These were the signs and symbols of her commitment, the rejection of fear, the desire to keep on living.
The firmness of her expression softened slightly, the memory of Sakura's warmth, the excitement of letting someone else in, of showing them all the broken, misplaced things that against all odds made you whole, made you who you were, and the relief that came with acceptance.
A memory of hands held in the early spring showers, the oncoming summer, the hardships endured, and the unspoken understanding.
It was okay to not want that which others had decided for you; it was okay to find beauty, to accept love, and to move on.
Calmly, she shuffled the cards back into the deck.
It was okay, she decided, to be honest.
