Jaune peered into the box, curious as to what was inside. A deck of cards was stacked. Well, to call them cards would be… incorrect. They were strips of canvas or papyrus on an ancient looking wooden frame. It was closer to a miniature canvas than the standard paper card. The card on top depicted a green serpent, perhaps even a dragon, coiling around a brushed green blob. Maybe it was supposed to be a tree? Jaune wasn't quite sure. Madame Cherrote gingerly pulled the cards out, placing them face down. "These cards are the Tulurmshka, Alhamar kitshkaar. Do you know what that means, Dreamer?"
Jaune shook his head. "I am afraid I do not, madame." He admitted, watching her carefully sort the cards into individual little piles in what was the most inefficient form of shuffling ever.
"They are the fortune cards." She claimed, putting the canvases into a neat pile. "They give insight into the past, present, and future."
"They're tarot cards." Jaune simplified. Cherrote laughed, shaking her head.
"Tarot cards are based on the Tulurmshka, child." She said, rolling her neck. "Any more questions before we start?"
Jaune nodded. "I do. How did you know of my dreams?" He asked, his eyes level with the witch's. She smiled at him, a smug grin that betrayed the depth of her years.
"Do not be so presumptuous to believe that you are the only flimsical of magic, child. There are many vestiges of long dead gods that still walk this earth. Do not presume to know where they are." She recommended, already pulling the first of her cards. "But enough chatter of dead things, the time for a reading has come" Cherrote stretched out her fingers, cracking the knuckles. "The cards read the past, present, and future. Each time is made up of a section of three cards, the first will be revealed to us now." She turned over the first card, placing it gently on the table. A rough depiction of a child in swaddling was painted onto the card. "The child." The voice she used was soft, gentle even with measured words and sanctimony. "Youthfulness, Foolishness. The child is naive and new to the world, a beginning all men must take. It is the start, as many starts begin: into the unknown. Perhaps your beginning to this life was unique, important even. But a common and fair card to draw in the past, it often signifies the start of something of terrible greatness." Jaune nodded, understanding where this fit in. Perhaps at his birth, maybe when he ran away, but he knew where in the timeline it signified. Arriving at Beacon. He was pulled away from memory lane as the witch continued. "Next is the Rose." Jaune frowned, the card's title feeling like it hit a little too close to home. "The symbol of relationships. Love, Friendships, Rivalry, the Rose covers all. Perhaps you made friends, even a chance for something more? Deep connections and strong relations you once shared, Perhaps you still share them, even to this day." The dreamer's jaw was clenched. The Madame raised an eyebrow at him, but continued with her reading. The next card fell, a ball of twine. This caught the witch's attention, apparently unexpected. "The Thread of Fate? How… interesting. The Thread of Fate pulls and tugs, leading those that would follow its path. It is the flow of life marching onwards, pulling you along for the ride." She shrugged. Jaune was in agreement, not sure where the card came from. The other two had been fairly head on, even if they were a little generic. He pondered it, before filing it away for later thought food. Madame Cherrote continued onwards, putting down the next card in her reading. "And now the cards of the present, Dreamer. These cards are the close past, now, and the close future. They are Now in a loose sense. Ahhh, the Grave." She said, her voice becoming suddenly solemn and well, grave. "The Grave is death. Death of a journey, Death of a story, perhaps the Death of a man. It is the end of all things." Jaune gulped. "I see you have already encountered this card. My condolences." Madame Cherrote said, bowing her head. Jaune waived her off, blinking his eyes away from moonlight crimson and pools that were not his own. He clasped his hand over his eyes, his middle finger and thumb resting on his temples. With a deep breath he ushered those memories aside. Madame Cherrote continued, quickly moving on from the solemn card. "And the Road follows. A card of choices, A path taken or yet to be tread. It is the path before you, the power of destiny in your own unfortunate hands." She said, casting a glance at Jaune from her bent position. Or perhaps farther? "And thus comes the sixth card.Ahh, the Lion. It is a protective card, one that is held close to the chest. Protection, while it does not guarantee safety, will be with you. In luck, in form, or in fate, you are not to be alone." The witch put those aside, drawing cards for the future. She winced at the card she drew. A spear, a sword, and a hammer were crossed. It might be an ax B added. It didn't matter, as the painting was rough enough that it could be either. "The future holds for you much turbulence, young Dreamer. Your first card is the Armory, the Blades. Violence, combat, fighting. The Armory represents rapid, violent change. In life, in society, in people, or in the world. Change is coming, and it comes with a burning rage." She shook her head, the reading spelling out a more and more dire set of cards. "The Turtle?" The madame's reading turned into a question. "I think you are going to have an interesting time. The Turtle is a sturdy, stubborn creature. It is slow, but in its slowness it has obtained great wisdom. It is a seeker of mysteries, hidden deep in what is natural, and what is beyond." That, that sounded hopeful. Jaune was assuming that the Turtle was in reference to the dream. God he hoped so. He wondered if he was ever going to get answers to that place, despite the hope that the Turtle gave him. The witch continued on, ignoring the dreamer's musings. "And finally we come to the last card." She flipped it. The image on the card was an odd one. It was a circle filled with seemingly random pigments filling the center. A rough lining of the Feral alphabet lined the edges of the card. Cherrote's eyes widened when she saw the card. Jaune could see her heart rate spike as her lungs stopped working. She stared at the card, her throat closing in on itself as the panic set in. Jaune stood up, sliding the table out of his way as he moved to help her.
"Easy, easy." He said softly, helping her back into her chair. "Breath, Madame, breath." There were times when his voice took him by surprise in how it changed. It had gone from the squeaky, crackly and unsure voice back in Beacon to a resonant and solid, even if it was still a little reedy, tenor. He also could hear little wisps of his old Orleaning accent coming back into his vocabulary. "Are you alright?"
She looked up at him, her chest heaving as she recovered from the apparent panic attack. She swallowed and nodded. "Gra, Belnthor, I am alright. That is simply… a powerful card." She said before returning to her native language. "It is Ywhze, or God." Thunder rumbled in the distant side of the mountain, loud enough to be heard but not so close that it shook the cart. Madame Cherrote continued. "Power overwhelming, the ability to shape the world unbounded, it is a card of untold proportion." She looked up at the dreamer. "I am so sorry that you have been cursed with this terrible gift, My Child, but you are destined to achieve the one thing this world, Man, Roots, and all, is afraid of."
Jaune looked at her, his brow furrowed as he took in her words. "And what would that be?" He asked her, his grip on her arm unconsciously strengthening.
"Change."
Arslan was paying attention this time and noticed when Jaune slipped away from her. She watched him enter the purple gypsy cart from the corner of her eye, the other corner focused on Reese's rapid scampering. She got bored soon enough, rushing back to Arslan.
"Where's Jaune?" She asked. Arslan nodded over to the wagon, and the skater darted over. Arslan followed her to the door of the tent, of which Reese was flush against.
The Lioness put her hands on her hips, clearly unimpressed. "What are you doing?" She asked the skater.
Reese looked at her like she was stupid. "Snooping, duh." She said, pressing her ear to the drape. "Arslan, I can't quite hear them. Help me out."
Arslan sighed, sitting down next to her green haired friend. She tilts her head back, listening to the conversation behind the curtains.
"Meletoram abeso akari. Iyndoma Shkkarnock illysnmatarye" Ah, Arslan thought. They are speaking feral.
"It sounds like Jaune is having his fortune being told." Arslan whispered to Reese, before focusing back on the reading. "Tassar jhynkshnk naanobu, Kataar teno chaa bork wahmaluu. Luuska marha alyawma vocartye."
"So, what's going on?" Reese asked her leader. Arslan shushed her.
"He's just drawn the grave card." Arslan responded quietly to her friend.
Reese nodded. "Cool. what does that do?" Arslan had to shush her again.
"I will tell you later." She told her. The muffled voices, only discernible due to Arslan's faunus heritage.
"Zimtakue halfnabuello, korsmughoh a tal kiaeqchqa miryo tzjuunk mastra. Terro a passe wghimbue tokansasto krrasnshka. Rrestochk minch'e gherro kraa." Feral was, by all accounts, a fascinating language. Infections changed meaning, even entire words. The underlying growl, or lack thereof, was a language entirely on its own intricately folded into the more vocalized and developed holy language that was a derivative from the Faunus Testaments of old. It was a poetic language where the meaning of your words changed with the wind. Jaune's ability to speak feral was impressive, considering he was human. Most humans struggled with the language because they lacked the vocal abilities that Faunus had from their more animalistic traits. The chirps and growling undertones that accompanied the words was something that Humans just simply couldn't do. So Jaune's ability to speak feral was quite impressive. And this reading was becoming increasingly concerning as it went on. Ominous or neutrally coded card after card were played, and a storm gathered on the far mountains. There was a choking sound form inside the tent, causing Arslan to shoot up. "Mothra al ai jhazzier krraszhk."
Something was wrong, but it was being dealt with. The reading continued, but the new atmosphere giving it particular gloom and doom. She continued to listen. "Mrrnth Ywhze, karntra God."
Arslan choked on her spit. That was an ominous, if not disastrous card that could have been drawn. There were no stories that ended well when the card "God" was pulled in a Telling. Thunder rumbled as lightning flashed in the far off storm. There was a moment before the curtains opened. Jaune was standing there, looking down at the two of them.
"Ms. Altan." Jaune said, looking down at her. "I had thought better of you."
Arslan gulped, feeling the waves of disappointment radiating off the ranger. She shot up straight, looking at Jaune in his desaturated blue eyes. She couldn't hold his gaze. Jaune, personally, thought it amusing. If they had wanted to know what his reading was, they simply could have asked to be there. These little games that people ended up playing were endlessly entertaining, despite it's illogical nature. He looked up at the sky, calculating the chances of bad weather. "We should be returning to the inn soon. Rain will come. We may remain out here for some time though."
Reese looked excited that she could remain out in the town for longer, her guilt from the eavesdropping evaporated.
"Cool! Come on, Ars, there was this jewelry shop I wanted to look at! It'll be fun!" Reese said, grabbing Arslan by her wrist. The lioness just sighed, letting her be dragged away. Frankly, she was happy for the excuse to not be next to Jaune, as she felt that he was not exactly happy with her at the moment.
Jaune took the opportunity to get a feel for the town. It was small, and built in an almost circular pattern. Stores and entertainment buildings towards the center, with the exception of the Inn. Housing and more niche storefronts, such as the blacksmith or the glassblower, were toward the edge. Jaune saw a store labeled as "Ander's Apothecary, Favorings and Ailments." Nodding, the ranger entered. The front was filled with jars of various herbal things. Mushrooms, plants, dried plants, tubers, spices and powders. A rather average looking man was behind the counter, softly wacking some slightly blue tinted velvety stem into submission with a mortar and pestle. He looked up, a beard that would have been long had it not been so tightly curled, almost matted, clung to his beard.
"Good Mornin-'' There was a shift in the man's greeting when he saw Jaune. It dropped from a cheery, but forced greeting to one of drawn out concern and, to a smaller extent, fear. "G. How can I help you, Mr. Huntsman."
Jaune raised his hand up, peering into a jar. "You're not in trouble, if that is the concern. Nor are you in danger." He assured him. "I am simply passing through." The man raised an eyebrow, putting his grinding to the side. He nodded, looking at the shelf Jaune was also inspecting.
"That's Mirthbark." He said when the Ranger paused at a surprisingly vibrant red power. Jaune gave the alchemist a skeptical look.
"You're kidding." Jaune laughed, pointing at the jar. "That is Mirthbark? From a Mirth Tree? No way." The smile he wore was one that was pulled from long ago. It was a disarming smile, charismatically designed to make one approachable. It was almost ironic that someone like Jaune, willowy and ethereal, draped in as many mysteries as he was cloth, would wear it.
The man smiled, giving him a nod. "It is. The red color comes from the inner layer of the bark. It's that darker brown color you're used to, right?" Jaune nodded, and the man continued. "That comes from the outer layers."
"So why separate them?"
The shopkeep was happy to explain. "There's too much acid in the outer bark layers. It ends up harming the yeast and souring the flavor."
The man gave a nod to the back, where there was a collection of barrels. "For the beer. You drink?"
Jaune laughed at that, the building seeming to rock with the full hearted laugh. It was wheezy, but deep and resonated. Like a stuttering wind through a whispering cave. "You can say that. Tell me, would you mind if I asked you some questions?"
The man gave a good hearted chuckle, moving to the back rooms of the shop. "Of course. What would you like to know?" Jaune blanked for a moment, realizing he actually knew nothing about the craft. He gave a shrug.
"Let's start at the beginning then." The man said. He pointed to the burlap bags of gain. There were several labeled wheat, barley, and oats. "All good beers and ales start with these." he gave the bags a slap. "Put one of these in a cauldron of boiling water and make some tea. Then you take that tea and add this stuff and let it dissolve." He said, pointing to a jar of amber liquid
Jaune looked at the jar that was in question. "Honey? I assume that is the sugar you use to turn to ethanol?"
The man nodded, impressed at the highschool level chemistry education. "You know your stuff. But yeah, that and some of the mush from the grains are thrown in with some yeast. Once the stuff is cool of course, the heat from the cauldron can kill the yeast you know."
Jaune gave another nod, mentally filing away this information for later. "How long does it take for a batch to ferment? And I am assuming that I can use any form of sugar for the fermentation process."
"Yeah. Malt's actually traditional, that's cracked and sprouted grain, that is. But I don't have any of that on hand right now, so I have to make do. For the other question, it takes a couple of months. Like, four? Yeah, four."
Jaune nodded, looking at the barrels. "Is it really that easy?" he asked, astounded that it wasn't a whole long suffering process. The man nodded vigorously.
"Yup. Pretty basic stuff, just takes patience, really." The conversation devolved from there into further tips and tricks for brewing. Where to keep it, how to infuse flavors, where Jaune could get a barrel and some grains. The brewer smirked at those questions. "Why do you ask? Plan on making your own batch?"
Jaune gave him a curt nod. "Yes, I am. I have found that I… need something. That's not fighting that is. Figured this as much as anything else, you know?" he asked, his gaze locked on a barrel on the floor. The man gave him a small little sigh, a smile worth a penny pitiful.
"Just remember Moonshiner Rule #1." he said as the two walked out the room. Jaune tilted his head at the man, not at all familiar with the set of rules belonging to the profession of illegal fermentation.
"And that is?"
"Don't sip your own stock, man."
Jaune was at the market next. He bought a bag of barley, deciding to keep it simple, and a jar of sugar. It was a bit of a scene to convince the seller to accept gold coins instead of the universal Lien. One of the rare times that Jaune really appreciated the human flaw of Greed. It really does make off loading these coins rather easy. A thought smugly as Jaune tucked a barrel, A pound and a half sack of grain, and a larger jar of sugar into his little dreamspace bag. He leaned against the secluded alleyway, looking up at the darker sky.
"You don't suppose it's three yet, do you?" The ranger whispered, wondering if he should cut his time short. B shrugged.
Does it matter? We're heading there anyway. Might as well show up early. He suggested. Jaune took his advice and started moving, making his way back to the Inn. He couldn't say he was excited for whatever Dr. Cortez was going to throw them through, but at least it would be interesting.
so this took a little longer than expected, but I got it out. I really wanted an excuse to write a lot of the feral language, or at least entire sentences. Which is hard to have an excuse because Jaune has passing knowledge, and Arslan has a mastery over it. So there often isn't a character that is entirely alien to it, and being the out of narritive reader also has you often understanding the words. but it was fun to write out. Add a growl, roll your r's and get funky with it. The reading was also something I've been planning since basically day one, although the origional setting was going to be a moonset festival, something that still might happen(?). I don't know, that might be a Book II thing. Beyond that, Jaune's found a hobby! This is also something that I wanted to establish a long time ago, but it wasn't as important as other things. Come to think of it, the dream is a lot like the Martian isn't it? "undefined" time jumps where progress just has happened.
Anyway, a fun chapter for writing, and I promise you the SSSN Vs Jaune fight is next. I feel like I've already said that, but here we are. I promise.
As always, thank you for reading! Please leave your review below, I love reading them and I love the theories, comments, and analysis (analyses?) of this story. Speaking of which, which scene/ chapter has been your favorite, and why?