I've been a miner for a heart of gold

[mansuetus]

CHARACTERS: The Lady Borgia turned fortune-teller and You.
LOCATION: Level one lounges!
WARNINGS: none expected!
SUMMARY: Palm reading. Yes, you've read right. Come give her your palm and she'll make up tell you your future!
NOTES: depending on who you are, she might be a bit more flirty than usual, perhaps somewhat bolder, because of the mask. also prose/action are welcomed!



[ She may have never worked and this may have not changed on the ship, but one could not say Lucrezia Borgia was idle.

She would read, she would write down all the texts she could remember; prayers, mythology, poems and sonnets. She would write them in black ink in pretty letters so they may be read later on by others.

She thought of writing her memories but found that she wished not to; memories were both a happy and a sad thing here.

Today, she found herself annoyingly idle and bored and decided it would not do.

With a sudden creative determination, she decided to become a fortune teller for a day. A game.

Borgias were known for their games; Lucrezia's were simply of the innocent kind. Or appeared to be, at the very least. More than anything, she wanted to know and to meet, to keep company and enjoy company. When reading ones palm, you may yet discover much about the person even without actually knowing the art of palm reading

She chose a seat at the side of the lounges, gold locks and a gown of pale pink silks. A girl in appearance, sweet and docile. Her grin was not quite that, mischievous and playful, challenging and perhaps secretive.

She would offer it to anyone who passed her. ]

Will you hear your fortune told?

[ Her tone is both serious and light enough to assure that it is naught but a game. But even a game can pass the hours. ]

Comments

[cl_cl_claudius]

A great challenge in my case, dominilla. Shall you tell it to me in verse, as the Cumaean S-syb-sybil did when I visited her long ago? Or in riddles, like the Oracles of l-legend?

[mansuetus]

Riddles, I think, my friend.

[ for all of her mischief, she rises and curtsies. He is an Emperor, she is a Pope's daughter and respect is something she has for him in large sums. ]

I remember others' verse well but cannot create my own, alas.

[cl_cl_claudius]

He bows in return, hand to his heart, before being seated across from her.

I've n-never had a gift for it m-myself. Poetry is seldom the province of those great in birth or p-power, I find. I sup-p-pose it is the gods' way of keeping any man from possessing too many gifts at once.

But you are a prophetess as well as a great beauty, Lucrezia? [teasing] I hope you w-will not catch the eye of some jealous god.

[mansuetus]

[ she laughs, dips her head down. ]

As much as I fancy Eros and his mischievous arrows, I do hope so as well. The eye of a man, yes. But the love of a God is often selfish and too consuming and spell great pain, as Eros' love for Psyche.

[cl_cl_claudius]

And Psyche at l-least had triumph in her love, and ascended into g-godhood herself. N-not many lovers of g-gods could say the same. To b-be a plant, or a body of w-water seems the apex of aspiration for m-most.

N-now, how shall I solicit y-your prophecies, O S-Sybil? Should I have b-brought tribute or s-sacrifice to lay at y-your feet or th-throw upon your pyre?

[mansuetus]

No tribute is required, just your palm of the hand you write your letters with shall do and I will tell you the rest, if it pleases you.

omg so late.

[cl_cl_claudius]

[He holds out his hand, a square-shaped thing with long spatulate fingers which twitch slightly, involuntarily, now and then.] I offer it then, s-such as it is, Lucrezia Lucida. Pronounce upon it as you will.

hush it's ok!

[mansuetus]

Let us see what your palm suggests.

[ she tilts her head, smiling and then with a gasp of delight, as if she found out something really wonderful: ]

But your heart line is very interesting. It is over there, see. It signifies much love and affections that one has to offer.