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☾ 𝐹𝐼𝑉𝐸
The smile on Mrs Brandon's lips was noticeable from the first second she slid through the doors and into the dining room. Even the freshly-laid, ribboned table cloths that were far too elaborate for a boat went unnoticed. If Anna had been far more creative that she was, she would have liked to paint and frame the rare sight, as the woman almost looked pretty, her dull eyes bright and excited as she examined something on the table, and Anna knew that it wouldn't last a moment longer when she eventually found her way to the group.
"Good morning," she greeted with a polite nod as she sat in the spot that had become her usual, beside Mrs Lightwood, who sent the daily smile her way. "Are you reading tea leaves again?"
"No, dear, tarot cards," Mrs Brandon said.
Though the pet name was there, it was in no way endearing as it would have been, had it been from Mrs Lightwood or even Miss Bennet. Anna was correct of course; there was a snap behind her voice and she was glaring at the table now, the card deck moved away from in front of her and instead resting in the gloves hands of the youngest lady.
Miss Bennet spread the cards out in front of Anna, the backside facing the air. Shimmers of gold and silver glinted against the morning sun, mixing with the spill of red that merged into the colour of the place cloths beneath them. She reached out, running her hand over the symmetrical swirls and bold colours. The tarot cards were far too expensive.
"They're beautifully painted," she commented, watching as Miss Bennet's rosy lips pulled into a timid grin.
"They were my grandmother's," the woman answered, urging her hand toward them. "Have a go child."
"Pick the card that you are drawn to," Mrs Lightwood instructed, pulling her hand up to place itself above the spread out cards.
Anna took a breath as she felt the weight of a second hand leaving her wrist. Her fingers glazed over the car, not touching the delicate material and simply brushing through the air above it. She felt nothing. But as her hand ran over the cards a second time, her fingers tingled, as if a cool wind had shaken them, and she pulled out a card.
It was in an upright position, the sleepy eyes first staring back at her as she gazed down at the card. The moon. It was as beautifully painted as the back hand been, the face of the crescent delicate and alluring- almost too much so. She bit down the anxiety that spilled up her throat, her mind fuzzing over with good and bad analysis.
"The moon," Mrs Brandon stated, the sharp edge behind her voice not distracting from her intrigue. "That means-"
"Illusion." The answer seemed to spill from between her lips before she could even imagine it in her head.
