Tarotnomics
Posted: Mon Oct 31, 2022 9:24 pm
A fanfic project I've been working on steadily for a month or so. I'm new to the forums, but wanted to post this here before AO3 so I could get feedback as I went along, and possibly edit it before the 'final version' on AO3. A story about made-up religions and unrealistic politics, meant to entertain and lampoon- not inform on- the subjects in a way similar to the source material. A story of which this may be considered the first chapter, with two/three more to follow as they're written, aptly titled-
TAROTNOMICS
CHAPTER ONE: KING TO A DOG
(let me know if this first chapter is too long to all fit in one message- im happy to edit and reformat. And yes, I drew that cover image on tumblr.com/blog/str8aura-draws-horses-and-stuff. Cheers! )
_________________________________
"TAROT!"
From everywhere at once came the crack of an unmistakably, indescribably green voice. Its words were spat like fire from a silver tongue, its tone commanded order and attention, and with a single boom of the great voice all who heard were struck with the paralyzing realization that there exist beings we cannot understand.
"You forgot to order a drink." Dragon pointed out.
Across the table from her, Tarot looked up from her menu.
The diner was called Bluebell's, famous in the surrounding county for its pancake breakfast. Due to being family owned in a world of chain restaurants, the owners had gone through more than their fair share of troubles with money and competitors, but always seemed to luck out long enough to stay open another year. The head chef called it their guardian angel, and could never imagine just how close he was.
The truth was, Dragon liked the place, frequently touting it as the best diner in the known multiverse- and when a demigod decides your place is good, its going to stay open.
Her affinity caused her to center many of her Earthly meetings around it, although her companion was less than enthused by the quality of taste herself. Had money been an issue, Tarot would have surely raised a complaint about the prices as well, but being the mortal avatar of a higher deity did come with the occasional perks. So, muffins and cookies near every day the cooks watched a tall primly suited woman sit down at a corner booth with her pet Pomeranian and talk for a few hours about things they knew weren't their business, and all anyone on the planet ever suspected was that this nice businesslady liked pancakes and treated her dog well.
"I'll just get a milkshake." The dirty blonde Pomeranian murmured, fiddling with her collar. She still fretted frequently about Dragon's public appearances; Despite her power, the mythical beast' human disguise was imperfect, and rain fell when she cried (which was often) no matter what form she wore. In other words, a major component of the spell was humanity's general inability to pay attention to their surroundings, a ramshackle form of magic(k) if Tarot had ever seen one.
To those in the know, however, she appeared in one of her favored forms- a bipedal green dragon, whose tail took up half the booth and who easily boasted two feet over Tarot even when sitting. "You don't have to shout at me." The dog gently reminded.
Dragon flagged down the waiter casually, with little regard for inconspicuousness. Tarot watched with a twinge of paranoia as their waitress took an order from the superpredator and her accompanying Pomeranian without noticing a thing wrong. As soon as they returned to the kitchen, Dragon cleared her throat.
"How's your food?" She delicately began.
"I can't eat eggs, so I wish they'd tell me when they're included in combos." Tarot admitted, poking her food with a fork.
"It's a breakfast joint, they have to stuff eggs in all their combos. It's the law." Dragon dismissed.
"I'm just saying, you're a lot more omnivorous than me. I feel like I get the short end of the stick at these visits."
"I don't even need to eat!" Dragon protested. "This place makes mortal processes worth it for me. That's how good these eggs are." And took another exaggerated bite to emphasize this point. "Dogs are such picky eaters."
Tarot sighed, leaning back into her booth and bouncing her knee.
After a moment of just watching Dragon eat she broke the silence. "Do you need something? We don't really have casual breakfasts. They always build up to something."
"I do, I do." Dragon assured. "I just thought you might like a minute to savor your breakfast."
Tarot looked down at her plate of fluffy yellow eggs, disgruntled.
"Right then. Down to business." Dragon patted her chin with a napkin. "Now I'll admit, I've been... lenient with you as of late." She waved her claw vaguely. "You know, Halloween parties and dates and stuff, that's not really the Heaven approved usage of mystical power."
Tarot raised an eyebrow that carried an unspoken retort.
"Yes, yes, mortals are fickle, I'm not holding that against you. My point is its been a while since you've done any avatar-ing for the woman who cuts your checks."
"You don't pay me."
"You're the loyal servant of a Demigod, Tarot, I'm paying you in good words with Cerberus. You've got a cushy afterlife planned for you. All of which will be useless, of course, if I'm not around to whisper into one of her ears, so lets talk shop." Dragon reached for a napkin and removed a lime green pen from her breast pocket, testing it on the corner.
"Course." Tarot grunted, scooching forward. "This is closer to my comfort zone. Who am I fighting?"
"You'll be pleased to know..." Dragon murmured, sticking her tongue through her lips as she scribbled.
"...I've got an easier job for you this time."
When she was done, she presented a poorly done doodle of her own head, alongside a smug looking gryphon with several daggers pointing towards him. "Do you remember how The Game started?"
The Game. Like a proper noun, the weight it carried demanded full capitalization. To the uninformed, it whispered of dark secrets beyond the veil of reality, and invisible hands pushing society from behind the scenes. Tarot was, unfortunately, informed.
"Your brother?" Tarot squinted at the napkin. "You got into an argument with-"
"No, no no, I mean how The Game started. Our first moves. Human civilization was just beginning, and the first move of any seasoned player is to create..." She doodled a familiar shape to anyone who lived in Babylon Gardens- the stone monument in the woods, key tenet of the local religion the forest animals practiced. "...A temple. 5000 HP, potentially unlimited MP, these let humans trade faith for power. Rule number one of The Game is that Gods need prayer. Thankfully, Humans need miracles, which makes these the stepping stone to greatness. I mean, except in 5E, where you need to build a mana pool separately and elect a prophet, but..." Dragon cleared her throat. "You're getting bored. Let's move on."
Tarot took the napkin scribbles handed to her, flicking her ear to signal she was listening.
"My brother set his first temple in the middle of the Saudi Arabia desert, taking the risk of less people finding it for the reward of greater mana. I, of course, forwent creating a temple entirely and spent all my beginner points nerfing him. Cut to 5000 years later, and that was still the greatest trick I ever pulled. Now I have multiple worshippers across the planet and all Pete has is a dingy little temple collecting dust in a forest." Dragon sighed. "Still don't know how he moved it. You following along so far?"
Tarot nodded. "You're great, Pete is terrible. I work for you, Dragon." She reminded.
"I am great!" Dragon defended. "I've had my hands in nearly every major world event! I've forged history, I've guided empires, I've been at the right hand of Kings of Kings!"
Tarot sensed insecurity, slightly more than usual. "So what's the problem?"
Whatever Tarot had said had clearly struck a nerve. Dragon slowly buried her face in her hands, and Tarot flinched, watching the clouds outside the window carefully.
"Well... while on paper, it looks like I'm in the lead. But The Game isn't played in wishes and vague senses of accomplishment." Tarot knew for a fact that wasn't true. "It's played in cold hard numbers, and the numbers say that I've got a lot of things Pete doesn't, but he has the one thing I don't- and desperately need." Dragon lifted her head, breathing in deeply. "I have about 500 scattered followers across the Earth, almost none of which know the others exist. Pete has a religion."
"Openerdom?" Tarot wondered aloud. "Dragon, his 'religion' consists of forest animals, deer and possums and raccoons. That can't be worth much in Game numbers."
"Low points, but high numbers." Dragon waved off, growing agitated as Tarot repeatedly jabbed her metaphorical sore spot. "Numbers, numbers are what matter! He has a Religion, and all anyone knows me for is a stock fairy tale character! Fictional characters have bigger followings than me, muffins and cookies it!"
Tarot did her best to comfort the irritated Dragon with an ear scratch as the demigod's head lay in a heap on the table. She flinched back when Dragon suddenly shot up, trying to recompose herself as the clouds outside turned white again.
"What I need is to stop being humble. I need to remind the humans that I am someone to be feared, that they live their lives in servitude of me- That I'm the head God, not my brother and his dirt cult!" Dragon dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, clutching it to her breast and turning to Tarot passionately.
"What I need... is a religion."
Tarot patiently waited for more.
When none came, she awkwardly scratched her head.
"Okay... so make a religion."
Dragon tilted her chin down an inch, adopting a knowing smile. Tarot raised an eyebrow, still expecting her to continue.
This quiet staring match lasted a long while, long enough for the surrounding customers whose attention had been drawn by the blasphemous cry to grow bored.
"Do I... need to spell it out?"
Finally, Tarot's eyes widened in dawning realization.
"No."
"Yes, Tarot." Dragon grinned toothily. "As your Demigod I am promoting you- no longer will you toil in the slums of obscurity. You will toss off your mortal binds, accept your true power as an Avatar, and become my proph-!"
"I said no." Tarot repeated flatly.
At some point in her speech Dragon had stood up. Now she blinked, frozen in rise.
"I... Come again?"
"I really don't see what I need to elaborate on." Tarot replied professionally, shaking her head. "No, I'm not gonna be a prophet for your startup religion."
Dragon opened and closed her mouth a few times, searching for words. "Tarot... you're my Avatar. Representative of all my godly matters on Earth. You know how this works, right? You don't really get a choice."
"Yeah, yeah, what you say goes." Tarot agreed. "If you so demand, I'll teleport to Australia and back to fight strangers, and start a relationship with some guy I've never met to create a loophole in the rules of The Game, and take him to another planet to vie for his affection against you." Tarot shook her head quickly. "I'll do all that, but I also... you know, have a life. You've expended your reach. You got too greedy this time. And now I'm happy to tell you that I'm putting my paw down. I am not becoming the town loonie the world over so you can..."
Tarot sighed. "Look, let's be honest, it's a made up game against your nerd brother. You can pretend you're the king of kings and that this has all been slave to some greater purpose, but... we all know it's just a game, right? It's in the name. Do I need to limit your computer time like a mom? Maybe ground you from going to God Camp? Why is this even a discussion that needs to be had?" She scoffed, shaking her head in exasperation. "You being bigger than me does not a slaveowner make. I've got some pretty big idiots in my life, but even- What, Bino has never asked me to form a religion. And if he did, you know what I'd say?"
Dragon put on the intimidation factor, clutching the table with her head held low. "Tarot? I am your Goddess, and I am commanding you-"
"I'd say get real." Tarot blew a raspberry, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms. "I told you, I have a life, and relationship, and people who care about me, and they outweigh my demigod boss by a pretty enormous magnitude. If you want me to show you the affection I have for you, give me ten bucks and I'll custom print a mug for you off the web. 'Happy Demigod Appreciation Day'."
The booth stayed quiet. Dragon, as anyone who's met her could guess, wasn't exactly used to being turned down. Fear, Anger- she had seen her gamut of emotions from mortals when she demanded things from them, but something about Tarot's matter of factness made retorts fail her. She felt like her Avatar might actually be right- that Dragon might be wrong- and she wasn't sure how to deal with that. Instead, she fidgeted with her silverware.
"I- I could pay you?" Dragon feebly offered.
Tarot didn't break her glare.
"...A new boyfriend?" Dragon tried.
This time she actually did break, turning away in disgust. "Do you want me to run standard exit procedure?" Tarot tapped her table. "Because I feel like... what's the word...?"
"Tarot..." Dragon whined.
"I feel like I could... like I might be about to..."
"Hey, hey, come on, your milkshake hasn't even arrived yet! What's taking them so long?" Dragon glanced nervously to the kitchen.
"Say the word, Dragon. You have to be the one." Tarot leaned forward expectantly, raising an ear.
Dragon sputtered, then stopped.
"Wake up." The tired looking demigod murmured.
And Tarot fazed out of existence.
______________________________
Tarot shot up in bed, completely wordlessly. After so many years of the process you eventually stop screaming.
Tarot quickly searched for any golden statues or giant feathers that may have made the trip with her. When she was satisfied, she let out her breath, rubbing her nose with two fingers. It looked to be about midnight in Babylon Gardens, judging from the moon out the adjacent window.
"Sweetie?" By her side a furred shape stirred, and as she rubbed her eyes its hand gently tugged at her arm. "Everything alright?"
"I'm fine, Peanut." She murmured. "Work."
As annoying as the 'it was all a dream' procedure Demigods preferred to use was, she had to commend it for allowing her to conduct these affairs from the safety of her own dog bed (Or at least, the one that the human owners were polite enough to let a stray like Tarot use). She caught her breath, smacking away the taste of sleep that had suddenly replaced her eggs and struggling to catch up her dream and physical memories to align them. It took a second to remember why she had even woken up so angry.
"Has anyone ever told you its a bit strange that you work while sleeping?" Peanut asked, eyes open but not sitting up from his comfortable spot.
"I don't think I had a standard for strange before I settled down here. I almost miss being oblivious to how crazy my life is." Tarot admitted.
"You're being more self aware than usual. Everything go alright in your dreams?"
Tarot scratched her head. "Not really. I'm probably going to regret some of what I did."
Her partner sat up, rubbing her arm comfortingly. "You know what makes me feel better when I'm plagued in the middle of the night?"
Tarot glanced askance at him skeptically. "Wait, you worry about things? Like, at all?"
"Sometimes. With you."
That one made her smile. "So what do you-"
Zzzzzz
"Peanut!"
"Kidding, kidding." Her partner shot up again, rubbing his eyes and sidling next to her. "Mostly. You're much better at dealing with emotional gunk than I am. If you have a problem, you'll figure it out- but nobody does their best thinking at night. Except Opossums, I guess. Cougars. Raccoons. Dogs don't do their best thinking at night, I should say." Peanut settled back into bed, pulling one of the folds of the ratty blanket over him. "If it still bothers you in the morning, tell me. But sometimes these things just go away after a good sleep."
Tarot didn't respond, still leaning on her knees and staring off into the dark corners of the room.
Something in the diner had bugged her, and now with the acute awareness of a dog woken from her sleep in the middle of the night she was beginning to put it together. Tarot lived in Babylon Gardens because of Dragon. Tarot was in a healthy relationship, for all its oddities, because of Dragon. Tarot had powers other mortal pets of her ilk could only dream of because...
She talked like it was odd that Dragon thought she could uproot Tarot's entire life on a whim, as if it hadn't already happened once before.
Tarot tried to remember what life had been like before Babylon Gardens, and found herself with a splitting headache and wishing very much that she could go back to bed.
Sometimes these things go away after a good sleep, he had said.
"You might be right."
"Can't remember a time I was wrong." He rolled away from her with a beam.
Tarot looked down at her boyfriend one last time, content just with watching him breathe.
"Love you, Peanut." Her voice drifted off.
______________________________
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair one bit.
Dragon angrily sipped the unclaimed milkshake, still fuming in her diner booth.
Mortals live 50, 60 years, and during that time they develop such an ego that they forget who they owe their progress to. It was Dragon who created the pyramids, Stonehenge 2, Geocities, and Everyday Chemistry. She gave so much, and what did she get? There was no justice, not when her brother could rewrite a man's entire genetic code and still get more loyalty out of them.
It was times like this she wished she could talk to someone who understood her.
So, she turned to the window beside her booth, grimacing at her reflection.
"Its not my fault." She protested. "I'm doing what I have to do! There's too much at stake in this game. I mean, in this Game. Tarot understands I don't want to hurt her, she's my friend!"
"She doesn't know you're her friend!" Dragon's reflection frowned. "Wait, no, that's terrible advice. How about this- She knows you care for her, she just doesn't know where your boundaries are. She can only respect yours if you respect hers."
Dragon nodded in satisfaction. That sounded good. She didn't know what it meant in practice, but in theory it sounded good.
"Sooo..." She continued to spitball to her reflection. "I let her go! That's fine. There are other avatars. Other prophets. I could find someone smarter, with more power..."
Her minds eye pictured the other canine and feline residents of Babylon Gardens, running through every possible candidate in the blink of an eye. Some were obvious rejections- too slow, not charismatic enough, just plain annoying to work with, until she had a small pool of about five different individuals who she could target next.
She crossed every one of them off the list. They all possessed the same critical flaw of Not Being Tarot.
Dragon looked to her reflection for advice, frowning in annoyance when it remained silent.
"Don't give me that look." She snapped. "I like Tarot- shes powerful and skilled, and an easy conversation, and always seems to have one more forgiveness left in her. She's been at my side for years- I work with her or I work with nobody."
"Do you have a choice?" The glass retorted. "You of all people know the stakes best. You work by yourself and you lose- You can't be picky. If you must have her, you need to respect her, and only take the parts she's willing to give up. Does that mean anything a-?"
Dragon froze, looking past the window. "Wait, it does."
Souls contain multitudes. This tended more often than not to be a source of hassle for Dragon- but in this case, it occurred to her, she might be able to use this. Tarot refused, but Tarot was a complex puppy.
She was one of Dragon's most loyal followers. Surely she could forgo one part of her. Some small part of her she would hardly miss.
A plan was beginning to form.
"Of course, killing Tarot is out!" Dragon quickly clarified to nobody, shaking her head vigorously and setting a claw on the glass window. "I'm not a monster. I just gotta, y'know. Split her soul a bit." Yes, that seemed nicer.
"She'll understand. She's loyal! The most loyal I could ask for! And better than King if nothing else." Dragon gesticulated wildly. "It's not like I'm committing some heinous sin. It's not something I'd tell Heaven, but... What do they know about sin anyway? I'm just taking the good with the bad. Take out the bad parts, put em to work, Tarot can live her life and serve me. I'll never need the good parts of Tarot again! She'll thank me!"
She slammed a hand against the glass, rattling the entire wall. "It's a good thing. I'm doing the right thing. Tell me that, okay?"
Unsurprisingly, the reflection didn't answer.
Dragon smiled nervously. Take the good with the bad.
She turned back to the unnerved looking waitress, still clutching her pen and a tablet. "I'll take my check, please."
______________________________
Less than a few hours later, Babylon Gardens had fallen deep into its sleep.
Not a light remained on in any window.
As the moon apexed, a dark shadow blotted its light over the household belonging to the unassuming Sandwich family.
And from the shadow something indescribable fell to earth, hitting the ground and creeping through the grass, then up the wall and slipping in through the cracked window.
The invisible force cascaded like water down the stairs, searching diligently through the rooms for any sign of life before catching a glimpse of fur. The low purr of energy turned into a growl as the force rushed into the living room, flowing around furniture and growing in power like a tidal wave crashing towards a single point at the center of Tarot's forehead, finding its aim true and-
Tarot woke up.
If it could even be called that.
Something felt terribly, terribly wrong. She lifted a paw to rub her eye, and saw in the dim darkness that it barely resembled her own. Sitting up and pulling herself over to the square of light pouring through the window, she inspected the offending arm, following its new deep blue coat up her shoulder, down her belly, and to her legs.
Not a hair of her dirty blonde coat remained.
She sat up, finding herself several feet away from the dog bed she had gone to sleep on, and went to wake Peanut. Something stirred in it, and she squinted in the dark to try and make it out. Once her eyes adjusted she realized it looked awful familiar.
It was Tarot, still peacefully resting. Meaning the dog who had just woken up and was crouched over the bed... wasn't Tarot.
She forced herself away from the bed, staggering away, and fast realized the second part of this metamorphoses. New thoughts were coursing through her brain, new urges and plans Tarot's old morality would forbid her from having. None of those restrictions were there anymore, and the blue pomeranian that was once Tarot realized that her old name barely suited her anymore. She was a brand new dog.
She felt individual. She felt unique. She felt powerful. She felt like she could throw up.
She slowly turned back to Tarot. A shaky hand reached for the fur, feeling her own coat with a sense of dissociation as a heart and chest that were no longer hers rose and fell in gentle motions.
She scritched herself behind the ears, watching her own leg kick slowly. She turned to Peanut, and instantly felt a sickening pit in her stomach that forced her to look away. Only for a second- just as quickly any sadness she might have felt was filtered into disgust.
She thought she heard a whisper in her ear. Before she could reflect on it, the moonlight was briefly blotted out by a dark shadow passing over the house.
She couldn't bring herself to wake up Tarot. She didn't want to think about Peanut. And trying to focus on the whispers made her head hurt.
Which left only one real option left for social interaction.
The dog slipped out through the front door, tiptoed down the stairs, bypassing the step she knew from a lifetime of being Tarot creaked, and stepped onto the grass. She set her new paws on her hips as the same long shadow dwarfed her.
Dragon's true form was a long and slender serpent, hovering in the air with most of her body twisted into mobius loops. Her head bent down to ground level to talk eye to eye with her creation, while her hands nervously twiddled car-sized digits.
The whispers hushed when she looked Dragon in the eye.
"What did you do, Dragon?" Her own voice sounded unfamiliar- deeper, with a slight echo even at normal volume.
Dragon quickly looked over her shoulder and back, searching for words. "Just now, you mean?"
"What did you do?"
"I... well, you know. I split your soul. I thought, well, this way you can help me out... and enjoy your life too?" Dragon tried to smile. "You should probably... break the news to her."
The two watched each other in silence for a moment.
Cicadas buzzed in the chill night air.
"No." The dog surprised herself with her words. "No, we're not telling her. You want her to enjoy her life? She's had everything bad about her stripped away. I say leave her alone. If we're lucky you'll never come back for her."
Dragon seemed taken aback. "I... take it you know what I want you to do then."
Oblivious to Dragon as she spoke, her creation was finding its mind fascinating. Below everything left of Tarot in her head, she could feel a brand new force tugging her reason along, something she was smart enough to recognize likely benefited her intended destination.
Soul splitting was a sorting process, after all- One reserved for the recently dead. The point was to send all the good parts to Heaven and the bad parts to Heck. Now, thanks to Dragon, both parts were stuck on Earth, and it didn't seem very much like Heaven to whisper arcane secrets in her ear.
Which could only mean she was the evil Tarot.
Strangely the idea of being the evil one didn't bother her too much.
Being evil wasn't anything like she expected- She had no uncontrollable desires turning her into a slathering monster, no violence and arson and murder bubbling out from inside her. She was completely calm. Evil wasn't seducing her, but rather it was the only option she could see left. To leave well enough alone wasn't even a possibility worth considering.
Which meant she still had some sense about her. Enough that a part of her fretted for Peanut, enough that a part of her knew going along with Dragon was her best bet, and enough that she knew she needed a new name. It was hardly convenient to keep calling herself 'the pomeranian' or 'Dragon's creation'. She needed something succinct and to the point, that would tell everyone who met her exactly what her game was.
"Yeah." Evil Tarot mused. "You want me to be your prophet."
Dragon nodded, pleased with herself. "Yeah. Yeah! I knew you were clever."
She nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll do it."
Dragon raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Wait, I haven't told you the plan yet."
"I have a plan." Evil Tarot growled.
"Already?"
"Already. It requires you do everything I say to a tee. It won't be very hard, I promise you. But we have to move fast."
"And... Why is that?"
Evil Tarot turned back to the house, looking it up and down one last time before setting her sights for the woods behind Babylon.
"Because I'm smarter than you apparently think I am. And I wake up very, very early."
______________________________
Tarot woke up.
Good Opener, she woke up- she couldn't remember ever having a night as restful as the one she woke up from. She gradually rose her head from her bed, stretching out her spine and limbs as far as they could go, and gave a doggish yawn that clacked her teeth together while she sleepily smacked.
She felt like she could run a mile. It was possible to feel this good? Instinctively she tensed, waiting for the other foot to drop.
Ten minutes later she untensed, relaxing. She vaguely recalled being worried about something last night, but couldn't for the life of her remember what it could have been.
"Mmm? Tarot?" A sleepy voice emerged from under the upside down lump of fur she had been sleeping next to.
Tarot flexed her digits. Even her fur seemed shinier. In a daze, she glanced down at Peanut, getting down to her knees and scratching under his chin to stir him.
With her newfound mental clarity, the first thought she voiced was, "I love you."
Peanut lifted his head, tail wagging. "I love you too. Feeling better?"
Tarot admired her hands dumbfoundedly, suddenly entranced by them like a newborn puppy. "I don't know if I've felt this good in my life. My brain feels... weird."
Peanut nuzzled his nose against her, but she stood up without reacting, holding her head and staring off into space.
"Tarot?" He tried.
"This is insane. I have problems in my life." Tarot's mouth kept running.
"That doesn't sound very insane at all."
"But I recognize them. I know how to solve them. My head is filled with thoughts. Someone up above handed me a brain while I was asleep. I- I need to start writing."
Peanut sat up, curiously watching her. She got down on her knees, prowling the floor with a paw until hitting something- a napkin that had fallen off her when she got up, covered in lime scribbles. Her eyes caught the words 'OR WAS IT' in the corner, and she briefly fumbled when she realized she couldn't remember where the napkin came from. Shaking those thoughts off, she flipped it over and began writing.
"This is... a new mood for you! Especially after last night." Peanut sat up, more and more invested in Tarot's radical personality shift.
Tarot glanced up. "What ha- Don't tell me. I'm starting fresh fresh. I need to get up and go. Problems, problems! I'm dating Peanut, who has a thing with Grape, who is dating Max, who is clearly a repressed bisexual..."
"You're drawing a shipping chart?" Peanut asked flabbergastedly. "This early in the morning?"
"Its a complication, Peanut! My life right now is like... like, some sitcom where we're barred from ever growing. Other things... Uh, my life is being controlled by a demigod overemotional drama queen. King is still a dog. I think Grape killed a guy."
"Bino owes me twelve dollarbucks." Peanut chimed in from the dog bed.
"Peanut!" He jumped at Tarot's sudden exclamation, and found her hands on his cheeks before he could respond. "I love you so much." She repeated.
"Seriously. Is everything... alright?" Peanut coughed out through smushed cheeks.
"Things haven't been alright for a long time, hun." She shook her head slowly. "I can't believe I haven't realized it. We've been going in circles for years and years and- Holy Opener, I can see everything. All our problems."
"All of them?"
"All of them!" Tarot repeated, looking past him as she talked. "I want a stable relationship with you, Peanut. I need to stabilize my life, massively- and yours, and Grape's, and Maxwell's- I'm seeing everything."
She released Peanut, seizing her napkin and running for the door. "I'll see you in a bit- I need to start talking to... well, just about everybody. I'm going to fix it, Peanut! I'm going to fix every problem ever!"
She slammed the door shut enthusiastically.
Peanut blinked, still barely awake.
"...What?"
______________________________
Tarot's Spontaneous Wave of Therapy lasted two weeks and left no survivors.
Long standing feuds were resolved. Toxic relations were separated. Fetishes were come to terms with. The Good Ol Dogs Club was renamed The Good Ol People Club (albeit changed back a few hours later for not rolling off the tongue well enough). It was unprecedented, unexpected, and generally agreed to be one of the stranger things the pet population of Babylon Garden had ever seen.
Between her newfound matter of factness, charismatic conversations, and uncanny ability to know what the other person was thinking, Tarot was able to do so much many victims of the Wave had trouble believing she was the same easily stressable and overly cryptic pomeranian they had always known.
New Tarot talked fast, came and went like the wind.
And New Tarot made things look easy.
Peanut found her two weeks later on his couch. Charts littered the floor around her, nearly all of the various notes and to-dos crossed out in lime green pen. Still she worked, rifling through them for something new with almost feverish zest.
"Hey, hun." He tried knocking on the side table to get her attention. "You, uh, alright? Been a while since we talked. You're always moving somewhere, trying to do something."
"I know, Peanut, I know. I'm just a little cluttered. This town's bigger than I thought, and if I'm being honest, I forgot there were people in it." She sighed. "You know how many humans want to take advice from a dog?"
"Yeah, I do." He nodded sagely. "I mean, this is great. But... how do I put this..."
"But they're all such easy fixes." Tarot cut off, listening to herself. "I mean, half the time you just need to talk to someone! How do people struggle with communicating? You open your mouth and words come out!" Tarot threw her hands in the air.
Peanut paused, before opening his mouth and waiting patiently.
"Can we talk?" He finally prompted when it was clear no magic(k) force would possess him
"We sorted us out, didn't we?" She pointed to a connecting green line. "One of the first problems I worked to solve."
"Without the therapy I mean. Heart to heart."
Tarot looked up curiously, setting down her pen slowly.
"Ah... Yeah, yeah, I'm here. What do you need?"
Peanut sidled next to her on the couch, fiddling with his thumbs and scratching behind his ear anxiously. Reveling in the brief peace, he looked for a good way to put his argument.
"You've been different lately."
"How so?"
Both of them glanced down at the mess of graphs littering the floor.
"If you give me ten seconds I can think of a reason this is healthy." She tried.
To herself, Tarot decided her boyfriend might have a point.
Despite all the help she had given, under it all Tarot felt... strange. She was just doing what came naturally to her, which had never come naturally a day in her life before. If she was a super-genius psychoanalyst, things wouldn't have gotten this bad in the first place. It was all far too easy, and when she tried to zero in on it, it felt like she had been missing a limb this whole time. She really couldn't believe it was that easy. It was abnormal.
Peanut started talking, but she wasn't listening. In between her thoughts, she had gotten distracted- a fly was buzzing around the room. It had been for the last twenty seconds.
Tarot hated flies.
She was supposed to hate flies. It was only natural. Flies meant pestilence, and death, and the perversion of the natural...
A fly was just a fly.
Why did she want to hate it so much?
The fly landed directly on her nose, twitching and rubbing its legs together less than an inch from her eyes.
Right in her grasp. She stared it down, and began to feel fear- not of the fly, but of the increasing, growing temptation to snap. She didn't even know what that meant entirely. Only that the simple insect was making her muscles tense and her blood boil. Sooner or later the pressure was going to break.
The fly turned, and they locked eyes.
A vein bulged under Tarot's fur.
It flew off. The room was again filled with its incessant buzzing, grating and tearing.
Something was terribly, terribly wrong. Only now Tarot started thinking about Dragon, and tried to remember the last time she had seen her boss.
"Tarot?"
She turned quickly to face her boyfriend. Apparently too quickly- he jumped at the suddenness of her motion.
Somehow, looking at him calmed her, and she began to think rationally again. Tarot was missing something vitally important, it seemed. Before she could think up a reasonable excuse to assure Peanut, there was a knock at the door.
He turned towards the sound with a grimace, but dutifully stood and went down the hall for it. As soon as he was out of sight Tarot fell back into the couch cushions with a gasp of air.
"For you!" He called.
Tarot only flicked an ear in response.
______________________________
The rabbit on her front door looked simultaneously like he expected Tarot to beat him and fall at her knees.
His ears were easily the same length as his arms, if not more, and his pelt was the same uniform grey with a break at the neck for his obligatory collar- a nice green, although thankfully not lime. He kicked his foot on the porch, feigning casualty and seeming more than a little put off at Tarot's appearance, not that most people this week hadn't been.
The rabbit gave a curt wave. "Uh... Hi."
Tarot nodded politely. "Hello. Do I know you?"
The rabbit sighed. "You don't know how long I've waited to hear someone say that."
"Unpopular?"
"I wish. I'm the Opener of Ways. You can call me Zach. We talked a while back, remember?" Zach extended a paw forward.
Tarot raised her eyebrows in recognition as she shook. "Oh, yeah, I know you. You look different in the stained glass windows. Sorry, a lot's been going on recently."
"Sorry to disappoint, but I don't think rabbits can be that tall." Zach apologized with disgruntlement. "The other day is actually what I wanted to talk about. May I come in?"
In Tarot's experience, the animal population of Babylon Garden could be divided two different ways- the residents who knew about The Game, and the residents who didn't. As the secret became harder and harder to hide, the line between the two blurred considerably across the last few years, to the point where she frequently had to take guesses at who might need an in-depth explanation of the galaxy's hierarchy and who was already in the know. Mice running around in the fields? Probably didn't know. Victims of sudden polymorphing? Probably knew.
Zach was an odd case. On one hand, he was the figurehead of Pete's self made religion. On the other, by all accounts he had stumbled into it accidentally and didn't even know much about the religion or the animals who worshiped him. Tarot decided to play it safe- it wasn't likely The Game was even going to come up in a house call.
"Sorry." Tarot grunted, resting her paw on the door. "Too many irons in the fire- I'm going to be taking some time to myself for a bit. Uh, take a number and I'll see if I can get back sometime... soon." She slowly started closing the door.
"That's fine, that's fine!" Zach leaned into the shrinking gap left by the door. "Hey, I won't be long! It's no trouble!"
"I'm sure its not." Tarot politely smiled through the crack.
"I'd just like to ask for my job back!"
For the first time in two weeks Tarot was thrown for a loop.
She paused and opened the door again.
"...What?"
"I know, I know." Zach quickly rushed to defend his perceived slight. "I don't like being the Opener. I've gotten used to it, but its still awkward when people bring you their sick children and beg for a miracle. I was more than happy to throw a big ceremony, and, you know, 'pass down my godly power' and all, but now that I don't have it... I'm getting antsy. I think we should reverse it. Don't worry- they believed it the first time, and they're not really the smartest tools in the shed in the first place."
Tarot shook her head in confusion, shutting her eyes. Uncomfortable feelings were starting to rise in her, like the nagging thought she was forgetting something. "You made me Opener?"
"Two weeks ago. Don't you remember?"
"I think I would remember something like that." She thought. "I mean, I was occupied at the time. Not that occupied."
"You came to me in the middle night, complained about my performance, negotiated my position with me, talked something about a dragon, and left an hour later once I agreed." Zach numbered off on his fingers, still awkwardly standing in the doorway while Tarot cradled an ebbing headache. "Then we held a big celebration the next day where I announced that you would be Opener to the forest population, and..."
He cleared his throat unsurely. "Tarot, why are you still here?"
Tarot thought very, very, carefully. She had gotten good at thinking ever since that queer morning, but her new abilities were failing her suddenly. She hadn't seen Dragon... who had been talking about making Tarot a prophet... Now an actual prophet was at her door, claiming to have made her one... There was a connection here, she just couldn't put her paw on it.
"My eyes are gold. Did she have lime green eyes?" Tarot defaulted to the first possible answer, pointing a claw at her amber irises. It wasn't entirely out of the question for Dragon to take on a Pomeranian disguise and do the job herself. There was no Earthly way The Game would allow her to be her own avatar.
"Ink black, actually." Zach responded with a shrug.
Third gut punch this conversation over. Tarot was starting to feel queasy.
"...Was she blue?" She slowly asked.
"Pretty blue." He nodded with a snap at the air.
Tarot stood up from where she sat.
She reached through the doorway to Zach and gently took him by the shoulders.
She stared at him pointedly.
"You met a blue dog with black eyes and thought it was me." She repeated.
Zach instantly got defensive, pulling away and rubbing his shoulder upsettedly. "She called herself you, alright? Hey, I used to be bright purple! It was late and I couldn't see her well, I-I've never seen you around much, and I heard you were some magic(k) witch girl or something-"
Tarot waved a paw in his face, putting things together slowly.
"Stop, stop, stop. You asked why I was here. What did you mean by that?"
Zach stared at her like she was the stupidest person in the world. A familiar sensation was beginning to bubble up inside her, like a broken leg learning how to move again.
"Tarot..." He began slowly, patiently. "Have you been watching the news at all lately?"
Her mouth gaped open.
"Dragon." She hissed like a dirty word.
"There you go again. What dragon?"
______________________________
The Sandwich Household was rarely trodden in, which made it perfect for Tarot's purposes. The average magic(k) user had more than a few tools up their sleeves- the ever helpful Ouija Boards, pendants and charms and copper artifacts alike, and enough mystical machinery to fill entire rooms.
Tarot had a basement that wasn't even hers. She made the most of it.
"What are you doing?" Zach called after her, rushing down the stairs to her.
"I need to go to sleep. Now." Tarot lugged her own hastily filled collapsible Travel Dog Bowl, sloshing water down the steps she leaped down ten at a time and making her pursuers job considerably harder.
"Somewhere like your basement?" Zach confusedly asked, stopping when he hit the bottom steps. Between the boilers, Amidst waves and waves of (what looked to be electric) candles, a red Pentagram was painted perfectly on the floor.
"Take this!" Tarot tossed a small leatherbound book into Zach's arms, which he barely caught against his chest.
"What am I supposed to-"
Tarot flipped a switch on the wall, and every candle turned on at once, spreading their dim gold glow. She set the dog bowl down at the center of the Pentagram and fell to her knees, taking steady breaths in and out as lime green leylines lit up across her skin and through her shaggy coat. "Page 26, read the lines in italics at the top!"
Zach flipped quickly, stuttering in his haste, but still managed to choke out the black words inscribed in the tome mortals were not meant to hear.
"Alright, now punch me."
"What?" Zach sputtered, gripping the book tightly.
"I told you, I can only do this when I'm asleep! It's god stuff, I can't explain it!" Tarot psyched herself up, fanning her face and hopping between paws.
"You think I don't know how god stuff works?" Zach threw his arms up.
"I don't have the time or crayons to explain sacrilege! Punch me, darn it!"
Zach's fists opened and closed, clearly considering the idea as he nibbled at his lip. Tarot leaned back and forth, growing more impatient before groaning and giving up. Kicking the dog bowl to him, she hopped over to one of the brick walls.
"Pour that on my face if I'm out for more than ten minutes." She instructed.
Zach didn't answer, and she caught him slapping a paw over his eyes and cursing himself out before she turned towards the wall.
"Always have to be the one to do this myself." She muttered, leaning her paws against the wall.
Leaning back and forth, Tarot sucked in air, screamed from the bottom of her throat, and swung her head forward.
______________________________
She awoke with a gasp somewhere entirely different- the hard asphalt of a parking lot.
One in front of a familiar blue roof she had seen more times than she could count.
BLUEBELL'S
Tarot scrambled to her paws and barreled through, making an impressive scar in the glass with her small frame as she shouldered it open.
Running to their usual seat, Tarot scampered past surprised waiters to the empty booth.
"Dragon!" Blistering with anger, but out of options, Tarot ran between remaining booths, spooking the poor families trying to eat and undoubtedly getting animal control called on her. She didn't care- it wasn't like she'd be staying here long.
"She can't keep getting away with this. Dragon! Dragon, where are you?"
Returning to their booth, Tarot felt under her collar for a stashed napkin- one covered in lime green penwork. With a choked growl, she fell to her knees, yelling into it and leaving long tears where her claws fell. Everything suppressed from seeing the fly was finding a new, much grander reason to pour out.
A demigod had royally screwed up.
"What could you possibly have done in just two weeks?" She cried upwards in a rage.
TAROTNOMICS
CHAPTER ONE: KING TO A DOG
(let me know if this first chapter is too long to all fit in one message- im happy to edit and reformat. And yes, I drew that cover image on tumblr.com/blog/str8aura-draws-horses-and-stuff. Cheers! )
_________________________________
"TAROT!"
From everywhere at once came the crack of an unmistakably, indescribably green voice. Its words were spat like fire from a silver tongue, its tone commanded order and attention, and with a single boom of the great voice all who heard were struck with the paralyzing realization that there exist beings we cannot understand.
"You forgot to order a drink." Dragon pointed out.
Across the table from her, Tarot looked up from her menu.
The diner was called Bluebell's, famous in the surrounding county for its pancake breakfast. Due to being family owned in a world of chain restaurants, the owners had gone through more than their fair share of troubles with money and competitors, but always seemed to luck out long enough to stay open another year. The head chef called it their guardian angel, and could never imagine just how close he was.
The truth was, Dragon liked the place, frequently touting it as the best diner in the known multiverse- and when a demigod decides your place is good, its going to stay open.
Her affinity caused her to center many of her Earthly meetings around it, although her companion was less than enthused by the quality of taste herself. Had money been an issue, Tarot would have surely raised a complaint about the prices as well, but being the mortal avatar of a higher deity did come with the occasional perks. So, muffins and cookies near every day the cooks watched a tall primly suited woman sit down at a corner booth with her pet Pomeranian and talk for a few hours about things they knew weren't their business, and all anyone on the planet ever suspected was that this nice businesslady liked pancakes and treated her dog well.
"I'll just get a milkshake." The dirty blonde Pomeranian murmured, fiddling with her collar. She still fretted frequently about Dragon's public appearances; Despite her power, the mythical beast' human disguise was imperfect, and rain fell when she cried (which was often) no matter what form she wore. In other words, a major component of the spell was humanity's general inability to pay attention to their surroundings, a ramshackle form of magic(k) if Tarot had ever seen one.
To those in the know, however, she appeared in one of her favored forms- a bipedal green dragon, whose tail took up half the booth and who easily boasted two feet over Tarot even when sitting. "You don't have to shout at me." The dog gently reminded.
Dragon flagged down the waiter casually, with little regard for inconspicuousness. Tarot watched with a twinge of paranoia as their waitress took an order from the superpredator and her accompanying Pomeranian without noticing a thing wrong. As soon as they returned to the kitchen, Dragon cleared her throat.
"How's your food?" She delicately began.
"I can't eat eggs, so I wish they'd tell me when they're included in combos." Tarot admitted, poking her food with a fork.
"It's a breakfast joint, they have to stuff eggs in all their combos. It's the law." Dragon dismissed.
"I'm just saying, you're a lot more omnivorous than me. I feel like I get the short end of the stick at these visits."
"I don't even need to eat!" Dragon protested. "This place makes mortal processes worth it for me. That's how good these eggs are." And took another exaggerated bite to emphasize this point. "Dogs are such picky eaters."
Tarot sighed, leaning back into her booth and bouncing her knee.
After a moment of just watching Dragon eat she broke the silence. "Do you need something? We don't really have casual breakfasts. They always build up to something."
"I do, I do." Dragon assured. "I just thought you might like a minute to savor your breakfast."
Tarot looked down at her plate of fluffy yellow eggs, disgruntled.
"Right then. Down to business." Dragon patted her chin with a napkin. "Now I'll admit, I've been... lenient with you as of late." She waved her claw vaguely. "You know, Halloween parties and dates and stuff, that's not really the Heaven approved usage of mystical power."
Tarot raised an eyebrow that carried an unspoken retort.
"Yes, yes, mortals are fickle, I'm not holding that against you. My point is its been a while since you've done any avatar-ing for the woman who cuts your checks."
"You don't pay me."
"You're the loyal servant of a Demigod, Tarot, I'm paying you in good words with Cerberus. You've got a cushy afterlife planned for you. All of which will be useless, of course, if I'm not around to whisper into one of her ears, so lets talk shop." Dragon reached for a napkin and removed a lime green pen from her breast pocket, testing it on the corner.
"Course." Tarot grunted, scooching forward. "This is closer to my comfort zone. Who am I fighting?"
"You'll be pleased to know..." Dragon murmured, sticking her tongue through her lips as she scribbled.
"...I've got an easier job for you this time."
When she was done, she presented a poorly done doodle of her own head, alongside a smug looking gryphon with several daggers pointing towards him. "Do you remember how The Game started?"
The Game. Like a proper noun, the weight it carried demanded full capitalization. To the uninformed, it whispered of dark secrets beyond the veil of reality, and invisible hands pushing society from behind the scenes. Tarot was, unfortunately, informed.
"Your brother?" Tarot squinted at the napkin. "You got into an argument with-"
"No, no no, I mean how The Game started. Our first moves. Human civilization was just beginning, and the first move of any seasoned player is to create..." She doodled a familiar shape to anyone who lived in Babylon Gardens- the stone monument in the woods, key tenet of the local religion the forest animals practiced. "...A temple. 5000 HP, potentially unlimited MP, these let humans trade faith for power. Rule number one of The Game is that Gods need prayer. Thankfully, Humans need miracles, which makes these the stepping stone to greatness. I mean, except in 5E, where you need to build a mana pool separately and elect a prophet, but..." Dragon cleared her throat. "You're getting bored. Let's move on."
Tarot took the napkin scribbles handed to her, flicking her ear to signal she was listening.
"My brother set his first temple in the middle of the Saudi Arabia desert, taking the risk of less people finding it for the reward of greater mana. I, of course, forwent creating a temple entirely and spent all my beginner points nerfing him. Cut to 5000 years later, and that was still the greatest trick I ever pulled. Now I have multiple worshippers across the planet and all Pete has is a dingy little temple collecting dust in a forest." Dragon sighed. "Still don't know how he moved it. You following along so far?"
Tarot nodded. "You're great, Pete is terrible. I work for you, Dragon." She reminded.
"I am great!" Dragon defended. "I've had my hands in nearly every major world event! I've forged history, I've guided empires, I've been at the right hand of Kings of Kings!"
Tarot sensed insecurity, slightly more than usual. "So what's the problem?"
Whatever Tarot had said had clearly struck a nerve. Dragon slowly buried her face in her hands, and Tarot flinched, watching the clouds outside the window carefully.
"Well... while on paper, it looks like I'm in the lead. But The Game isn't played in wishes and vague senses of accomplishment." Tarot knew for a fact that wasn't true. "It's played in cold hard numbers, and the numbers say that I've got a lot of things Pete doesn't, but he has the one thing I don't- and desperately need." Dragon lifted her head, breathing in deeply. "I have about 500 scattered followers across the Earth, almost none of which know the others exist. Pete has a religion."
"Openerdom?" Tarot wondered aloud. "Dragon, his 'religion' consists of forest animals, deer and possums and raccoons. That can't be worth much in Game numbers."
"Low points, but high numbers." Dragon waved off, growing agitated as Tarot repeatedly jabbed her metaphorical sore spot. "Numbers, numbers are what matter! He has a Religion, and all anyone knows me for is a stock fairy tale character! Fictional characters have bigger followings than me, muffins and cookies it!"
Tarot did her best to comfort the irritated Dragon with an ear scratch as the demigod's head lay in a heap on the table. She flinched back when Dragon suddenly shot up, trying to recompose herself as the clouds outside turned white again.
"What I need is to stop being humble. I need to remind the humans that I am someone to be feared, that they live their lives in servitude of me- That I'm the head God, not my brother and his dirt cult!" Dragon dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, clutching it to her breast and turning to Tarot passionately.
"What I need... is a religion."
Tarot patiently waited for more.
When none came, she awkwardly scratched her head.
"Okay... so make a religion."
Dragon tilted her chin down an inch, adopting a knowing smile. Tarot raised an eyebrow, still expecting her to continue.
This quiet staring match lasted a long while, long enough for the surrounding customers whose attention had been drawn by the blasphemous cry to grow bored.
"Do I... need to spell it out?"
Finally, Tarot's eyes widened in dawning realization.
"No."
"Yes, Tarot." Dragon grinned toothily. "As your Demigod I am promoting you- no longer will you toil in the slums of obscurity. You will toss off your mortal binds, accept your true power as an Avatar, and become my proph-!"
"I said no." Tarot repeated flatly.
At some point in her speech Dragon had stood up. Now she blinked, frozen in rise.
"I... Come again?"
"I really don't see what I need to elaborate on." Tarot replied professionally, shaking her head. "No, I'm not gonna be a prophet for your startup religion."
Dragon opened and closed her mouth a few times, searching for words. "Tarot... you're my Avatar. Representative of all my godly matters on Earth. You know how this works, right? You don't really get a choice."
"Yeah, yeah, what you say goes." Tarot agreed. "If you so demand, I'll teleport to Australia and back to fight strangers, and start a relationship with some guy I've never met to create a loophole in the rules of The Game, and take him to another planet to vie for his affection against you." Tarot shook her head quickly. "I'll do all that, but I also... you know, have a life. You've expended your reach. You got too greedy this time. And now I'm happy to tell you that I'm putting my paw down. I am not becoming the town loonie the world over so you can..."
Tarot sighed. "Look, let's be honest, it's a made up game against your nerd brother. You can pretend you're the king of kings and that this has all been slave to some greater purpose, but... we all know it's just a game, right? It's in the name. Do I need to limit your computer time like a mom? Maybe ground you from going to God Camp? Why is this even a discussion that needs to be had?" She scoffed, shaking her head in exasperation. "You being bigger than me does not a slaveowner make. I've got some pretty big idiots in my life, but even- What, Bino has never asked me to form a religion. And if he did, you know what I'd say?"
Dragon put on the intimidation factor, clutching the table with her head held low. "Tarot? I am your Goddess, and I am commanding you-"
"I'd say get real." Tarot blew a raspberry, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms. "I told you, I have a life, and relationship, and people who care about me, and they outweigh my demigod boss by a pretty enormous magnitude. If you want me to show you the affection I have for you, give me ten bucks and I'll custom print a mug for you off the web. 'Happy Demigod Appreciation Day'."
The booth stayed quiet. Dragon, as anyone who's met her could guess, wasn't exactly used to being turned down. Fear, Anger- she had seen her gamut of emotions from mortals when she demanded things from them, but something about Tarot's matter of factness made retorts fail her. She felt like her Avatar might actually be right- that Dragon might be wrong- and she wasn't sure how to deal with that. Instead, she fidgeted with her silverware.
"I- I could pay you?" Dragon feebly offered.
Tarot didn't break her glare.
"...A new boyfriend?" Dragon tried.
This time she actually did break, turning away in disgust. "Do you want me to run standard exit procedure?" Tarot tapped her table. "Because I feel like... what's the word...?"
"Tarot..." Dragon whined.
"I feel like I could... like I might be about to..."
"Hey, hey, come on, your milkshake hasn't even arrived yet! What's taking them so long?" Dragon glanced nervously to the kitchen.
"Say the word, Dragon. You have to be the one." Tarot leaned forward expectantly, raising an ear.
Dragon sputtered, then stopped.
"Wake up." The tired looking demigod murmured.
And Tarot fazed out of existence.
______________________________
Tarot shot up in bed, completely wordlessly. After so many years of the process you eventually stop screaming.
Tarot quickly searched for any golden statues or giant feathers that may have made the trip with her. When she was satisfied, she let out her breath, rubbing her nose with two fingers. It looked to be about midnight in Babylon Gardens, judging from the moon out the adjacent window.
"Sweetie?" By her side a furred shape stirred, and as she rubbed her eyes its hand gently tugged at her arm. "Everything alright?"
"I'm fine, Peanut." She murmured. "Work."
As annoying as the 'it was all a dream' procedure Demigods preferred to use was, she had to commend it for allowing her to conduct these affairs from the safety of her own dog bed (Or at least, the one that the human owners were polite enough to let a stray like Tarot use). She caught her breath, smacking away the taste of sleep that had suddenly replaced her eggs and struggling to catch up her dream and physical memories to align them. It took a second to remember why she had even woken up so angry.
"Has anyone ever told you its a bit strange that you work while sleeping?" Peanut asked, eyes open but not sitting up from his comfortable spot.
"I don't think I had a standard for strange before I settled down here. I almost miss being oblivious to how crazy my life is." Tarot admitted.
"You're being more self aware than usual. Everything go alright in your dreams?"
Tarot scratched her head. "Not really. I'm probably going to regret some of what I did."
Her partner sat up, rubbing her arm comfortingly. "You know what makes me feel better when I'm plagued in the middle of the night?"
Tarot glanced askance at him skeptically. "Wait, you worry about things? Like, at all?"
"Sometimes. With you."
That one made her smile. "So what do you-"
Zzzzzz
"Peanut!"
"Kidding, kidding." Her partner shot up again, rubbing his eyes and sidling next to her. "Mostly. You're much better at dealing with emotional gunk than I am. If you have a problem, you'll figure it out- but nobody does their best thinking at night. Except Opossums, I guess. Cougars. Raccoons. Dogs don't do their best thinking at night, I should say." Peanut settled back into bed, pulling one of the folds of the ratty blanket over him. "If it still bothers you in the morning, tell me. But sometimes these things just go away after a good sleep."
Tarot didn't respond, still leaning on her knees and staring off into the dark corners of the room.
Something in the diner had bugged her, and now with the acute awareness of a dog woken from her sleep in the middle of the night she was beginning to put it together. Tarot lived in Babylon Gardens because of Dragon. Tarot was in a healthy relationship, for all its oddities, because of Dragon. Tarot had powers other mortal pets of her ilk could only dream of because...
She talked like it was odd that Dragon thought she could uproot Tarot's entire life on a whim, as if it hadn't already happened once before.
Tarot tried to remember what life had been like before Babylon Gardens, and found herself with a splitting headache and wishing very much that she could go back to bed.
Sometimes these things go away after a good sleep, he had said.
"You might be right."
"Can't remember a time I was wrong." He rolled away from her with a beam.
Tarot looked down at her boyfriend one last time, content just with watching him breathe.
"Love you, Peanut." Her voice drifted off.
______________________________
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair one bit.
Dragon angrily sipped the unclaimed milkshake, still fuming in her diner booth.
Mortals live 50, 60 years, and during that time they develop such an ego that they forget who they owe their progress to. It was Dragon who created the pyramids, Stonehenge 2, Geocities, and Everyday Chemistry. She gave so much, and what did she get? There was no justice, not when her brother could rewrite a man's entire genetic code and still get more loyalty out of them.
It was times like this she wished she could talk to someone who understood her.
So, she turned to the window beside her booth, grimacing at her reflection.
"Its not my fault." She protested. "I'm doing what I have to do! There's too much at stake in this game. I mean, in this Game. Tarot understands I don't want to hurt her, she's my friend!"
"She doesn't know you're her friend!" Dragon's reflection frowned. "Wait, no, that's terrible advice. How about this- She knows you care for her, she just doesn't know where your boundaries are. She can only respect yours if you respect hers."
Dragon nodded in satisfaction. That sounded good. She didn't know what it meant in practice, but in theory it sounded good.
"Sooo..." She continued to spitball to her reflection. "I let her go! That's fine. There are other avatars. Other prophets. I could find someone smarter, with more power..."
Her minds eye pictured the other canine and feline residents of Babylon Gardens, running through every possible candidate in the blink of an eye. Some were obvious rejections- too slow, not charismatic enough, just plain annoying to work with, until she had a small pool of about five different individuals who she could target next.
She crossed every one of them off the list. They all possessed the same critical flaw of Not Being Tarot.
Dragon looked to her reflection for advice, frowning in annoyance when it remained silent.
"Don't give me that look." She snapped. "I like Tarot- shes powerful and skilled, and an easy conversation, and always seems to have one more forgiveness left in her. She's been at my side for years- I work with her or I work with nobody."
"Do you have a choice?" The glass retorted. "You of all people know the stakes best. You work by yourself and you lose- You can't be picky. If you must have her, you need to respect her, and only take the parts she's willing to give up. Does that mean anything a-?"
Dragon froze, looking past the window. "Wait, it does."
Souls contain multitudes. This tended more often than not to be a source of hassle for Dragon- but in this case, it occurred to her, she might be able to use this. Tarot refused, but Tarot was a complex puppy.
She was one of Dragon's most loyal followers. Surely she could forgo one part of her. Some small part of her she would hardly miss.
A plan was beginning to form.
"Of course, killing Tarot is out!" Dragon quickly clarified to nobody, shaking her head vigorously and setting a claw on the glass window. "I'm not a monster. I just gotta, y'know. Split her soul a bit." Yes, that seemed nicer.
"She'll understand. She's loyal! The most loyal I could ask for! And better than King if nothing else." Dragon gesticulated wildly. "It's not like I'm committing some heinous sin. It's not something I'd tell Heaven, but... What do they know about sin anyway? I'm just taking the good with the bad. Take out the bad parts, put em to work, Tarot can live her life and serve me. I'll never need the good parts of Tarot again! She'll thank me!"
She slammed a hand against the glass, rattling the entire wall. "It's a good thing. I'm doing the right thing. Tell me that, okay?"
Unsurprisingly, the reflection didn't answer.
Dragon smiled nervously. Take the good with the bad.
She turned back to the unnerved looking waitress, still clutching her pen and a tablet. "I'll take my check, please."
______________________________
Less than a few hours later, Babylon Gardens had fallen deep into its sleep.
Not a light remained on in any window.
As the moon apexed, a dark shadow blotted its light over the household belonging to the unassuming Sandwich family.
And from the shadow something indescribable fell to earth, hitting the ground and creeping through the grass, then up the wall and slipping in through the cracked window.
The invisible force cascaded like water down the stairs, searching diligently through the rooms for any sign of life before catching a glimpse of fur. The low purr of energy turned into a growl as the force rushed into the living room, flowing around furniture and growing in power like a tidal wave crashing towards a single point at the center of Tarot's forehead, finding its aim true and-
Tarot woke up.
If it could even be called that.
Something felt terribly, terribly wrong. She lifted a paw to rub her eye, and saw in the dim darkness that it barely resembled her own. Sitting up and pulling herself over to the square of light pouring through the window, she inspected the offending arm, following its new deep blue coat up her shoulder, down her belly, and to her legs.
Not a hair of her dirty blonde coat remained.
She sat up, finding herself several feet away from the dog bed she had gone to sleep on, and went to wake Peanut. Something stirred in it, and she squinted in the dark to try and make it out. Once her eyes adjusted she realized it looked awful familiar.
It was Tarot, still peacefully resting. Meaning the dog who had just woken up and was crouched over the bed... wasn't Tarot.
She forced herself away from the bed, staggering away, and fast realized the second part of this metamorphoses. New thoughts were coursing through her brain, new urges and plans Tarot's old morality would forbid her from having. None of those restrictions were there anymore, and the blue pomeranian that was once Tarot realized that her old name barely suited her anymore. She was a brand new dog.
She felt individual. She felt unique. She felt powerful. She felt like she could throw up.
She slowly turned back to Tarot. A shaky hand reached for the fur, feeling her own coat with a sense of dissociation as a heart and chest that were no longer hers rose and fell in gentle motions.
She scritched herself behind the ears, watching her own leg kick slowly. She turned to Peanut, and instantly felt a sickening pit in her stomach that forced her to look away. Only for a second- just as quickly any sadness she might have felt was filtered into disgust.
She thought she heard a whisper in her ear. Before she could reflect on it, the moonlight was briefly blotted out by a dark shadow passing over the house.
She couldn't bring herself to wake up Tarot. She didn't want to think about Peanut. And trying to focus on the whispers made her head hurt.
Which left only one real option left for social interaction.
The dog slipped out through the front door, tiptoed down the stairs, bypassing the step she knew from a lifetime of being Tarot creaked, and stepped onto the grass. She set her new paws on her hips as the same long shadow dwarfed her.
Dragon's true form was a long and slender serpent, hovering in the air with most of her body twisted into mobius loops. Her head bent down to ground level to talk eye to eye with her creation, while her hands nervously twiddled car-sized digits.
The whispers hushed when she looked Dragon in the eye.
"What did you do, Dragon?" Her own voice sounded unfamiliar- deeper, with a slight echo even at normal volume.
Dragon quickly looked over her shoulder and back, searching for words. "Just now, you mean?"
"What did you do?"
"I... well, you know. I split your soul. I thought, well, this way you can help me out... and enjoy your life too?" Dragon tried to smile. "You should probably... break the news to her."
The two watched each other in silence for a moment.
Cicadas buzzed in the chill night air.
"No." The dog surprised herself with her words. "No, we're not telling her. You want her to enjoy her life? She's had everything bad about her stripped away. I say leave her alone. If we're lucky you'll never come back for her."
Dragon seemed taken aback. "I... take it you know what I want you to do then."
Oblivious to Dragon as she spoke, her creation was finding its mind fascinating. Below everything left of Tarot in her head, she could feel a brand new force tugging her reason along, something she was smart enough to recognize likely benefited her intended destination.
Soul splitting was a sorting process, after all- One reserved for the recently dead. The point was to send all the good parts to Heaven and the bad parts to Heck. Now, thanks to Dragon, both parts were stuck on Earth, and it didn't seem very much like Heaven to whisper arcane secrets in her ear.
Which could only mean she was the evil Tarot.
Strangely the idea of being the evil one didn't bother her too much.
Being evil wasn't anything like she expected- She had no uncontrollable desires turning her into a slathering monster, no violence and arson and murder bubbling out from inside her. She was completely calm. Evil wasn't seducing her, but rather it was the only option she could see left. To leave well enough alone wasn't even a possibility worth considering.
Which meant she still had some sense about her. Enough that a part of her fretted for Peanut, enough that a part of her knew going along with Dragon was her best bet, and enough that she knew she needed a new name. It was hardly convenient to keep calling herself 'the pomeranian' or 'Dragon's creation'. She needed something succinct and to the point, that would tell everyone who met her exactly what her game was.
"Yeah." Evil Tarot mused. "You want me to be your prophet."
Dragon nodded, pleased with herself. "Yeah. Yeah! I knew you were clever."
She nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll do it."
Dragon raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Wait, I haven't told you the plan yet."
"I have a plan." Evil Tarot growled.
"Already?"
"Already. It requires you do everything I say to a tee. It won't be very hard, I promise you. But we have to move fast."
"And... Why is that?"
Evil Tarot turned back to the house, looking it up and down one last time before setting her sights for the woods behind Babylon.
"Because I'm smarter than you apparently think I am. And I wake up very, very early."
______________________________
Tarot woke up.
Good Opener, she woke up- she couldn't remember ever having a night as restful as the one she woke up from. She gradually rose her head from her bed, stretching out her spine and limbs as far as they could go, and gave a doggish yawn that clacked her teeth together while she sleepily smacked.
She felt like she could run a mile. It was possible to feel this good? Instinctively she tensed, waiting for the other foot to drop.
Ten minutes later she untensed, relaxing. She vaguely recalled being worried about something last night, but couldn't for the life of her remember what it could have been.
"Mmm? Tarot?" A sleepy voice emerged from under the upside down lump of fur she had been sleeping next to.
Tarot flexed her digits. Even her fur seemed shinier. In a daze, she glanced down at Peanut, getting down to her knees and scratching under his chin to stir him.
With her newfound mental clarity, the first thought she voiced was, "I love you."
Peanut lifted his head, tail wagging. "I love you too. Feeling better?"
Tarot admired her hands dumbfoundedly, suddenly entranced by them like a newborn puppy. "I don't know if I've felt this good in my life. My brain feels... weird."
Peanut nuzzled his nose against her, but she stood up without reacting, holding her head and staring off into space.
"Tarot?" He tried.
"This is insane. I have problems in my life." Tarot's mouth kept running.
"That doesn't sound very insane at all."
"But I recognize them. I know how to solve them. My head is filled with thoughts. Someone up above handed me a brain while I was asleep. I- I need to start writing."
Peanut sat up, curiously watching her. She got down on her knees, prowling the floor with a paw until hitting something- a napkin that had fallen off her when she got up, covered in lime scribbles. Her eyes caught the words 'OR WAS IT' in the corner, and she briefly fumbled when she realized she couldn't remember where the napkin came from. Shaking those thoughts off, she flipped it over and began writing.
"This is... a new mood for you! Especially after last night." Peanut sat up, more and more invested in Tarot's radical personality shift.
Tarot glanced up. "What ha- Don't tell me. I'm starting fresh fresh. I need to get up and go. Problems, problems! I'm dating Peanut, who has a thing with Grape, who is dating Max, who is clearly a repressed bisexual..."
"You're drawing a shipping chart?" Peanut asked flabbergastedly. "This early in the morning?"
"Its a complication, Peanut! My life right now is like... like, some sitcom where we're barred from ever growing. Other things... Uh, my life is being controlled by a demigod overemotional drama queen. King is still a dog. I think Grape killed a guy."
"Bino owes me twelve dollarbucks." Peanut chimed in from the dog bed.
"Peanut!" He jumped at Tarot's sudden exclamation, and found her hands on his cheeks before he could respond. "I love you so much." She repeated.
"Seriously. Is everything... alright?" Peanut coughed out through smushed cheeks.
"Things haven't been alright for a long time, hun." She shook her head slowly. "I can't believe I haven't realized it. We've been going in circles for years and years and- Holy Opener, I can see everything. All our problems."
"All of them?"
"All of them!" Tarot repeated, looking past him as she talked. "I want a stable relationship with you, Peanut. I need to stabilize my life, massively- and yours, and Grape's, and Maxwell's- I'm seeing everything."
She released Peanut, seizing her napkin and running for the door. "I'll see you in a bit- I need to start talking to... well, just about everybody. I'm going to fix it, Peanut! I'm going to fix every problem ever!"
She slammed the door shut enthusiastically.
Peanut blinked, still barely awake.
"...What?"
______________________________
Tarot's Spontaneous Wave of Therapy lasted two weeks and left no survivors.
Long standing feuds were resolved. Toxic relations were separated. Fetishes were come to terms with. The Good Ol Dogs Club was renamed The Good Ol People Club (albeit changed back a few hours later for not rolling off the tongue well enough). It was unprecedented, unexpected, and generally agreed to be one of the stranger things the pet population of Babylon Garden had ever seen.
Between her newfound matter of factness, charismatic conversations, and uncanny ability to know what the other person was thinking, Tarot was able to do so much many victims of the Wave had trouble believing she was the same easily stressable and overly cryptic pomeranian they had always known.
New Tarot talked fast, came and went like the wind.
And New Tarot made things look easy.
Peanut found her two weeks later on his couch. Charts littered the floor around her, nearly all of the various notes and to-dos crossed out in lime green pen. Still she worked, rifling through them for something new with almost feverish zest.
"Hey, hun." He tried knocking on the side table to get her attention. "You, uh, alright? Been a while since we talked. You're always moving somewhere, trying to do something."
"I know, Peanut, I know. I'm just a little cluttered. This town's bigger than I thought, and if I'm being honest, I forgot there were people in it." She sighed. "You know how many humans want to take advice from a dog?"
"Yeah, I do." He nodded sagely. "I mean, this is great. But... how do I put this..."
"But they're all such easy fixes." Tarot cut off, listening to herself. "I mean, half the time you just need to talk to someone! How do people struggle with communicating? You open your mouth and words come out!" Tarot threw her hands in the air.
Peanut paused, before opening his mouth and waiting patiently.
"Can we talk?" He finally prompted when it was clear no magic(k) force would possess him
"We sorted us out, didn't we?" She pointed to a connecting green line. "One of the first problems I worked to solve."
"Without the therapy I mean. Heart to heart."
Tarot looked up curiously, setting down her pen slowly.
"Ah... Yeah, yeah, I'm here. What do you need?"
Peanut sidled next to her on the couch, fiddling with his thumbs and scratching behind his ear anxiously. Reveling in the brief peace, he looked for a good way to put his argument.
"You've been different lately."
"How so?"
Both of them glanced down at the mess of graphs littering the floor.
"If you give me ten seconds I can think of a reason this is healthy." She tried.
To herself, Tarot decided her boyfriend might have a point.
Despite all the help she had given, under it all Tarot felt... strange. She was just doing what came naturally to her, which had never come naturally a day in her life before. If she was a super-genius psychoanalyst, things wouldn't have gotten this bad in the first place. It was all far too easy, and when she tried to zero in on it, it felt like she had been missing a limb this whole time. She really couldn't believe it was that easy. It was abnormal.
Peanut started talking, but she wasn't listening. In between her thoughts, she had gotten distracted- a fly was buzzing around the room. It had been for the last twenty seconds.
Tarot hated flies.
She was supposed to hate flies. It was only natural. Flies meant pestilence, and death, and the perversion of the natural...
A fly was just a fly.
Why did she want to hate it so much?
The fly landed directly on her nose, twitching and rubbing its legs together less than an inch from her eyes.
Right in her grasp. She stared it down, and began to feel fear- not of the fly, but of the increasing, growing temptation to snap. She didn't even know what that meant entirely. Only that the simple insect was making her muscles tense and her blood boil. Sooner or later the pressure was going to break.
The fly turned, and they locked eyes.
A vein bulged under Tarot's fur.
It flew off. The room was again filled with its incessant buzzing, grating and tearing.
Something was terribly, terribly wrong. Only now Tarot started thinking about Dragon, and tried to remember the last time she had seen her boss.
"Tarot?"
She turned quickly to face her boyfriend. Apparently too quickly- he jumped at the suddenness of her motion.
Somehow, looking at him calmed her, and she began to think rationally again. Tarot was missing something vitally important, it seemed. Before she could think up a reasonable excuse to assure Peanut, there was a knock at the door.
He turned towards the sound with a grimace, but dutifully stood and went down the hall for it. As soon as he was out of sight Tarot fell back into the couch cushions with a gasp of air.
"For you!" He called.
Tarot only flicked an ear in response.
______________________________
The rabbit on her front door looked simultaneously like he expected Tarot to beat him and fall at her knees.
His ears were easily the same length as his arms, if not more, and his pelt was the same uniform grey with a break at the neck for his obligatory collar- a nice green, although thankfully not lime. He kicked his foot on the porch, feigning casualty and seeming more than a little put off at Tarot's appearance, not that most people this week hadn't been.
The rabbit gave a curt wave. "Uh... Hi."
Tarot nodded politely. "Hello. Do I know you?"
The rabbit sighed. "You don't know how long I've waited to hear someone say that."
"Unpopular?"
"I wish. I'm the Opener of Ways. You can call me Zach. We talked a while back, remember?" Zach extended a paw forward.
Tarot raised her eyebrows in recognition as she shook. "Oh, yeah, I know you. You look different in the stained glass windows. Sorry, a lot's been going on recently."
"Sorry to disappoint, but I don't think rabbits can be that tall." Zach apologized with disgruntlement. "The other day is actually what I wanted to talk about. May I come in?"
In Tarot's experience, the animal population of Babylon Garden could be divided two different ways- the residents who knew about The Game, and the residents who didn't. As the secret became harder and harder to hide, the line between the two blurred considerably across the last few years, to the point where she frequently had to take guesses at who might need an in-depth explanation of the galaxy's hierarchy and who was already in the know. Mice running around in the fields? Probably didn't know. Victims of sudden polymorphing? Probably knew.
Zach was an odd case. On one hand, he was the figurehead of Pete's self made religion. On the other, by all accounts he had stumbled into it accidentally and didn't even know much about the religion or the animals who worshiped him. Tarot decided to play it safe- it wasn't likely The Game was even going to come up in a house call.
"Sorry." Tarot grunted, resting her paw on the door. "Too many irons in the fire- I'm going to be taking some time to myself for a bit. Uh, take a number and I'll see if I can get back sometime... soon." She slowly started closing the door.
"That's fine, that's fine!" Zach leaned into the shrinking gap left by the door. "Hey, I won't be long! It's no trouble!"
"I'm sure its not." Tarot politely smiled through the crack.
"I'd just like to ask for my job back!"
For the first time in two weeks Tarot was thrown for a loop.
She paused and opened the door again.
"...What?"
"I know, I know." Zach quickly rushed to defend his perceived slight. "I don't like being the Opener. I've gotten used to it, but its still awkward when people bring you their sick children and beg for a miracle. I was more than happy to throw a big ceremony, and, you know, 'pass down my godly power' and all, but now that I don't have it... I'm getting antsy. I think we should reverse it. Don't worry- they believed it the first time, and they're not really the smartest tools in the shed in the first place."
Tarot shook her head in confusion, shutting her eyes. Uncomfortable feelings were starting to rise in her, like the nagging thought she was forgetting something. "You made me Opener?"
"Two weeks ago. Don't you remember?"
"I think I would remember something like that." She thought. "I mean, I was occupied at the time. Not that occupied."
"You came to me in the middle night, complained about my performance, negotiated my position with me, talked something about a dragon, and left an hour later once I agreed." Zach numbered off on his fingers, still awkwardly standing in the doorway while Tarot cradled an ebbing headache. "Then we held a big celebration the next day where I announced that you would be Opener to the forest population, and..."
He cleared his throat unsurely. "Tarot, why are you still here?"
Tarot thought very, very, carefully. She had gotten good at thinking ever since that queer morning, but her new abilities were failing her suddenly. She hadn't seen Dragon... who had been talking about making Tarot a prophet... Now an actual prophet was at her door, claiming to have made her one... There was a connection here, she just couldn't put her paw on it.
"My eyes are gold. Did she have lime green eyes?" Tarot defaulted to the first possible answer, pointing a claw at her amber irises. It wasn't entirely out of the question for Dragon to take on a Pomeranian disguise and do the job herself. There was no Earthly way The Game would allow her to be her own avatar.
"Ink black, actually." Zach responded with a shrug.
Third gut punch this conversation over. Tarot was starting to feel queasy.
"...Was she blue?" She slowly asked.
"Pretty blue." He nodded with a snap at the air.
Tarot stood up from where she sat.
She reached through the doorway to Zach and gently took him by the shoulders.
She stared at him pointedly.
"You met a blue dog with black eyes and thought it was me." She repeated.
Zach instantly got defensive, pulling away and rubbing his shoulder upsettedly. "She called herself you, alright? Hey, I used to be bright purple! It was late and I couldn't see her well, I-I've never seen you around much, and I heard you were some magic(k) witch girl or something-"
Tarot waved a paw in his face, putting things together slowly.
"Stop, stop, stop. You asked why I was here. What did you mean by that?"
Zach stared at her like she was the stupidest person in the world. A familiar sensation was beginning to bubble up inside her, like a broken leg learning how to move again.
"Tarot..." He began slowly, patiently. "Have you been watching the news at all lately?"
Her mouth gaped open.
"Dragon." She hissed like a dirty word.
"There you go again. What dragon?"
______________________________
The Sandwich Household was rarely trodden in, which made it perfect for Tarot's purposes. The average magic(k) user had more than a few tools up their sleeves- the ever helpful Ouija Boards, pendants and charms and copper artifacts alike, and enough mystical machinery to fill entire rooms.
Tarot had a basement that wasn't even hers. She made the most of it.
"What are you doing?" Zach called after her, rushing down the stairs to her.
"I need to go to sleep. Now." Tarot lugged her own hastily filled collapsible Travel Dog Bowl, sloshing water down the steps she leaped down ten at a time and making her pursuers job considerably harder.
"Somewhere like your basement?" Zach confusedly asked, stopping when he hit the bottom steps. Between the boilers, Amidst waves and waves of (what looked to be electric) candles, a red Pentagram was painted perfectly on the floor.
"Take this!" Tarot tossed a small leatherbound book into Zach's arms, which he barely caught against his chest.
"What am I supposed to-"
Tarot flipped a switch on the wall, and every candle turned on at once, spreading their dim gold glow. She set the dog bowl down at the center of the Pentagram and fell to her knees, taking steady breaths in and out as lime green leylines lit up across her skin and through her shaggy coat. "Page 26, read the lines in italics at the top!"
Zach flipped quickly, stuttering in his haste, but still managed to choke out the black words inscribed in the tome mortals were not meant to hear.
"Alright, now punch me."
"What?" Zach sputtered, gripping the book tightly.
"I told you, I can only do this when I'm asleep! It's god stuff, I can't explain it!" Tarot psyched herself up, fanning her face and hopping between paws.
"You think I don't know how god stuff works?" Zach threw his arms up.
"I don't have the time or crayons to explain sacrilege! Punch me, darn it!"
Zach's fists opened and closed, clearly considering the idea as he nibbled at his lip. Tarot leaned back and forth, growing more impatient before groaning and giving up. Kicking the dog bowl to him, she hopped over to one of the brick walls.
"Pour that on my face if I'm out for more than ten minutes." She instructed.
Zach didn't answer, and she caught him slapping a paw over his eyes and cursing himself out before she turned towards the wall.
"Always have to be the one to do this myself." She muttered, leaning her paws against the wall.
Leaning back and forth, Tarot sucked in air, screamed from the bottom of her throat, and swung her head forward.
______________________________
She awoke with a gasp somewhere entirely different- the hard asphalt of a parking lot.
One in front of a familiar blue roof she had seen more times than she could count.
BLUEBELL'S
Tarot scrambled to her paws and barreled through, making an impressive scar in the glass with her small frame as she shouldered it open.
Running to their usual seat, Tarot scampered past surprised waiters to the empty booth.
"Dragon!" Blistering with anger, but out of options, Tarot ran between remaining booths, spooking the poor families trying to eat and undoubtedly getting animal control called on her. She didn't care- it wasn't like she'd be staying here long.
"She can't keep getting away with this. Dragon! Dragon, where are you?"
Returning to their booth, Tarot felt under her collar for a stashed napkin- one covered in lime green penwork. With a choked growl, she fell to her knees, yelling into it and leaving long tears where her claws fell. Everything suppressed from seeing the fly was finding a new, much grander reason to pour out.
A demigod had royally screwed up.
"What could you possibly have done in just two weeks?" She cried upwards in a rage.