Chapter Text
It was a beautiful day for the festival. The sun is bright, warming the early spring air. The Soothsayer sighs, breathing in deep. She’s seen seventy-nine winters melt away into spring in her time. This will be her eightieth.
She wraps her shawl around her hunched figure, moving with purpose through the crowd. Those who notice her move out of her way in respect, and she offers them a nod. She was born and raised in this town, and unlike some, she had never left. She has been this town's healer, midwife, wise woman, and soothsayer for many, many years. She doubts most of the people in the town even remembered her predecessor.
When she finally reaches her destination, she shakes out the blanket she brought with her, and settles down. She’s tucked a little out of the way of the hustle and bustle of the market square, but still visible. She sets out a small bowl for donations, lights a few candles, and waits.
For a while, no one approaches her.
A girl in a traditional dancing skirt twirls by, followed by a laughing young man. Her feet are already light, stepping to the beat of distant music. She must be headed to the smaller western marketplace, where musicians always gather to set up a dance floor for festivals like these.
A group of three children who look so similar they must be triplets is clustered around the nearby kite stand, loudly debating whether they should pool their money to buy a kite that looked like a butterfly, or one that looked like a dragon.
In the center of the square, she can see two of the local youths sitting on the edge of the fountain in the middle of the square. One reaches up to the other’s hair, and tucks a flower behind their ear. They blush, laughing, though she can't hear them through the noise of the market. The stand that is selling these early spring blooms is set up to her left, bursting with color and fresh fragrance.
Further away, she could hear the baker hawking her freshly baked goods, quickly drawing in a crowd. The scent of the pies she’s set out on display makes the Soothsayer’s mouth water.
The hustle and bustle of the market fills all her senses, and she smiles at the lively atmosphere in the town.
This was the largest festival this city held, and it seemed to grow bigger every year, as people came from surrounding towns to enjoy the three days of festivities.
It had been many many years since the Soothsayer had participated in the celebrations. Her body was not as spry as it used to be, nor did she care to force her way through the crowds more than she had to. She already knew what wares most of the merchants would be selling, as she saw them set up their stalls here every Saturday, albeit in a much less decorated fashion.
The festival was a nice way to earn some extra rupees, though.
Those who come to her to get their fortune are mostly those from out of town. The residents know they can ask her to read their palms at other times for fewer rupees. She has other, more complicated ways of telling the future, but nothing worth trying to sell here.
The first few people who approach her are what she’s come to expect from these festivals. A pair of lovers approach her. She's glad to read only good things on their palms, and they head off happily, arms entwined.
A little boy comes up while his father is pursuing the flower stall across the square, and shyly offers her a single rupee. She humors him, looking at his small chubby hand. She reads many hardships in his future that will nearly break him, but also reads how he will find peace in the end. She tells him the second half, and sends him off with his father, who is now carrying a bouquet of tulips.
The third person to approach her is slightly more unusual. She notices him before he approaches. He has the hood of his long black cloak pulled up, and looks slightly uncomfortable with the crowd. Underneath that, she can see a blue tunic with white designs on the chest. His companion, a taller man wearing a wolf pelt around his shoulders, is distracted at the nearby leatherworker’s stall.
The shorter one soon wanders away, feet leading him unknowingly towards her. He seems to be looking for a quiet place to wait for his companion, and her little undisturbed corner of the market to draw him in. As he draws closer, she can see under his hood. The scars there are unlike any she’d ever seen. She watched as he approached, before deciding to speak. “Hello, dear. Come sit with an old woman for a moment?”
He didn't look startled, although she did not think he had noticed her before. He acquiesced to her request, giving her a small smile as he kneeled in front of her. Giving her tip bowl a quick glance, he reached underneath his cloak. She didn't see where he withdrew the money from, as he had no rupee pouch, but he quickly produced several of the small gems which together valued more than 100 rupees.
She let out a small cough of surprise as he placed them in the bowl, giving her a tiny smile. “Oh, I wasn’t asking for money, dear. It just seemed that you needed a place to get out of the crowd for a moment.” His tiny smile grew into a slightly more genuine one, even if he tilted his head curiously, pointing to the tip bowl again.
“Oh, that. I have a small talent in palmistry. This festival is just a nice way to make a few extra rupees.” The boy tilts his head curiously, and she wonders if he’s never heard of palm reading before. “It’s the art of reading the lines on someone’s palm. You can read their past, present, and future there, if you know how to look.” The boy nods. “Would you like to have your palm read, my dear? All I’ll need is your left hand.”
The boy hesitates, and offers his right hand instead, and she can understand why. The scars on his face seem to cover more of his body than she originally thought. The palm of his left hand is heavily scarred, the lines on his hand almost impossible to make out. Regardless, she shakes her head.
“No, child,” she reassures, smiling serenely, reaching out to grab his left hand, “The scars of life are part of the tale I may read in your palm. Your left hand will do.”
And she looks.
She doesn't know how long she stares at the palm, but when she looks up, her eyes are wide and tears threaten to fall. She does not know exactly what she is crying for. All she knows is that one so young should never have as much suffering in their life. No one should.
She meets his eyes, and the strange teal depths seem to say ‘What did you see, soothsayer? Something unexpected?’ For a moment, his gaze ensnares her, and she can't look away. There's something ancient in that gaze. Something she can’t put a name to.
Then he breaks eye contact, turning to look over his shoulder at the one clad in fur. He’s laughing, not a trace of the seriousness that had been there for a moment before. He gets up and is drawn away by his companion, whom she hadn't noticed had approached. He does not wait for any sort of response from her.
They disappear into the bustling crowd, and she watches them for as long as she can.
She never sees him again, but she doesn't forget that boy as long as she lives.