chamomileess
Filler chapter: The life and Times of Madelaine Cin. It's quiet in the house today. Since Reciful is off taking a nap, I suppose I could get started on his snack for when he eventually wakes up. Let me just put my crocheting needles down. I put the needles down on the desk. I stood up, smoothed out the wrinkles in my dress, and walked over to the kitchen, which happened to be in the next room. “Let's see...” I mutter to myself. “What would dear Recy like for his snack today?” A tiny voice whispered in my left ear with a fairly thick Russian accent, “Maddy, just take a load off today. Get him a bowl of ice cream vhen he vakes up.” Another whispered in my right ear. This one's accent was undeniably Brittish. “Madelaine, you should know that Reciful works very hard to provide for all that you need. I suggest a savoury pancake with all the things he likes: peanuts, raisins and Nutella.” Still another came from somewhere behind her head, saying, “Mads, I totally think that you should, like, make him a really, really huge snack, or maybe, like, a meal! That would be, like, so totally awesome!” Ouch. Ok, the high pitched Valley-girl voice is really starting to tweak me off... No, I'm not going crazy. The voices that talk to me (and me only) started a little over three years ago. Yes, it was a little weird hearing not one or two voices in my head, but three. “A little weird?” said the left-ear voice. “If I remember correctly, Maddy, when we first spoke with you, you were half asleep. You literally jumped five feet straight up and screamed at the top of your lungs, 'WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU'. Needless to say, it was probably more than 'a little weird'.” O...k... left-ear voice had a point. But what was I suppose to do? Tell the world I had voices in my head? I rather like where I am, thank you very much. I don't want to be hauled off to the looney bin anytime soon. Ignoring the voices in my head for now, I decided that I should make Reciful some nice muffins for his snack. Perhaps a chocolate raisin muffin? “No!” shouted Valley-voice. “Just, like, forget the raisins! Is there anyone who, like, likes those in the world?” British-voice popped in again. “I happen to like raisins, Fashionista. What are you suggesting?” Before my mind was turned into an all out battle field, I shouted, “Just be quiet and let me make my freaking muffins!” Not a single sound came into my head. Good. That meant that they had actually listened to me this time. Satisfied with what had happened, I went back to my task of making muffins. As I said before, I'm not losing my mind. What was really happening there was a bit of a verbal duel with my Tarots. Tarots are mystical beings who bind themselves to a master in order to manifest themselves in the world. I'm not sure how they do this, but the Illusionist (that's the British-voice) says it has something to do with binding their souls to ours. As I prepared the batter for my muffins, I'll admit that I was a bit startled to learn about the existence of the Tarots. Most people never see or hear one in their entire lives. Few people are fortunate enough to have one watching over them. Me? I was either blessed or cursed with not one, nor two, but three tarots. When I first heard about the Tarots in my head, I began researching the Tarots using my greatest resource: Google. As I learned more about the Tarots, I found out that all of my Tarots were not from the Major Arcana of Tarots, which made me wonder who they really were. The Illusionist, the Czar (Russian-voice) and the Fashionista were most definitely NOT part of any Tarot deck on this planet. I slid the muffins into the oven and turned on the timer, satisfied that I had put a sufficient amount of chocolate chips in the batter. “Sufficient?” asked the Illusionist. “You put in a 2 lb. bag for a litre of batter! You pretty much made chocolate bread...” Hmph. Him again. I wish he'd stop bothering me. I told him to shut up, and that Reciful liked chocolate. “No human on this planet could eat a muffin so saturated with...” faltered the Illusionist, ”with...that much caffeine and sugar in it.” Well, Reciful will like them anyways. How could he not like anything I make? “Man,” the Fashionista's voice popped into my head. “What I wouldn't give to, like, live your life.” Hmph. You wish.Filler #2 Sisi's Family Restaurant Most people do their best to avoid seedy-looking restaurants. There's something about a dirty yellow awning, slightly broken tables and a squeaky door that makes for an unappetizing atmosphere. However, whereas most of these would be turn-offs for most people, it was perfect for some of the riskier eaters in the area. It was all thanks to these people that Sisi's parent's restaurant managed to survive. Whimsically named The Flying Octopus, Sisi's parents specialized in various traditional seafood dishes from the norther Chinese seaboard. Their most famous dish was an impressive imitation of a Shanghai recipe that involved flash-frying a Talipa in a few split seconds. The fish was then served, still alive in most cases to the customer. More often than not, the customers left the fish uneaten; however, the few die-hard fans of the restaurant keep coming back. It just so happened that today, a large group of their old regulars were back, this time with a few greenhorns. Sisi's father was pouring cup after cup of oil into three woks, heating them up to frying temperature. The cramped space made it a bit difficult to move around, but Sisi's dad was used to it. Having worked in the same kitchen 365 days a year for nearly 15 years, he knew the kitchen down to the last burnt bit of pork on the stove. The hot musty smell of smoking oil heavily laced with spices like star anise and green onion created the perfect nostalgic atmosphere for him. “Li-ling, bring in the fish!” he shouted in Cantonese. “They've been waiting for ten minutes already!” Sisi's mom ran in with a small plastic bucket filled with three large fish. Panting, Sisi's mom turned her head and asked, “Where do you want them?” “In the usual spot. Hurry! Oh, and pick some green onions from the back. I'm down to three bunches here.” Sisi's mom nodded and set the bucket on a small bench next to the stove before she ran out the back door again. As she did that, Sisi's older sister Grace walked into the kitchen through a large swinging door. “Table three wants two orders of Shiu Mai, one order of fried squid and some seafood congee. Table six wants a refill on Oolong tea, as well as another order of shrimp dumplings.” Without glancing up from his three woks, Sisi's dad asked, “What about the big table? Tables twelve and thirteen?” “They just said they want the usual, but three of them.” “Three!?” “That's what they said, unless you want me to ask them again.” Sisi's dad brooded for a bit. The three fish that he had here were for other tables that had ordered ahead of time. Since they ordered first, they should go out first, but there was no guarantee that these customers would eat the fish. On the other hand, he knew for a fact that their regulars would devour the fish in no time. However, that would me blowing off the new customers, and they needed the business badly. “Alright,” he said finally. “Tell An and them that the fish will take a little while. Maybe five more minutes.” “Are you sure? They are our regulars, after all.” Grace stuffed the notepad back into her apron pocket before she tie her waist-length hair up. “Mmm, I'm sure,” said Sisi's dad with a firmness in his voice. “Just serve them some free tea or something. And break the news to them gently.” “Geez dad,” sighed Grace, shrugging her shoulders. “It's just fish.” Grace slipped out of the doors again. Sisi's dad took some spices and tossed them into the three smoking woks. The oil would be ready soon. He turned around and chopped up a fistful of green onions. He set them aside after he finished chopping them, and took out three large plates. He shouted out the back door, “Li-ling! When you're done out there, bring in three more fish!” Li-ling's distant voice came back, “Three!? I just brought in three! At this rate, we're going to have to order two days early, and you know how Saito hates when we mess up his schedule.” “Well what do you want me to do!?” he shouted back. “We can't just tell them, 'sorry, we can't serve you fish today' can we? Just bring them in. I don't think Saito will mind that much.” “Fine, but it's your head that's on the chopping block!”Filler #3: Meet the Tarots. Recently, the Tarot Recruitment Image Program, or TRIP, was going through their old files from a few years back. One of the employees came across the self introduction tapes sent in by some of the most successful tarots today. After reviewing them, all we can say is that they have come a very, very, long way.The High Priestess: “So, like, yeah. Is it on? Oh, it's on? Umm, crap, what do I say? Umm, hi! My name's The Priestess, and I can heal stuff. I'm a bright, energetic and fun loving person who doesn't mind getting their hands dirty every now and then, so long as I can wash them afterwards. Umm, please don't be weirded out by the fact that my right arm is actually a sword. I don't have a good explanation for that, since Daddy never really told me why, although I think it might have something to do with that fact that he was a blacksmith? Anyways, umm... Oh, sorry, what was that?(So, what are you battle abilities like?)You want me to talk about my battle abilities? Well, umm, I can obviously chop things up with my sword...arm...thing. Oh, and I can make icy birds fly out of my staff. You wanna see?(Um, no, that's quite alright.)No? Oh well, that's fine then. But yeah, that's me. So, I can find a charge that I can take good care of. Oh, and boys, call me! My number is 781...”-Click-The Magician: “Good afternoon. I am The Magician, and I am happy to say that I will provide any assistance you may require. As my name suggests, I am a magic-user, and I specialize in fire based magic. I am not only useful in combat, but simply being around me will give you a boost in energy, perhaps even put a little more hop in your step, eh? Heh heh.(Alright, well I suppose the most obvious question is this: why are you a worm?)What? Why am I a worm?(Yes, we want to know in case any of your charges...)Did you really have to go there? Really now! Fine, if it's an explanation you want, then I'll give you an explanation! My mother was a worm, my father was a worm, all of my siblings are, and our entire exteneded family tree is made up of worms! So, it must be pretty damned obvious as to why I AM A WORM! [Sound of panting](Umm, are you alright?)Oh, dear. Let me... catch my breath a bit. Ah, I am sorry for that. Yes, I am a worm by blood, and I have never had a problem with it.(Right, then. Well, can we see some of what you can do?)Hmm? A demonstration of my abilities? Well, I suppose, but aren't we in a cloth lined recording booth?(It's fine. We have paramedics and other staff on duty today.)Well, if you say so. Alright, here we go...[Sounds of whooshing air and the crackle of fire]There, you see. That would be my primary form of attack, and it...Wait. Why is it crawling up the walls...? Oh dear. Umm, could someone come in a put this out? Guys? It's, umm... it's spreading. Guys? Wait, don't leave me here...!”-Click-The Fool: “Hello. I am The Fool. I like lighting. And rods. And chess. I can swap places with you in a fight....I like lighting. Did I already say that?(Yes you did...)Oh, okay....(Do you have anything else you want to add?)Nope. Not really. Oh, but I do like lightning....(...I see. Well, what was your early life like?)I liked lightning.(Yes, we've established that...)So, when I was little, Mommy told me that there was lightning in the tiny holes in the wall. So, I wanted to see it, even though Mommy told me not to.(Wait, a hole in the wall? You mean an outlet?)I dunno. But I took a fork and poked it in and it fit! Then I don't remember much.”(Ahh. It all makes sense now. Thank you.)-Click-The Death: “Hello, my name is The Death, and I couldn't care less about whether or not I get chosen by someone. Frankly, I find humans to be too fragile to be of any real use to me. If they can't take me constantly killing them for my own pleasure, then I don't see how they have any other use.(Well, we'll try and get you paired up with someone nonetheless. Since we work mostly on a level of compatibility, could you tell us a little about yourself?)I suppose I have to, don't I?(Yes, you do.)Fine. I'm a dark, gloomy and depressing on good days. I've been told I have a sadistic streak, and I creep out almost everyone I speak with. Physically, I'm nothing more than a phantom of my former self. I was a Lady in England; I was the Countess of Orange, in fact. That was before my husband took up necromancy as a hobby. He decided that it would be a good idea to experiment on me while I slept. To make a long story short, I came back and killed him after he bound my soul to a Tarot.(Wait, he bound your soul to a Tarot? Does that mean that you're not actually a Tarot?)Did I say that?(Well, you that's how I understood it...)Well, you're wrong. He simply bound me to a card. I only realized after I had killed him that I wouldn't be able to have him reverse the spell. So, my own stupidity kept me in this state. Now, here I am, responding to your pointless interview with as much enthusiasm I can muster.(Well, you've certainly lead an interesting life...)Go figure.(We'll, is there anything you'd like to add before we close?)I just want any prospective charge to know that I will fight until my very demise before I submit to you. You'll probably die, and I will enjoy that very much.(Umm, thank you...)No, thank you.-Click-The Hanged Man:(So, please state your name for the record.)I am The Hanged Man I wonder if it is all worth it I hear the bell tolling I see the noose on the tree I want peace I am The Hanged ManI pretend that the noose is my friend I feel comfort from it I touch it's rough, twisted rope I worry about what will happen if I fail I cry everyday that I put it off I am The Hanged ManI understand that I am an outcast I say "Screw them all; what do they know?" I dream about my life as it should be, not as it is I try one more time to end it all I hope it works I am The Hanged Man (...Erm, thank you...)-Click-The Lovers:(Note: This interview never took place. Instead, there was a handwritten memo delivered to us saying that they were too busy making out somewhere to come. I wonder w
