Ep.42: No Lovely Deaths
ext. valley of the bones morning
Rushing black arcane energy arcs through the air toward the Knight of Cups. It’s source, the chalice of Temperance, the Major Arcana, stands tall, his gold locks suspended in the air, his arms stretched overhead. The Knight, for his part, is resigned to his fate- an imminent scorch mark on the desert floor, the latest casualty of this Major Arcana.
But it is not his time to die. Because in moments such as these, someone steps up to protect the weak. Well, sometimes. Most people actually don’t step up at all. They’re bystanders. They sit back and wait for someone else to act- because it’s easier, because its safer, because maybe they don’t process what is happening in front of them. Or, what’s more- they run away. Self-preservation is the most basic animal instinct we all preserve. The ability to override that is what separates us from the animals. Most people choose to let nature run its course- this does not make them animals. If anything, it makes them all the more human- because choosing to do nothing is still a choice unto itself.
It would be the simple, idealistic thing to write that the exception to this rule- such as our dear Alice, who is even now taking her first steps toward shielding the poor Knight from Temperance’s attack- are heroic examples we should all look up to. However, the truth is more complicated. Less heroic.
The truth is most heroes are simply poor saps who had the bad luck of running out of choices- and the good luck of having a very good obituary writer.
Other heroes are those rare brains who lack the basic knowledge of self-preservation. Maybe they always lacked it. Maybe they lost it and have yet to regain it. Or maybe they purposefully threw it out.
And the last sub-group of heroes are the privileged youth who simply don’t know any better- haven’t suffered enough, haven’t experienced mortality, haven’t endured loss they can’t bounce back from. Why are so many storybook heroes young? Because the old know better. Those who know better tread softly and cling to what little they have to lose.
Oh, and which one is Alice? Well. It’s complicated. Because of course it is. Who wants to hear a story about a simpleton? Alice is not old, but she is also not young. Alice has suffered, but largely has recovered. And as for self-preservation…well. In this very moment, as Alice is diving in front of the Knight, self-preservation isn’t crossing her mind. It’s not that she’s cast that away or expects to die…
…It’s simply that she does not believe she can lose.
Someday, that conceit will be tested.
But not today.
Alice leaps in front of the kneeling Knight, t he rippling, purpled-black Arcane energy striking her first. The spears of royal magic strike through her with a series of popping cracks. The Knight’s eyes widen in realization he has been spared, his mouth opening and forming the name “ALICE” , his voice muted by the crackling offense of Temperance.
Smoldering steam lifts from Alice, scorch marks on her clothes, blackened patches of skin. She is doubled over in a forward fold from the attack- for a moment, it seems as though she is overtaken- but then she rolls up, her spine straightening, her hands reaching upward- popping shoulder blades and cracking knuckles as she windmills her arms back down to her sides. She completes a deep breath, the last simmering bits of Arcane energy snufffing up through her nose. She grins, not looking back at the Knight, yet still speaking to him.
ALICE
There’s nothing lovely about dying. Throwing your life away is just selfishness.
Temperance cocks his head, lowers his chalice. He eyes the Alice.
TEMPERANCE
You really are the Fool.
ALICE
And you really talk too much. Honestly, what kind of weirdo stands around calling out their attacks.
Alice then burps. She holds her stomach. Her face goes pale.
ALICE
Oh god.
Temperance throws his head back, laughs.
TEMPERANCE
Too much, too much, Fool! One should exercise the virtue of restraint when faced with a feast, lest they overeat. Equality in all things- to devour just enough, yet still feel the bite of hunger- is a beautiful thing.
Temperance raises both chalices overhead.
Alice wretches, falling to her knees. She has consumed too much Arcane energy and is at her limit. The Knight unsteadily rises and attempts to rally her, placing a hand on her shoulder.
The Pale Horse, to this point unable to act, wisps into his human form, his poleax taking shape in his hand. But before he can enter the fray, he is restrained by the impossible grip of the Queen of Swords’ hand on his shoulder.
QUEEN OF SWORDS
Don’t.
PALE HORSE
She’ll die.
QUEEN OF SWORDS
Temperance is in far more danger than us. Watch…
