Ep. 43- The Glass Half Empty

ext. valley of the bones morning

Alice stands between the downed Knight of Cups and Temperance. For a moment, raging arcane energy swells behind her eyes, sizzles at her fingertips- she is fierce.

And then…a gurgle in the pit of her stomach. A twist of her lips. A forced URP as the swallowed energy bubbles in her mouth.

Alice runs her hands over her stomach and groans, as one who has eaten too much. She raises her hands overhead in a long stretch, her right wrist taking her left as she stretches left and then right. Her mouth yawns open- but does not stop, her jaw dropping to an impossible width until it becomes unhinged. Her eyes flash jet black, the arcane energy of Temperance’s attack now coursing through her body, jutting through her angel hair veins.

Black arcane energy gathers at her upraised fingertips and the apex of her yawning mouth forming a triangle of arcane energy at the apex of Alice’s hinged mouth. The gathering energy then shoots upward, evacuating Alice’s body- leaping into the sky and leaving only silence behind. Alice’s jaw slides back into place, her eyes softening to their natural color- she falls to her knees like a puppet with cut strings.

Nothing happens.

Temperance throws his head back, looks upwards- the sky seemingly empty. He returns his gaze to the exhausted Alice and callously laughs.

TEMPERANCE
What a waste. The feast is over, Fool. Despair in the face of your annihilation!

Temperance raises both of his chalices overhead. As he does, the sky winks- a blink of light from a distant point. The sky takes on the color of a negative image, purple and black. A drop of bass followed by a deafening deluge of arcane energy on high- the absorbed arcane energy of Temperance’s attack returning to its source with the fury of a military grade airstrike so powerful that it knocks the Knight of Cups, Queen of Swords and Pale Horse off their feet.

KNIGHT OF CUPS
ALICE!

Smoke, dust, a crater- all envelop the spot Alice stands- at the center of the dipped crater, she remains unscathed, now shielded in purpled Arcane energy.

Across from her, Temperance. He emerges from the swirling red dust, his robes torn, body scorched, hands seemingly fused to his cups. Through singed hair and and bloodshot eyes, he postures toward Alice with the guise of a mad prophet.

TEMPERANCE
Not enough. Not enough, not enough, not enough, not enough! We are still not a match. None of you are my match. Not ONE of you can fill my emptiness. You are all INADEQUATE and now you must DIE.

Alice, pulsing with purple arcane energy, lifts from the ground, gravity failing aroudn her, pieces of rubble and debris lifting with her. Her mouth again unhinges, filled with the purple arcane energy- now tinged with a crackling fire, an image of the gate to hell itself, and completing this image with sound, she lets forth a soul shattering scream, unleashing the arcane energy as a dragon would let loose fire. The energy strikes Temperance like a truck, leaving an impact path along the ground, and his body goes flying backward, impacting into the earth.

Immediately after the attack, the glow ceases and Alice falls to the earth, striking the ground with a thud. She does not move.

The Knight struggles to his feet, and this time the Queen of Swords joins him as they both rush to the Alice’s aid.

A laugh. A pair of clenching hands- Temperance rises, extracting himself from the earth. The Queen rises, drawing her sword against Temperance. The Knight of Cups holds the Alice close.

QUEEN OF SWORDS
I am not sworn to fell you, Major Arcana. I’d rather not dirty my blade until I’ve met my sworn foe.

TEMPERANCE
Amusing….yes, funny, even. HILARIOUS. That you would dare think your ugly piece of iron would even reach me, let alone harm me. Patience, False Queen. My brother will be here shortly, but until then-

QUEEN OF SWORDS
Your brother is here?!

But before she can receive an answer, Temperance’s eyes widen in realization- a thin stream of gray smoke emerges from his nostrils and he looks down- the spike of a poleax protrudes from the center of his chest. Behind him, the Pale Horse, in his knightly form, stands- his poleax in hand, run through the back of Temperance. Pale Horse cleaning withdraws the spike, arcs the poleax underhand and then overhead, bringing the blunt hammer down upon Temperance’s skull. The blow thunders across the valey. The chalices spill from limp, scorched hands, both finally empty…