Episode 17: Party Arrival
ext. hovel night
A hovel of earthen color, rounded roof, with ancient trees and netted leaves covering most of the structure, a chimney at its top from which streams a pleasant wisp of constant white smoke. Within, the soft orange glow of a fire illuminates the smudgey windows. This is a pleasant, warm place, a place exuding safety. Alice, the Pale Horse and the Page of Wands stand before it.
Alice walks straight up to the door of the hovel and prepares to knock. The Page of Wands steps behind Alice and takes hold of her wrist before she can complete the knock. The Page wordlessly bends down, picks up a small pebble from the path and tosses it at the door. The pebble strikes the door and disintegrates immediately, the door turning red with fire Arcana aura.
PAGE OF WANDS
This door is enchanted with Arcana energy. Only the right type of reciprocal energy will grant entrance. In this case, the door is enchanted with fire. So...
She holds up her right hand, which glows a faint copper, her skin turning to an earthen clay. She delicately knocks on the door, her hand passing unharmed through the aura.
PAGE OF WANDS
Earthen Arcana can pass safely through. This particular door was set with my brother and I in mind, it seems.
The door opens, orange light pouring forth. In front of them stands an old man, he holds a walking staff in one hand, a lantern in the other. A gray, threadbare tunic covers his back. He is both animalistic and yet kindly, of the Earth and yet decidedly beyond it. His eyes glint of emeralds, betraying a sharpness that unsettles those who might gaze too long. He is THE HERMIT.
HERMIT
(cheerily)
Well, well. My guests have arrived.
ALICE
(nonplussed)
Yup, that's right, we're here.
HERMIT
(as though questioning a child)
Of course you are, where else could you be?
ALICE
(a bit defiant at this placation)
In a coma at a hospital, dreaming this entire thing. At least, that's my working theory.
HERMIT
(fascinated)
A novel theory. Does that mean we are all figments of your imagination?
ALICE
Probably. You all seem like things I'd dream up.
HERMIT
Well, do me a favor, and wait a couple hundred years before you wake up, young fool, I'd hate to be extinguished before I've had a chance to see my story through.
ALICE
Duly noted.
Alice walks straight through the door. Pale Horse and the Page of Wands stand just a ways behind, awaiting acknowledgment from the bemused old man. The Page abruptly turns to the Horse, her awkward tone and body language a departure from her normal self-assurance.
PAGE OF WANDS
(to Pale Horse)
Looks like you're expected. And I'm needed back at the House of Wands. Best of luck.
PALE HORSE
(surprised at his own concern)
Oh? You won't be traveling further with us, Page?
PAGE OF WANDS
(almost babbling as she recites this)
Recover the Fool, escort her to the Hermit, knock on the door. My orders go no further.
HERMIT
She is not one of the chosen. My apologies.
PAGE OF WANDS
I bear no ill will, Hermit. We all must play our role. The House of Wands respects the order of these things.
HERMIT
Safe travels, Page of Wands. And keep light on your feet. The future is a malleable thing.
PALE HORSE
(turning to her)
Thank you for your sacrifice. I regret we won't be able to attend the final resting of your brother.
PAGE OF WANDS
(coldly, without looking up)
Pay your respects by keeping his investment safe.
The Pale Horse whispers into smoke, his transformation occurring quickly, his battered human form taking shape. This is a surprise- as the transformation takes effort, energy, and is an acknowledgement of his will to recognize the Page on equal terms. He and the Page regard each other familiarly, for a moment.
PAGE OF WANDS
(a bit bashful)
On the road again, I suppose.
PALE HORSE
(awkwardly)
Time does not make room for us.
PAGE OF WANDS
It never has. There’s always someone else.
PALE HORSE
(stiffly)
Fates preserve you, Page of Wands.
He extends his hand. The Page takes it.
PAGE OF WANDS
(she returns to her air of self-assurance)
This was well met, Pale Horse. It always is. People speak of the Pale Horse as though it were some fearsome thing to meet. I think you could surprise them, if you wanted. Do not perish.
She slings her bow over her shoulder and walks down the path the opposite way of the Pale Horse. He watches her leave, then walks up to the Hermit.
HERMIT
Is it so wrong for someone to be fond of you, Pale Horse?
PALE HORSE
(quietly)
It is a waste, like mourning for smoke or mist.
HERMIT
So long as you discard the warmth of others, you'll be right.
PALE HORSE
Hmph.
HERMIT
(knowingly)
Don’t think she doesn’t notice the energy you expected to meet her in human shape, however.
PALE HORSE
(grumpily)
My other form just can’t fit through the door. That is all.
He brushes past the Hermit, who, grinning, begins to close the door after him. He pauses a moment, his ears pricking up. Wind rustles through the nearby trees.
