Episode 18: Of Love

int. hovel night

A dining room within the Hermit’s hovel. A small dining table surrounded by floor pillows. Each spot has a wooden tea cup. A tea kettle is at center of the table, which the occupants pass accordingly throughout the scene.

Seated around the table are several new characters. First is Alice, who has taken a seat amongst the unfamiliar figures, keen for the spotlight. She sips her tea with loud enthusiasm.

To Alice's left, a positively ancient man with a heavy, white push broom mustache and cloudy grey-red eyes. He bears a suite of dirtied, once-white plate armor which creaks and groans with each labored movement. A rusty sword hangs at his side, more ornamental than practical. He smokes a long pipe, occasionally emitting clouds of misty smoke that matches the colors of his faded eyes. He is the KNIGHT OF CUPS.

Across from these 2 sits a young woman, sprawled casually on her cushion. Contrary to the classical medieval garb of the others, she wears dark jeans, an oversized black hoodie, and a huge classical black witch's cap, the brim of which casts a dark shadow across her face. Around her wrists and ankles are are broken bonds of rope. Her eyes are downcast and she does not touch what is set before her. She does not acknowledge the others. This is THE HANGED WOMAN.

To her right, a young-ish man. He wears a red, deep open v, harem pants, black sandals and red and black sunglasses, which cover a deeply scarred right eye, which squints shut. A small pair of horns protrude from his forehead, peaking out from his hair, which brushes over his right eye, obscuring the scar. His arms are ornately tattooed with variant expressions of the number 15. In his left hand he holds a cigarette. In his right, a large bottle of opened whiskey, which he regularly takes pulls from. This is THE DEVIL.

The Pale Horse enters the dining room to this arrangement. The Devil lifts his bottle to toast his arrival. The Horse remains at the room’s entrance, weary already of an anticipated assault of personality.

THE DEVIL
Yo, Horse. Well met.

PALE HORSE
Hmph.

The Pale Horse passes The Devil and takes a seat between Alice and the Hanged Woman. The Knight of Cups regards him with warm curiosity, his glassy eyes flitting between the horse and the Alice. The Hanged Woman does not stir.

THE DEVIL
(to all)
The disrespect of this fallen card. Walking by me as if we weren't of same station.

The Devil takes a long pull of whiskey. The Knight of Cups takes a thoughtful drag of his pipe, and whispers out a puff of smoke, which takes the form of a galloping horse before dissipating into the air.

KNIGHT OF CUPS
You must show love for those of similar circumstance, Pale Horse. Love is the most important thing. Without love, what are we?

The Devil takes another pull of his whiskey, setting his cigarette down as he does. He flicks open a black zippo, ignites it, and spits the whiskey out in a brown mist which immediately ignites, taking the shape of a broken heart which immediately fizzles out.

DEVIL
(throatily)
HAAAAAA. Love. Love is dead old man. A pain. An antiquity. A nicety for rich people and children's authors.

KNIGHT OF CUPS
(icily)
How sad for you, Devil, that your pithy existence has lead you to such bleak conclusions.

DEVIL
The Knight of Cups, ladies and gentlemen, er, horses. Believer of love. A cup that ever overflows- except for the day he couldn't save his own queen-

The Knight stands suddenly- and shakily- his entire metal shell creaking ominously like a radio tower shaking in the breeze.

KNIGHT OF CUPS
Demon, you go too far-

The Knight immediately begins to tip over, the weight of his armor carrying him forward. The Pale Horse steps forward and catches him.

KNIGHT OF CUPS
Th-thank you, Pale Horse, it is a blessing that not all Major Arcana are so...petulant.

DEVIL
I bet if we took a vote, we could settle this thing right away. Who believes in love, who doesn't. Whoever wins decides this once and for all.

He takes a deep drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in the Knight's face, who turns his nose up at this, coughing. He retrieves his own pipe, and begins to reignite it.

KNIGHT OF CUPS
An honorable knight never makes a wager-

DEVIL
-that he knows he will lose.

The Knight puffs his own pipe now, little white hearts forming from the smoldering tobacco leaves. The Devil, performatively, frames himself up for his small audience, extending his arms.

DEVIL
I'm calling a vote. Who here believes love is dead. Show of hands.

Devil immediately raises his own hand. He kicks the leg of the Hanged Woman, who rolls her eyes, raises hers.

Alice knits her brow. The Devil turns, craning his head forward, his good eye squinting over the rims of his sunglasses.

DEVIL
Ay. What about you, girl? You seem old enough to know better about love.

ALICE
Can I be undecided?

DEVIL
(to everyone)
I'm counting that.

KNIGHT OF CUPS
(grimacing)
Bah! Such a shiftless answer cannot possibly be counted.

DEVIL
And Pale Horse doesn't even need to raise his hand, I already know his answer. So it's settled-

ALICE
(to Pale Horse)
You think love is dead?

The Pale Horse’s skin- what little there is- tints red at this question. He averts his eyes from Alice.

PALE HORSE
I don't have time to dwell on foolishness.

ALICE
So you don't think it's dead.

PALE HORSE
(sighs, reclining against the wall)
I think a horse doesn't know one way or the other.

ALICE
But you're not a horse right now.

DEVIL
(gesturing at the Pale Horse)
Yeah, uh, why bother with this- whole-

He motions his hands, shaping the horse's body-

DEVIL
-Get-up. Trying to impress someone?

PALE HORSE
(sullenly)
I couldn't fit through the door, otherwise.

ALICE
(still to the Pale Horse)
I think you still believe in love.

The Pale Horse folds his arms at this, shifting his facing away from the group. The Devil takes a drag of his cigarette, sits forward, exhales, jutting the smoke in the direction of the horse. He shifts his nervously excited wait like a turret gunner itching to take aim.

DEVIL
Pale Horse, is it true? Are you in love? You can tell me. I promise not to tease you.

PALE HORSE
Devil, the Tower did itself a service, casting you out. I imagine its upper floors must be a good deal quieter now.

DEVIL
Do you see how he wounds me? He has no heart. No consideration.
(to Pale Horse)
Honestly, I don't know how you live with yourself.

Alice, who has watched up to this point, clears her throat.

ALICE
(to Pale Horse)
You are going to a lot of trouble to avoid answering a simple question.

KNIGHT OF CUPS
(wryly)
If the Pale Horse drinks from the cup of Love, this begs the question of whom he shares the cup with.

THE DEVIL
(sensing a rare cue of alliance from the old man)
I knew it. It's me. Happens to everyone, ya know.

The Hanged Woman sighs deeply at this , and buries her head in her crossed arms, excusing herself from the conversation.

ALICE
(almost defensively)
It isn't you.

PALE HORSE
Honestly, you're all a pain-

DEVIL
(cupping his mouth, motioning with his thumb back toward Alice as he mock whispers to Pale Horse)
Pale Horse, you rascal-

PALE HORSE
(an edge entering his voice)
You risk going too far, all of you-

ALICE
(surprisingly flustered)
It isn't me! I mean,
(to Pale Horse)
Is it?

PALE HORSE
(stammering)
W-we've only just met-

DEVIL
(victorious)
O-HO!

The Hanged Woman groans once more and pulls her witch cap all the way over her head, her face disappearing within it.

KNIGHT OF CUPS
(a mixture of bemusement and hurt)
We're not even going to consider it might be me?

DEVIL
(turning on the Knight)
Oh you're too old to even stand up straight, let alone-

The Knight of Cups stands again, suddenly, straining to remove the old rusted sword at his side. The sword refuses to unsheathe.

KNIGHT OF CUPS
Why, you, you rogue, you rapscallion, you-

The Knight struggles to withdraw his sword, the hilt of which is locked with rust to the scabbard. The motion of this tips the Knight back and forth until he falls backwards into his floor cushion, before laboring to get back up. Upon his second attempt up, the Devil leans forward and with a single finger on the knight’s help pushes him backwards. The knight again pitably falls backwards into the cushion.

KNIGHT OF CUPS
OF ALL THE IMPUDENCE, YOU FOUL CREATURE-

DEVIL
(bullying)
Don’t make me raise my voice above a whisper, I’m afraid anything louder might break your bones.

PALE HORSE
(deeply annoyed)
This is foolishness.

The Hanged Woman groans loudly, pulling the hat even further down so that it consumes her even past her shoulders.

ALICE
(motioning to the Hanged Woman)
Is she okay?

DEVIL
(turning wrathfully to Alice)
LEAVE HER OUT OF THIS.

Alice throws up her hands, defensively. The Pale Horse stands quickly, placing himself between the Devil and Alice, and in an instance Alice is tugging on the Pale Horse’s elbow, instinctually pulling him back as the Devil tauntingly laughs, the Knight still tottering between sitting and falling backward as he works at his sword. As the bedlam threatens to rise to new levels, a voice cuts in, as consuming as thunder, sharp as a fruit knife, cold and hard as a winter sidewalk yet as captivating as a window display. Upon its issuance, the pandemonium ceases, the attention of all commanded toward the source of the voice.

VOICE
What does any horse long for?

They all turn….