>>5569261>>5569262>>5569267>>5569283>>5569319>>5569343>>5569418>>5569425>Have her read your future. You don’t believe in that supranatural junk, but it’s fun.“So be it. Go ahead.” You guise your giddiness to know your future with cool aplomb. “I trust you won’t waste my time with nonsense.”
“Oh, dear, tarot is far from nonsense–it may not be quite as straightforward as the bosh other oracles preach, but it is guaranteed ACCURATE.” SYBIL removes an oily leather card sleeve from her black robe and slips a handful of moth eaten cardstock into her palm. “The fates speak in riddles, not scriptures. Now.. watch.”
The hag shuffles the deck with all the cool legerdemain one might expect from an old woman–fumbling through the deck with fat fingers, near dropping some cards into the fire, and making a show of her “card skills” for an agonizing four minutes. The oracle finally eases off the poor cards and raises the utterly butchered deck to her perched owl, who snips at one with his beak.
SYBIL takes the card and observes it. “Hmmm.. yes. I see, I see.. the FATES have spoken through the tarot! Your future is as such!” She shows you the card and begins to speak:
TWO, THE HIGH PRIESTESS, CRESCENT MOON AT HER FEET.
SAT COMFORTABLE AND PROUD IN THE CATBIRD SEAT,
SAT, BUT STUCK, CAUGHT BETWEEN NOW AND THEN,
YOU CAN NEITHER MOVE FORWARD NOR BACK WHEN.
“What?” You frown as the old lady finishes her babble. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Like I said, the fates speak in riddles! I can’t just tell you the winning lottery numbers or your forthcoming lover or any of the nonsense all the young people want.” SYBIL tucks the deck back into her pocket. “But what the fates say is always true. It’s up to you to divinate its meaning. And, they may yet reveal even more as time passes..”
Why is it always weird riddles with old people?
>How would she like to join a cult? A very good one that would put her powers to use?>Turn your attention to more invalid-y matters.>Proceed past the invalid and toward the village proper.>Write-In. 