Spark

A teller of tales and fortunes alike, Spark is quiet and reserved. Her lanterns often contain perfumed leaves, almost akin to incense; they don't do much for her fortunes, but they certainly help with the aesthetic, and it's generally a pleasant smell.

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The following lore is by tacotwix of Storyteller's Glade!

The glossy covers of the tarot cards gleamed in the candlelight that flooded the room. Spark sighed, breath spinning out in a plume of steam as she shuffled the ancient pieces of paper. It had been a long time since she had last dared to read the cards; they were on the darker side of magic, and she had found no reason to use them. Now, however, she had an important question. She felt disconnected in a way that could no longer be ignored. With a heaving breath, she spread the cards across the table before gathering them back up. Her spirit was agitated. Maybe they would know why.

With a flick of her paw, she placed the first card face up on the table. Temperance. The face of the card stared back at her. It was upright, which meant she was finding meaning. Spark thought back to when she had returned from her fortune-telling endeavours. She had come home to a changed clan. Most of her friends had left for adventures, and almost everyone she knew had matured drastically. It surprised her that it had only been a matter of weeks ago. Things were different now. Her slight smile soon dissolved as her thoughts drifted to the way her clanmates. They had been courteous at first. Her old acquaintances had acted the same way they always did. Then she had begun seeing the subtle way they manoeuvred themselves around her. The difference in the way they held themselves. The way her friends didn’t want to be bothered by her childish immaturity anymore. They had grown, and she obviously hadn’t. Spark exhaled gently. Maybe this was why she hadn’t returned to the tarot cards for so many years. They had always told her things she didn’t believe. How would she find meaning in a clan that hated her?

The second card hit the table upright. Spark heaved a breath as her gaze caught on the familiar face of the Fool. He meant new beginnings. It was in line with the first card; they said that she was in the right place. She would have a home in Clan Scuridae. Spark doubted it, but she supposed the tarot cards were unable to lie. It was something deep inside her, speaking the truth through the glossed paper. After all, she supposed there were a million other reasons her clanmates could be giving her space. She shifted in her seat, nervously examining the deck as she picked out her third card.

The third card was the Moon, reversed. It stood for misinterpretation. This confused the dragon. Was she misunderstanding the first two cards or the clan’s stance towards her? She didn’t know. Spark knew she shouldn’t have expected much from such open-ended fortune-telling. She had always preferred definite methods that told her the future, such as paw reading.

The chatter of dragons suddenly reached her ears. Spark startled out of her thoughts, the sound quickly reminding her what was happening that night. The Bonfire. The bi-weekly social bonding event that nobody ever wanted to miss. She wondered if anyone would miss her. And just then, there was a tentative knock on the door.

“Spark?”

“Come on in.” She found herself replying, jaw moving of its own accord.

A purple Guardian’s head peeked its way in. “It’s me, Starwander. I was hoping you’d be at this Bonfire?”

Spark observed Starwander’s smile absently and realised with a start that it was utterly genuine. The revelation surprised her. Maybe they didn’t hate her after all. Maybe there was an opportunity for her to flourish in this clan. Maybe, just maybe, she could find life here. She knew now what the Moon had meant. Involuntarily, she grinned back at the other dragon.

“Yeah, I’m coming.”