BOOTH House of Tarot OPEN

Fury and fire followed the teenager wherever she went. If she could watch the world burn she would happily light that match and laugh in the face of the carnage. Either that or this funnel cake was really good! Carefully licking her black fingernails digits carefully as not to lose any more make up, Maria was…starting to enjoy her time in the fair. A far better way to spend her time than when she last left Japan for China or even before that in France. The fact that she was having fun though, meant she absolutely hated London with a burning passion that would dwarf the sun itself.

As she walked from booth to booth completely fascinated but acting equally disgusted she happened upon a fortune-teller. Pfft. The only good they did is when she needed to be sure her curses were effective on her most hated enemies. This thought stopped her fast in her tracks. It had been a while since she had someone curse her family. Perhaps now was as good a time as any after all she was having a lot of fun such a dismal experience.

She entered the tent and flopped down on the seat, in a position that oozed attitude, on the opposite side of the old hag. Her black eyes, both holding malice and an eerie clarity, locked on the older. She waited a moment before her black lips formed the words, “Show me some good news and make it bloody.”

@Evelyn Decipio

Merriment under the moonlight. A solitary smile spread over the boy’s face as he walked among varied booths and stalls. Understated in its appearance, the expression clearly stemmed from within, not meant to be shared with others, yet present enough that some might wonder what thought had put it there. And indeed, that thought was as simple as the smile it wrought; nothing but a title for the journal entry he would pen later that night. Merriment Under the Moonlight.
It was fastidious and romanticized, without a doubt, yet it had a certain ring to it. He tried it on his lips in a whisper, eyes drifting to the starry sky as he considered the feel, and found himself keen on the way it sat.
Then it was decided.

So he had a title, this much was true, but what other contents would fill his pages? It was a question whose answer he felt was simple, found within the four-word heading — for the best of titles were derived from the contents of which they became the moniker, a succinct summary to draw the eye deeper.
It being a journal entry, after all, he would write of what he’d seen and experienced, such as stalls of magical confections and those who consumed them. He would write of diverse crowds and throngs of conversation, of laughter between friends and lovers alike. He would write of how surreal it felt to see carnival rides amidst the world of Hogwarts, so similar to something he would see back home, yet so different in the way fantastic things permeated the events. It was as though two entirely separate worlds had blended into one, creating someplace new, yet just the same in too many ways.

He would also write how he’d toured the grounds with no one at his side. It was why he didn’t tend to enjoy being around other people at this stage of life — too many reminders of what he didn’t have. There was no point in lingering on such things, of course, and comparison lived up to its reputation as the thief of joy, though he couldn’t help but obsess on the empty spaces from time to time. He hated it, despised the way he had become, and so he’d done his utmost to push it aside for the night, to enjoy his own presence rather than bemoan the absence of others.
For the time being, it was working. As he wandered betwixt a myriad of crafts and other forms of art, he savored a sense of peace that did not stem from outside sources, but from a place of acceptance that he was where he was, and could be nowhere else in the present moment. It surely would not last forever — as so few things did — but for now, it was good.

The smile still curled his lips when he came upon a small structure that differed from the surrounding booths. Firstly, it wasn’t a booth at all, but a tent. A sign dubbed it the House of Tarot, a pair of flaps waving in the wake of its most recent occupant, as though beckoning the next party through the entrance they guarded.
Drawing near, he couldn’t help but overhear as a voice addressed a passerby from within, willing them to find answers to their ‘most burning questions.’
In that instant, the smile on his face retracted into something more closely resembling a wince. He knew that voice. No matter how mystically she propelled it for the sake of the character she was playing, it was a register he would forever recognize, clear as a musician with perfect pitch could identify a note. Eve was still Eve.

The person whom she’d addressed shook their head with a dismissive grin and moved on, leaving Marshal next in line for the opportunity they’d denied. But did he want it? He had no clue, even as he took a deep breath and stepped forward, poking his head through the tent flaps from off to one side.
He wasn’t sure what else he’d expected, but the moment his gaze found two slate gray irises across a small table, his stomach dropped. For one moment he simply stared, then a second and a third, until finally he withdrew his head, made an about face, and marched back the way he’d come. He hadn’t been prepared to see her. He never was. It was altogether too awkward, given what had transpired between them through the years, and the tension had broken his resolve in mere seconds.
But still, he stopped. It would be terribly rude to simply leave that way; had he really become so coarse? The answer was, in fact, yes, but he didn’t prefer to be that way. And besides, something about Eve’s words to the person before him had struck a nerve. He did have a question in mind, and if anyone could provide an answer, then never mind who it was.

He rubbed his head with a pained sigh, then swung back around, forcing himself through the tent flaps before he could think again.
There she sat, in a chair opposite an empty counterpart, with a small table separating the two. Her getup was whimsical, and might have been amusing but for how good she looked in it. It brought to mind the romantic feelings he’d had for the girl since he’d been quite young, and no matter how that interest had crumbled, he would never successfully deny the allure of her physical features.

As things presently stood, he hit her with the most awkward smile a sixteen-year-old boy could likely muster. “Hey, Eve…” His voice suffered under the sheer weight of social incompetence, words trailing off in the small space. “Been a while. How’re you, uh…” He searched for what he’d intended to say and found nothing, ultimately choosing to abandon the attempt. He waved the sentence away and snatched the empty chair. “Never mind. It’s probably best if we just do the thing.”

Now seated, Marshal folded his hands in his lap and pressed on. “My question isn’t exactly specific. Nothing really is anymore. I just want to know where I should be focusing my efforts… let’s say as far as a career.” He nodded, more to himself than to her. “What would be a good career for me to pursue?”
For years now, the young lion had felt adrift at sea, floating listlessly without direction. Right now, all he wanted was something — anything — to move toward. Better to sail than to drift.

Although Evony was interested in the many booths around the carnival, it all felt a bit overwhelming. There were so many people, walking in all different directions, and many of them were not really looking where they were going. After just a few minutes, she almost ran into someone’s drink, someone’s elbow, and someone’s pet puffskein. She tried to take in the many booths as she dodged through the crowds… she noted one selling unusual plants, one with facepainting, and… a kissing booth? No thank you. Then a unique “booth” caught her attention; it was actually a small tent. She felt herself drawn to its mystery. She approached and noted the sign, “𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚂𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙰𝚁𝙾𝚃.” Only one person was allowed in the tent at a time, so she would have to wait her turn, but thankfully, there didn’t seem to be a line.
Once the previous person exited the tent, Evony hesitantly entered, lifting the flap to the side and stepping over the threshold. It was small inside - Evony had half-expected it to be enchanted and much larger once she entered, but this wasn’t the case. There was just enough room for a small table and two chairs. It was beautifully decorated. She especially noted the peculiar candles with their flames trapped in little bubbles. How neat!
The reader - a gorgeous red-haired woman - kindly greeted her and welcomed her to ask the cards a question. Evony sat down and admired the golden-edged cards. But what would she ask? “Well, I just finished my Summer Advancement Program,” she blushed as she admitted. “Thankfully, I passed my exam and will be able to return to Hogwarts as a Second Year… but I was close to being held back because of all my missing work.” She still wasn’t a fan of the non-practical classes, like History of Magic and Astronomy, but this experience certainly scared her into making a commitment to work harder next year. “I guess, I’d like to know… what next year holds for me? Maybe some guidance, I guess?” She knew she would be spending a lot more time on academics (and hopefully doing well!), but she hoped there might still be some excitement in store as well.

Having received a face card from an artist at another booth, Ripley thought that it was time to conclude his time at the carnival; he'd been around a few times and, well, maybe a fried snack would be nice prior to leaving. But before his thoughts could proceed he spotted a small tent labelled "HOUSE OF TAROT". Unlike the panoply of craft booths at the Expo which Ripley could appreciate, if not personally enjoy, this one was intriguing in both form and function. The possibility of a glimpse into the future, and provided by this older girl with eyes that were so alive. While her gaze would be going beyond, it was obvious that she was very much here, alive in the present moment. I have to go in, Ripley thought, if only just to talk to her.

Pushing his hair out of his eyes, Ripley walked straight to the tent, lifted aside one of the flaps, and ducked inside. It was warmer in there than he expected! He took stock of the mystical knickknacks that set the mood and the fortune teller, herself, fit out in layers of fine fabrics! Altogether, it was just-so, a precise balance of mystery and festive vibes -- sure, we're having fun here, and also potentially rustling the delicate and intricate nature of fate's web?

"May I?" Ripley asked, motioning to the chair.

"...Have a seat," she greeted...Slate-grey eyes danced with intrigue, her expression subdued but enticing with the barest hint of a knowing smile. "Take a moment to open your mind and your heart, and I will help you to answer your most burning questions. If you dare."

"Thank you," the boy said, pausing for a beat, "my name is Ripley and I'm just starting at Hogwarts this term."

"It's all so...wide open... I can't think of one burning question. How about just what advice the cards, and you, have for me in this moment."

Ripley glanced down for an instant -- the grass briefly reminding him that he was at a summer camp event, just entertainment -- before looking up to meet the lively eyes of the soothsayer across from him. Gradually, the hubbub fell away and it was just them in this little world.


OOC Note: Pardon the overstep -- I hope it's okay that I folded a few of your introductory quotes into the initial micro-interaction above.

This was an intensely stupid idea. Maisie knew it as she approached the tent, which is why she had zero intention of telling Mylo unless it proved useful. And anything had to be more useful than running away.

Besides, that Evelynn girl seemed really smart. She knew so much about broomracing and now she was super involved in this whole summer camp thing. Even if you took the cards out of the equation, Evelynn seemed like a good person from whom to seek advice. And that was why Maisie stood, feet together, outside the tent.

With a breath, she stepped into Evelynn's world: candles, scarves, bubbles and crystals. Almost immediately, Maisie picked how all this might look on a dress—or several. "Woah, I love your decor," she said as she took a seat across from Evelynn. She seemed, up close, somehow even more knowledgable—or maybe that was just the cards she had with her.

"Take a moment to open your mind and your heart," she had instructed.

"Em, okay," she chirped, not one hundred percent sure what exactly this meant. So, she tried to relax and stared across at the older girl for a few seconds before confessing: "Okay, so, here's the thing: I kind of suck at duelling. Maybe not completely—I got to the end of the last one all by myself. But I guess I kind of want to know if I'll get better? Or, maybe, how that might happen?"

Practice, of course. She could hear Mylo's voice echo'ing in her mind. But she was so tired of hitting that same dummy over and over and over again. And maybe the only thing to do was that dummy, but maybe there could be something else too? Or if she was doomed to suck, she'd certainly rather know that now than later.

She bit her lip, awaiting whatever Evelynn-the-knowledgable might tell her.

@Evelynn Decipio

Emilie's group was wondering around the area looking a the different booths and stalls, and she starting to wonder if she should wonder off on her own to avoid having to tag along to things she found boring. Emile wandered into various booths and tents and finally came upon the House of Tarot. She paused, looking around. She knew her grandmother thought divination was dragon dung, but Emilie couldn't help but get a little tickle as she looked up at the sign. She figured grandmother wouldn't be upset, just remind her that one could not plan life's adventures based on playing cards, and so she stepped into the line.

The little girl played with her curls as she she thought quietly about what she wanted to ask Will I die at Hogwarts? No, no one has died at the school in years. Maybe she could ask if she will meet someone who changes how she thinks? Maybe which house she would be in, Gryffindor like her grandmother, or Hufflepuff like her mother?

As her turn came, she took a deep breath and stepped inside. Her hands were sweaty. Why was she nervous? Nothing bad could come from knowing a bit about the future, right?

As she took her seat, she smiled and blurted out, "How does the tarot work—magic, psychology, or both?" She blushed as her mouth spoke before her brain could command it. 'That's not my question, sorry, I mean... does that have to be my question?' She gave the woman a pleading look. 'Can my question be if there is a secret talent I haven’t discovered about myself yet?'.

@Evelynn Decipio

date 19/08/25

word count 351

speech #8C2626

mentions @Evelynn Decipio

notes xxx

Of all the booths on the ground that day, this one seemed to intimidate Lucille most. It looked exactly like she'd expect a spooky Halloween tent to look; a place which you entered and then left with a curse bestowed upon you. Of course, she knew that this was caused by all the fictional Muggle stories she'd heard growing up, but she couldn't deny the resemblance.

Additionally, this booth only allowed one person at a time, another source of intrigue for her. It seemed to be all fun and games, but it made her curious nonetheless. And so, Lucille found herself approaching the tent quickly when she saw a student exit. She didn't want to wait or miss her turn.

Cautiously, she lifted up the flap and peeked inside. "Hello?" she said inquisitively, although the first thing she saw was the red-haired girl sitting in the center of the booth. She was much older than Lucille, and Lucille suddenly felt quite a bit smaller. But the girl called her in, and Lucille quickly entered, taking a seat.

She started with a bit of a dramatic introduction of the booth, clearly playing up the theatrics, talking about the "Divinity of the Tarot." When she asked for Lucille's burning questions, Lucille hesitated. She didn't exactly have a question in mind.

The silence seemed to stretch for hours, but it was really just a few seconds. "I guess I'm curious about Hogwarts, mostly the sort of people I'll meet. I've never been away from my family like this before. It makes me a bit nervous sometimes, even if I do love making new friends and talking to people." Lucille spoke slowly, her voice tinged with hesitation, clearly unsure if she even wanted to ask this question. But, she figured this older girl would have some good advice, tarot or not, and this was a good chance to ask.

Lucille still shifted in her seat, though, looking around at the decorations. She didn't seem engaged with them, more so nervous and uncertain. She was clearly quite unsure about both the booth, and her questioning abilities.

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FEARLESS | LOVELY CREATURE | EVASIVE MANUEVERS

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Still with the crown of roses set lazily atop his dark hair and his half-crup, Neoth, now nestled in the crook of his arm, Prat drifted towards a newer booth he had merely glanced by during his attempted exploration of them all. He'd already spent most of his day weaving through booths, pretending he wasn't enjoying himself as much as he was.

The sight of candles and herbs clung fairly well to the overall look and appeal of Evelynn's booth, and curiosity tugged at Prat, enough for him to step inside despite his reservations with divination.

Tarot, to him, was an odd in-between thing; neither entirely believable nor easy to dismiss for the young mind. He liked the artistry, the mystery, the way people leaned in as though a stack of painted cards could pull back the curtain of their future; an event that was yet to pass. While he didn’t buy into the prophecy part of divination, fascination alone was reason enough for him to find a place across from her.

"Good Afternoon," he greeted, settling into the chair opposite her with a polite nod once the previous attendee had taken their leave. There was already a faint recognition in his smile; he remembered planting alongside her during the school year, remembered her presence beside from a Quidditch match. Familiar faces always tend to make the world a little less sharp.

He tapped the table softly, Neo sniffing curiously at the edges of the table that sat between Prat and the lady. "I’m not after anything too serious," Prat admitted, with an easy yet curious tone. "But I'd appreciate a spread, I'm just looking for a general picture if I'm being honest."

In truth, some vague thought of daring choices lingered at the back of the boy's mind. He wouldn’t dare say it aloud, yet he hoped the cards might point him towards the right decision.

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@Evelynn Decipio