Seven of Swords
Title: Seven of Swords
Author: Saphira112
Pairing: Implied Cassian/Jezebel, but if you look hard enough, there might be White Owl/Cassian
Warnings: None
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "You are the Seven of Swords, one who does what he wishes willingly at another's expense; it doesn't matter who dies as long as you get what you desire. And yet, we are all like that one way or another."
He stood there, facing the card before him with an even stare. He had wondered why a Major Arcana card other than Death called out to him at this hour. It was nearly midnight and he had no interest in squabbling with another of Delilah’s agents. He had the speed to flick out a knife and pin the white-haired man in his place… or kill him. It was tempting.
White Owl finally spoke. “So… you are the Seven of Swords.”
Cassian nodded slowly. “Is that all you called me out here for?”
White Owl giggled before jumping back. “I was just making sure you were who you said you were.” White Owl hopped up to seat himself on a ledge, some feet above Cassian. “You are the Seven of Swords. Fitting for one who carries around seven knives.”
Cassian was getting annoyed already. Though he was curious how the Fool knew his knife status, he was still more irritated than anything. He could snap back, but couldn’t kill this man. He knew that - if barely. “What’s your point?”
“So terse, are we now, child?” White Owl grinned.
Cassian glared and gritted his teeth. “I am no child!”
White Owl’s grin widened a fraction. “Yes, yes, you are no child. Your body says a child, but truly, your eyes say you are a man on the inside.” The glasses flashed once in the dying candlelight. “Do you hope to find a way to prove that you’re a man by joining us?”
So that was it.
Cassian’s hands balled into fists. “I want a body that isn’t one of a child’s. When did you take interest and become the judge?”
White Owl laughed. It sent a shiver down Cassian’s spine. It wasn’t evil, per say, but it was rather… haunting. “I am no judge, Seven of Swords. The Fool cannot do anything with either side of this orchestral arrangement called war. I can only watch from the sidelines as people tear each other apart; the prologue to ruin and tragedy filled with screams of anger and hearts tainted with black insanity.”
Cassian felt a little uneasy with that last sentence, but he was careful to not let it show. “Then I trust that you will watch whatever I do without interfering in the slightest?”
White Owl smiled. That was all Cassian needed.
The black-haired assassin turned to leave. White Owl watched him walk a few steps before calling out after him, “You care about him, don’t you?”
Cassian whirled around, surprise etched onto his face. “What?”
“You know who. We call him Death.”
Cassian’s eyes widened.
White Owl just continued to smile. “You call him ‘Doctor’.”
Cassian got his surprised pushed down under a mental rock and he slowly nodded. “You said you wouldn’t interfere.”
“And I still stay true to my word, Seven of Swords.”
“Then what are you after?” Cassian inquired, raising an eyebrow, his eyes serious and almost glowing in the candlelight.
“I am merely attempting to find out the emotions of this sad story that has been conducted for us all by the Ghost of Darkness. The drama that ensues when chaos and disarray reach its peak and everyone is brought to their limits.”
Cassian took a step back in defense. His eyes were slightly wide again, as if attempting to find out if the card before him was insane or not.
White Owl was amused by the reactions he was given. He loved playing with people’s minds, too. “I wonder what change of pace would occur if Death were to be in any danger.”
Cassian’s reflexes were automatic then. From out under his cloak, he touched two knives, flicked them with accuracy. White Owl vanished, dodging the knives that were now embedded in the stone pillar before Cassian. The Fool’s laughter rang out all around the assassin still on the ground. He had a single knife between his fingers. He had reacted too quickly. He had fallen for the Fool’s words and implications. Like falling into a trap. That couldn’t happen.
“Show yourself!” Cassian shouted out to the flickering blackness.
Then the candle went out.
Cassian’s eyes were trained to semi-darkness, but the pitch black that lay before him was hard to see through. He put out a hand in front of him, but grasped nothing. He kept his guard up, knife poised at shoulder height. He listened for breathing, any signs that the Fool was near.
It happened before he knew it.
A hand had grabbed the one holding his knife and twisted it behind his back, causing his fingers to loosen their grip. The knife clattered to the floor, echoing all around him. His other hand had also been grabbed and twisted behind his back. He could hardly move.
“Do not be so quick as to fall for those kinds of traps, Seven of Swords.”
Cassian growled and began to struggle against the grip. “Let me go.”
“Do you know why your position is the Seven of Swords?” White Owl asked; a hint of amusement was in his voice. “It is because what you are doing will become of someone else’s expense. You don’t care who dies along the way as long as you get what you want.”
Cassian stopped trying to move out of the iron grip and he just stood there.
White Owl continued, all amusement gone this time. “And yet, we are all like this. We attempt to become successful despite uncertain conditions or unstable situations. It is as if the Black Ghost is trying to tell us something when he conducts his orchestra every night for the world to hear.”
Cassian shuddered.
White Owl’s voice was close to his ear. “Always act quickly, but be mindful. Remember to hide your emotions. Or everything you will have done will far apart before your eyes and you will be thrown out of the ensemble that so fluidly moves on without noticing your absence.”
Cassian knew what he meant. And White Owl knew that.
The grip was then gone. The candlelight returned. White Owl was nowhere to be seen. Nothing left a trace of his earlier presence.
Cassian bent down and picked up the knife that had been worked out of his hand before retrieving the two from the pillar. Cassian looked up at the ledge where the Fool had perched before. The assassin let out an inaudible sigh.
He snuffed the candle out.
Author: Saphira112
Pairing: Implied Cassian/Jezebel, but if you look hard enough, there might be White Owl/Cassian
Warnings: None
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "You are the Seven of Swords, one who does what he wishes willingly at another's expense; it doesn't matter who dies as long as you get what you desire. And yet, we are all like that one way or another."
He stood there, facing the card before him with an even stare. He had wondered why a Major Arcana card other than Death called out to him at this hour. It was nearly midnight and he had no interest in squabbling with another of Delilah’s agents. He had the speed to flick out a knife and pin the white-haired man in his place… or kill him. It was tempting.
White Owl finally spoke. “So… you are the Seven of Swords.”
Cassian nodded slowly. “Is that all you called me out here for?”
White Owl giggled before jumping back. “I was just making sure you were who you said you were.” White Owl hopped up to seat himself on a ledge, some feet above Cassian. “You are the Seven of Swords. Fitting for one who carries around seven knives.”
Cassian was getting annoyed already. Though he was curious how the Fool knew his knife status, he was still more irritated than anything. He could snap back, but couldn’t kill this man. He knew that - if barely. “What’s your point?”
“So terse, are we now, child?” White Owl grinned.
Cassian glared and gritted his teeth. “I am no child!”
White Owl’s grin widened a fraction. “Yes, yes, you are no child. Your body says a child, but truly, your eyes say you are a man on the inside.” The glasses flashed once in the dying candlelight. “Do you hope to find a way to prove that you’re a man by joining us?”
So that was it.
Cassian’s hands balled into fists. “I want a body that isn’t one of a child’s. When did you take interest and become the judge?”
White Owl laughed. It sent a shiver down Cassian’s spine. It wasn’t evil, per say, but it was rather… haunting. “I am no judge, Seven of Swords. The Fool cannot do anything with either side of this orchestral arrangement called war. I can only watch from the sidelines as people tear each other apart; the prologue to ruin and tragedy filled with screams of anger and hearts tainted with black insanity.”
Cassian felt a little uneasy with that last sentence, but he was careful to not let it show. “Then I trust that you will watch whatever I do without interfering in the slightest?”
White Owl smiled. That was all Cassian needed.
The black-haired assassin turned to leave. White Owl watched him walk a few steps before calling out after him, “You care about him, don’t you?”
Cassian whirled around, surprise etched onto his face. “What?”
“You know who. We call him Death.”
Cassian’s eyes widened.
White Owl just continued to smile. “You call him ‘Doctor’.”
Cassian got his surprised pushed down under a mental rock and he slowly nodded. “You said you wouldn’t interfere.”
“And I still stay true to my word, Seven of Swords.”
“Then what are you after?” Cassian inquired, raising an eyebrow, his eyes serious and almost glowing in the candlelight.
“I am merely attempting to find out the emotions of this sad story that has been conducted for us all by the Ghost of Darkness. The drama that ensues when chaos and disarray reach its peak and everyone is brought to their limits.”
Cassian took a step back in defense. His eyes were slightly wide again, as if attempting to find out if the card before him was insane or not.
White Owl was amused by the reactions he was given. He loved playing with people’s minds, too. “I wonder what change of pace would occur if Death were to be in any danger.”
Cassian’s reflexes were automatic then. From out under his cloak, he touched two knives, flicked them with accuracy. White Owl vanished, dodging the knives that were now embedded in the stone pillar before Cassian. The Fool’s laughter rang out all around the assassin still on the ground. He had a single knife between his fingers. He had reacted too quickly. He had fallen for the Fool’s words and implications. Like falling into a trap. That couldn’t happen.
“Show yourself!” Cassian shouted out to the flickering blackness.
Then the candle went out.
Cassian’s eyes were trained to semi-darkness, but the pitch black that lay before him was hard to see through. He put out a hand in front of him, but grasped nothing. He kept his guard up, knife poised at shoulder height. He listened for breathing, any signs that the Fool was near.
It happened before he knew it.
A hand had grabbed the one holding his knife and twisted it behind his back, causing his fingers to loosen their grip. The knife clattered to the floor, echoing all around him. His other hand had also been grabbed and twisted behind his back. He could hardly move.
“Do not be so quick as to fall for those kinds of traps, Seven of Swords.”
Cassian growled and began to struggle against the grip. “Let me go.”
“Do you know why your position is the Seven of Swords?” White Owl asked; a hint of amusement was in his voice. “It is because what you are doing will become of someone else’s expense. You don’t care who dies along the way as long as you get what you want.”
Cassian stopped trying to move out of the iron grip and he just stood there.
White Owl continued, all amusement gone this time. “And yet, we are all like this. We attempt to become successful despite uncertain conditions or unstable situations. It is as if the Black Ghost is trying to tell us something when he conducts his orchestra every night for the world to hear.”
Cassian shuddered.
White Owl’s voice was close to his ear. “Always act quickly, but be mindful. Remember to hide your emotions. Or everything you will have done will far apart before your eyes and you will be thrown out of the ensemble that so fluidly moves on without noticing your absence.”
Cassian knew what he meant. And White Owl knew that.
The grip was then gone. The candlelight returned. White Owl was nowhere to be seen. Nothing left a trace of his earlier presence.
Cassian bent down and picked up the knife that had been worked out of his hand before retrieving the two from the pillar. Cassian looked up at the ledge where the Fool had perched before. The assassin let out an inaudible sigh.
He snuffed the candle out.