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The second batch of single-card draws!


For [personal profile] akycha
Today, Madame's outfit is utterly dominated by the copious cobalt blue sparkly feather boa draped around her neck and the matching fuzzy-feathery cloche hat thing on her head. She is wearing a gauzy black tea-length dress with a black satin belt at the waist and cobalt low heeled pumps. Somehow, she manages to make it all work. It is clearly one of her superpowers.

She deals a card out of the deck onto the table before you. The card depicts a white woman in a red mob cap, white blouse, and blue skirt, the skirt kirtled above her knees, some tattered edges dangling, and her sleeves rolled up to expose muscular bare arms. In both hands, she holds a massive staff topped at one end with a large cylinder of steel. The woman is grinning ferociously. Behind her is the mouth of a cannon and a mass of WWII soldiers cresting a hill. The card is reversed to you.

"This is Molly Pitcher, stronglady of the European battlefields," Madame Destiny says, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "She was strong enough to lift a tank and able to take down walls with a casual swing of her club, and she was renowned for rallying our boys and leading charges to get them back to friendly lines. I remember one story, though, about her encountering a German para whose power was to sort of short circuit someone's nervous system. He wasn't very good in big battles, but he was useful as a bodyguard -- I can't remember whose bodyguard he was. In any case, the result of his power was that Molly couldn't control the power of her swings, and didn't have a lot of fine motor control. So while she was trying to smash him like a bug, she ended up damaging the building she was in so badly it endangered the lives of everyone in it. It took her weeks to recover from the attack, and was always grateful other folks were there to evacuate the building."

"In this deck, she is the Queen of Wands, and as you can see, she's reversed," Madame continues, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "I think that it may mean that you have an enormous store of resources -- a lot of energy and ability -- but your ability to direct it all has slipped. You should probably focus on getting it back under your control before trying something of great moment, or there could be... negative consequences." She smiles and pats your hand. "I'm sure it will all work out. It usually does. I hope that helps, dear."



For [profile] interleaper

Madame Destiny is wearing a scoop-necked, full-skirted dress in a black, blue, purple, and white starfield-and-nebulas print that is studded, seemingly at random, with tiny rhinestones for extra stellar brilliance. Her hat is in similar swirling tones -- black, purple, and white -- with a shallow crown and wide brim, and looks suspiciously like it may represent a spiral galaxy. Her earrings, necklace, rings, and bracelets are all in silver with white and/or purple stones. She celestially deals a card onto the tabletop before you.

The card shows a young girl with mousy brown hair, a frown of concentration, and what looks like a complicated jeweler's loupe. She is bending over a workbench with tools in hand, working on some sort of complicated clockwork mechanism. Behind her is an engineer's workroom with tools large and small, other heavy wooden workbenches, and a massive tool pegboard holding eight gears of various sizes. A window shows the night sky. The card is reversed to you.

Madame nods over the card. "This is a young woman working at Mother Necessity's Technical School for Girls, which was -- and still is -- a place where mechanically-minded girls could go to learn the things that most schools wouldn't teach them. During the War, the TechGirls were poster girls for progress and 'We Can Do It!' This particular TechGirl was Mary Katherine Tate, who became the hero known as the Starling in the 60s and 70s. She was brilliant at creating the sorts of gimmicks rooftop heroes need. This apprentice is working hard, concentrating fully on the task, having entirely lost track of time."

"This card is the eight of pentacles," Madame continues, folding her hands and looking at you carefully. "Reversed, I think it may mean that you're too down in the details right now. Perhaps you have a perfectionist streak that it may be warning you to learn to conquer, or you might get caught up in a web of your own making and not progress any farther, or only make slow progress. Pull back, take a view of the forest around you rather than the single tree you're studying." She smiles. "I hope that helps, dear."



For [personal profile] pearlshadow

Madame's forest-green dress has a handkerchief hemline that brushes the floor and a sweetheart neckline adorned with lace, with a matching forest-green turban. She is wearing a single square gold locket in the shape of a book, gold earrings, each with a trio of matched marquise-cut emeralds dropping from a leaf-shaped base, three gold and emerald rings, and a slender gold chain bracelet that clinks delicately as she flips a card onto the melamine table of the Stars n' Garters cafe.

The card shows a vigorously-built man in a WWI Army-style uniform styled in bold US flag colors, a white star on each shoulder and in the center of his chest. He is in the act of stepping off the edge of a precipice. He's not a handsome man: one eye squints, his nose is large and bulbous, and his mouth is too wide, too thin-lipped, and weirdly asymmetrical. His hairline is receding in an irregular way, and his hair, probably once dark, has gone to grizzle. He has noticeable five o'clock shadow and dark circles under his eyes.

"This is," Madame says, then lowers her voice to say, "the Damned Yankee." She glances over to a table at which an extremely old man is poring over a newspaper through a magnifying glass, and keeps her voice low. "He was one of the first bulletproofs, you know, in World War I. He was the son of a Vermont farmer, and when he realized that he was bulletproof, he hitchhiked to Washington DC and demanded a meeting with President Wilson. Somehow -- no one really knows how -- he did get to see Wilson, and declared that even though he was a "goddamned Yankee," he thought Wilson -- who was a Southerner, you may recall -- should send him over to win the war. After seeing what he could do, the President agreed, and that was how the Gold Star Brigade got started."

"In this deck, he is the Fool," she continues, glancing toward the old man again and, finally, resumes her normal tones. "While it may sound negative, actually, it seems like it might be suggesting that you try that seemingly foolish enterprise, take that leap of faith, live in the moment and listen to your heart. You might start something great and lasting and amazing." She smiles broadly. "I hope that helps, dear."
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Wonder City Stories

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