De Nobis Fabula Narratur

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De Nobis Fabula Narratur

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Who: Two fine gentlemen?
Where: Beyond reach...
Summary: It has been a year. What is the state of the game so far?
Warnings: Tea and cards.

A beautiful black and gold marble table. On one side, a gentleman with half of a butterfly mask covering his face, reddish hair tied together in a ponytail reaching to his elbows, dressed in nothing but a simple black shirt and pants. Opposite of him, another gentleman, greyish hair reaching down to his back, dressed in an extravagant reddish cape and 18th century vest, a single monocle covering his left eye.

On the table, piles of cards, tea and afternoon sandwiches.

Outside of that, darkness as far as the eye could see, lit up only by what appeared to be thousands of stars. The collective unconsciousness made for quite a meeting place.

"Ace."

The man on the other side shook his head.

"Ahh, now that's quite a shame! I was assuming you'd have one up your sleeve."

"No, I believe that is more your modus operandi, Crawling Chaos."

"Quite true!" Nyarlathotep chucked to himself as he picked up a card, before sipping some of the tea. "You know me too well, amice bone meus. So, tell me, how do you feel, now a year has passed on Earth? Has humanity evolved into the goal you set for yourself? Or has it simply sunk deeper into a pit as it usually does?"

"That is merely your opinion, and nothing more. Five?"

"No." He grinned while casually tossing his hair. "I Piscare, old friend."

A single card lifted itself upward and into Philemon's hands, before he placed a pair of eights down towards his pile of completed cards.

"Tch. Lucky pick. I suppose that's the only way you get to move forward with your pointless dreams."

"And you think it better than your own?"

"Humanity is a dying race. You know what I desire, and what I do. Are you honestly that surprised? This game may take as long as it needs to, but I'll be the winner in the end. Give it enough time, and they'll be at each other's throats. Their fear of those that came to this world will grow ever stronger, you can be certain of it. Five?"

Considering that he hadn't had time to pick from the pile himself, it was obvious he had been lying before. Yet Philemon simply handed his own card to him. Perhaps he was used to it. "I have more faith in them than that."

"Faith? What stupid, pointless drabble. And, considering everything, amusing. With so many cards laid out on the playing field, it will be a spectacle to behold. Has the truth they've been sprouting all of this week fixed anything? Of course not. But tell me, have you been preparing your own deck? Mine is starting to be quite packed. Ignorance, Anger, Vengeance..."

"You keep underestimating humanity."

"And you keep overestimating it. Just like when you sent them on a little trip to find me. You should have seen the fun we had! I know them too well, and I know what lies in their hearts most of all. Little do they know of what's happening right under their noses. Even those that think they know what they are doing are simply running down an old, worn path..."

A short while later, they both found themselves with no cards in their hands, and laid out their piles. Philemons' was slightly larger than his counterpart but...

"I am the clear winner here." Someone was not quite accepting of this fact, a slight twitch of his right eye, almost daring the other to question his judgement.

"I have more pairs. The rules are quite clear." Not that he would budge.

"And I have the strongest cards! Not to mention I have--" he snapped two of his fingers, displaying a series of cards. "All Jacks, All Queens, All Kings but most importantly...both Jokers!"

Yet no matter what he said, Philemon's face did not change. "That's not how it works, Nyarlathotep. The value of the cards are not important."

"The strong always overcome the weak!"

"The so-called weak can band together and become a force stronger than the most powerful card."

Nyarlathotep groaned before throwing all of his cards on the table. "Bah! Keep your victory, the biggest prize shall be mine, in the end." Grabbing his cape dramatically, he disappeared from the table and the area, chuckling menacingly. "You can stay here and be philosophical all you like, but know that you'll get to watch the city burn, even if it takes years to do so! Seeing your last hope disappear will be worth any game you may have won over the years!"

Silence.

The cards moved on their own and arranged themselves back into a single pile before Philemon began to shuffle them quietly, as another figure appeared in front of him.

"Do you mind if I join in?"

It was Philemon's turn to smile. "Not at all. Please, sit down." He began to pour into a new cup. "Tea?"