[color=gray][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center][table][row][/row][row][cell]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/QBafbbH.png[/img]

[color=7ea7d8][i][b]Location[/b] [color=bdbdbd]⋗[/color] [/i][/color] The Patch.
[color=7ea7d8][i][b]Interactions[/b] [color=bdbdbd]⋗[/color] [/i][/color] Zhalia Ramshorn [@Benzaiten]
[color=7ea7d8][i][b]School of Magic[/b] [color=bdbdbd]⋗[/color] [/i][/color] Divination & Illusion
[color=7ea7d8][i][b]Items[/b] [color=bdbdbd]⋗[/color] [/i][/color] Suit / Crutches
[img]https://i.imgur.com/Hgu7MMB.png[/img][/cell][cell]
[right]
[color=2c2e2e]_
_[/color]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/IOB1yPk.gif[/img]
[/right]
[/cell][/row][/table][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center][/color]

[indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent]
[color=dimgray]
	The reading left him feeling decidedly [i]odd[/i].

	It was a creeping feeling between his shoulders, he felt like a dog with a flea that he couldn't shake off. So, by the time he nodded his farewell to the diviner, he was left to sort through his tangled thoughts. He gathered himself back up onto his crutches and made his way out of the tent, muddling through what was presented to him. [i]The Axe, The Occultist, The Frost Queen[/i]. There was pattern to it. He appreciated that it wasn't jumbled, tarot could often be jumbled, it was no exact science. It was all interpretation and hope.

	Nonetheless, this reading was cohesive. It was one straight line towards an end goal, but he couldn't imagine what the end goal was. At times he wished his abilities worked differently, that he had honed them to be a bit more broad but he hadn't so-- he'd have to figure this out himself. He wasn't certain he [i]could[/i] figure it out but he'd be damned if he didn't try.

	[i]I'll be an agent of justice?[/i]

	He had always been outspoken, the kind of person that didn't sit on their feelings. He wasn't one to judge unfairly, not usually, but an [i]agent of justice[/i]? He wasn't paying attention well enough to have spotted the approach of Zhalia, he just felt the jostle of someone tripping over [i]him[/i]. He stumbled in turn, wheeling to try to catch himself by digging his crutch into the ground. "[color=7ea7d8]Careful--[/color]" He says, before he registers exactly who he's saying it to. "[color=7ea7d8]Are you alright?[/color]"

	He swiftly realizes that he's facing [i]Zhalia Ramshorn[/i]. 

	He doesn't know her, not really, only in passing sentiments. She's an oddly pretty brunette with vibrantly blue eyes and a look of surprise and shame that almost makes [i]him[/i] feel bad. He instinctively wants to reassure her that he's [i]fine[/i], maybe make an off-color joke but he can't seem to come up with one. He'd heard the rumors, of course, murmurings about cults, about necromancy. He'd never been one to [i]fear[/i] what he didn't understand, but he [i]was[/i] curious.

	[i]How odd for fate to pull us together like this after that reading.[/i]

	He was certain he was being paranoid but it [i]was[/i] odd, wasn't it? Something could be [i]odd[/i] without being a pull of fate but he couldn't help but wonder. For now, he relied on whatever charisma he had to not let him bungle this conversation entirely. "[color=7ea7d8]I wasn't paying enough attention,[/color]" he admits with a laugh, readjusting himself so that he's no longer standing like he might collapse. He extends a hand to her, "[color=7ea7d8]Simon Hart.[/color]" He says in way of greeting. "[color=7ea7d8]Surely we were meant to meet.[/color]" 

	He's got a nice smile, one that's off-putting in a good way, it's one of his better qualities. He's not got [i]many[/i] good qualities, so it helps to have that one. "[color=7ea7d8]Am I blocking you from the tent?[/color]"
[/color]
[/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]