Franky grinned at Yeva refusing to accept the half-attempted apology. He couldn't blame her and only respected her more for it, even if others might think it childish. Franky would disagree. Respect must be given to be earned, and now this Merielle would need to make a genuine and honest effort at it. Yeva, after all, was not some immaterial bystander, nor was she merely a business partner. She was a friend of Franky's and she was someone he'd put under his personal protection. Merielle would have to do better.
He watched on, quietly and curiously, as Merielle consented to the reading, an amused curiosity upon her own face. But where Franky was hoping to glean truth, Merielle was finding amusement. She was, after all, a woman who dug out the real, physical truth. She sought and chased only the real, so this divination, to her, was more about the psychology at play, both of Franky and of Yeva.
As Yeva set to work, Dalma was watching the smoke from the mystic's incense. She was a fire dancer, so flame and smoke were the domains in which she tread. She knew why Franky had chosen Yeva over her, and she agreed with his decision. This was how Franky worked. Yeva had been disrespected, and now Franky had offered Yeva a choice to flourish and demand the claim to the respect that was rightfully hers. It was a tactic that worked when he had soldiers under his command, and it was one that clearly would work in his business as well.
Franky watched on with the rapt attention of a true believer in the divinity of the fates at play here. He refused to interrupt, not wishing to muddle Yeva's work. And as Yeva spoke, Franky's mind went to work, taking the information and insight she yielded, and working with it. And as Yeva spoke, Dalma watched Merielle. She knew her husband would be so focused on the divining in front of him, so her role would be to observe this woman. After all, much of her career was spent more watching and listening to others rather than being watched and listened to herself.
At the querent, particularly that of the passion project, there was the slightest hint of a wobble in Merielle's eyes. A secret discovered, revealed ahead of its time. As the Five of Swords was revealed, Dalma was sure she could've guessed that, so it was nice that the fates reaffirmed that. It also triggered the defensive behavior in Merielle, as Dalma saw the slightest of strain on the woman's temples. It was tempered and in check, but it was there. As the Two of Cups entered, a slight twitch in the lips, a smile almost given away freely. This answer was that which she'd hoped for. She'd come for this, this was her target. She sought a partnership, a means to her own ends.
The King of Pentacles was a double edged sword, however. Every word that Yeva spoke was truth, but this card was one that returned to the fates repeatedly, and with each dip in the well, the coins would rise but the King would remain still. Death by one's own success was common in this one. But Dalma held her tongue, she knew when it would be her time and her place.
As Yeva sought a drink, Franky reached for the pitcher to provide, an automated response as a man whose first instinct is to serve, built into his very core. A servant with no master but himself. However, Merielle, held up a hand, "Allow me, please."
She waited just a moment, before her fingers deftly grasped the pitcher and poured Yeva's refreshment. Aggression, Merielle was seizing control of the situation after having been put on the defensive by Yeva's truthspeaking. "It is true that I--" Franky held up a hand, and she paused. Franky, in all of her research, was never one to interrupt another. It was one of his strengths, how he managed to get people to speak their everything to him. "Thank you, Yeva, for reading the fates here."
He let the air hang in silence for a long, dragging moment. Just long enough that Merielle shifted just a bit uncomfortably under his stern gaze. He could respect her tactics, she had wanted something from him. So she came in aggressively, an initial sortie, to see how he would respond. She attacked but did not make an attempt to take. She did not lie, but she did obscure. She knew what she wanted would need to be given. And Merielle clearly was not one who enjoyed being given anything in life.
"Tell me of this project of yours, plainly, Ms. Cavendish. The Fates have offered their wisdom, and I will listen, but know this. I do not tolerate deception put upon me and mine. If you don't know this already, know it now."
Merielle gave a stern, a fierce gaze even in return. Heated and impassioned, being forced to give up the secret within at his beck and call in order to achieve the goal. The loss of control was infuriating for the woman and it was plain upon her face.
"I wish to show the people of Zaichaer who they really are. All of the people, not just the world I am from, nor the world in which we find ourselves now. You all may read the fates, but I read people. And a reckoning is coming, one that I will have a role to play in, and affect every person in this city. And the people need to see who they really are for it to succeed."
A smirk, "To speak plainly? I will start a real newspaper, with real news, to reflect who we really are here in Zaichaer, to help facilitate the change that is coming. I want to upset those that are fat and comfortable upon their thrones and help those suffering to rise up and break their chains."
Then she extended the olive branch, "I am from the Cavendish family, one of, if not the wealthiest family in Zaichaer. I am disgusted by the methods my family achieved its success, how they wished to make me weaker and lesser by giving me everything they thought I needed. In my last post, I was angry and vindictive, looking to simply hurt and humiliate those from which I hoped to separate myself. But now? Now it is time for me to do something truly worthwhile.
A revolution is coming, and I want to fire that first shot."
Franky listened patiently, never interrupting. He felt she was speaking truly, and his mind was working, weighing the risks, considering the prospects of it. To take on something like this wasn't just risky on him, but on everyone he touched. It risked bringing death upon his family, upon the entirety of the Knob. But that wouldn't necessarily stay Franky's hand. He was a soldier of war. Every land he'd helped invade potentially invited death to his people. One couldn't go through this world without inviting conflict.
"And how do you intend to keep the government from simply shutting you down or forcing their words down your gullet? You've read the same trash that I have."
An intelligent gleam crossed through the woman's eyes, "Information truly is power. That is why you surround yourself in counsel with mystics and diviners, that is why you listen more than you speak, that is why you put yourself in a position to cross as many paths as possible. I have, for years, wielded this power against those who have the means, both by wealth and by position, to have me silenced and killed a thousand times over. And yet, that has not happened yet. Because for those in power, they do not fear the information that has come to light, no. They fear those stories that never will. And those are the tool for this revolution. Those secrets that exchange hands in the darkness, those are what will make change. And as I reveal more of this world to the public, it makes those secrets easier to get ahold of, as they scramble to hide them better."
Franky raised an interested eyebrow. A newspaper as a front, an intelligence gathering operation underneath. That was a bold prospect. It was the opposite of what Zaichaer, and even the Imperium did. They wove small lies to hide greater lies. This would be speaking truth to find greater truths. Franky could see the power and influence and wealth that could bring. He wouldn't be able to be the face of it, not as a goblin. That would have to be Merielle, and with that, Franky was content. His ego was not so great that his name need be on everything.
"I will fund this project, you will run it and be the face of it. As the fates have shown, we will be equals in this. I will never withhold from you, and you will do me the same. We will yield this information you find, together. But know this, if you ever speak one deception to me or if you ever print a single word of untruth, I will burn it all to the ground. Anything but absolute perfection of this agreement will result in the deaths of us both and all we know and care about. I will not allow for that. If this is agreeable, we can talk specifics at our next meeting."
He leaned back in his armchair, sipping at the drink in hand, waiting and watching. Her face was stern and revealed a bit of her tired nature as she considered all of this, the entirety of this exchange. "This partnership is agreeable."
Franky nodded, standing up, offering his large, scarred warrior's hand. Merielle reached out with her long, spindly fingers, with unashamed ink stains upon them and grasped it firmly as they looked into one another's eyes. With that union confirmed, "I will take my leave, for I did interrupt your evening." She looked over to Yeva, "Thank you for reading the cards. It is... refreshing to hear such truths I've not ever allowed myself to speak allowed about myself." She turned toward the door and stopped, turning back, "And I truly apologize for using you in such a manner earlier. I will not do it again, nor will I allow any other to do the same."
And with that, Merielle saw herself out. Franky's shoulders relaxed as he exhaled a bit. Another battle fought and won. Dalma got up from her spot and gracefully moved over, sitting in next to him, resting her head upon his shoulder. She needn't say anything, she just leaned into him and that was enough. Franky looked over at Yeva, "Seems the fates are intending to make your life quite interesting. Is this a path you wish to continue on with us?"
