Florence French
Aoife Callahan dressed more sloppily than any older woman she had ever seen.
As a girl, Florence's mother had told her never to judge a book by its cover, because its cover, because she could always find herself surprised by what truly lay outside a person's exterior. She had taught her well, but life had taught her better. It made her learn, as time passed, that how one looked could tell her not about who a person was, but rather how they wished to present themselves. When one looked beautiful at every waking moment, it was often because they wanted to be seen; to be admired; to be loved.
There was something that happened after menopause, and once a woman's children had left – Florence wasn't sure quite what it was, but she could tell its presence nonetheless – that made her pride swell up beyond the point it had ever reached. This wasn't alwaysthe case, of course, but the odds were worth a gamble that Aoife should have shown up at the Seble dressed in her Sunday best, donned in clothing that had been out of fashion for ten years, but were still stylish in the way that only a woman over sixty could pull off. That, when mixed with the mere presence of a person of her age in an elite casino night, screamed wrong! no matter how Florence looked at it.
"Dear," she said, "you should cherish your beauty! Your eyes are bluer than Lough Neagh itself" – though Florence had no clue what that was exactly – "and your cheeks are redder than my son's hair. Lovely boy, really, with the same auburn locks as his father, that one. You should meet him."
Florence laughed, though there'd been no meanness to it. The sweetness she might expect from a woman who looked like Aoife came seeping through in her words, and yet there was something about it that purely seemed off. Her smile was slightly too big; her eyes too bright, scalding as the sun rather than soft as the moon; her voice had the sweetness of candy but the languor of honey. There were small details – she doubted that anyone could see them unless they recognized it from themselves like she had – but that made them all the more crucial. I wonder, Florence thought, can she tell that I'm also not as easy a target as I seem? And did she know about me before I knew about her?
"A table!" she said. "Do you play blackjack, Mrs. Callahan?"
"I know of it. My son Richard loves it; he and his father used to play for many a night, when he was barely more than a wee child."
But I didn't, she implied. She hadn't said it – to do that would have been to go too far. But, as it was, Aoife had pushed the envelope just enough for it to land in Florence's hands, and she was sure that many a person might have opened it. Thankfully, she was not one of them.
"I'm sure you'll remember. My ex-husband used to host game nights, and it's one of the few I picked it up."
Had she taken the bait? Florence wondered, though she doubted this to be the case. Still, she couldn't help herself but hope; experience had taught her that, more often than not, people wanted to believe that they would be facing an easy win – that they thought their head was clearer when they didn't have to stress over the skill level of their opponent. She had always been of the opinion that to constantly ponder the talent they were facing kept one's mind sharper and more likely to pick up on anything that might be off about them. If she was lucky, Aoife wouldn't think the same.
A game was ending when they arrived to the table. Florence did not know either of the pair at play, though she recognized the brunette as a woman who'd been kind to her – though she rarely trusted anything as simple as kindness anymore, but had appreciated the sentiment – and the ginger as a man with a name she was glad she didn't remember. From the looks of it, the game was nearing a close; neither player seemed to be taking more than their two cards, and as it was, the hosts were offering the players a drink. The brunette's head dropped onto the table, her cards spraying themselves across it.
The ten of spades and nine of hearts. Nineteen.
Florence saw the ginger react before he even seemed too, his cards dropping from his hand as he went blank, staring ahead of him with an absent look she'd only seen in a lost man. Jack of clubs and a ten of diamonds. Twenty-one.
"Who's next?" asked the host.
The floor opened under the brunette, swallowing her up; within a minute of her death, the room had looked as though she'd never existed. The glass had been pushed down into the hole as well, and the table cleared for two new players. The ginger stood from his seat, staring at it as though he too might drop at any moment. He was shaking as he walked by her.
"It'll be alright," said Florence, and at first the ginger man hadn't looked up, as though she'd been talking to herself and not to him – though, now that she thought about it, she easily could have been – "come see me after my game. We'll talk then."
"You're still going to play?"
She looked at Aoife; her fear didn't show, but she radiated acceptance. Once again, the two were on the same page. "I don't think I get to choose not to."
The woman at the table they'd chosen – she was the host whose hair looked violet, although it hadn't looked it at first – laughed. "Well," she said, "a clever one. I'm sure that'll do you so much good. Try not to overthink it, dear; just go with the Flo. I'm sure you're smart enough to get the pun."
"Of course," said Florence, her teeth gritted and her tone as though she'd just released the worst expletive she could think of. "Although I dare say it was a rather arcane use of pun, to say the least."
"So you do know my name." She smiled. "Very well, have a seat. You as well, Mrs. Callahan – unfortunately, any play I could make with your name would be rather iffy." She paused, as though waiting for someone to realize a punch line.
"It's pronounced ee-fuh, actually."
"Enough chat! Sit. Let's have some fun."
They did – something about displeasing a likely sociopath with a poor taste in puns just seamed like a disaster waiting to happen. Cards were dealt. Florence was so busy staring at the glasses Arcana was keeping at hand that she hardly noticed the hand before her. Shake it off, she thought. This is a game you definitely don't want to lose.
She looked at her cards: eight of spades and nine of clubs. Seventeen. A respectable total without a doubt – one that would be easy to tip over as well, if she risked another card – but also one that could easily lose. When she played, she always preferred an eleven or twelve to anything between a sixteen and eighteen; unfortunately, as had happened many times before, she had been dealt a hand that must be played, and so Florence shifted her focus from the cards in her hand to her opponent's face.
Aoife's face looked like that of a grandmother at a bingo parlour; frozen to the point where Florence thought it might crack at any moment. It was a beginner's poker face, and yet it was the one she most frequently chose to use – further confirmation that the old woman before her was either a novice or an expert swindler. She had always been able to read people, but what was she to do when facing a book which she could peruse from left to right or right to left, providing her with two different, completely logical interpretations?
Arcana pulled out a bottle of what looked like scotch and begun pouring it into a glass. Then she took a similar-looking bottle and poured it into a second. Goosebumps flowed down Florence's skin and after a moment she realized her breath had grown short. But her face still remained illegible, and a look at Aoife confirmed that hers was as well.
Damn it.
"So," she said, "you both know what one of the glasses will do to one of with you. But here's the thing: you don't have to drink it. You could walk away and be completely unscathed, but you should know that at the end of the day there will only be one person standing regardless of what you do. So, do you feel confident enough to try and beat out the competition, or do you want to wait for another day? The cards are in your hand, after all – I'd apologize for the pun, but you've probably figured out by now that I'm not really sorry."
She looked Aoife only to catch the other woman staring at her as well; in that moment, Florence realized just how alike the two truly were. She'd had her doubts before, but now she knew – and it was so much different, she realized, to know something than to thinkit. Of course, the cards in her opponent's hands were still a mystery, but her next move had grown much, much clearer than it was before. One look left her sure that Aoife too did not quite know only what to make of her; only what to do.
Two glasses were left full on the tables; two sets of cards left unturned. But Arcana knew.
Eight of spades and nine of clubs.
Seven of hearts and ten of diamonds.
Seventeen.
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Emma Smith
Emma Smith hated gambling. Well, not gambling as a whole. She loved rigged gambling. Just not actual chance. She hated doing anything where her plan wasn't one hundred percent chance foolproof. And despite all her cons and history of rigging slot machines and games of poker, she could never find a way to rig blackjack, unless she herself was the dealer. And here at Milena Seble, there was no chance she could ever hope to rig a game of blackjack. At least, not without a lot of work put into it.
Emma folded her hands in her lap and stared at the ongoing game in front of her, watching the dealers hands and the cards of the people in front of her. Even the slightest twitch in anyone's hands or faces could alert her to a habit. And a habit, especially in the dealer, meant something she could play on to use to her advantage.
The first set of cards was passed out flawlessly. The dealer, Arcana, showed no nervous ticks or anything that could be linked to being habitual. She was the perfect kind of a dealer- emotionless. The duo competing showed no ticks either.
Which was good for them, but terrible for Emma. It meant that there was no flaw in the system that she could play on. She was in trouble.
The first player hit the table, receiving her card with no emotion on her face. The second also hit the table and smiled. She pulled the card closer to her and looked at it with no emotion. Then, she broke into a huge smile and let out a cheer. Her grin growing bigger by the minute, she laid her cards out on the table. An ace of spades and a queen of hearts. Perfect 21 in only two rounds.
The dealer smiled, and collected the two hands of cards, then spoke, "Thank you two for participating, but I'm afraid that only one of you is going to be competing later tonight."
A gunshot rang out, and the loser dropped to the ground, blood red as the cards scattered across the table dripping down his shirt.
She blew the smoke off the top of her gun and looked towards the crowd of people, her violet eyes twinkling in the harsh lights above, "I believe our next two competitors are Miss Smith and Mr. Fontina."
A shiver ran down Emma's back as she stood up. She was terrified to compete, but honestly, she was more scared of what would happen if she refused to do so.
The man next to her, presumably Mr. Fontina, stood up and walked over to the table with ease, not letting any of his emotions- if any- show.
They sat down in silence and the game began. A silence fell over the room, devoid of any of the mindless chatter that had occurred during the previous game, replaced only with this suffocating silence.
Arcana dealt the cards with ease, the navy back of the laminated cards shining in the fluorescent lights.
Emma stared at her first card. A five of hearts. There was nothing she could get next round to bust her. She was safe, for now at least. Sixteen left until she won and lived.
Her competitor's face didn't show any emotion, so Emma had to assume that they were fine as well. Better safe than sorry. And, she had to assume that the dealer had a ten, and was okay.
Her hand hit the table.
Seven of diamonds.
Cards were exchanged, glances shared, deck shuffled. Tensions growing higher and higher as the dealer looked at Emma once again.
She smiled, and hit the table once more. But, what her smile didn't show was the calculations running through her head. 22 is bust, and she was at 12. So, no matter what, she was safe. At least for one more round. The dealer remained stoic and emotionless as he slid another card in her direction.
Five of spades.
Seventeen. A hard seventeen.
Four points until bust.
Emma was very careful to keep her expression neutral, but inside she was panicking. Her sly smile was long gone. She couldn't take any more cards or she would bust. She couldn't just hope that the other person would just bust though. She couldn't ever just rely on hope. Hope only lead to defeat and disappointment. And maybe, in this case, death.
The man next to her looked up at the dealer and hit the table, his bright green eyes so full of hope, that Emma almost had to laugh. Surely, this kid had to know by now that hope never works out. Hope gives you light just to smother it out and leave you in even more pain and darkness than before.
The card slid over to him, and he picked it up, fear flashing across his eyes. He stared up at Arcana and laid his cards on the table.
King of diamonds. Three of spades. Nine of hearts. Twenty-two points.
He bust.
Arcana smiled once more and nodded at Emma to flip over her cards. She stared at Emma's seventeen, the smiled again. She flipped over her own cards, revealing a fifteen.
"Thank you both for playing, and congratulations to Miss Smith. Mr. Fontina, I'm terribly sorry that you lost this round. Thank you for joining us at the Milena Seble Casino!"
Another gunshot rang out and Mr. Fontina slumped over onto the floor, cards fluttering in the air around him. More horrified gasps rang out from the audience, causing Arcana's smile to grow even wider than before.
"Any volunteers? Or, should we continue on with the program as planned?"
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Aoife Callahan
Twelve.
My eyes flickered up to the blonde across the table; she was still inspecting her cards, clearly considering whether or not to draw a second.
"My, but you're very pretty, darling," I told her, voice practically oozing with saccharine innocence. "Your eyes especially; the color reminds me of my favorite niece in Dublin."
This was, of course, patently untrue— I had only two brothers, one an annoying devout priest and one killed in a hit-and-run at the age of sixteen. Nonetheless, she bought it; a genuinely sweet smile touched the corners of her mouth, and her eyes were cast down in a perfectly shy expression. I nearly vomited at the sheer cuteness of it all.
"That's a very kind thing to say, Mrs...?"
"Murphy, dear, but I insist you call me Bridget. After all, what is the point of age if one can't behave in a shocking manner?"
That elicited a true laugh, low and rich. I allowed myself a moment to chuckle with her at the irony, then took another look at my cards. The two shifted aside, allowing the queen of diamonds to wink up at me.
"You know, I don't believe I heard your name when you sat down. What is it?"
"Oh! Where are my manners? I'm Florence Fr—" She stumbled over the last name, an emotion flickering over her face too quickly to read. "—French. It's wonderful to meet you, Bridget."
I looked back at my cards, pretending that I hadn't noticed her slip. My mind was racing furiously, considering and discarding possibilities that could explain her reaction. Was French her real last name? Was she a con, like me? No, that couldn't be right; the persona she had presented was smooth and convincing; if it was an act, she was far too talented an actor to permit such a rookie mistake. Her speech wasn't impaired in any other way by drink...
My eyes flickered across her fingers; a band of pale skin stood out against its perfectly tanned surroundings. A divorcée, then, emotionally frail and sensitive about her recently terminated marriage. Perhaps she could use the tender, intimate comfort of a kindly mother figure, full of worldly wisdom ready to be exchanged for a few earthly possessions. I raised my eyes to meet hers, green matching green.
"Perhaps we ought to begin, dear? The other pair has already drawn their first cards, and I'd hate to keep them waiting." She nodded, looking at her cards one more time.
"I'd like another card, please," she told the dealer. A card was flicked to her with a careless grace that I had never possessed even when my extremities had been at their most dextrous. She examined it, pursing her lips.
The redhead in the second pair called for a card; the dealer smirked before giving it to her. I glanced back down at my hand, feigning uncertainty.
"Another for me," I added— just before a gunshot rang out.
My heart began to race, and instinctively I scanned the area behind me. People were already beginning to duck under the tables. The screaming was only seconds away; my hand moved to my purse, ready to pull out a Taser and use it on anyone who impeded my escape. I just had to figure out where the shooter was—
"Nobody move!" I froze, as did every other player in the room. After a moment, I chanced a glance behind me.
The dealer, purple hair now splattered with red, held a heavy black gun in a shooting position that looked suspiciously practiced. The redhead who had asked for the card was facedown on the table. There was a large, messy hole in the back of her head that leaked blood and lumpy matter towards her partner, a tattooed man who was quietly swearing in a voice that rose steadily in pitch.
"Everyone here is going to stay in their seats until the end of the game," she declared, voice cold and harsh. "I highly recommend that you don't go bust. Otherwise..."
She didn't finish her sentence. It wasn't necessary.
I looked around the room, taking in the faces of shock, horror, and fear. Of its own accord, my expression morphed to match those around me; years of practice had made my mask second nature. I slowly turned back to Florence— and froze in genuine shock for the second time.
She wasn't terrified, shocked, or even annoyed, as far as I could tell. Her eyes had gone as cold as a deep-frozen lake, and there was nothing shy or gentle in the set of her lips and chin. For a long moment, everything about her was frigid calculation and impersonal assessment. Then, before my eyes, the the chill melted away into the shuddering terror of the room at large.
It is in moments of peril that one can see another person's true face. I wondered if even Florence herself knew it was there.
"Perhaps you should pick up the card." The dealer. I flinched; for a moment I had forgotten the precarious situation. My gaze flickered down to my cards; if I had gotten a ten or face card, I would go bust and be summarily executed. I reached for it, pulling it towards myself and up into visibility. I didn't have to fake the tremble in my fingers.
Eight.
"I forfeit." Relief, surprisingly genuine, seeped into my tone. "What about you, Florence?"
"I forfeit as well," she said. "Let's show our cards, nice and easy so we don't upset the lady with the gun."
The dealer nodded, and I turned over my hand. Two of hearts. Eight of spades. Queen of diamonds. Twenty in total— the second-best hand I could have gotten. Moving slowly, Florence placed her cards on the table. Five of clubs. Five of diamonds. King of hearts. Twenty.
"It seems we have a tie," the dealer said, the hint of satisfaction in her voice. "You both live to play another day. Congratulations, Ms. French, and to you as well, Ms. Callahan."
I stiffened, but the damage had already been done. Florence frowned, glancing at me. "But her last name is Murphy, not..."
The confusion faded, to be replaced with wary calculation. The dealer smirked and turned her attention from us.
"Well, my dear," I said, my tone remaining as light and airy as I could keep it. "Shall we begin the real game?"
A few heartbeats passed.
"I think you know it's already begun," she replied. "And unlike the cards, it didn't end in a draw."
----------------
Sushi Wasabi Salmon
Sushi was midway through her fourth dish of sushi when the doors of the Milena Seble slammed shut.
Startled, she nearly dropped her dinner onto the floor, but managed to prevent the plate from tilting over the edge of the table just in time. Sharply, she turned around in her seat, searching for any visible explanation of what caused the sudden disruption. Blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes, the girl scanned the room, watching in mild amusement as other panicking guests either spilled their champagne on their state-of-art outfits, attempted to open the gates or were demanding an explanation from a waiter or waitress – as Cupcake Maybelline Sprinkles was doing exceptionally well. Sushi watched as her newfound companion viciously berated an ashen-faced waiter, her gestures erratic as she pointed to her crimson cocktail dress. Though the pair were too far away for Sushi to make out their exchanged words, she could guess by Cupcake's reddened face and narrowed eyes that the woman had also accidentally upset her drink, like many others had done, due to the initial scare.
However, she gaze was torn away from Cupcake when one of the four Aces – the violet-haired lady with exceptionally pale skin – stood from her seat, and made her way over the nearest gambling table. The room grew hushed as Ariana – or was it Arcadia? Or something else entirely? Sushi wasn't sure – daintily drew out a deck of cards and sat herself down gracefully at the dealer's seat, saying, "We hope you enjoyed the banquet." She placed two playing cards down on the table, before casting a brief glance upwards at the stunned, confused, or fearful faces of all the men and women around her. When she was certain all eyes were locked on her, Ariana – Sushi knew that wasn't her real name, but it was the only one that she could think of at the moment – dealt another two cards on the table, stating as she did so, "That was just to whet your appetite."
"I think my appetite has been filled, thank you very much," Sushi couldn't help but mumble underneath her breath, grimacing as her stomach let out an unnatural growling sound, a sound that sent several heads turning her way. Desperately, she clutched as her stomach, focusing on her breathing in an attempt to calm her digestive system down. I really shouldn't have eaten so many plates of sushi...
If purple-haired, half-Korean Ariana Grande heard her, she paid no attention. Instead, she continued to speak to the silent audience, shuffling the cards skillfully in her dainty hands as she did so. "I've played many games of Blackjack, but I've never been a dealer," a soft smile played on the edges of her lips – a smile that seemed so sweet and genuine, yet also sent a shiver running down her spine at the same time. The woman shifted on her chair, and as she did so, something strapped to her waist caught the light – something silver and shiny, something beautiful and dangerous.
A gun.
"Who's going first?"
Wait, what?
Two hands shot up into the air a few seconds after creepy Ariana's announcement, two hands that belonged to two people who were either extremely stupid, extremely brave, or extremely confident about their own abilities to win. Did no one else see the gun? She watched as a man with messy golden-orange hair moved through the crowd, mumbling soft apologies to an old lady whose toes he accidentally trod on. Not-Ariana-Grande gave him a nod as he seated himself at the gambling table, and the crowd's gaze turned to fix upon the curvy, luscious figure of none other than Cupcake Maybelline Sprinkles, who, despite the tense atmosphere in the room and the furious pounding of Sushi's heart, still looked like a boss as she pushed her way to the front of the crowd. Even though her dress now reeked of champagne and several strands of brunette hair had escaped from her bun, she emitted an aura of self-assurance and cool-headedness.
But there's a gun. How can she be so calm when there's a gun? Doesn't she know crazy Ariana is going to kill her if she loses? Seriously, I can't be the only one thinking that.
Uncertain, Sushi stood on her tiptoes and looked around at the anxious, whispering to each other or pointing at either the Ace woman, the orange-hair guy, or Cupcake, who had now been seated at the table and had already began playing. None of them looked as frightened as she felt inside. Bewildered, sure. Apprehensive, totally. Terrified? Not so much.
Okay, it's confirmed. I am the only one thinking that.
Chewing her lower lip, she turned her attention back to the current game, and watched in amazement as Cupcake lowered her cards, stating, "I forfeit." Despite herself, her jaw dropped slightly open as Not-Ariana-Grande nodded and signaled for the game to end, and for each player to reveal their cards. So I don't pay attention for what, three minutes, and the game's already over. What is my life.
The crowd seemed to inhale as one, sucking in their breaths as Cupcake laid down her cards on the table for all to see. Squinting, Sushi counted an eight of diamonds, an eight of clubs, and a two of hearts. That's eighteen. Not bad, not bad. You go, Cupcake! She looked back at orange-hair guy, who now looked visibly nervous as he too set down his cards. A three of clubs, five of clubs, and four of diamonds. Twelve. Oh, fishmongers. He lost. That's bad. On instinct, her eyes flicked back where she last saw Ace Ariana's gun, and before she knew it, the woman had whipped out the weapon, released the safety, and shot orange-hair, right between the eyes. He dropped dead to the floor, crimson blood now pooling from a bullet hole in his head.
The others began screaming – the old lady whose toes orange-hair accidentally stepped on, Cupcake, the brunette lady beside her, but not Sushi. Never the one to follow the crowd, her eyes instead widened in shock, nearly popping out of their sockets. Her lips remained closed as Ariana let out an exaggerated sigh, before firing her gun not once, but three times at the ceiling, raining plaster and specks of concrete onto the ground and table. The remaining guests let out shrieks or cries of surprise and horror, before the curt sound of the Ace's voice pierced through their panic and confusion. "Order!" she called, a smirk growing on her lips. "The games go on! Who are our next lucky volunteers?"
Yeah, no, lady. You cuckoo. Like Crazy-Eyes from OITNB. Damn it, I would give all of the sushi in the world to be binge-watching that show than being here.
No one moved. Cupcake had disappeared to the back of the crowd. Orange-hair's body lay still and silent on the floor. There was blood. A lot. No one moved.
"Don't make me ask again – who is going to volunteer?"
She didn't know what made her do it, but before she could stop herself, her hand was shakily raised, and violet-haired Ariana was beckoning for her to come forward. Her vision blurred as she gingerly placed her gluteus maximus on Cupcake's pervious seat, almost as if she was trying not to activate a grenade placed underneath her chair. Perhaps there was, how was Sushi supposed to know? She was sweating and shaking and being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal, but that was because she was probably going to die in three minutes, for her opponent – a blonde-haired beauty in her early thirties – seemed much more composed than she was, much more focused on the problem at hand. She was adangerous woman, one that could take her life – oh my god Sushi why are you describing her in Ariana Grande songs?! Shut up and pay attention!
Two cards were given to her as silence reigned, before the purple-haired woman nodded at her to start. A three of clubs and five of hearts. Eight. Okay, okay. She drew her card first, and let out a shaky breath when she saw that the value was a nine. That's good. Now I have seventeen. Then it was the blonde's turn, and Sushi watched her expression attentively as she surveyed her card. She looks nervous. Is she nervous? I'm the one who's nervous. Is 'Nervous' an Ariana Grande song?
Then suddenly, the woman looked up at the purple-haired Ace, and said two words that caused Sushi's blood to freeze, for her heart to stop beating for what seemed like an eternity, "I forfeit."
Not-Ariana-Grande nodded at her, then turned to Sushi, "Show your cards."
Seventeen. Seventeen. Seventeen. Seventeen.
Was it enough?
She placed them down.
Seventeen.
It has to be enough.
It has to be.
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Carrot Cream Bagels
Entry not received
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Dia Monde
Entry not received
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Addilyn Devella
"Who's going first?" the violet-haired girl's voice echoes through the long hall like shattering glass.
The hall remained silent with each of the guests staring at the Aces in utter disbelief. They knew the doors had been locked and they knew there was no way out. There was no other option but to stay with the people who held the gun.
Addilyn had been in a hold-up before. It was only two years ago when she had entered the bank with the pair of robbers trailing behind her. Though she was old, Addilyn could hear the two gunshots as clear as a bell and she faintly remembered flattening herself to the ground. There was no chaos in the robbery and Addilyn barely remembered fearing for her safety because she had covered the young girl beside her first. Red wine was still tangy on her tongue but the young girl folded into Addie's protective beige coat as the robbers took the money and ran – only to be caught three blocks later. She hadn't felt endangered back then: not like she did now.
Despite wearing her lucky taupe coloured coat, Addilyn felt extremely unlucky. She doubted the police would catch these people and her mahogany eyes observed the sleek black gun that one of the hosts held in a fierce grip.
Hope he doesn't have a twitchy finger, Addilyn joked. In such a serious situation, she would never have spoken such a thing aloud but her mind was eager to calm itself in the unfortunate condition that twenty other people also found themselves in.
"No volunteers? That's a shame. I was hoping to get one game in before we shot someone," Arcana sighed exasperatedly before snatching the gun and loading it with an audible clicking sound.
Addilyn's heart raced for a moment as the impatient lady aimed the gun around the room in a sweeping motion that threatened to make everyone cower. Much to Arcana's surprise, no one gave in.
Addilyn barely had the time to register what she was doing before she felt her body step forward as her arrogant voice broke the heavy silence, "I'm going first."
Arcana's unfriendly face broke into an entertained smirk, "Nice to see the elderly step up," she mocked, "Any one of you loser's want to verse the old lady?"
"I'd hardly call it a challenge," a girl laughed stepping forward. She was only in the room to complete a dare that her friend had given her.
Addilyn could barely keep her face straight as she studied the doll that stood in front of her. It would be difficult to look as ridiculous as she did with her crimson-tipped hair and fluoro pink high heels that were taller than the Empire State Building.
"Ludicrous," Addilyn muttered as she took her seat at the table with her heart rate unexpectedly high. As the two cards were dealt in front of her by the mysterious woman Addilyn's mind was racing.
It's only a game of Blackjack so there's no need to have a heart attack, Addie.
"No betting?" Addilyn asked disappointedly.
"You're playing for something much more valuable," Arcana replied and Addilyn narrowed her eyes at the cryptic comment. Nevertheless, Addilyn always loved a game of Blackjack and she usually played for the satisfaction of beating her opponent rather for the money no matter how depsarte she was for some cash.
She wiggled out of her coat to reveal a beautiful silk lavender blouse and long black cotton pants.
"Woah there, Grandma!" the girl in front of Addilyn teased.
"Oh, sweetheart, don't forget that your grandfather's my age and it's never too late for love." Addilyn remarked slyly and lifted the two cards that had been dealt. She smirked as she heard the mutters of the crowd in the background and strategically positioned her body to hide her ace of diamonds and two of clubs she had been dealt. Her aged fingers placed the two cards back down on the table before staring into the young girl's eyes which seemingly resembled her own.
"Hit me," Addilyn smiled as she leaned forward and tapped two fingers on the table. Another card was placed on the viridescent velvet table in front of her – the six of hearts.
The dealer looked expectantly at the younger girl until her bright pink lips – which matched her outrageous shoes – formed the two words, "I'm sitting."
"Show your cards,"
The pair flipped the cads simultaneously and Addilyn quickly calculated that the other girl had gotten sixteen while she had made nineteen.
They said young kids were daring these days, Addilyn mentally rolled her eyes as the cards were dealt again. She drew up her cards to find a pair of sixes and formed a fist before placing two fingers in a 'V' shape.
Addilyn delicately placed her cards down separately and tapped her fingers on the table for the left six. A king was placed down in front of her and she quickly drew her hand across in a gesture of sitting.
She leaned back as the young girl was handed an ace and six. Addilyn tilted her head slightly in serious thought. She could forfeit or keep going with her other hand. With a six and an ace the doll-like girl could easily have twenty or twenty-one.
Her ivory hands tapped the table to receive yet another ace.
"Done," she stated simply and Arcana flipped the cards to reveal that Addilyn's hands of seventeen and sixteen while the younger girl had twenty. Addilyn huffed as a new set of cards were placed in front of her and as the restless crowd watched on. The only noise in the room was the flipping of cards until a restless adult finally sighed.
"Is there something wrong, Mr Orange?" Arcana sneered, shuffling the cards in her hand.
"Other than the fact we are locked in?" the tattooed man retorted.
"Perhaps you'd like a game?" Arcana suggested with a smile, "This pair is terribly lucky to have first go, we wouldn't want anyone else to miss out. Please, take a seat."
The red head harshly pushed the young girl from the table and took her seat, "I'm not playing the old lady though, I'd hardly call that a challenge."
"Suit yourself," Addilyn huffed and gave into her motherly instincts as she helped the girl up.
She lifted her coat from the chair which breezed past the man known as Blorange and clipped his hand with one of the lower buttons. He hissed a curse but Addilyn simply kept walking until she immersed herself into the sea of gamblers.
By the time she had her coat on the two new players had already began and the heavy silence had once again filled the room. The flipping of cards gave sharp snapping noises that were louder in Addie's ears despite being further away.
If anyone had bothered to look away from the game of cards, they would have noticed the table silently being cleared by an array of suits that moved back and forth like ghosts. The large green curtains matched that of the Blackjack table as the draped lazily over the huge windows that were almost the same size as a car – although they would not be letting any light in when the morning arrives. They would only act as barriers that sealed off the twenty naïve victims from the rest of the world.
Addilyn was surprised when Blorange tapped his fingers on the table for the third time in a row. In fact, the whole room seemed to close in around the crowd as they leaned forward. Addilyn almost expected what happened next. It was almost slow motion as she watched Blorange lean back and curse as the cards were flipped over to reveal a score of twenty-four. Suddenly, the whole scene sped up as Arcana pulled out the gun, loaded it and squeezed the trigger. The deafening sounded tore through the room like a huge cracked of thunder right next to Addilyn. She felt the vibration in her ears like she had in the back two years ago followed by the odd ringing sensation that chimed in her old ears.
Astonished, she peered around at the crowd before her gaze landed on the tattooed body that was now stained with red ink – only it wasn't ink. It painted his plain white shirt until the shirt looked like a strawberry and cream lolly. Addilyn blinked her eyes several times but the image didn't seem to leave her vision. Had she been looking at herself, Addilyn would have seen rather than felt the blood drain from her flawless face in something that could have been describe as fear.
But fear didn't even begin to uncover what she felt. Addilyn feared spiders but this was something entirely different. A sick feeling boiled in her stomach and the room began to sway in front of her. People's mouths moved with no sounds until she eventually focused back on the lifeless body: a person younger than her. Pins and needles swam up Addie's legs until the icy feeling wrapped itself around the pit of her stomach sending the waves of coolness throughout her frail body. Fear was something that made you shiver but this made her want to creep away until she was isolated from everybody else. She felt as if her body would consume itself until it was no longer.
Someone bumped into her causing her feet to shuffle to the side. Walking almost felt foreign to her body. She felt the pain shoot up her legs until it finally awoke her mind.
"Did we forget to mention that a bust equals death?" Arcana smirked as she returned the gun to her side.
Addilyn finally heard the words this time. She gently shook her head but stopped as her eyes caught the ghostly looking lady who sat three seats from the red body.
Though the boy was arrogant, Addie didn't feel that he deserved to die. She could only watch helplessly as the same mysterious servants who had cleared the table picked up the soulless body and carried it out like he was just another leftover dish. They didn't react to the body like the nineteen others had and Addilyn found herself wondering if they were even real people.
Addilyn also found herself wondering what exactly she got herself into because for the first time in her life, she was entirely sure.
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Coraline Keller
EXTENSION
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Dawn Everhart
There was no greater fear than darkness for Dawn Everhart. Ever since she was little, Dawn had despised how it consumed all the once bright lights, burning them out in mere seconds. She loathed the way it crept along the walls, always remaining silent. She didn't like its eerie manner, nor did she like the lack of hope inside of it. She abhorred the fact that it took away her sight. She despised how it rendered her intellectuality useless, and how it made her feel worthless. She detested the way it held her back in chains, not letting her break free. It made her fear and that was by far what she hated most. So, when the light of the Milena Seble turned off, and darkness fell across the room, Dawn felt afraid.
The doors of the Milena Seble slammed closed, the noise jolting all those inside to their senses. Twenty players who had been enjoying a beautiful banquet, started moving around as a handful tried the doors. The doors remained still, proving the undeniable truth- the twenty players were locked inside.
Dawn could feel the pace of her heart quickening, and her fingers trembling in anxiety. She clutched the edge of her dress tightly by habit. She could feel her mind blanking, and her mind shutting down. She turned away from the two friends she had made earlier, Cupcake and Sushi, as she tried to calm her body.
Close your eyes. It was the first of a series of simple commands which helped to keep herself calm and collected. Her eyelids fluttered, protecting her eyes, as she delved deeper into darkness.
Breathe in. The voice which spoke came from deep inside of her, the tone soft yet confident. Dawn's lips parted slightly to let the oxygen flood her mouth. It overwhelmed her, too much of it rushing in, and she had to gulp it all down quickly to catch it all.
Breathe out. Dawn fulfilled the voice's wishes by letting the carbon dioxide leave her body through the gap between her lips. It gushed out all at once, spilling into the air.
Open your eyes. Obeying, Dawn lifted her gaze to the ceiling. It was still dark, but she felt more relaxed about the situation. Her mind was no longer under the chains of the darkness, but was rather taking the reins to guiding itself.
Almost immediately following Dawn's routine, the lights brightened, casting a dim glow. Four adults entered the room, looking almost the same as they had during the banquet. The only difference was that they each held sleek gun whose barrel shone in the little light. It was like a leaf of a tree in the dead of night, barely catching the glow of the full moon.
"The Aces..." Dawn whispered as the truth became clear. It wasn't just any game, it was a matter of life and death. She had been a fool to think there wouldn't be any risk; there always was. She had betrayed her word, stripping herself of her honor, by lying to her mother. She had been idiotic while making her decision, and she would have to pay the consequences.
One player out of twenty would be leaving the Milena Seble alive. Dawn's mother awaited her daughter's next visit as that was her only joy, and Dawn knew she had to make it out. If not for herself, then for the mother. Dawn would take her chances, playing a game of luck. She would take the needed risks, in hopes of playing it right.
"We hope you enjoyed the banquet," Arcana, one of the Aces as introduced before stated. She paused as she glanced around the room, eyeing each player up and down. She stepped up to the Blackjack table, dealing two cards. They slid across the table with ease, like a blade on ice. They landed perfectly in position, calling for a daring person to try their hand. Arcana continued, her eyes still on the deck of cards in her hand. "That was just to whet your appetite." Yet again, she swept two cards, and they flew across the table. It was as if they were autumn's leaves, blown by the wind.
Arcana reshuffled the deck of cards with ease before she doing an advanced bridge shuffle. The cards from each pile fell into place one after another, mixing together thoroughly. It was a beautiful shuffle, one all of the newbies to the cards longed to do. Dawn was one who knew it better than anyone. She had spent days watching an experienced player do it at a small town casino nearby, analyzing how each finger had moved. Afterwards, she had mastered it on her first try- one of her prized accomplishments.
"I've played many games of Blackjack, but I've never been a dealer." Arcana grinned, analyzing the twenty players who stood in the room. "Who's going first?" Dawn found herself stepping back at Arcana's words as she tried to blend in with the crowd. She needed to analyze how the others played the game first, even if she had played a number of times before. She wanted to make sure she knew exactly what was going to happen before she went for it. She needed to think before she acted; she needed to carefully calculate all the risks and consequences. If only she had thought before she had betrayed her mother by accepting the invitation which would surely lead to her demise.
"I'll go." It was a middle-aged woman who stepped up, one who sported a leather jacket. She approached the Aces in a confident manner, her head held high. Arcana's lips quirked into a grin, and she nodded at the woman.
"What's your name?" Arcana asked. The woman returned the grin, replying in a bold tone.
"The name's Valentina Daley, but you will call me Val, nothing else." The woman, Val, nodded at the Ace. Arcana turned back to the rest of the room, her calculating eyes scanning the remaining nineteen.
"Val's going to need a pal to play. Who's up? I'll pick if needed," Arcana spoke in a slightly threatening tone. Val glanced around the room, daring anyone to challenge her in the game. Glances were exchanged across the room, along with shakes of the heads. Only a few moments later, a young man stepped forward.
"I'm Ren Cayse. I'll take a chance and play her," he spoke fearlessly, holding a fiery gaze with Val. His expression didn't change by the slightest as he picked up the cards, processing the numbers. Val sat down beside him, picking up the cards of her own. Dawn examined her face, noticing something hidden in her eyes; something she couldn't quite put a finger on.
Arcana turned to Ren, titling her head as if to ask him if he wanted another card. Ren nodded as he spoke.
"Hit," he said, the sound echoing. Arcana dealt another card, and Dawn watched it glide across the surface of the table as it halted near Ren. He picked it up, grinning ever so slightly as he did. He sliced his palm through the air as he spoke once more. "I'll stand." Arcana turned to Val who nodded in agreement.
"Me too," Val said. Arcana glanced between them once more before speaking.
"Show." It was a one word command, one that both players obeyed. Ren displayed a ten, a four, and a six. Dawn did the quick math in her head, smiling at the twenty. The chances of him winning were high. Then Val showed her cards, smacking them down on the table. They were two nines, cards that had just cost her the game, and quite possibly something more. She looked up at Arcana in fear. The Ace just shook her head in disgrace. She raised her gun, and Dawn saw it glisten in the dim light. Arcana pulled the trigger, and the bullet sliced the air in two as it found home in Val's head.
Gasps of disbelief sounded across the room as the young woman dropped to the ground, dead. Blood gushed out of her wound, pooling around her body. Dawn was only slightly surprised; she had seen the guns beforehand after all. Arcana turned to Ren, talking in a soft tone that almost no one else could hear. He gave her nod before returning to the group of eighteen. Arcana's gaze returned the rest of the players.
"We can't have no consequences, can we? We have only a single night to play so many games, so let's make this quicker. I'll just call you all up in groups of two." There was a pregnant pause as Arcana glanced around the room, her gaze landing on the old woman next to Dawn. "You, come up here." Arcana's gaze shifted to Dawn. "You too," she spoke authoritatively. Dawn gave her a firm nod, one she faked with confidence. Whether she liked it or not, it was her time to play.
The pair stepped forward, walking towards the Ace. Dawn glanced at the old woman, before she looked back at Arcana.
"I'm Dawn," she said before Arcana could ask her.
"Addilyn," the woman spoke, addressing the entire group rather than just the Ace.
Arcana gave the two a nod, willing for them to take a seat. They did, and the cards were dealt. They whooshed across the table at a fast speed. Dawn picked up her cards, eying the numbers. It was a eight and a ten. They weren't the best numbers, but they were definitely not the worst. She glanced at her opponent, Addilyn, who wore an innocent expression. She too was watching her, waiting for her call. Dawn knew that this was a risk she wasn't willing to take. She looked up at Arcana and without regretting her words, made her decision. She could only hope that it wouldn't get her killed.
"Forfeit."
Dawn and Addilyn placed their cards on the table face-up, and Dawn let out a delightful sigh when she saw the king and the jack on the table. It was a good call. Arcana nodded in approval before nodding for them to leave.
As Arcana called up the next pair, Dawn could only find her mind relaxing. She smiled, knowing that she had made the right decision. She could only hope she would make more of them for the remainder of the night- her very life depended on it.
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Acantha Embry
Entry not received
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Valentina Daley
There was, Val had to admit, a certain kind of rush being in a casino, with its bright lights and vividly attired people. Something almost fascinating about the myriad games of chance and skill around her, and the people who played them. For a few seconds, she thought she might understand how people might be drawn to something like gambling, with its pretty facade and alluring promise. But I won't be one of them, she told herself firmly. Maybe a couple of games, mingle with whoever was around, and then leave as soon as the next morning came.
Taking a deep drink from the cup in her hand, Val pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and glanced around her. As far as she could see, there were people gambling and betting money on what was no doubt their life's money. Her stomach turned at the thought, and she decided that she'd had enough to drink. Better that she had clear head for the rest of the night. Less stupid decisions to be made that way. Prickles of discomfort rolled along her skin; she didn't belong here, she had no idea what to do in a place like this. Barely had the thought crossed her mind when there was an ominous thudding sound. Val jumped, glancing around for the source.
She found it in the previously wide open doors. Gasps erupted around her, a wave of human emotion come to life. Val felt unease coil in her stomach, rooting her to the spot. Around her, she watched as some people tried to open the doors to no avail, while others muttered nervously about malfunctions and blackouts. Her eyes searched the room for an explanation, landing on the only four people who looked calm. The Aces, as they'd introduced themselves, all looking completely unruffled. In fact, they had matching smirks on their faces, and identical sleek black guns held in their hands. Val swallowed, the first inkling of fear going up her spine.
She watched in silence as a girl, Arcana, paced confidently around the gambling tables. Arcana paused in front of the Blackjack table, producing two cards Val hadn't noticed and throwing them on the table as she said, "We hoped you enjoyed the banquet." Val jumped, even though the cards had been silent. "That was just to whet your appetite." Another two cards were thrown onto the table, and goosebumps appeared all along Val's arms. Silence had fallen throughout the casino, save for the sounds of someone crying. She watched as Arcana reshuffled the deck before looking out into the crowd. "I've played many games of Blackjack, but I've never been a dealer." Her lips quirked upwards, amusement unfurling across her face. "Who's going first?"
No one answered, each of them seeming scared to bring attention to themselves.
They're going to make us play, or kill us, she realized, and a spark of anger flared up. Without thinking, she stepped forward and said harshly, "What the hell are you doing?" She gestured to the closed doors and the guns, her movements frantic and uncoordinated. I'm going to die. As one, all four of the Aces turned to look at her, and she swallowed, but stood her ground, heart pounding frantically. Without warning, Arcana broke into a smile, and gestured to the table in front of her.
"Thank you for volunteering to go first Ms. Daley," she said, and Val gaped. Somehow, the words filtered through her mind and she started walking towards the table. Distantly, she realized someone else was also being led to the table, a young girl with startling red hair. Val stared at her without saying anything, still dazed. The only thought running through her mind was I'm not dead yet. Cards were shuffled again, and then two handed to each of them.
Val glanced at hers. Ten and a one. She let out a shuddery breath, her leg shaking wildly underneath the table. The red haired girl across from her took another card, and Val licked her lips before taking a third card as well. Seven. Eighteen in total. She held the cards tightly, their corners bending from her grip and sweat making them slippery. She inhaled deeply, squeezed her eyes shut before opening them.
"I forfeit."
There was a ripple of surprised gasps, and Val let her cards drop. She tensed, waiting for what was surely to be the inevitable gunshot, but none came. Instead, Arcana smiled, the expression sharp.
"Thank you for participating Ms. Daley, Ms. Salmon. You may go sit down now," she said coolly, and Val practically fled.
She settled into a corner, and watched as two more people were chosen to play. Adrenaline still coursed through her body, but it was muted now that she was no longer the center of attention. The two players were silent, and one of them kept dropping the cards. Everything seemed to slow down when one of them, a blonde that she vaguely recalled being named Florence announced she had twenty-one. The other woman, Coraline something, murmured something that was lost to the air. There was a silent look between the four Aces, and then the one named Zahra raised her gun.
Val flinched as the gunshot sounded. Someone screamed, but her own emotions seemed frozen in time, taking eons to catch up with her. She watched as Coraline fell to the floor, blood staining the table and her dress while Florence simply sat there.
Suddenly, a hysterical laugh bubbled up in her throat. We're all going to die. Laughter that sounded like a maniac's left her throat. I always did want to go out with a bang. She could sense stares and maybe a few expressions of fear, vibrations of something in the air, but there was still a shield of numbness surrounding her. In that moment, nothing but the laughter pouring out of her throat was audible and only the sight of the white ceiling was visible as Val broke down.
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Cupcake Maybelline Sprinkles
"Keep your heels, head and standards high." – Coco Chanel
Arcana Lustrai seemed liked a woman who lived by the famous Coco Chanel quote, and in a way, Cupcake Maybelline Sprinkles could sympathize with her. If her expensive, limited edition cocktail dress of large, dangling diamond earrings did not display her wealth and high standards for fashion, then it was the way that she calmly walked to the nearest blackjack table while the entire room had been plunged into chaos, ignoring the panicked expressions on her guests' faces, and instead sat her slender body down on the nearest chair and began to shuffle a pack of cards, angling her body in just the right direction so that the silver tip of her pistol could be seen poking out of her brand-new Gucci handbag. Her sultry voice floated through the tense, humid air, words lost to her ears. All Cupcake could focus on was the butt of the Arcana's gun, and how the other three Aces were watching them with interest and indifference clear in their eyes – interest about how the game would turn out, and indifference over the deaths they were going to cause.
In a way, Cupcake admired their ability to not care, to overlook the dying's screams and pleads. It must've taken a whole lot of work to train their hearts to become stony and cold, for their lips to curl upwards into a smirk whenever a gunshot sang its tune of death. Her mother had told her that no one was born evil, and even now, as Arcana flipped her mass of purple hair over her shoulder and asked for the first volunteers to play her game, Cupcake believed her. No one could be born evil.
But one could certainly embrace it.
Arcana repeated her question. There was a faint murmur of voices amongst the wide-eyed guests, before two individuals stepped out from the crowd and into the spotlight. One, a blonde woman in her late twenties and thirties, expression nervous and fingers fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt. The other was a dark haired man wearing a grim, stoic expression and a ruffled suit. Both of them sat in their respective seats as the crowd gathered around, like children around a zoo exhibit, as Arcana motioned for them both to pick up their cards and begin playing with a flick of her hand. There was a soft smile tugging at the edges of her lips and her eyes glittered with a type of emotion that Cupcake could not pinpoint – a mixture of confidence, anticipation, and perhaps even excitement. To many others, seeing one wearing such an expression when preparing to take a life was sickening, to say the least, but for Cupcake, she was only more intrigued. Arcana Lustrai's head was held high. Her standards for a Victor were high – difficult to receive. The only thing missing were the heels.
It's such a shame she doesn't wear heels.
For a long, long while, there was silence pierced only by the taking of cards between the two, sometimes followed by a soft cough or sneeze from one of the audience. Then suddenly, unexpectedly, the man stood up shakily and walked over to where Arcana was sitting, practically shoving his cards into the woman's face. The Ace of Clubs muttered something underneath her breath at the man, which Cupcake guessed was along the lines of "Get off" or "Step back", and inspected the cards given to her. The blonde had stopped playing and now sat rooted in her seat, blue eyes opened wide, cards clutched to the point of tearing in the clutches of her stiff fingers.
The world held its breath.
Arcana dropped the cards to the table, for all to see. A three of clubs, four of hearts, seven of diamonds and seven of clubs. Twenty-one. "Ladies and gentlemen," she announced in that smooth, silky voice of her that dripped honey. "We have a winner."
Then, the world was shaken by the sound of a gunshot, a body falling to the floor, and a call of, "Next!"
The others, they tried to flee. Like mindless sheep, they scurried to the doors, unaware or ignoring the fact that it was locked, and there was nowhere else to run to. Some screamed, some clung onto each other as if the end of the world were upon them, while others ducked under tables and countertops in an attempt to hide or dodge a bullet. Their methods were all foolish, as Cupcake knew. Arcana Lustrai was not going to waste any of her precious ammunition killing off her prize guests, the very people she went into so much trouble to lure to the Milena Sable. If Cupcake's hypothesis was correct, the violet-haired woman, along with her companions, were only looking for one contestant to emerge victorious by the end of the night. Oddly enough, the fact that nineteen people would be dead did not bother Cupcake too much – she was certain that she would survive. After all, she and Candy had once gone joyriding in their neighbor's brand new Mercedes, and had subsequently ended up knocking over a lamppost. There were stitches, lawsuits, and a lot of angry yelling – facing bullets were a piece of cake compared to arguments with her father.
"Stop being irresponsible, Cupcake!"
"Get a life, Cupcake!"
"Grow up, Cupcake!"
Etcetera, etcetera.
Perhaps that was why she moved forward through the crowd, red dress billowing out behind her, eyes focused solely on the violet irises of Arcana, to avoid staring down at the still and bloodied body of the blonde woman. Slowly, she took a seat, keeping her breathing steady as the woman nodded at her, and then pointed randomly at the skittish crowd, obviously impatient at the waiting. Her slender finger landed on the form of an elderly woman with silvery-grey hair that matched her age and dark brown eyes that could have belonged to a woman much younger. Cupcake racked her mind for a name, but none came except for the fact that her first name rhymed with Alison or Adison or whatever. It doesn't matter; she doesn't matter. Arcana lay down two cards before them both. Her standards are high, but I can beat them.
I can show them that I deserve to be their victor.
Cupcake went first, drawing a card from the pile, careful to keep her face straight and motions calm and effortless. Her two given cards were a two of hearts and three of spades, totally five, a number dangerously low. However, her third card drawn was none other than a ten of clubs, increasing her value to fifteen. Better, but still left her vulnerable and in the hands of fate. There was a soft rustling on the table as the elderly woman reached out to grab a card, and despite herself, Cupcake risked a glance at her opponent's expression. Like hers, it was focused and fixated on the game at hand, her eyes narrowed sharply as she played with the edges of the cardboard.
Cupcake drew again. Five of clubs. Twenty in total.
Forfeit, her mind screamed. You have to forfeit. She can't beat that.
The woman was already starting to reach for her next card, seeing that Cupcake had not made a move.
Forfeit! Do it now!
Her breathing hitched as she quickly slammed the cards down onto the table before she lost her nerve, brushing stray strands of brunette hair out of her eyes as Arcana Lustrai faced her with mild surprise shining in her electric violet eyes. "Are you forfeiting?" She inquired in that voice of hers, the voice that sounds like the gentle whispers of a brook and the roaring waves of the sea at the same time. Beautiful and destructive. Sweet as sin.
Head and standards high.
She nodded – bobbed her head, really – and Arcana motioned for the other woman to show her cards. She did, trembling as she did so, and when the cards were revealed, Cupcake could not help but let out a sigh in relief, and also cast a pointed stare at the rigid form of Arcana Lustrai, a silent question of, "Did I impress you yet?"
"Do I deserve to be your victor?"
The woman had seventeen, she had nineteen. It did not matter what happened after that.
Because Arcana Lustrai, the famous Ace of Clubs, had turned towards her and smiled.