Major Arcana - (II) The High Priestess
I will never forget the day I first saw her. She was sitting on a golden throne inside a glass enclosed chamber. Around her, bouquets of blood red roses and yellow tulips adorn the silken curtains.
I watch her from my wet, dark and damp position in my deserted tower. I admire her from a safe distance. Her face lights up like the sun among the stars. Her eyes sparkle like twin comets. Her long hair flows like a million shooting stars. Her lips adorn her face like Saturn's rings.
She was wearing a white robe with blue embroider sashes on her shoulders. She has a crown with topaz, diamonds, emerald and many other gems.
I can't take my eyes off her face. I know she can't see me, and I'm sure she don't know I even exist. I like it that way. I just want her like this. And for a lowly blacksmith, I'm content that I can see her face as long as I want.
I pulled the trigger. Then I called HQ.
"HQ, this is the Blacksmith. The High Priestess is dead. I repeat, the High Priestess is dead.
It was the last day I saw her.
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