The eyebrow raise felt like Carmichael knew what was coming – Endymion supposed that Seers really did get this all the time. (Still, he felt too desperate to be sorry about it.)
“I just – I don’t know what I ought to be looking for,” he bemoaned, with a weary look and a helpless wave of his hand. “Can you give me a reading – just anything you See? In my future.” He didn’t know how this worked – he presumed Carmichael probably had better things to have particular visions about than his romantic future, but this library was full of decorative pieces, a dusty crystal ball on one shelf and certainly some Tarot decks left on a shelf, and Endymion certainly wouldn’t trust a reading of his own.
He needed – magical intervention; divine intervention. Nothing less than fate would do. “I’m sure you’re sick of these things, but – truly, I’m desperate.” He was going to be thirty-five! (Carmichael might be the same age and also still unmarried, but he was no model to emulate – he hardly seemed naturally disposed towards happy, settled endings. Like, as a person. He might as well have been written by Poe.)
“I just – I don’t know what I ought to be looking for,” he bemoaned, with a weary look and a helpless wave of his hand. “Can you give me a reading – just anything you See? In my future.” He didn’t know how this worked – he presumed Carmichael probably had better things to have particular visions about than his romantic future, but this library was full of decorative pieces, a dusty crystal ball on one shelf and certainly some Tarot decks left on a shelf, and Endymion certainly wouldn’t trust a reading of his own.
He needed – magical intervention; divine intervention. Nothing less than fate would do. “I’m sure you’re sick of these things, but – truly, I’m desperate.” He was going to be thirty-five! (Carmichael might be the same age and also still unmarried, but he was no model to emulate – he hardly seemed naturally disposed towards happy, settled endings. Like, as a person. He might as well have been written by Poe.)
