Maron tapped her fingers against the edge of her coffee mug, filled for the 3rd time by the very generous waiter. She'd washed the sink and some mugs for a good bit than finally went in front to sit with the two kids.
"So, what is it that you wanted to show me exactly, Maron was it?"
"Call me Mary. And yeah, I wanted to know if you'd be interested in, arm wrestling. I'm very good at it, as strong as an ox and nobody's ever able to beat me. Since you've got a wrench's arm, I thought maybe you could match me. But likely not, I've got some good muscle on me i do."
The waiter raised an eyebrow at first, but still smiled. "Me, lose a challenge to a serviced? I'll make you laugh at ever even thinking such a thing."
She propped herself closer to Maron and lent her arm out. Mel payed close attention, ready to note any changes he observed. With a quick squeeze from both parties, the two were quickly engaged in a match of raw strength.
Maron hesitated to end it swiftly, just barely holding back the waitress at bay as she honed in on the skill gifted to her. As she held herself against her opponent, she could see the others present and future, practically played out for her. Not in literal sequence or a sleigh of inevitability, but abstract notions and concepts made concrete.
Her will to preserve, her intelligence pushing her forward. Her upbeat deposition, and countless things without reducible descriptions. They were all available to Maron, like a buffet of destiny hanging out before her, and she could see probably fields of opportunity and fortune laying around this women's future shortly. With her other hand, she tapped a floating construct, and started to float parts here there, but leaving it entirely unchanged. Suddenly it was as if the young girl could see untold and unlimited potentials of reality stemming from strings of destiny, attached to one's own personhood most conclusively of all.
With a simple show of strength, Maron ended their bout instantly much to the surprise of the waitress.
"Ahh, what? No way. Best out of 3?" She requested.
"Hmm, sure. But can I try against Candice over there?" Maron asked in turn.
"I don't think so, she's not really the competitive type, if you haven't noticed."
Not yet I haven't. And not yet she's not. Ignoring the quip the teen pseudo-amazon snuck over to Candice, hopping behind her without regard for her annoyance, which was none. She was too busy playing some App game on her phone, when she yelped briefly at her squeezed shoulder.
"Ow! What the shit was that for, and who let you back here?!?" Candice yelled.
The waitress laughed, but tried to calm her co-worker down. Meanwhile, a spark flashed in Maron's eyes as like a visionary she saw similar, yet entirely different sights from this girl's gestalt reality. A life of spoiled excess and luxury, of ignorant pampering combined with an utter ignorance for any concept of work or integrity. Pleasure. Laziness. Immediate Gratification. Contempt for Intelligence or capability of any kind. A selfish refusal to change or improve oneself. These aspects and their makeup, would lead to an entirely different destination unchecked. This time Maron grabbed into the constructs surrounding her victim and pulled out a thread of sorts, like tugging at a web.
Spinning and threading and weaving a new thread of fate for each, from each with simple hand gestures and complex mental commands. Reality rewoven for a single heart's selfish desires.
