Tales of the Ice Harpy from Glacia

Lucivar felt his shield quiver. It was about to go down again. Cassidy and Morton might be able to put up another one after his came down, but what was the point? They both still wore their Birthright Jewels and those were light Jewels at that. Under the constant onslaught of the Jhinka, they'd have another two, maybe two and a half hours before their Jewels were drained, too.

Even if Aaron and the others showed up now, it was doubtful they'd be able to do much to turn the tide of the battle. Six thousand Jhinka, even lacking Craft as they did, were just too damn many.

No, better to save their strength. Maybe between the combined strength of all of Karla's friends, they'd be able to escape.

He spared a thought for the young male, Ender, who'd had a plan that might hopefully get them out of all this. Idly, he wondered if it would have worked, indeed, if it could work still. If he would have a chance of pulling it off before Lucivar's Craft failed, if he could somehow pull it off at all.

Maybe. Still, it was a slim thread to rest all their hopes on. Lucivar couldn't rely on 'maybes,' not when his Queen's life was at stake.

"Morton," he called. ( 'Ask Jaenelle and Karla to join me here.' )

[And we are done--though just for the night! NFI, NFB, OOC is golden. Warning in place for death of an NPC and ultraviolence. Text taken, spindled, mutilated, and folded into origami cranes from Anne Bishop's Heir to the Blood, Chapter Thirteen. Preplayed with rockstars, yo. Plot post masterlist found here.

Also, that long ping about Jaenelle being even prettier now? Straight from the text. Oh, Anne Bishop. Why you so crazy?]

The situation, as haltingly described by both Karla and Lucivar, was dire. Even with Karla and Jaenelle restricting their Craft to the most life-threatening of injuries, there were still a double-handful or more upstairs who were in immediate danger, in addition to the hundreds below who were still grievously wounded. Six thousand Jhinka were outside, willing to fling themselves at the shield and certain death, simply to wear away at it and bring it crashing down.

Lucivar was wearing his Birthright Red Jewels, the Ebon-gray drained almost to the point of shattering, and the reservoir in the Red was precipitously low, too. Karla's Sapphire no longer glowed with its usual inner light; she barely had enough Craft left to light a candle.

Food had run out the day before. The well had dried up that morning. Anything edible that the three of them had carried with them was long since devoured.

And still the psychic witch storm howled on outside, cutting them off from communicating with anyone.

( More help would arrive in hours, but honestly? They didn't have that long. )

Lucivar lay on his back in the young grass, his hands behind his head, his wings spread out to dry after the quick dip in the spring-fed pool. Jaenelle and Karla were still splashing about in the cold water, washing the sweat and dirt out of their long hair. He closed his eyes and groaned contentedly as the sun slowly warmed and loosened tight muscles.

Yesterday, they'd awakened just before dawn to find Jaenelle busily rummaging through the food pack. He'd put together a hasty meal while Karla had broken down the camp before the physical tension produced by the drugs forced Jaenelle to move.

It hadn't been the unrelenting drive of the previous days, and, as the day'd worn on, physical tension gave way to emotional storms. Anger would flood her suddenly, then turn to tears. He'd given her space as she raged and swore. Karla had held her while she cried. When the storm passed, she'd been fine for a little while, perhaps as long as twenty minutes. They'd walked at an easy pace, stopping to pick wild berries or rest near a stream. Karla'd kept them entertained with stories of her crazy school and the friends who were like no Blood males or females they'd ever met. Then the cycle would start over, each time with a little less intensity.

It had still been grueling, mind. The first outburst of emotion had hit around noon, the second, a little before three. In between them, there was still the constant movement, the difficult trek made even moreso by the unforgiving pace Jaenelle had set. The intervals had shortened as Jaenelle's body tired, but even their last stretch before making camp for the night had been an hour-long hike, most of it uphill.

Which made today's late start, with the chance to sleep in past sunrise and even bathe a bit, something akin to paradisaical. Smoke was off doing a bit of hunting; the wolf had scented a herd of elk and had gone off to explore. When he came back, Lucivar was thinking of sending him back to the Keep to tell Saetan that they were all right, that Karla was with them, and that they'd be coming home from Askavi in a few more days.

Not that he was going to say anything, but he was proud of Karla. The pace was wearing on her, but she refused to complain and did her best to keep up. She wouldn't know it, but Jaenelle was slowing down a bit for her, making sure Karla didn't get outdistanced. Lucivar was grateful for anything that made Jaenelle take it a little easier. ( Though the next time the little witch cheated him out of the last mug of coffee, he was going to dunk her into the nearest lake. )

[NFI, NFB, OOC is delicious. Warning for violence. Text adapted from Chapter Thirteen of Anne Bishop's Heir to the Shadows. All of her narrative is awesome and I never said anything to the contrary. Really. Part 5 of plot (Parts one, two, three, and four). Up early because I have a problem I AM REALLY BUSY TOMORROW, OKAY?]

Karla was heading to the courtyard of the Keep, where a portal had been ordered for her return to Fandom. It still felt wrong, oh so wrong, to be heading back to safety and comfort while Jaenelle and Lucivar were out in the wilds of Askavi, circling each other in a dark and dangerous dance. She was supposed to just go home and focus on class while she was wondering if Lucivar still walked the living Realms? If Jaenelle was still suffering from the effects of the safframate? Or--worse yet--wandering the Twisted Kingdom? Even if they needed her and had to summon her back home, it would be days and days until she could return--Kaeleer's time flowed at double the rate of Fandom. Should they discover they needed her skills tomorrow, the earliest Karla could expect to return was next week.

This was bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit. Maybe if she talked to Saetan once more, this time he would see reason. Or at least get so tired of arguing about it, he'd just let her stay.

She veered off, down the hallway that led to Saetan's suite, marshaling all of her arguments. Presented logically and impartially, she would get through to him. That had been the problem before. She'd let herself get worked up, too emotional. Saetan had seen her as a child, not a witch fully in control of her Craft. Change that and maybe--

"I am so pleased to see the Dark Council has sent a representative to talk about the grievous injuries inflicted in Little Terrielle during Lady Angelline's visit." Saetan's voice floated out of his door, sharp and smooth, like a knife wrapped in silk. Karla stopped--Hell's fire, he wasn't alone. She wouldn't be able to plead her case with him if he was already speaking to someone; especially not a Dark Council representative. But she didn't have time to delay. Her portal was scheduled to arrive in minutes!

( Still, she crept closer to the doorway, no compunctions against eavesdropping. Perhaps she would hear something useful to her cause. )

[NFI, NFB, OOC=love. Text adapted from Chapter Thirteen of Heir to the Shadows. Warning for discussion of sexual assault and violence. Sometimes c/p'ing sections of Anne Bishop's dialogue and text makes me want to cry. Part 3 of plot. Parts one and two found here.]

After a busy day of brunch and catching up and residual excitement over being named sophomore princess, Karla had no problem falling asleep. ( Almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, she was claimed by dreams. )

Karla woke from her dream with a strangled cry, dragging herself up and out from layers of blankets. The room felt hot as an oven and her hair was plastered to her skin with sweat. None of that mattered. She had to go, to get home. Jaenelle was in trouble. She didn't know what was happening, but it didn't matter. Karla would take care of her afterward. Sweet Darkness, please let there be an afterward.

The cold, the fear, the buzzing had all vanished along with her dream. But within her, she could still feel the bone-deep rage. Mother Night, the rage!

Nooooooooooooo!

[Warning for allusions to a prior assault. Dream!Warren modded with express permission from not_a_parakeet. Snippets of text taken from Anne Bishop's Heir to the Shadows, Chapter Thirteen. For the roommate only, please. So kicks off the plot!]

Jaenelle was back from Little Terreille. It was like the first time all over again. The fear, the vulnerability, the flashes of the deep rage stemming from the rape that Jaenelle intellectually understood had happened but couldn't remember...They spilled from Jaenelle like a torrent, a psychic witchstorm that Karla couldn't counter and refused to tell Jaenelle she was projecting. If she couldn't help Jaenelle through the pain, the least she could do was share it. They'd clung to each other's hands, hard enough to bruise, and Karla blinked back burning tears while Jaenelle enumerated the dozens of little slights, insults, and humiliations she was forced to endure in Little Terreille, all aimed to bruise a young girl's ego and make her susceptible to a more intimate brutality when she was a little older or less protected.
( Read more... )

[NFI, NFB, OOC always welcome.]

Part One

He had expected it, even prepared for it. It still hurt.

Jaenelle stood silently in the petitioner's circle, her fingers demurely laced in front of her, her eyes fixed on the seal carved into the front of the blackwood bench where the Tribunal sat. She wore a dress she had borrowed from Karla, and her hair was pulled back in a tight, neat braid.

Knowing the Council watched his every move, Saetan stared at nothing, waiting for the Tribunal to begin their vicious little game.

Because he had anticipated the Council's decision, he'd allowed no one but Andulvar to come with them. Andulvar could take care of himself. He would take care of Jaenelle. The moment the Tribunal announced the Council's verdict, the moment Jaenelle protested and turned to him for help . . .

Everything has a price.

( Over 50,000 years ago, he'd been instrumental in creating the Dark Council. Now he'd destroy it. One word from her, and it would be done. )

[I swear I will stop spamming the list soon. I'll post Part Two and then be done till Wednesday. But I can't fall asleep as I'm still all hopped up on caffeine and con and being home with my kittens and so I figured I'd just post a bit more of this. Ummm...NFB, NFI, yadda yadda yadda. OOC is better than a hug from Neil Gaiman. That last bit may be a LIE Text shamelessly stolen from Chapter Eight of Anne Bishop's Heir to the Shadows.]

Karla went flying into Saetan’s study, tears in her eyes. Intellectually, she knew she was being silly, knew that this was just another sign that she was still healing from the other Fandom, knew that she was probably just going to get the boyos up in arms over nothing again, but she couldn’t help it. Knowing all that didn’t stop her from hurting over his words. It was like being in Glacia again: the silent judgment; the telegraphed ideas that she didn’t, couldn’t measure up; the repeated mantra of “ladies don’t do this and ladies don’t do that,” never mind that Karla wasn’t a lady, she was a witch!

( Sniffling, Karla exploded into the room. )

[Text adapted from Heir to the Shadows by Anne Bishop. NFI, NBI, OOC = lovings.]

“Morton!” Karla yelled over her shoulder. “We are late! I can’t believe you let me sleep so long! By the Darkness, I am going to hex you!” Karla was running up the long drive to SaDiablo Hall. The invitation had said that the party started at three, and here is was, already five past. And they were still outside.

“Hex me? How?” Morton called back. He was taking the drive at a brisk walk. He could afford to be so casual; his legs were much longer than hers. “You sound like you’ve been reading novels again.” He knew better than to suggest that after three years, Jaenelle could wait a few more minutes. Karla was seriously pissy about running late. Still, he stood by his decision to let Karla sleep in.

As if she could read his thoughts (and Morton made sure his inner barriers were still high) she turned to yell “Why would you do that?! Especially on today of all days!”

“Because I’d rather have you bitch at me for a few hours because we were late than have you be bitchy all day because you were over-tired,” he said casually. He could say things like that right now because she almost certainly wasn’t going to turn around to kick him. And as long as he stayed out of teeth and leg-reach for the next few hours, he’d be fine.

( The Party. Teal Deer Warning in effect. )

(NFB, NFI, OOC = love. Adapted primarily from Chapter 6, Part 7 of Heir to the Shadows by Anne Bishop. I love my crack!canon! There were going to be three of these, but her interview with Saetan will just have to wait till next week. Karla will be back bright and early tomorrow (Monday) morning. Which is probably when I'll pick up pings again)