Tales of the Ice Harpy from Glacia

A single snowflake is a simple, tiny thing. Small and delicate, it is easily ignored, overlooked, destroyed.

Like whispers. They started off quiet, just a word here and a nod there. Secrets passed between trusted friends of good deeds done and supplies left behind. Where to leave a message to call upon some helpers who did not seem to understand that it was the lot in life that the weak must suffer for the strong to thrive. Of Blood who treated landens as equals, not inferiors, and people stranger still. Word spread through Glacia like a cold wind and only those most exposed to the elements took heed.

A single snowflake can be disregarded without notice, but as part of a multitude, it becomes something much greater. As part of a snowstorm, it takes on a life of its own and becomes infinitely more dangerous. Only the most wealthy and insulated can afford to ignore a blizzard; everyone else is forced to take notice.

Through the winter, the snow continued to fall. More fell in the towns and cities to the south, like fluttering pieces of paper that blanketed the streets in words and images, in shadows of truths so chilling that people swept them from the ground before children could look at the grisly pictures printed upon them. Still, out of sight didn't mean that the snowflakes had been forgotten. People would talk about the chill in murmurs, in pubs over drinks barely touched. In beauty salons with distracted looks in their eyes as winter fashion and the usual gossip was forgotten. The snowflakes had piled up, and people who wouldn't have noticed before were watching what they had once thought was steady footing begin to slip.

A blizzard is dangerous, but an avalanche more deadly still. A torrent of snow the size of mountains capable of leveling any building, no matter how wealthy or stately. Even the highest of the high could not avoid an avalanche that was coming for them; neither money nor prestige nor power can force an avalanche to change its course.

All that devastation starts with just a single flake of snow. What would happen, you suppose, when it was people at the heart of the avalanche?

Whole Territories could fall.

( Avalanches in the making )

[NFI, NFB, OOC appreciated. Co-written with the amazing not_a_parakeet and heromaniac whose help and beautiful words cannot be overestimated. Trigger warning: mention of suicide.]

Karla wasn't sure why she'd been surprised to discover that, in addition to renting the wonderful Captain Chiba and his yacht, Serenity, Warren had also rented them an island. Okay, so, he hadn't exactly rented the island, he'd rented the villa they were staying in which just happened to be situated on an island, and their exclusive use thereof had been included in the rent.

She had tried to laughingly explain to him that normal people didn't do that, that she was a Queen and daughter of a Queen and even she thought renting an island was extravagant, which was when he pointed out that a) they weren't normal by any means, b) this was their last vacation together for awhile, which meant he had every right to be as extravagant as he'd like, c) that neither of them would be comfortable staying at a resort where they'd have to hide who and what they were, and, d) the nonsense about renting the villa, which came with the island, as opposed to deliberately just renting an island which would be ridiculous.

Karla splashed him for the pure, patent nonsense which was the last argument, though she was willing to go along with him with the other three.

That, and, well, who would be that much of an idiot to turn this place down?
( Not Karla, that was for damn sure )

[Mostly establishy. Post co-written by not_a_parakeet. NFB.]

Karla glanced out Jono's window and saw the forcefield doing something...weird. She wasn't sure what it was doing, but she was almost positive that whatever it was meant nothing well for the island. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, she headed for the stairs and out door, as fast as her feet could carry her. Jono had snagged Joni and left for supplies while she was still crashed out on the couch, so if he wanted to yell at her for not locking up behind her, he'd have to find her later.

She also vanished his guitar case on the way out. Because she was a good friend and it was leaning against the wall as she ran for the door.

Outside, everything was chaos. The town was swarmed with hundreds of Auditors brandishing makeshift weaponry. They filled the streets, looking for people to attack or streaming towards the school. As much as Karla wanted to take out a few over what they'd done to Raven, her Black Widow senses were screaming at her to run, and they only got louder every time she looked up at the sky. Karla dashed into the park, hoping the Auditors would ignore it since there were no people there. She flung herself through tree branches and bushes, nearly blundering into a flock of panicked flamingos who had somehow ventured far from the lake.

Karla hit the ground and pushed herself up again, heedless of the scrapes along her palms or the holes in the knees of her jeans. There was a sudden chorus of agonized honking behind her and when she turned her head to spare the miserable birds a look and bit back on a wail of despair. The forcefield had failed and the Nothing was rushing in, devouring Apocalypse Avenue in less than a second.

( There was no way she could outrun this thing. She would never make it in time. )

[Preplayed with the awesome not_a_parakeet. Establishy, NFI]

Karla had come back from Panem, in a mood. After her conversation with Katniss and the bombs and Prim and...Darkness. She wasn't entirely certain if she had helped anything. Anything at all. And there was still Glacia to go back to.

Some vacation.

So rather do anything productive, Karla had spent all day in her room moping brooding, building herself up into an awful mood. She'd been on her way to a completely awful despondency, when her voicemail beeped.

She listened to it. Once. Twice. Again. Staring in shock. She was listening to it for a fourth time when she got another call. She missed it and the next call that came in while she was listening to Bobby's.

By the end of Tony's, she was on the phone herself to Ben. And laughing so hard she thought she might pull something.

Guess it was her week for it.

[Mostly establishy but open if anyone wants to pop in or call!]

No, you must stay. Stay and wait for the message. You will be needed.

Tersa's parting words as Karla had left the cottage. And Karla had listened, staying at the Hall and waiting for...something. Anything. Some kind of message, though she hadn't known from who or about what.

( And then, today, that message had come. )

[NFI, NFB, OOC is love!]

Karla ran out of the hole in the ground and stopped, almost dead in her tracks. "Azarath..." she breathed. And then her eyes were dragged to the scene unfolding in front of here.

Mother Night, it was a scene from out of a nightmare. Raven, on the ground, limp in a way only the unconscious could be. Or the dead. Beyond her, running towards the entrance to the tunnels, a snatch of light and dark: Rook and Dinah, trying to keep out of sight.

( And above them all, hovering like the carrion bird that was her name. Raven. )

Holding Rook's hand tightly in hers, Karla promised in an undertone, "We won't let her take you, sweetheart. And you still have time to back out of this if you're not sure you still want to participate. Your safety is the most important thing, here, okay? So if you'd prefer to stay--"

Rook cut off Karla's nervous babble with a shake of her head. "No. This is what I wish to do. Maman and Stepfather have already sacrificed so much for me. I must help get them back." She gave a tentative smile up at all three of them. "And Aunt Dinah will protect me. As will all of you. I am unafraid."

What else was there for Karla to say after that? "All right. Let's do this thing."

( Children as bait. What could possibly go wrong? )

( In which our heroines are shocked to discover this was a bad plan )

( And their villain makes her appearance )

[NFI, NFB, OOC is always love. Warning in place for violence and incredibly stupid ideas. Preplayed with trigons_child and blondecanary, coded using whateverknight's swanky coder. Warning for violence, megalomania, and the occasional comic book villain monologue. Follows this, this, and this!]

Karla was feeling wonderful as she slowly started heading towards consciousness. Last night had been amazing, simply amazing and she snuggled close to where Warren was curled up. Mmm, he was so warm and soft and...

Soft? That was not actually one of the words she would use to describe her boyfriend. Her hand crept up and--

WARREN MOST CERTAINLY DID NOT HAVE A PAIR OF THOSE!

Her eyes flew open as she bolted up, clutching the sheet to her chin. Looking frantically around, Karla realized three things:

1) She was waking up in a room that she did not recognize,

2) She was stark naked, and

3) Neither of the people she was waking up next to were the male she went to bed with.

"Hell's fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful."

( In which Karla's dignity hits a new low. )

( Julian Hagen was unaware his bad fortnight had just gotten worse. )

[NFI, NFB, OOC is love! Preplayed with the amazingness that is blondecanary and trigons_child. Coded with the amazingness that is whateverknight's preplay coder. Warning for spoilers for Queen of the Darkness.]

Karla knew better, she really did. After seeing what happened to Professor Cabot in class today, she had no excuse. But she wasn't thinking about that when she got back to her dorm from class. She wasn't thinking about much of anything, other than the stupid headache she'd developed and how a can of soda might get it to back off.

Turns out, however, a headache was the least of her worries. Not only was the island having fun with St. Patrick's Day, another bout of Fandom whimsy was also about to strike.

Before she was even half-done with her soda, Karla was turned into an Arcerian kitten. To make matters worse? She was an Arcerian kitten with bright green fur.

*I hate this island,* she complained to no one in particular.

Bathtime had been a right pain in the ass, as Karla attempted to shepherd six little girls through the night-time ritual of bathing, hair-washing, and tooth-brushing, not to mention taking care of her own toilette as well.

Even with the steadying influences of Rook and Della taking care of some of the younger girls, bathtime had been filled with more water going across the floor and the walls than stayed in the bathtub. Their giggles and squeals had echoed inside the room as they'd discovered the fun of soapsud fights. By the time Karla had gotten her shower, the water had been stone cold. In every stall.

The girls had gotten quite a laugh, watching their mother yelp and run from shower to shower, trying to find one that wasn't like ice.

Then, they'd all trooped back to her room where Karla tried to round up enough nightgowns and oversized t-shirts for all of them to wear as the inevitable scuffle broke out over who would get to sleep where. In the end, Karla had pushed everything out of the way, piled several sheets and blankets onto the floor and declared that everyone would be sleeping on the floor tonight. There was still some awkward scuffling about who got to sleep next to her, but Karla solved that dilemma by laying down in the exact middle and letting the girls array themselves out from her like spokes on a wheel.

Finally, once the last minute requests for water and bathroom trips and fights over pillows were taken care of, hurt feelings soothed, stories read, lullabies sung, and last-last minute bathroom trips taken, one by one, Karla's daughters drifted off to sleep. For a moment, Karla allowed herself one brief, tender smile at them all: curled up, drooling, wheezing, snoring, and breathing oddly. They were all sweet, in their own ways and they all loved her very much. But most of them weren't hers. Monday would come and they'd travel back through their portals to their proper mothers and her future would go on. What happened to those who were from futures she didn't follow? What had happened to little Emma Eleni? Maybe she'd see some of them again? Maybe she wouldn't. It was hard to say for sure.

Hard on the heels of her introspection came the realization that she'd be mothering them all for another day, possibly two and she'd flopped back onto her pillow. Hell's fire and Mother Night. Forget questions of the future. She had a much more pressing concern: namely, how was she going to survive this?

[Establishy!]