glacial_queen: (Ebon-Gray)
Karla sat in front of her loom, a tangled web taking shape in front of her, her eyes distant and unfocused, looking at the in between in the threads, where Craft danced and prophecy lay. An image danced in front of her, fuzzy and indistinct, but growing clearer with every thread she added. The Ebon-gray at her throat glowed with a soft inner light, illuminating her face and hands as she worked. But she didn't see it, didn't see anything other than the vision unfolding in front of her.

A cradle, festooned in streamers of blue and silver, sat in the nursery. Out the glass balcony doors, the sun rose and set, rain fell, snow flurried, leaves changed. Seasons came and went, months ticking by. As time passed, the cradle was filled with toys and blankets, some worn and well-loved, remnants of Kayla's infancy, others still new, colors bright and patterns unfaded. On the wall above the cradle, a moon waxed, never waning, growing rounder and rounder with the passage of time. And when it was full, the light coming in from the balcony was warm and gold, and flowers grew along the edge of the doors. Baby pink roses, dark blue irises, purple trailing wisteria, and thick-headed peonies nodded at Karla through the glass. Later spring then, or early summer.

For a few glorious moments, everything was lovely. And then dark clouds rolled over the sky, darkening the room. Time continued to pass now, but the cradle remained empty. Dust gathered over the crib, the toys, and the entire nursery. Neglect and disuse hung over the room, like the streamers that hung limp and tarnished now, untouched. Outside the doors, the flowers withered, turned brown, and died where they were.


Karla came back to herself slowly, spiraling up from the depths of her vision. She needed to talk to Warren. If she was reading her vision right--and she was, she knew she was, she was a fully-trained Black Widow--if Kayla didn't have a younger sibling by the summer, she never would.

Nommy.

[Open for phone calls and visits.]
glacial_queen: (The Hall/The Keep/The Estate)
After several days of intense study and research, Jaenelle had called for Karla to tell her that the ritual to fully sever Raven's connection to her brothers was ready to go. It would be difficult, it would be dangerous, and it would be painful, but Karla already knew that wouldn't matter to Raven. For the peace of mind that knowing she was free of her brothers' influence would grant her, Karla was certain that Raven would walk through fire.

Too bad that damage would be more easily healed than this.

[For the empath, please!]
glacial_queen: (Hesitant)
This was...well, this was weird.

When Karla had received a letter from Uncle Saetan summoning her home, she'd assumed that she'd been summoned home to talk to him. Which, considering her currently mixed up feelings in regards to Jaenelle, had caused no little trepidation on its own. Arriving at the Hall to find out that it wasn't the Hall Lord that had required her presence but someone else entirely had been, well, weird.

She'd heard of Jaenelle's Black Widow friend who lived in a snug cottage in the village of course. Jaenelle had wandered into the Twisted Kingdom to help lead Tersa out, as far as the broken Black Widow was willing to come, at least. Wise, by what Jaenelle had said, and trustworthy, but that still didn't answer the question as why she'd want to talk to Karla.

But with both Saetan and Jaenelle adamant she go talk to Tersa--though Jaenelle's insistence had kind of raised Karla's hackles a bit and she might have gotten just the tiiiiiiniest bit snippy--she was pushing aside her confusion and knocking on the cottage door.

[NFB, please]
glacial_queen: (Betrayed)
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?]
glacial_queen: (Sapphire-Jeweled Queen)
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?]
glacial_queen: (Wistful Smirk)
Karla liked Catalan. If she wasn't worried sick about Ender and having annoyingly-cryptic nightmares, it'd be the perfect vacation spot. As it was, she had taken to spending an awful lot of time outside with the land. The nightmares, coupled with rising tensions between the four of them, was getting to be a bit much. Only time outdoors, caring for the land, soothed her jangled nerves.

Eventually, she fully expected one or the other of them to come wandering out to check up on her. Odds were fairly good it would be Bean, though there was always the chance that he'd send Petra out instead, under the guise of some 'female bonding' time. Either way, she was fairly certain one of them would make an appearance soon. The Battle Schoolers and the Fandom Highers didn't trust each other enough yet let excessive time outside and alone pass without remark.

Where Karla and Petra have a heart to heart! )

[Preplayed with the wonderful [livejournal.com profile] endsthegame and the marvelous [livejournal.com profile] momslilassassin. NFI, NFB, OOC makes the snow go away!]
glacial_queen: (It is on)
Office of the Hegemon, Ribeirao Preto, Brazil

It was a strange sensation, to want to both hug and choke a legume at the same time. Choke him for being difficult, hug him for getting two other difficult people off of his neck - which was something Peter had decided on yesterday, after an argument with his sister in which he had walked out victorious.

After all, she'd agreed to head back into space.

Of course, that left Peter with the unpleasant part, which was informing the two troublemakers they were getting hauled out to begin with. It's that they were from another universe, or he might have chosen to be more careful, but right now it seemed like an excellent way to keep tabs on Bean (his frustrating former lieutenant Battle School brat) and figure out how his stupid baby brother fit into this without having to spend too much time looking away from Achilles.

Suriyawong, his other former Battle School brat, stood mercifully still and quiet by his side. Peter was not in a mood for criticism, which he doubted would help him in the trying times ahead.

He poked at something on his desk. "Tell them to come in."

He liked making them wait.
In which everyone is bitchy at each other. )

[NFI, NFB, OOC is love! Preplayed with the witty [livejournal.com profile] endsthegame and amusing [livejournal.com profile] momlilassassin]
glacial_queen: (Betrayed)
Karla hadn't known what to expect when she arrived. Saetan had warned her that Jaenelle looked bad, had lost weight, wasn't coming down, but she'd known Jaenelle as a child, could remember times when Jaenelle had turned up looking skeletal, with shadows like bruises under her eyes. She'd thought she was prepared.

She wasn't. )

[Establishy, nfi, nfb, etc. THIS GETS A LITTLE DARK AND COULD BE POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING. TRUFAX. THOUGH THE REAL FUN HORROR HAS TO WAIT TILL KARLA GETS BACK. Text taken and adapted from Chapt. 10 of Heir to the Shadows by Anne Bishop]
glacial_queen: (Concerned)
Karla was nervous. Leda was coming over. Normally, that would make her pulse speed up in a different way, but tonight, Leda was going to ask her to spin a web. Like the one she'd spun for Raven. And the one she'd spun for Ender.

That last web was the one that had her concerned. It wasn't that she doubted her ability to spin such a web, but just thinking about spinning it made her feel guilty. Leda and Raven had given her permission to look. Ender hadn't. It was like being back in a store that she'd stolen from. Even if it had been completely accidental, Karla still felt bad about it.

At least, tonight, she'd be using her gifts for exactly what they were intended for. Perhaps they'd discover the key to Leda's addiction. Either way, she'd promised and wasn't going to back down, even if her stomach was tied up in knots over it.

Rather than continue to fret, Karla decided to do some meditation techniques. That should help. One should never spin a tangled web while nervous.

[For one please! That Leda comes over is fine, but the contents of the web and any discussion pertaining to it is NFB, please.]
glacial_queen: (Sapphire-Jeweled Queen)
Karla sat on her bed, wooden frame floating gently in the air in front of her, a pile of spidersilk close to her right hand. Normally, she had a reason to be spinning a tangled web: a project, like for the ghosts or for the fair, because of a dream or an odd feeling, like when the other world's spell had swept across Fandom. But there was no concrete reason for the desire to spin this web; just a nebulous feeling, far too faint and vague to even be classified as 'bad' or 'odd.' It was more akin to having someone's name stuck on the tip of your tongue, or the nagging sensation that you'd forgotten to do something. Even putting on her Widow's Weeds to try to get herself in a more "Black Widow-y" state of mind hadn't helped.

Which was why she was glaring at the frame, almost daring it to explain to her what she was going to be weaving and why.

The frame provided no answers, just floated in front of her, calm and serene. Karla stuck her tongue out at it. It didn't seem to care. Still, there was really nothing else to do but to go with her instincts, regardless of whether or not she knew what she was supposed to be doing. If something was telling her to spin a tangled web, she just had to do it. Doubtlessly, the answer would come about in its own, sweet time. She just needed to be patient.

Karla...didn't do patient very well.

But since everything was out and she was even wearing her Weeds, she got to work. The first thing she did was attach the silk to the anchor points in the web. It didn't matter what kind of web she ultimately wove, the anchor lines needed to be firm, steady, and in place to support the Craft flowing through the radial lines. She looped the fabric through and around, pulling it tight, checking the tension with a kind of careless grace that only came when someone performed a task they were born to do.

Had it been a normal web, one born from a specific purpose, Karla would have been paying more attention to the spidersilk in her hands. Instead, her attention was focused inwards, trying to chase down that feeling, to poke it, prod it, make it more forthcoming. Which was why she missed the length of thread that was dyed a rusty brown. That thread was knotted tightly to the main anchor point, spinning down, down, becoming the central point of the web. And from that position, Ender's blood, innocently spilled not a week before, caught at the Craft within the web and turned it to its own purposes.

Blood is the memory's river.

Karla's hands moved of their own accord now, moving hither and yon according to what Karla saw, eyes closed, in her mind's eye. It no longer mattered why she had originally begun weaving. The Craft had a purpose now, and it was moving her hands automatically. It was like hearing a wild melody, off in the distance. The web was her instrument and Karla wanted to join the tune. She opened herself to her birthright, and surrendered to the music of her Craft.

Blood is the memory's river. )

There was more. Memories of a trial, a trip, a mirror with a treasure behind it. But Karla could barely see them anymore through the tears. She yanked her hands away from the threads as if they burned, called in the strongest wine she could, and drank it straight from the bottle. The wine burned as it raced down her throat and her shaking hands sent some of it sloshing out of the bottle and onto her clothes. The deep red liquid shimmered like the droplets of blood that had come from Bonzo's eyes and she nearly threw up.

Too much. It was all too much. Karla closed her tightly against the images still crashing around in her head, curled up into a small ball, and cried until she had no more tears left.



[Whew! That's done! Posted with permission and approval from [livejournal.com profile] endsthegame All scenes and text taken from Ender's Game, by Orson Scott Card. Warning: post contains violence directed at children by other children. Cause kids are mean, yo. The contents of the web are NFB, though Karla's reactions both before and after the cut are fine.

For one, please. (Though OOC responses rock my socks)]
glacial_queen: (Sapphire-Jeweled Queen)
After the Reserves meeting, Karla met up with Rachel and headed back to her alcove. "You ready for this?" she asked as she pulled out a large, half-spun tangled web and put it on her bed. "It's actually going to be kinda boring for you. There's nothing really for you to do until I'm done. Would you like a book to read?" Karla felt a little funny--she'd never actually done this in front of someone.

"I set up part of the web," she explained, indicating the strands that ran through the box. "This part will show me your past. I'll weave the part where I can see your future in a few moments. I just need a bit of your blood," she said. She called in a small silver knife and held it in a tiny tongue of witchfire for a few moments. "Let me know when you're ready, okay?"


[For one please. That Rachel and Karla were hanging out in the alcove is okay to broadcast, but the discussion is NFB, please.]
glacial_queen: (Default)
Karla was busy. She was attempting her first major tangled web since she came to Fandom, and she was taking her role as a Black Widow seriously. Her Sapphire Jewel pendant was joined by a pair of drop earrings and a ring; all three glowed with an inner fire. She was dressed in her Widow's Weeds, a gown of layered spidersilk that seemed to be made of smoke and cobwebs, and silver combs kept her hair out of her face. A large wooden frame, almost as large as Karla, was assembled in front of her, criss-crossed by more threads of spidersilk. There was a large Sapphire chip in the center of the web, and several other scattered along the strands. They, too, glowed.

The miniature Canadian mooses stopped this from being a purely Kaeleeran scene. One moose held an intricately carved box between his antlers, his mountie hat places safely inside the box itself. A few others kept bringing food over from various places for Karla to eat. She rarely asked where they had gotten it from. Another moose was curled up, asleep, on Karla's notebook, which was hovering next to her at waist-height. It would occasionally bleat at her indignantly when she moved it to get a better look at a diagram, but would fall asleep again soon after.



[Establishy, but still open like an open thing that's all open.]

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