![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
glacial_queenAfter a busy day of brunch and catching up and residual excitement over being named sophomore princess, Karla had no problem falling asleep.
It is a picnic. She is having a picnic with Warren, with pineapples of both the edible and the kissing variety. They laugh and talk, feeding one another and nipping at each other's fingers. The sun is bright and golden, shining down and keeping them warm, even as the leaves above them are turning orange and crimson. It is a good dream.
Not again. Not again.
Suddenly, the sun dims, hidden by scudding clouds. The wind picks up, causing gooseflesh to raise up on her arms. Warren laughs and holds her closer, rubbing her skin with gentle hands, chiding her for not bringing along a sweater. He pulls her into his lap, wrapping his wings about her as he's done countless times before.
So why is she suddenly afraid? Why are her nerves buzzing?
Sever it this time. Break the link for good. No. Can't. Won't be able to reach him if...
His arms twine around her waist and he begins to press kisses onto her neck and shoulders, marveling at the softness of her skin. The sky turns darker still, until it feels like evening instead of mid-afternoon. The zipper on the back of her dress begins to slide down of its own accord. Karla knows she should be paying attention to what Warren is doing--his teeth are grazing the side of her neck, something that never fails to earn a gasp--but she just can't get beyond this sudden sense of fear. Where is it coming from?
You can't have this body. This body is promised to him.
Karla stands up, almost forgetting Warren's presence entirely. The back of her dress gapes, letting in the cold air. It's no longer a warm day in early autumn. Now it's the bitterness of the end of fall; harvest done, the dying season is upon them. With that chill comes another, the freezing rage of the Blood pushed past everything warm and human within them.
No. Not again.
She realizes now that this is just a dream--but it is a true dream, a Black Widow dream. These things she is feeling are coming from an outside source: the buzzing, the fear, the cold fury that is spiraling through her. These aren't her emotions washing over her--they're hers.
Jaenelle's.
Hell's fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful.
I won't allow this. I will not submit to this.
"Karla." Warren grabs her hand, spins her roughly to him. They are no longer outside. She recognizes the room that has sprung up around them: it is the ballroom at the estate. All around them are people she recognizes from her uncle's so-called Ruling Council. Their eyes are empty and vacant, and yet they watch with avid, prurient interest. They are dressed for a party and so is he, even though Karla is still in her same little picnic dress; her back bared for everyone to see. That glimpse of bare flesh is enough to make her feel naked, shamed, judged. It is frigid in here now, her fingers and lips turn blue with cold. It is the same, it is Glacia all over again, no it is Briarwood, and now Warren is the Opal Jeweled Warlord who'd attacked her in her chambers. She notices the glint of gold on his finger, before he drags her down for a crushing, bruising kiss, and the room fills with blood as she spirals round and round and down...
No.
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![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
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!]
It is a picnic. She is having a picnic with Warren, with pineapples of both the edible and the kissing variety. They laugh and talk, feeding one another and nipping at each other's fingers. The sun is bright and golden, shining down and keeping them warm, even as the leaves above them are turning orange and crimson. It is a good dream.
Not again. Not again.
Suddenly, the sun dims, hidden by scudding clouds. The wind picks up, causing gooseflesh to raise up on her arms. Warren laughs and holds her closer, rubbing her skin with gentle hands, chiding her for not bringing along a sweater. He pulls her into his lap, wrapping his wings about her as he's done countless times before.
So why is she suddenly afraid? Why are her nerves buzzing?
Sever it this time. Break the link for good. No. Can't. Won't be able to reach him if...
His arms twine around her waist and he begins to press kisses onto her neck and shoulders, marveling at the softness of her skin. The sky turns darker still, until it feels like evening instead of mid-afternoon. The zipper on the back of her dress begins to slide down of its own accord. Karla knows she should be paying attention to what Warren is doing--his teeth are grazing the side of her neck, something that never fails to earn a gasp--but she just can't get beyond this sudden sense of fear. Where is it coming from?
You can't have this body. This body is promised to him.
Karla stands up, almost forgetting Warren's presence entirely. The back of her dress gapes, letting in the cold air. It's no longer a warm day in early autumn. Now it's the bitterness of the end of fall; harvest done, the dying season is upon them. With that chill comes another, the freezing rage of the Blood pushed past everything warm and human within them.
No. Not again.
She realizes now that this is just a dream--but it is a true dream, a Black Widow dream. These things she is feeling are coming from an outside source: the buzzing, the fear, the cold fury that is spiraling through her. These aren't her emotions washing over her--they're hers.
Jaenelle's.
Hell's fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful.
I won't allow this. I will not submit to this.
"Karla." Warren grabs her hand, spins her roughly to him. They are no longer outside. She recognizes the room that has sprung up around them: it is the ballroom at the estate. All around them are people she recognizes from her uncle's so-called Ruling Council. Their eyes are empty and vacant, and yet they watch with avid, prurient interest. They are dressed for a party and so is he, even though Karla is still in her same little picnic dress; her back bared for everyone to see. That glimpse of bare flesh is enough to make her feel naked, shamed, judged. It is frigid in here now, her fingers and lips turn blue with cold. It is the same, it is Glacia all over again, no it is Briarwood, and now Warren is the Opal Jeweled Warlord who'd attacked her in her chambers. She notices the glint of gold on his finger, before he drags her down for a crushing, bruising kiss, and the room fills with blood as she spirals round and round and down...
No.
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!]Tags:
- [warren],
- altering canon cause i can,
- canon catch-up,
- event: battle of agio,
- event: karla to the rescue!,
- jaenelle!,
- post: closed,
- potentially triggering,
- this warning not in jest,
- warning: dark themes ahead!,
- what: playing telephone,
- what: tangled dreaming,
- where: room 218,
- who: gabrielle,
- who: karla
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-10-25 12:17 pm (UTC). . . evidently, her sleep pattern felt this fit the bill, and she shoved her covers away as she sat up and fumbled for a staff that wasn't there. Habit again. "Xe -- Karla? What's going on?"
no subject
Date: 2010-10-25 04:16 pm (UTC)That might be in answer to either Gabrielle or the Portalocity rep that answered.
no subject
Date: 2010-10-25 04:20 pm (UTC)"Go? Right now?"
Like that.
She got a little tangled up in her blankets in the process, but managed to get up and out of bed herself. "Is there anything I can do? Do you need me to come along? Anything?"
no subject
Date: 2010-10-25 04:47 pm (UTC)Blood. There was so much blood. And the possibility of Jaenelle severing the link to her body, of going away. Again. Karla couldn't handle losing Jaenelle once more. She wiped away burgeoning tears. There was no time for this.
"Sit tight," she said, vanishing the bag once her clothes finished shoving themselves inside. "Tell--oh! I should text people." She fished out her phone again, leaving a very helpful message to folks who'd want to know. "Tell people I don't know what's going on, but that I'll do my best to stay out of trouble. I'll be back when I can, okay?"
no subject
Date: 2010-10-25 05:03 pm (UTC)"I understand -- it's something you have to do. Just make it back soon, all right?" she asked. "And be careful."
no subject
Date: 2010-10-25 05:11 pm (UTC)as the fates laughed. "Thank you."Goosebumps still prickled her skin, a remnant of the ice-cold rage she'd felt through the dream. She'd be shivering if her jaw wasn't clenched so tightly.
"I should go," she said when her phone chimed. Portalocity again, with her portal information. "I'm sorry I woke you. But Jaenelle needs me. I know it."
no subject
Date: 2010-10-25 05:15 pm (UTC)Don't talk to Gabrielle about the Fates laughing. She'd just tell you she'd seen them do it literally, fairly recently, and by the way they were skanky."Like I'd know if Xena needed me," she offered -- all her hugs were clingy ones, so she didn't notice anything out of the ordinary there. "I wouldn't stop you from going any more than I hope you'd stop me. Take care of yourself, that's all I ask."
no subject
Date: 2010-10-25 05:30 pm (UTC)She was halfway out the door when something occurred to her. "Gabrielle? Ther is one thing you can do?"
no subject
Date: 2010-10-25 05:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-25 05:42 pm (UTC)And then she was running down the stairs and out of the building.