Tales of the Ice Harpy from Glacia

Hercules was no stranger to construction work, having spent time with Damage Control in their rebuilding efforts in New York. Having managed to catch wind of Karla's efforts, he had come to help out. Thankfully dressed in proper clothes and not his heroing attire.

Though the fact he had a chihuahua in a baby Bjorn did stand out a bit.

And despite his little doggy-handicap, he was pitching in heartily and selflessly. He may have been a man of boasts and brags, but he was also a man who knew a proper day's labor. And for a good cause, he not only would not complain, but toil with a sense of thankfulness in his heart.

He did, however, take the chance to catch his student at a moment where they could talk.

"This is the land of your birth?" he asked, thinking it a good starter question.

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Karla had been surprised when a chance ~~and handwavy~~ meeting at the Perk had resulted in Hercules volunteering to come along--and also the chihuahua, not going to lie--but she wasn't about to turn down help, either. Especially not from someone who could give Lucivar a run for his money as far as builds went.

"The same Realm, yes," Karla said with a smile. "But a different Territory. This is Arceria, home to the great Arcerian cats." She pointed at Kaelas, a half-grown cat. A half-grown cat who was, in fact, floating several boards over to a group of males working on what would be another cottage. An Opal Jewel rested on his ruff. "I'm from Glacia, the Territory over the mountains to the west."

Not very far to the west, either. Deliberately so.

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Hercules once wrestled with Lockjaw. Telekinetic cats were practically blase. He nodded as Karla spoke, listening carefully to her words.

"Glacia sounds like it should be covered in ice," Hercules said. "Is it a cold and blustery place?"

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"Only about six months out of the year," Karla said with a laugh. "Summer lasts maybe seven weeks total and even in the south, midwinter sees us snowed in for at least a few weeks."

The north was more mountains where the snow never melted and pine forests and deep lochs.

"It's cold and it's sometimes stark but..." she sighed, homesick. "It's home."

Or rather, it had been. Awhile ago.

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"That is always the way of home. At least when you are young enough to still have one!" Hercules said, punctuated with a bit of a laugh. "So now is when I ask the most important question of all..."

"...what are your intentions with my young fellow Champion?"

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Karla almost asked 'who,' but there was only one person who someone would be asking about her intentions toward. "Warren?" she asked, voice almost a squeak.

She glanced over towards him and began to blush furiously, even as a small grin refused to stop hovering around her mouth.

"I--uhh--I love him." That, at least, was easy enough. "And while I don't want him to feel like I have any expectations of him, or make him feel like he has to join me here...any future I picture without him in it just feels wrong."

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"Hmmmm," Hercules said, pondering that one for a moment. "That is very honest. Ahhh, young love. But are you not some sort of royalty? Is that future compatible with your feelings?"

Hey, he was curious.

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"It will be difficult, but not in the way you're picturing, I think," Karla admitted, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ears and wiping the sweat off her forehead. "There's nothing like arranged marriages for political gain in Kaeleer."

Being a matriarchy helped with that.

"But Warren isn't Blood. That will be held against him in some circles. I know it's something Uncle Saetan worries about. It will be difficult, I'm sure. But not impossible."

She slanted Hercules a curious glance. "Why?"

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"The last royal I fell in love with chucked me away because she wished to marry her cousin," Hercules said by way of explanation. "But... your uncle is Satan? Is that where your power comes from?"

He was completely misunderstanding, of course.

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Raven also had little idea of what she was doing and she didn't have the physical strength for the heavy lifting tasks, but she helped out where she could as best as she was able, trying to make up for lack of skill with enthusiasm.

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Karla made a horrible face. "Marrying Morton?" she exclaimed. "Eeew, no. Never. That's not anything Warren will ever have to worry about. That much I can promise you, no problems."

Ew ew ew! Even if he wasn't her cousin, he was still Morton.

And while they were clearing up misconceptions... "Different Saetan," she explained, having had this conversation enough at Fandom to expect it. "High Lord of Hell, yes, but he has nothing to do with the one you're thinking of. He's a good male. And my power comes from being Blood, same as his does. But our powers don't come from him." There was a bit of handwaving there, as if that would make everything clear.

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wwiii

Heavy lifting? Manual labor? While Warren wasn't exactly experienced with things like this, he was certainly made for it, with upper body strength and stamina that meant that a lack of craft wasn't slowing him down in the least. Not when he could not only lift more than the average human, but could fly with it, too.

If that meant that he was more or less delegated to the "go get that" roles, he was fine with that. It still meant that he was out here, doing something.

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Hercules was formerly a demigod. That actually made complete sense to him.

"Then now I suppose all I shall have to do is get to know you better. Just to see if you are good enough for him." He gave her a disarming smile, though, to let her know he wasn't being too serious.

"After all, there are many who have tried to woo the heart of Warren Worthington the third, and I'm not saying they were gold diggers, but some were not suitable for him."

Said Hercules, who could win all sorts of 'who has slept with whom in the Marvel Universe' bingo games.

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"I've said thank you for this, right?" Karla asked, pausing to give her friend a hug. "Like a million times?"

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"You have," Raven said with a smile, hugging her back. "And you are very welcome. I am glad there is something I can do here to help."

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kindrednotkind.livejournal.com

Kaelas...had a problem. And usually he would go to Lucivar with problems like these, but Lucivar wasn't here and the boyos who were were still sniffing around their respective females and doing the mating dance. Kaelas needed to talk to someone who knew what he was doing.

*Warren?* he sent, padding along as Warren prepared his next load. *You are Lady Karla's mate, right?*

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"Warren is too good for me," Karla admitted. January still hung over her like a shadow sometimes. "For one thing...he's just good. Kind and compassionate and forgiving."

Towards everyone but himself, but Karla wasn't going to share that with random teachers, especially one who mostly knew some other version of Warren, like the old, pouty, blue one.

"But I'm willing to live out my whole life trying to bridge that gap."

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"The more I look around and see this turning into an actual village, the better I feel," Karla said. "We're making progress. Soon, we'll have somewhere for the Black Widows to go."

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"How much longer do you think it will be?" Raven said, glancing around. She could tell a lot of progress had been made, but she wasn't a good enough judge to know if it was enough.

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"I have no idea," Karla admitted. "But pretty soon. Once we get a few of the roofs on, we can start bringing people over. Conditions'll be cramped and crowded for a bit, but better than the alternative."

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"And as people arrive they will be able to help prepare for the others," Raven mused. "Do you have a plan to bring them here? Or will you need me to teleport them as we have discussed?"

She was eager to help if that was the plan, but considering she'd promised Karla she could come with her, she almost hoped there was an alternative.

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Hercules opened and shut his mouth a few times, as this conversation had gotten incredibly serious on him.

"How old are you?" he finally asked, because this sort of sentiment was either incredibly mature or incredibly naive."

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"Um." Well, hello, Kaelas. Warren blinked and set down his armload of lumber, turning to face the massive kitten. "I suppose that's a good word for it, sure."

They weren't exactly actively looking for, er, kittens yet. But it was probably about as accurate as the terms got, when talking to a kindred.

"What's up?"

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The answer was 'both.' It just varied by the day, sometimes the hour, and frequently the topic.

"Seventeen," Karla said, with a shrug. "A seventeen year old exiled Queen building a refugee village for her people. If that helps any."

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