Tales of the Ice Harpy from Glacia

Karla could hardly contain her excitement. She'd gotten a psychic thread from Helene earlier in the afternoon, requesting her presence at the meeting hall that evening. All day, apprentice and journeymaid Black Widows had been cleaning and airing out the building, the last of the patients having returned home to recuperate the evening before. That could have just been Helene's common sense sense at work. No one who could read psychic scents would want to gather in a makeshift hospital; too much pain and fear and discomfort lingered in the walls.

Common sense or no, Karla was fairly certain that wasn't why the young Black Widows had spent all day diligently scrubbing down every inch of the building.

When a journeymaid proved herself adept at the Craft and practices of the Hourglass, she was acknowledged by her coven and promoted, receiving an hourglass pendant with all of the sand in the lower half as visible proof to all that she was a student no longer, but a full-fledged Black Widow. Karla had been a journeymaid for years, since before leaving Helene's coven to return to the estate and Hobart. In the intervening years, she'd grown up, practiced her Craft, helped friends and acquaintances work through mental and emotional trauma, founded a village to save Black Widows, and rule Haven as Queen for a full season. If there was a more thorough way to prove herself worthy of attaining full Black Widow status, she couldn't think of what it was.

So, after putting in her day in the fields and eating a hearty dinner (not that Warren was around to see, blast him), Karla got ready for her investiture ceremony. She reluctantly decided against wearing Widows Weeds (not everyone had theirs and it would be rude seem too eager), so she settled for a nice dress and brushing her hair and then blithely skipping her way from their cottage to the meeting hall.

She had a cheerful smile for Helene when an apprentice opened the door and led her way in, one that turned into brilliant when she saw who else had shown up. Jaenelle and Gabrielle had also been invited--Helene must have considered this a very special occasion indeed. Her smile faltered a moment later when she saw Luthvian's forbidding countenance near her friends, but regained its merriness when she realized Helene had probably just invited every Black Widow Karla knew. And it never hurt to be polite to the mother of Saetan's youngest son.

This was probably going to be one of the happiest nights of Karla's life.

( Spoiler: It wasn't )

[NFB for long-distance. For interaction if you'd have a reason to be around and/or want to deal with a sobbing witch. After this post, Karla and co are back on-island!]

Saetan Daemon SaDiablo, Warlord Prince of Dhemlan, High Priest of the Hourglass, and High Lord of Hell, was having a good day. Mrs. Beale had made his favorite lunch today, he had a new book from Halaway, a Winsol gift from Sylvia, and there had been no cringing tutors or fretting merchants come to beg audience about something one of the boyos, or--worse yet--one of the coven had done. It was a good day to be Saetan.

It was about to get precipitously worse.

*High Lord?* Beale's psychic thread sounded oddly...odd. Saetan couldn't quite place his tone. *You have a...guest.*

*Who?* Most of his attention was still on the book, it was true. *Send them in.*

*...She's on her way already, Prince,* Beale sent. It was impossible to wince over a psychic thread and yet Saetan had the distinct impression that he did. But he didn't get a chance to probe further before there was a sharp rap on the door and Karla slipped in.

"Prince SaDiablo," she said, coming a few steps into his study. She then gave a precise curtsy, Queen to ranking Warlord Prince. Saetan said nothing for a moment, regarding her. There were many reasons Karla might choose to use his titles; they hadn't spoken much since the disaster in Agio and she could still be harboring ill-feelings towards him. But her curtsy, now, that told him much. Karla was adhering to Protocol.

Which meant that he wasn't dealing with his adopted niece, or even his daughter's best friend. He was dealing with the incipient Territory Queen of Glacia.

He could be forgiven his slight trepidation, right? Especially if he didn't tell anyone about it?

"Lady," Saetan murmured, rising from his chair and bowing back to her. "What brings you to my study?"

Karla tilted her chin up the slightest bit, even as her psychic scent swirled with apprehension, and said, "I thought it best to inform you that I will be having my Virgin Night in three days' time."

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

[Continued in comments. NFI, NFB, Karla will be back in plenty of time for NYE festivities. Conversation has veered into discussion of sexual abuse. Trigger warning in effect.]

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 entered the dining room, still a little stiff from the workout. The first hour she'd spent in the tub had helped relax her, but the twenty minute catnap she'd taken (while still in the tub) had stiffened her muscles up again. It had taken her several minutes to descend the grand staircase to the ground floor and she didn't even want to discuss how long it had taken her to get dressed for dinner. ( She was still trying to decide just how stupid she was for letting her pride dictate heading to the dining hall instead of asking for dinner on a tray. )

[NFI, NFB, OOC is love. Text adapted from Chapter 11, Part 1 of Heir to the Shadows by Anne Bishop. This brief canon catch-up brought to you by Lunacon and sleepiness. Over and Karla will be back on Monday.]

Part Two

Jaenelle ghosted down the stairs, tipping a wink and a smile at Beale and Karla—who had both diligently returned to the task of plant care—before setting her face into a polite mask and entering the drawing room. ( The door remained open. )

(Part Two of Two. NFB, NFI, OOC=pie. Adapted from chapter eight of Anne Bishop's Heir to the Shadows.)

The landing web beckoned Karla, and she launched herself out of the Winds down to the brightly glowing Jewels below. Landing neatly, she took a moment just to inhale. It smelled of Kaeleer; of strong, dark psychic scents tempered with kindness and the need to protect. Of plants and herbs that only grew here. Of wildlife and water and, most importantly, of Witch.

"Lady Karla, it is a pleasure to see you again."

"Beale!" Karla grinned, running up to the doorway of the Hall. The Red-Jeweled Warlord gave her a warm smile of welcome--more emotion than the impassive butler usually allowed--at least until he caught a hint of her psychic scent. Then, without warning, he reached down, scooped her in his arms, and began carrying her toward the High Lord's study.

Karla was a little annoyed and a little embarrassed that he was carrying her and also a little flattered that he hadn't called one of the footmen to do it. Though from the way Holt had gone by them to shut the door, some kind of message had been sent on a spear thread. Males, she thought fondly.

( Uncle Saetan was sitting behind his great blackwood desk when she was deposited in his office. )


[Establishy. NFI, NFB, OOC is love]