(Untitled)

[thistledownking]

For immortals, diversions are seldom truly new--they merely enter a kind of renaissance. The gentleman with the thistle-down hair has lately rediscovered the joy of sense manipulation, and he is toying with the many forms that it can take

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[glacianbitch]

Karla is humming to herself, walking down the hall, thinking about the house, almost done and then she's actually moving in. With Chris. And Armand. It's - just -

She takes a detour into the kitchen to look for strawberries, still preoccupied, and the she looks up, holding the plastic box she found. A moment later, it drops to the floor as Karla's hands move to her stomach and she stares, snapping up a shield automatically, rage and fear warring viciously. She begins to shake, staring at the illusion of her uncle with mingled hatred and horror, hardly able to move, and unable to even judge that he isn't there, that he couldn't be here, that Jaenelle would kill him if he were.

She is eight again, under his control and his eyes, and Morton isn't here, her voice frozen in her throat so she can't call for him.

[opal_escort]

But it's only a few moments before Morton is there, entering the room at a run as he picks up on her fear and distress, and Morton sees him too. He also snarls and throws up his own sheild around hers, but by the time it really conciously registers that it is their uncle standing before them, the illusion has already begun to fade in his eyes. "Karla," he says once so that she can recognize his voice before he throws his arms around her and holds her tightly and protectively.

[glacianbitch]

She flinches for a moment at the contact, but just as quickly she is clinging to him desperately, shaking hard and very nearly crying, but fighting back the tears she can, furious that someone would do this, because it begins to fade for her as well, strangely translucent. She doesn't say anything for the moment, unsure how well she could control her voice.

[opal_escort]

He doesn't say anything either, just holds her more tightly, nearly shaking himself but with rage. For now his primary and only concern is Karla, but once she has recovered, whomever has frightened his cousin this badly is going to die.

[glacianbitch]

She clings rather desperately. "Oh, dammit," she says finally, in a shaky voice, "I feel like I'm going to cry now and that would be stupid." She's very grateful that he's there. Otherwise, she thinks she just might collapse in a heap on the floor. Her knees are not very steady.

[opal_escort]

"It's alright," he says, still holding her tight and holding her up if necessary. "Do you want me to take you to the Hall?"

[glacianbitch]

She nods, breathing in comforting Morton-smell, synonymous with safety and home. "Please."

[opal_escort]

He nods and turns, one arm still tight around her as he escorts her toward the Hall, and the Darkness help any male who comes too close on the way who isn't First Circle, Armand or Chris. Karla's distress has him on edge.