While Warren searched his father's office--and had politely told her that no, he really didn't need help--Karla prowled about his old bedroom, looking and poking and examining at this part of Warren's life she'd never expected to see. This had been his room since he was old enough to have one of his own, and she could see layers of his life here, ( Read more... )

Karla did not want to be awake right now. She wanted to be asleep, huddled under her covers (under a blanket with the skyline of New Gotham, one of the only remnants of the city left, no Dinah Dinah, no, I miss you) and cuddling her stuffed Arcerian cat, so old and worn and battered it was hard to tell what kind of beastie it had been, once upon a ( Read more... )

Karla checked her itinerary another time, waiting for the portal that would take her home. Seven layovers, including a long one in...Revolutionary France? Huh. That sounded interesting. Maybe she'd pick up some tips for her eventual bid to regain Glacia from her uncle--wait. No reason to think of that now. Nope, no thinking, time to look over the ( Read more... )

It hadn’t come as a surprise to either of them, which was a comfort even if it didn’t make the words any easier. But they had both known what was going to happen from the moment she’d called and asked to meet up. It had been coming for awhile now. It wasn’t that there was something wrong--if there had been, there might have been something to fix- ( Read more... )