Kara's blog
Ramblings in a Poitainian Spring
I like Tinabula. Power there, and strength behind the smile and occasional giggliness. Perceptive also.
Why pray here rather than the Temple at Fort Conviction?
I looked about the Chapel in Caenna, its old familiarity, the scent of incense still flavoured with Baione flowers as it was when my mother prepared it, for I follow the same recipe.... Safety here, calmness. A place that has always been. For much as I strive to build Invicta's new home strong, there is a nagging fear that perhaps it will go the way of Fort Invicta
Preparing the Feast
After a strong-minded barbarian, reading strange texts in the dark. To fulfil what is set before me.
Cold, bleak...the frosting drips from the cloth as my breath warms it just enough...blinding me. Tear off the enfolding troubling veil.
Plunged deep under, can Not breathe! Panic! No, trust!
Cold, so cold. Hot, so warm...so enfolding.
Sparks, light, torch. It cannot be! He can not be here!
Caw! Kraw! Krawr!
So much to do, so many invitations, so many preparations... Food, exotic and plain, for each guest. Needed, as my love ordered. Silks, satins, wines... so much to do!
Winter musings of the new Lady Kemena Maxtentius, Baroness of Baione
So much changing. Yet through it all my wonderful Aurelius. Though he is not here as often as either of us would like. Yet that we knew... that he would always have contracts taking him far from Poitain at times. And since he was ennobled by the King for all the services that Invicta have rendered the throne, his responsibilities have grown.
Sturmgarde is gone, swept away in the tide of the White Hand rushing down from the Eiglophians. All that scouting at least meant we were able to get everyone to safety and warn our friends beforehand as well. Perhaps the King's advisors will send word for us to rebuild, though currently we do have these Zingaran bandits becoming more and more troublesome, along with those redundant mercenaries camping on the borders of Baione.
The Knight and the Many-Haired Maiden
Long ago and far away there was a golden-haired princess and a raven-haired princess. And they had many adventures together. And when they adventured together their tales always started thus, “Once upon a time in a land filled with peace…..”
But this is the tale of when the raven-haired princess thought her hair was brown. And of the Knight who rescued her. And of the Wizard who wove the path through the mist for them both back to reality.
Of Cows and Moki
Kemena startles out of her reverie, looking down from the sky.
GAH! Argas' voice shouting on the emblem. What is up with the cows around here?
Why are you yelling? from Shalise
I walk out of the fort, and a herd of cows attack me!
She interjects They are a bit spooked with all the autumn cattle roundups.
Letters, notices and parcels
The young Mitran priestess smiles as she tacks up a notice on the Keep wall and peruses it one last time for any spelling errors. She places it next to the one asking Invictans to keep looking for any sight or sound of Caradoc.
~Brethren and Sistren of Invicta, be it known that the Petals of Derketo will no longer conduct any ..Rituals..with you. They apparently were under the mistaken impression that we do not take out contracts on them and are offended to find that is not so. Rejoice! For now your coin will not be wasted. For those that have genuine religious needs, perhaps seek out the Imam Maziken for his recommendations.~
WAR comes to Kemena, part 2
The man strides angrily past the many guards of the sweltering compound into a burnt-red chamber of the fortress half as old as time. It is time for her to be given another dose but right now he needs her awake and at least partly able to talk. He lifts the slight body of the young woman in blue, growling into her face as her fugged mind and eyes try to focus on his mohawk.
I have something I need you to do woman.
Blinking and mumbling, the only clear words she gets out are Rel.
Oh, you're about to talk to him, my dear. He slaps her hard across the face. Dagger point under her chin to quell her struggles.
-sharp-
WAR comes to Kemena, part 1
Reverie on a wedding, a battle and a kidnapping
Focus.
*Giggles*
I recall how often Hroth says that to Terri. But it is true.... I should focus on these stitches. Here as I wait for my love to awaken. Sitting and trying to sew the neatest of stitches for a gown I shall wear on that day Relius wishes me to be his Queen. But my talents lie with cooking and baking, distilling and the mystical properties of herbs and roots as they both transform taste and cure or protect.
Ah, protection... I wove a wedding wreath of myrtle for Hroth, with the love of a sister in it. And all the many sweet-smelling flowers in Terri's chaplet were there to enhance the love of that day and protect her.
*The hem drops to her lap as she gazes at the swallows darting beyond the window, up betimes as she is. Falling into reverie*
They needed that protection ...though Aurelius had it all well in hand, as always.
Memories, and today
Today... silence ... So very rare ...never silence in a mill. But today there was, the sails down for repair.
Except... not quite.
One slow faint creak... then quiet again. Crea-a-ak.
Papa? A quavering voice as she steps in, the tall building so oddly silent.
Quiet, cool in the shadows within.
Crea-a-ak.
Throwing a stone at the mouse, reflexively. Perhaps he is drunk again. But no, he said he was going to work on the sails all day.
Crea-a-ak.
Papa? ... Mama... Stopping...What was it she had seen. She wasn't sure. Up high in the foothills of the Rabirians, just what had she seen? Mama picking flowers... meeting someone.... then?
Crea-a-ak
Memories: the first
The first
Help! Heeeellp! The high-pitched squeal clamoured for attention.
Kem sat wedged above the screaming golden girl, mostly silent as she still tried to think of ways down from the fig tree.
It had all gone so well, this perfect day till now. First time allowed up to the big house with Mamma. Picking roses had been fun in the sun, the rich scent hovering over the bushes and baskets. Now she knew where this smell Mamma often wore about her came from.
Peach juice and honeycakes from the cook, then the distraction of the kitten gambolling by. Followed by the golden girl chasing it.
Hello, who are you? I'm Terri. Want to come play?
A glance to Mamma still talking with the cook; with a nod from her, Kem ran after the taller girl.
