fandomhighdorms | Main Campfire, Friday Evening

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Main Campfire, Friday Evening

Once the sun went down, a rather spectacularly large bonfire was lit for the party. No, Merlin was not aware it was now celebrated on the first of May. Calenders change, after all.

There was even a crudely constructed maypole there in case anyone felt the need to dance around it. They did so at their own peril, of course. The mockery that may ensue would probably be great.

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"Do you go to the theater often?" Karla asked, cheerfully. "Where are you from anyway?"

"I've never been," she admitted.

It hadn't been allowed.

"And I'm from California. It's on the other side of this country. This time as well."

"What's it like in California?" she asked. "You said it's very different from Fandom, even though you're from this time?"

"It's not so much not like California as my home was run very strictly. It usually means I need half the things someone is talking about explained to me."

"Only half?" Karla laughed. "That means you're still doing better than me. Everything about this place is new to me. I'm reading my very first bit of this world's literature right now, Macguff. Have you read it?"

She shook her head.

"I haven't. That's one of those things that wasn't allowed. Anything fictional."

She shrugged and nodded to the fire.

"What's it about?"

"..."

Karla looked like she was about to question, then chose not to. She would rather not ask question until she knew how confortable Fiona was with answering. There were plenty of topics Karla herself might broach, but didn't wish to have pursued further.

"It's a play about a warrior who gets a prophecy that he'll become king one day. I'm glad someone explained to me what kings are. But I had to figure out thanes for myself. And the depiction of withches? Ha! Don't get me started."

Edited 2009-05-17 02:29 (UTC)

She was a little confused.

"Why would things be accurate to how things are in reality when the whole concept of the genre is to write about things that aren't real?"

"Because even things that are not real have to feel real," Karla explained. "In Kaeleer, at least, readers can only suspend so much disbelief before they get fed up."

For Karla, she was suspending disbelief that males would really get to rule. The witches were a bit much.

"I guess," she said, mostly because she was a beginner at this 'fiction' stuff.

"Can you suspend your disbelief far enough for the play?"

"Oh definitely!" Karla enthused. "Other than the witches, this play is very interesting. Lady Macgruff is a wonderful female; I don't know why they keep painting her as a villain. Though when this play is over, I believe I shall write a letter to Lord Shakespeare and explain to him how witches truly behave."

"I don't think that will work very well," she said with a slight wince, "as he's been dead for something like four hundred years now."

Karla waved that away as inconsequential. "But if he's demon-dead, then the High Lord of Hell will simply inform him that he has correspondence. Or...wait. Do you mean he's already faded into the Darkness?"

Karla really hasn't grasped the differences between 'dead' in Kaeleer and 'dead' in this world.

Those would be very wide eyes from Fiona.

"I have no idea," she reported, far too quickly.

"And I'm not asking. I mean. No. I have no idea. Dead is dead and he's dead and you can't get any mail when you're dead."

And these would be very confused looks from Karla.

"What do you mean? Of course you can get mail when you're dead. Or does this world's High Lord not care about those in his desmesnes?"

"I don't know. I'm not calling him to ask."

Oh dear everything, she'd just said she could call him to ask.

"He doesn't strike me as the type to forward mail anyway."

At least for most people.

Karla filed that information away for later.

"I wonder..." Karla thought for a minute. "I wonder if your High Lord is the same as mine. I doubt it, as mine is quite conscientious about such things. Perhaps I should present myself to him anyway, out of courtesy." Karla made a face. "Is yours very high-handed, too? Such a male. He worked with my cousin to send me here."

"He's a gambler," she said with a touch of grousing, "and he likes to manipulate people and only tell them what's going on after he's succeeded."

"Oh that doesn't sound like the High Lord I know at all," Karla declared. "Well, know isn't really the right term. He's my best friend's guardian. But he's been the High Lord of Hell for at least 40,000 years, and the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan for longer than that. And the one thing everyone agrees on is that he is honorable."

"One of his nicknames is the Deceiver," she said quietly.

"I read about some of it, but I don't know much else."

"Then he's most certainly NOT my High Lord." Perhaps she didn't want to be presented to this version after all...

"But," she said with a lift of her head, the kind of defensive action you can only take when someone is talking about your own blood, "he's never lied to me or my brother. And he's always acted honorably with us."

That touched a nerve. "Is he kin to you?" she asked.

A long pause before she gave a quick, fast nod.

She wouldn't say anything else and if she said 'keep it to yourself' any louder it would be a non-verbal shout.

Normally, Karla was a little oblivious to things like that. However, even she wasn't that blind.

"Tell me about your brother. Is he also in Fandom?" she asked, as if the topic change happened naturally.

Main Campfire, Friday Evening

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