[The celebrations that had greeted her in this place, candy making, ice skating, cabins, none of it held any particular draw to her, but this is different, this is important. It's been a long time since she's been to any kind of Yule celebration, though she still holds herself apart when she arrives. Ivar is the closet to her home, but the Agardians leave her a little unsure, a little wary.
Kara watches from the sidelines, at first, rarely straying far from the table where the alcohol sits, though she does indulge in some of the food as well. She doesn't cook much, she can go long periods without eating and it's always felt a bit like a waste of time, but it's nice to eat something that she can imagine her mother having made, no matter how distant those memories are.
Despite the chill in the air, she wears no furs, no jacket; leather tights and a long sleeved backless shirt. The cold doesn't really bother her, she'll be cool to the touch if anyone's brave enough to get that close, but it takes more than snow to freeze her.]
late
[Eventually, and with the help of some mushrooms (though the effects are dulled by her metabolism) Kara finally lets loose. The fire roars and the music is heavy in her chest and the blood from the sacrifice smells sharp where she had it painted on her.
For the first time in a very long time, Kara feels alive. There's something a little feral and vicious in the way she dances, because she was human once but she is a thing born from violence, made for violence, and it sings in her blood when she isn't trying to tamp it down. She is worlds away from her gods and this sacrifice may not be for her, but there's a power in this that she can taste in the air. For those who know how to look, sometimes the feathers at her back are visible through the veil of magic that hides them.
If not dancing and caught under the mistletoe, she has no qualms about following the tradition, especially not on a night like tonight.]
kara styrdottir | ota
[The celebrations that had greeted her in this place, candy making, ice skating, cabins, none of it held any particular draw to her, but this is different, this is important. It's been a long time since she's been to any kind of Yule celebration, though she still holds herself apart when she arrives. Ivar is the closet to her home, but the Agardians leave her a little unsure, a little wary.
Kara watches from the sidelines, at first, rarely straying far from the table where the alcohol sits, though she does indulge in some of the food as well. She doesn't cook much, she can go long periods without eating and it's always felt a bit like a waste of time, but it's nice to eat something that she can imagine her mother having made, no matter how distant those memories are.
Despite the chill in the air, she wears no furs, no jacket; leather tights and a long sleeved backless shirt. The cold doesn't really bother her, she'll be cool to the touch if anyone's brave enough to get that close, but it takes more than snow to freeze her.]
late
[Eventually, and with the help of some mushrooms (though the effects are dulled by her metabolism) Kara finally lets loose. The fire roars and the music is heavy in her chest and the blood from the sacrifice smells sharp where she had it painted on her.
For the first time in a very long time, Kara feels alive. There's something a little feral and vicious in the way she dances, because she was human once but she is a thing born from violence, made for violence, and it sings in her blood when she isn't trying to tamp it down. She is worlds away from her gods and this sacrifice may not be for her, but there's a power in this that she can taste in the air. For those who know how to look, sometimes the feathers at her back are visible through the veil of magic that hides them.
If not dancing and caught under the mistletoe, she has no qualms about following the tradition, especially not on a night like tonight.]