Irradict, inconsistent and totally unpredictable, Julian's little darling leads a mad hatter life, much to exasperation of her father and anyone he sends to try and watch after her. But she is the way she is in large part because her father, her elder brother and certain uncles who have sheltered her, spoiled her and given her the complete freedom and security she needs to do and be what ever it is that pleases her.

She exists in the realm Paul started a few years ago -- the now [in]famous Strange Bedfellows

Tidbits for Brieanne not found at Paul's site are her Survival Tips.

"I saw someone turn into a bunch of potted daisies once... Always wanted to pick one just to see what'd be missing when he turned back...." 
--Brieanne, speculating on the dangers of shape shifting.

Player contributions, plots, stories and our takes on each other can all be found on the Strange Bedfellows Contributions page. A lot of Amber fiction that just never made it to amberfic@logrus.org

Early Trump

      Seated on a large, sun-drenched rock jutting out into a large stream sits a rather young, barefooted woman. A wreath of spring flowers crowns her head, the intertwining branches of cherry blossoms, forsythia and apple blossoms binding up the softer stemmed flowers. An unruly mane of sun-streaked blonde hair flows our from beneath it, and occasionally through it.
      Bare toes reach to the water's edge, her elbows rest on her knees, her chin supported by her clasped hands. The sparkling blue water that flows past her matches her eyes, the cherry blossoms the hue in her cheeks. A small, mischievous smile graces her freckled face, promising adventures and pranks. A picture of childhood innocence kept.
      Lurking in the glittering water, the crevices of the rock and the budding brush behind her is the fearsome visage of the Storm Hounds. Blending in so well that the casual observer would not see them, but balefully watching the holder of the card. And rearing up in the needles of the pines, challenging those who see him, is the legendary Morgenstern.
      Looking back to the sweet faced young woman, one notices the fingers of a faint shadow that delicately brushes her cheeks. It stretches out across the card, vanishing off the other edge; the mark of an ever watchful hawk soaring over head.

"You become a part of his shadow until he caves in to your desire just so he can be rid of you so nicely that he doesn't feel inclined to do anything dreadful to you in the process."