From being an Abandoned who had rarely left the Hollowed Grounds, to embracing the call of adventure, to dying and being reborn first as an Ascended and then as an Ancient, Maea has gone through quite the amount of changes in her life. One thing remains common, though, in her attempts to find out just where she belongs; she’s always had a craving for knowledge which has brought her to so many places and to meet so many people here in Caido. We can’t wait to see what else is in store for her!
Congratulations, Maea!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
Okay, so she hadn't exactly considered magic. With a laugh, Evie concedes the point easily, his juvenile humor infectious. "I've just given you another project haven't I?" It would be delightful to see such a permanent manner of magic, and the science-minded part of her wants to linger on the topic, dissecting the hows and whys of magically imbued elements and how they operated. But there is a youth at their feet and dinner almost done. Not nearly enough time to ponder such things.
The timer on the oven goes off and distracts her from further investigating Deimos' sly motives. Rescuing the fish from its depths, she sets it on top of the oven to begin to cool, opening a small pocket in the foil for the steam to escape so it would not overcook the fillets inside. Her portion done, Evie turns back to Deimos and steps over Micah to join him at the counter, forearms bracing and leaning over it with a jut of her hips. "Could always make a magically warmed coat," she says with a tiny smile, rebounding the solution of 'magic' later in the conversation. "Though Gods know you need an excuse to get out of this region sometimes." It's spoken fondly, but Kiada living outside of the mountainous ranges was a benefit when it came to forcing Deimos to take breaks and vacations.
His head was eternally full of machinations, calculations, ponderings, and wonderings – some in useful facets, and others diving and delving into notions and inquiries. It kept him busy and mostly out of trouble, given his restless nature, so he grinned again at the semblances. “I will add it to the list.” It might’ve been a project put on the back burner, but a consideration for the future nonetheless. Perhaps he could even put some of the soldiers to the test – they’d probably enjoy it.
But the timer went off, distracting the semblances away and the focus and attention upon dinner. While Deimos made the dressings, some other sweetened vinaigrette portion to accompany the strawberry, spinach, and pecan flavoring, Evie tended to the fish. His stomach rumbled in joined and candid instances, and he snorted in response, listening to her ideas as the food came together. “I can bring it up to her,” because he wasn’t going to make something she didn’t want or had no intentions to utilize.
The other remark though made his head shoot upwards, jokingly offended, because he had left the summits recently. “I get out.” Raising one of his hands, he started rattling off the locations one by one, fingers raised in each interval. “Swamps.” Though it wasn’t one bit amusing. “Desert.” To get bones alongside the rest of their brethren, herself included. “The Climb.” For obsidian with Alys while simultaneously delegating and avoiding the Grounds. Surely those counted for something.
under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed
Chuckling fondly under her breath at his plainly shameless answer, Evie once again shelves the long-held thought that perhaps he needs an intervention and instead focuses on their nearly-done meal. Micah - beginning to doze in the middle of the kitchen floor as his fully belly catches up to him - doesn't seem to understand why she needs to eat, clearly believing his own fullness to be universal, and Evie stifles her laugh when she figures out that strange bit of logic through their new bond.
Deimos' rumbling stomach makes her smirk at him, though her own pangs silently in agreement. Even the salad smells amazing, and it barely has a smell at all until Deimos drizzles the vinaigrette over it.
Retrieving plates and utensils, Evie dishes them up with the fish and slides them over for Deimos to anoint their surfaces with salad. Only to snort, shooting down his examples. "And how many of those still count if you take away any that were for the sake of work or the seasonal celebration?" If he can provide an example maybe she will lower her daring eyebrow and silence her mirthfully twisting lips.
Unaware of any intervention intentions, and the salad completed, the Sword dished it out in residual silence, waiting for the impending backlash. Sure enough, as he layered the food upon their plates, the rebuttal was swift and unrefuted, and for a moment he simply snorted. An instant later, with the air of calculations and answers stewing within his mind, he couldn’t quite find a reasonable excuse, and merely pouted.
Bringing their plates, and then the bowl, over to the table and pulling out chairs for them, he still commenced with some manner of argument. “None, but,” for some counter needed to be waged, “All of those tasks were necessary,” and that probably wasn’t going to work. Eyes narrowing, he waged further invocations, intending to provide a distraction from the thought that maybe, despite his best efforts, he wasn’t granting himself the freedom, liberation, and amusements that he'd promised when taking on the Warden role. Thoroughly caught and snared, puffing out his cheeks, the incoming counter was lame, but he still presided it in hopes she’d snatch at those options, rather than another call out. “Ru said she’d journeyed to the oasis in the desert recently. I could fly us there.”
under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed
Smugness is unbecoming as her mother would say, but Evie stopped being the ill-fitting prodigal child long ago and indulges heavily as her beloved pouts. In truth she knows it is who he is at heart, heedless of the health of those choices, and Evie would not want to change that in any way. Even when she worries and teases and (sometimes) nags.
Following in his wake, Evie could repeat his argument in her sleep at this point, and the rote nature has her smiling at her plate as she sits down in the chairs he pulls for them. "I'm sure they were, and you know I always admire your work ethic." It is also why they work so well together as Wardens given Evie can sink into papers and journals in a way that would make Sam proud. "But you also know I like to see you relaxing just for yourself." And usually that is within the sanctum of their home, but Evie cannot steal all his time and relaxation - the rest of the world awaits him.
As they begin to indulge (delicious as always given their foodie natures) Deimos surprises her though, and Evie's eyes widen across the table with intrigue as she swallows. "And it's good enough to be worth it? Though if we fly it'll be much cooler in the air." They both hate the desert, but Evie has developed a fondness for adventuring after so many years in Kings End.
He expected her smugness, accepting it because he’d heard the lectures enough from an assortment of friends, family, and loved ones; a modicum of progress and healing that he sometimes forgot entirely. While some measures were readily acknowledged, doing things for himself never had been, and he poked at his food for a moment, striving to drum up a witty retort. Past excuses used to be for roles and responsibilities, or to hide away from any other mounting torments; nowadays it had simply become habit. When none of the responses formed along his mind felt adequate, he simply sighed, spearing portions of salad on his fork. “I know. It is just easy to cast aside, in lieu of everything else.”
Indulging, relaxing, he waited for the curiosity about the oasis to unravel, and wasn’t disappointed. “I am not certain if it is worth it,” as he hadn’t been, wrinkling his nose and shrugging his shoulders. “But she mentioned seeing a lot of plants,” that would be right up Evie’s line of interests. He couldn’t promise actual relaxing either. “Or we could take a trip to King’s End,” as she’d mentioned showing him some of her favored spots, from days amidst and amongst the Wilds.
under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed
She softens, all play vanishing in lieu of understanding as she reaches the short distance between them to touch her fingertips to the back of his hand as he listlessly destroys a poor chunk of lettuce. "I know. And you know that I only remind you because it's my job to take care of you, just like it's yours to take care of me." Pulling her hand back, she tilts a grin at him to lighten the mood. "Unfortunately, humans need rest and self-realization and dreams and other gross, time-wasting things." Spearing a bit of fish, she winks at him and pops it into her mouth.
Meanwhile, the notion of new plant species makes her eyes widen immediately after, childlike in her fixation. Only to then wrinkle her nose a moment later, considering. Were they worth going through the desert, even in the skies? Evie is rather stubborn and set in her ways after all, and her hatred of the desert is something she is willing to petulantly stick to even if it means losing out on her beloved plants.
Luckily Deimos proposes an alternative, and Evie is more than willing to agree to that. "Oh, yes! The pandas!" She hasn't returned to Kings End in quite some time, she wonders if the family units she used to observe have grown. "That. Definitely that. Screw the desert." And she stabs a piece of salad like a gavel descending, solidifying her decision.
Words and touches, figments and realities, tangible things with weight and meaning, pulled him out of the mulishness threatening his features. It was easy to fight off the notions of rest and ease when there were so many other things demanding and commanding their attention, and just as simple for him to fall and fade into old habits. But still, the regrets and rue counterbalanced something along his mind, and he wrinkled his nose once more, striving to peel the right sentiments out of the penchants for melancholy. “I apologize – if I make that difficult.” Because in the past – in the present - maybe he had. Turning his hand over, his fingers gave a light squeeze to hers, before the other palm and its weaponry ultimately skewered the lettuce.
She must have sensed the incoming mood shift, not permitting hm to retreat into those brooding fixtures with a smile and a joke. Releasing her hand, he snorted. “I suppose.” They had theirs after all. His machinations were always at work there.
But he did watch as she ran over the possibilities of upcoming breaks. He’d sacrifice his outright abhorrence and hatred for a land if it meant something out of it – like their rest and relaxation – but Evie seemed even more eager to not fold into the wakes and weights of the desert again. Muffling a laugh in his chest, he glanced back at his plate, chasing after another strawberry while she gave her internal debate.
The alternative was enough anyway – even though he had to blink again and try to visualize a panda. With that decision made, and the corner of his mouth dimpling along another grin, he persisted, striving for new angles. “All right. When?”
under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed
He always worries so much. About her, about Halo and all her people - but about himself most of all. And not in the way Evie would prefer him to. No, he always seems to worry instead about being a burden, and Evie wishes she could comfort him enough times to wear that fear down to nothingness. It hasn’t worked thus far, but Wordsworths were notoriously stubborn, so she hasn’t given up yet. Her hand squeezes back at his own with a warm smile. “Never,” she reassures with all the weight of a vow. “Taking care of you is a privilege. And you’re not too hardheaded, no matter how much I tease you.” She brings his hand up quickly to kiss at his knuckles with smiling lips before letting go so they can continue eating.
It’s a good thing they set leftovers aside ahead of time because Evie wouldn’t be able to contain herself from consuming all of it if she tried. It’s frankly delicious. The only distraction she has is the idea of timing. Mulling it over as she scrapes the last few crumbs of fish onto her fork, Evie considers the giant calendar she has on her wall in the Council Hall. “How about next week? I don’t have any plans down for either of us then.” And it would allow them time to get Warden duties covered and pack for the journey.
Concern, trepidation, and apprehension unfortunately unfurled from lifetimes of losses. Burdens came later, when he was readily tossed aside time after time by those he’d trusted – and had come to meander along the lines of wondering his worth for eternities. Melded together during healing processes and mending revolutions, it still stuck to his throat every now and again, like a barb, like a vice, like a snare. Perhaps the only difference was now he gave it a voice, instead of trying to swallow it down – only to meet her forthcoming reply.
His eyes widened again, an immeasurable relief flaring amidst the blue. Perhaps a light blush along the tip of his nose or a dusting along his cheeks; infinite gratitude and love and liberation all in a glance. “Thank you,” even with the anecdote of his stubborn nature.
Burdens lifted from his shoulders, he consumed portions of the meal with his usual gusto; content with the salmon as he cut more portions of it, listening at the considerations. His fork stilled for a moment at the suggestion, only because next week seemed very close and his mind was already mentally checking off the rampant, and growing, list of things to do – at least in the barracks, or his incoming projects. It was an initial balking that he had to breathe through, and then cast aside, nodding. “Okay. We can make it work.”
under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed
While the touch of color in his skin makes her heart melt, she doesn’t comment on it. He has come so far to be able to open up verbally, so accustomed to relying on the Attuned bond in his past she suspects. Though she often uses a bit of teasing to keep the mood light, moments like these she never does, wanting him to feel safe in his vulnerability. “Always,” she murmurs, the same phrase she always uses when he thanks her for things she believes should be offered without question.
It’s certainly soon, so she is open to alternatives if he needs them. She may have most of their duties and plans on the calendar, but his personal goals and General duties were his own territory that she didn’t unnecessarily pry into. But when he concedes, she trusts that he is being honest and merely nods as she finishes up her salad. From the kitchen Micah waddles out sleepily, clearly having awoken from his impromptu nap and realized he had been abandoned. He flops back down at Evie’s feet and begins purring, a rougher sound than she is accustomed to hearing from house cats and the like. Smiling indulgently down at him, feeling her heart swell with love she hadn’t anticipated to feel so fast, Evie glances up at Deimos. “Don’t think we can put off introductions much longer. Plus it’s getting late.” And they’re both close to finished with their meal. All the was left was to rip the bandaid off and head upstairs to go to bed.
How many times had he ever felt safe? That had aways been his occupation and role – to ensure others were shielded, protected, and guarded in his threshold. To endure the pain, torment, and torture so another didn’t; simplistic, perhaps, but it’d been driven into his mind in youth and never left his machinations – no matter the lifetime, the bridges of memories, or moments spun upon opposing earths. Onslaughts were for him, and repose for the rest. Trust was earned later, when he was certain and sure, when the walls could come down, little by little by little, until they weren’t so corrosive or shackled, tethered or beholden.
Something in his heart curled and contorted. Perhaps the knowledge that Evie’s sentiments were whole and certain, that faith and credence were on both sides, that he wasn’t ever alone permitted that long, upheld breath to go – filtering out of his lungs with the elegance and ease of her murmur.
He took the always and tucked it against his blackened soul; let it see and savor the light for a few moments more. A tangible relief in the breadth of his shoulders, in the wake of what had always felt like an endless abyss. “All right,” he agreed, with a slight grimace, but not before gathering their plates, and pressing his mouth to her temple as he passed by. “Love you,” came on deep rumbles, muffled against skin, and then he was down the hall again – grin on his face.
The inevitable lurked behind doors and studies though, and he wasn’t surprised to find the peryton rising form his bed the moment the Sword opened the frame. Wagging his small deer like tail, all Deimos could do was shake his head, awaiting either a tirade, tantrum, or something melded in between. The carnivorous deer stretched and yawned, and the hybrid pondered how best to frame upcoming notions. “Come on. Time for a surprise.” With a tapping of his cloven hooves, Belial sprang into action, rampaging down the passageway.
under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed
He will always be their sword and shield, defender in all ways, but here in this house - and even beyond, though more privately - he could trust in her to be the one to chase away any threat to his health or happiness. As he stands and kisses her temple on his way past, Evie leans into it with a hopelessly smitten smile, never tiring of hearing those words from his lips. "Love you too," she utters in his wake, simply watching his figure as he moves down the hallway, enamored.
Shaking herself from her little haze of infatuation, she stands and begins putting away their plates and packing away their leftovers to go into the fridge. Micah follows in her wake, slightly rejuvenated from his nap. Hearing Belial rampaging down the hallway, Evie laughs and tries to utilize her new bond to send reassurance towards Micah when the baby jaguar flattens his ears to his head, wary. When the peryton emerges from the hallway however, Micah remains firmly between Evie's legs where she stands by the island, clearly intent on utilizing her figure as a shield if the other companion approaches. Evie lets it happen, amused and quietly relieved that Micah seems more warily intrigued than frightened by Belial's presence.
The sentiments might have sounded simple, but they were far more than that for him, resounding in his ears as he permitted Belial to drift down the hall, still clinging to the back of his mind for lighter or darker hours. Granting merely a grin, he watched from the sidelines, waiting for some upheaval, keeping his emotions in check, as the meeting of companions began to take place.
Belial’s ears rose, legs frozen, for half a second, before scurrying towards the newcomer. No fangs, no wild antics, merely genuine curiosity and intrigue. Perhaps he’d matured, for the Sword expected a cacophony of sound and incessant bleating – but the carnivorous deer merely inched closer and closer, wings unfurling briefly, maybe to appear larger. Only when he was a foot or so away did he reach across with his nose, nares widening, to smell and possibly entice greetings towards the young jaguar. To his credit, the Warden tilted his head, mildly baffled and surprised.
under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed
