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!
As it always seemed to be when he set foot upon Stormbreak, the Sword was incredibly torn. Spite and pettiness eternally found a way into his bones, and it carved a certain nuance in the rigidity of his spine as he marched towards the prominent Collegium. Because all of it should have been readily accessible to those of his kind years and years before – but some amount of gratitude still remained embedded in his chest for being permitted at all. A strange cataclysm of thoughts coinciding and colliding, but nonetheless, he aimed to take advantage of the massive bout of knowledge stored within.
He'd meant it when he’d made mentions of it to Alys – but hadn’t been prepared for the sheer scale of the foundation. It dwarfed the modest amounts of journals and text stored within the Monster Hunter’s Guild and his own collection by thousands. Trying not to show his bewilderment and awe, only his eyes widened along the entrance, before his gaze darted towards the interim of columns and text.
Where to start, where to begin, contorted into his frame. So he opted not to glance at anyone in particular, as some quietly sat by desks or raised their heads at his incoming presence – making his way for the creatures section, intending to snag at tomes that might’ve once yielded something similar to the void they experienced now.
// you can't keep a secret if it never was a secret to start —
He’s never been to Stormbreak either, but with the mention of it being open for Abandoned’s now, Thorn has to take a trip there. After all, he’s heard numerous times of the different shops, and the notorious Mother Molly’s which he’d never had a chance to go and see just how they run the show there. Today, though, is a more relaxed one – self indulgent rather than focusing on things for work, and it’s why he finds himself stepping into the giant library (awe inspiring, considering he’s pretty sure he’s only ever seen anything akin to it in people’s preferences in the House of Midnight rooms).
But it was different to be there physically and see the books lining the shelves and the people milling about, and even though it’s Leafchange, the courtesan has abandoned his long flowy garments in favor for the tight, close fitting clothing that he’d intended on getting more of while here. Later, of course.
A large figure captures his attention, though, one that seems almost as distracted as he is for where to start – and Thorn takes it as an opportunity to follow the stranger (who does actually look vaguely familiar, from plenty of years ago before he’d left Halo). And he bides his time while Deimos peruses the tomes in silence until they’re relatively far enough away from prying ears that Thorn can lean against the edge of one of the shelves and pin the Sword with bright seafoam eyes and a playful, catlike grin. “Is it your first time too?” He whispers, playfulness and hope flickering into his gaze.
thorn
— at least pretend you didn't wanna get caught, we're concentrating on falling apart //
He nearly loosened an audible sigh as someone came close to him – he’d half-expected it, given how many curious heads and nosey eyes had glanced his way on the other occasions he’d traversed here. Given who he was and his Abandoned blood, perhaps it was simply a matter of time before another meandered near; more the bolder frameworks of individuals, and as he turned away from a spine labeled with ‘Known Draig Creatures’, his head tilted towards the slighter man nearby.
The Sword didn’t recognize him, but it could’ve been years since the interim of Thorn within Halo. Instead, features resembling family members retained some images in his mind, but with no name to herald, he simply settled for arching his brow at the question. “Here,” he ascertained with a slight nod, wondering if there was a catch he was going to volley back and forth. “Are you looking for something?”
// you can't keep a secret if it never was a secret to start —
It remains, even when Deimos confirms the fact that Thorn had meant here, even if the innuendo was far too good to miss out on. The courtesan’s head bobs, dark hair falling in slight waves as they frame his face and he slinks in a bit closer now that the conversation has been breached, an opening Thorn takes probably rather annoyingly, not unlike his nickname.
“I was looking for books on architecture, but I’ve never seen a library this big. Maybe there’s something in here that’s better and more fun?” He suggests, head tilting toward the Sword as his gaze glances toward the title he’d just turned away from, wondering why anyone would want to know what creatures thrived in the Draig.
thorn
— at least pretend you didn't wanna get caught, we're concentrating on falling apart //
Oh, Deimos had heard the innuendo. If it were a playful exchange between Evie and himself, he would’ve readily enjoyed the rampant mischief. Here, with a stranger, he wasn’t going to partake in any such diversion or amusement. Instead, he took the opportunity to scrutinize for a moment with narrowed eyes, but when he couldn’t pinpoint a name to the face, he maneuvered onward, turning away from the tome but contorting the title and placement for future purposes.
That the other continued to follow was irritating, and he could already feel his spine growing taut and unyielding, a forged and steeled surface. “Maybe,” he gave in a huff and gruff reply, rounding the corner and hoping the younger man would simply disappear, moving into another row of books, rotating his head to read the spines.
// you can't keep a secret if it never was a secret to start —
If there’s one thing that Thorn is used to, its being a thorn in someone’s side. And it’s nothing if not evident now as he talks to Deimos that he wants literally nothing to do with him. But that’s fine, because the courtesan continues to trail after him, waiting until he thinks that he’s free of him between the rows of books before the young man appears again.
This time, a book in hand over all kinds of different Stormbreak architecture, one that has him flicking through the pages with little brief bursts of wind in order to swap between the pages while he starts to be a bit more bold. “You’re the Resurrected Sword, right?” He starts, even though he’s 99.98% sure.
thorn
— at least pretend you didn't wanna get caught, we're concentrating on falling apart //
The measure of relief, at potentially being left alone, was short-lived. One moment he’d stepped further into the midst of rows, and within the next, the stranger was nearby again. Facing the other direction, the notes of apathetic features turned into a sullen frown before masking again, withholding the massive sigh threatening to well in his chest. Likening the younger man to something similar to a gnat, Deimos thought to ignore him, only pausing briefly to read another spine, and pull out the book on marine animals.
The voice followed him too though, and only after reading several words upon the first page did he deign to incline his gaze back towards the unfamiliar man. That his name and presence was recognized, here, within Stormbreak’s reaches, caused something inward to bristle. “Yes.” He gave another pause, likely to show disinterest, before waging his own inquiry. “Who are you?”
// you can't keep a secret if it never was a secret to start —
Luckily for him, Thorn doesn’t recognize Deimos due to the fact he’s here in Stormbreak. He recognizes him because of where he’s from and the places he’s been outside of it – after all, much like Deimos, this is a recent feat, being able to come to the floating city in the first place. “Ah, perfect.” Thorn chirps at the agreement, drifting a hint closer.
“Hawthorn Mercer.” He announces his full name, wondering if perhaps it might click a little bit more. “My family is from Halo. I left a few years ago.” Longer than a few years, realistically, but the point is the same. His parents are from there, still live amongst them with their lumber business. His father, a hardened man with very strong opinions versus the soft gentleness of his mother who would want nothing to do with getting on his father’s bad side.
Ah well, at least the business was good for them.
thorn
— at least pretend you didn't wanna get caught, we're concentrating on falling apart //
It hadn’t meant to be an invitation, and he stifled, withheld, another sigh beginning to threaten its way through his chest. The Sword stood his ground while the other meandered closer, but at least the intrigue and curiosity angled its way through his arched brow, rather than the constant nonchalance.
Upon recognition – given the younger man’s name. The Mercers and their lumber yard were a considerable source, and while he didn’t know the family well, he also hadn’t been privy to any multitudes of issues ranging from their wake. “I see,” he ventured, as all the points started to click in his brain. And because it seemed to be the case lately, he tilted his head, permitting more machinations to be sustained. “Why did you leave?”
// you can't keep a secret if it never was a secret to start —
There’s recognition there, one that Hawthorn had hoped would remain. And with it, he keeps that same close distance as he peers back up at the Sword with a grin, one that remains even in the face of the question – even if it was one that was a hint of a touchy subject. “I didn’t really wanna take up the family business.” He shrugs in a languid, smooth movement.
“So I went to explore what Caido had to offer.” He gestures broadly with his hand, his movements fluid and easy. He closes his book when he does the movement, pausing to let his seafoam gaze return to Deimos curious of how he’ll respond to it.
thorn
— at least pretend you didn't wanna get caught, we're concentrating on falling apart //
Understandable; while Deimos was one who readily advanced towards the Halovian grounds of desolation, strength, and perseverance, some dared not approach such a formidable world. Or stay within it, for reasons unfolded. He wouldn’t pry – but it was decent to hear another reason besides those already given. No great exodus, but a series of circumstances and opportunities not otherwise granted and given, or a stoking of avoidance. So he nodded, snagging at a book, glancing at the cover, and then putting it back when he saw it wasn’t what he wanted.
When no other explanation came, save for explorations, the Sword shrugged. “That can be worth your time.” Whether it was places to settle, meander, or ripple through. Sensing either the youth intended to parse and needle through conversation, the Warden tossed him the slightest of angles. “Did you find something suitable?” Presuming it wasn’t Stormbreak, of all areas.
// you can't keep a secret if it never was a secret to start —
Thorn keeps the book he’s picked out up against his chest, like it’s some forgotten treasure he fully intends on giving all of his attention to later – but for now, there’s far more stimulating company that the courtesan can’t help but to be drawn to the larger man, like a moth to a flame in pure unadulterated curiosity.
The agreement only helps – Thorn’s head bobbing lightly with the smile that continues to pull at his cheeks, nodding. A smile that even remains as he’s asked whether he found something suitable, and while he doesn’t know Deimos’ inclinations toward the choice of work he has, they’re strangers regardless. He’s not going to just up and tell him every little detail, even if a small part of him wants to.
“Enough of one. I consider myself a keeper of stories these days.” He admits with a more sobering smile, something a touch softer. “I lived in Torchline for quite some time. Now I’m in King’s End. I missed the occasional snow.” A surprisingly truthful admission for the courtesan to offer.
thorn
— at least pretend you didn't wanna get caught, we're concentrating on falling apart //
Considering the Sword’s nature, he wasn’t going to pry endlessly into a stranger’s livelihood, but aspects of him still always craved the notions of information. Little bits and pieces, coveted through either scholarly endeavors or machinating means; taught well in the aspects of childhood to seek and not squander the opportunities. Hence the journey to the library, to the wealth of knowledge at fingertips, and his grasp took hold of another tome, tilting his head curiously to study the cover, intricately laden with an embossed dragon.
This Thorn character didn’t give too much away either; reasonable and unsurprising. Though he arched his brow at the ‘keeper of stories’ quip, eventually turning his gaze back to the stranger. “Of others’ stories or lore?” Of Caido reaches, from hundreds of years before, like some of Jigano’s favored seekers, or current words sprung from legends within the past few intervals?
He snorted, a trace of his dry humor, at the semblances of snow being missed. “We have a larger bay now too, thanks to the Starfall incident.” A blend of havoc, chaos, and irritation in the back of his mind.
// you can't keep a secret if it never was a secret to start —
The fact that Deimos is interested (or seems to be) is enough for Thorn to easily find that little space where he can slip into, to keep the conversation going rather than the Sword escaping his clutches. After all, they were both Abandoned and were both here in Stormbreak of all places. Something that felt surprisingly exciting, like they were forging new paths just by being there.
It helps to keep that boon on his face as he lets his long fingers toy with the edge of the book cover, running his thumb along it as he gives the Sword his full attention. “Other’s stories. Like a bartender, in a sense.” He knows so many people’s woes and problems, some they still refuse to face, others he’d been a beacon in their changing of behavior.
A larger bay, though, brings Thorn’s brows to lift, before they pinch almost immediately after. “Gods. Everyone’s okay now though?” He assumes, if Deimos was here, that things were settled back in Halo.
thorn
— at least pretend you didn't wanna get caught, we're concentrating on falling apart //
