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!
With permission to be ignorant, and allow themselves to grow in that manner, he persisted in maneuvering around the front, clasping the remaining pieces together. If Caido had taught him anything at all, it was that they eventually found their way – whether it be through chaos, or nurturing notions together. He didn’t expect the former, but more so the latter in their case, with patience, fortitude, grit, determination, and might; the way they settled into most things. “There. What do you think?” He mustered, stepping back again so she could gain the full view.
Girl names were going to muster other opinions, and while he leaned against the wall, surveying his handiwork and waiting for her opinion, his head tilted, glancing at the neat scrawls in her notebook. “I do not mind any of those,” with some connotations aside in their meanings. He let them sit in his head for a moment, not finding any flaws, before posturing some of his own, lilting them into the air with his deep grumble. “Delaney. Daphne. Diana.”
Come rest your bones next to me And toss all your thoughts out to the sea
Evie turns to look, but the view isn't sufficient after seeing it all together, so she takes her notebook with her as she stands and moves to the crib to run her hands lightly over the smooth dark wood. She stays silent, reverent as she maneuvers around it to look from every angle, touching the carved figures and the latticework like it isn't real until she's felt it beneath her fingertips. Only then does she circle back to Deimos' side, where she leans into his side and wraps an arm around his waist to look down at the crib side-by-side. "I love it," she whispers, eyes still fixated on the crib. "I can't believe there's going to be a baby in there soon." It's a thought that sparks fireworks of feeling in her chest; trepidation, excitement, disbelief, awe.
To keep herself from getting choked up, she looks down at her list and writes down Diana. "I like Diana, but not the rest. Damara?" It's the only other one she can feel flirting around in her head. The neutral column remains empty, but they have made good progress with at least one name for each of the other two so Evie feels better leaving it empty. "If it's a boy, and we both like Erebos, then I would be happy not naming the girl with a D. I think names like Imogen, Eris, and Nami are beautiful." So long as Deimos does not feel the attachment she does to having that subtle connection. Given it's a new tradition for them both, perhaps Erebos is simply fitting, and will be the only child they do it with.
I'll pull up each of our anchors So we can get lost, you and me
He wouldn’t expect Evie to assess anything with just her eyes – and while the motions are not doctoral, they’re analytical in a deeper sense. Rest assured in safety and connections, in things yet to materialize, in motions they’d set forth years before – some modicum of satisfaction gleaned in his eyes, and in his arms, as she leaned into him. “Good,” he rumbled, pressing her deeper into his side, dropping his head obnoxiously to barely settle on top of hers. “We will be okay,” he murmured. “And learn together.” They were going to make mistakes; it was inevitable, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t become better for it. He'd already tread many lines with Kiada.
A faint snort ruffled the hairs on her head, and he lifted his chin to spy upon the paper again. Damara sounded harsh to his ears, though he couldn’t signify the why behind it. Though he had to laugh once more at the notions of traditions going by the wayside, the strict regime of it all filtering and flickering away. “We do not have to be beholden to any of these rules,” that they’d decided upon a whim. Tucking her purposefully under his chin, he pondered a few others. “I do like Imogen and Nami. Or Chione, Nyla…Maren.”
Come rest your bones next to me And toss all your thoughts out to the sea
Evie chuffs a laugh as his head drops onto hers, turning sideways to press her face deeper against his collarbone where the reverberations of his words are a gentle thrum against her cheek. "We will," she agrees, a vow to herself to cast her memory back to on days when they are tired and directionless. "I think we'll be great parents." Because she wouldn't have married a man she didn't view highly enough to be capable of that, and she knows he feels the same.
His laughter has her pouting for all of a moment before she joins him, aware that it's not much of a tradition if she's going to be so fickle about it, but pleased he'd entertained the idea enough to find a name they both liked in the midst of it all. "You're right. I'm adding those ones, they're lovely." She has to wriggle her arms a little to accommodate still burying herself into his side, but it's worthwhile as she marks down the names - and then laughs quietly to herself when she sees how many more are beneath the female column in comparison to the lonely Erebos on the left. "Oh. That reminds me - I know we don't bring work home often, but I brought my notebook for our regional plans. What were you thinking for this season? I'd like to figure it out before the birth." And given it will likely be on the cusp of the seasons, there's no such thing as too early.
I'll pull up each of our anchors So we can get lost, you and me
Oh, they’d be tired, torn, probably in a variety of directions when things seemed vast and impossible. But they’d countered hoards and scores of other things, from toppled barriers, fierce Abandoned sentiments, animosity and wars, heartache and sorrow, to still conquer it all and be here. So for once he’d be the optimist right alongside her, nodding, a gentle rumble to assuage the rest of the fold. “I think so too.” A testament to both of them - how far they'd come, and how many more facets they had left to conquer.
At her pout, he moved them close to the rocking chair, gently taking her along and guiding her towards its ramparts. If she wasn’t going to sit in it, he would, and entertain the notions of her following along and settling either beside or along his lap.
Inspecting the scrawl though did leave some manner of amusements. Little Erebos amidst the hordes of others did ease another smile from him, uncertain why that one had been so much easier to pinpoint. He permitted his mind to focus elsewhere though, gently wrapping his arms around her waist, keeping her close as the topic shifted, and his brows began to furrow. "Repairs have gone smoothly, but I am not certain about trade – not when other regions are likely still rebuilding.” Which left his favorite. “I would be apt for more training.” Stronger soldiers, to defend against what loomed. “What did you think of these broadcasts? And Stormbreak?”
Come rest your bones next to me And toss all your thoughts out to the sea
Such optimism is rare for him, and it warms her heart until it drips down through her ribcage and into her extremities, flush with happiness. In the past, his mindset of serving others and his capabilities for harm had made her fret and grieve over the idea that he might view himself so negatively, and to see him confident and optimistic about raising their child makes it all feel like everything they've toiled and trialed through has been worth it. And maybe that sentiment makes her pliable, but she follows where he nudges her, and chooses to settle in his lap without a care for how she must surely weigh more these days. What's the use of a husband strong enough to stand with demigods if he can't handle a bit of pregnancy weight, right?
Leaning slightly sideways so they could look at the notebook together, she lingers for a moment on the names before flipping to the notes she'd made about their seasonal plans. Settling into the embrace of his arms, Evie hums her agreement on the topic of trade. "I agree. I think training is the best for now, because of the transmissions." Her frown puckers her lips slightly, dimples deepening. "This Family stuff seems to be angled toward being convincing and appealing, but I don't know why they would choose that approach given the damage the infected plants and animals are causing." It doesn't make sense to her if she were to put herself in their shoes, which makes her all the more suspicious. They're missing a key element somehow. "I think the safest approach is to train our soldiers. It will help with defending against any worsening tides with the infection, or any moves made against us from the Family." Unfortunately she doesn't think they'd be so overt, but Stormbreak has already fallen to their clutches...so clearly they can't afford to underestimate them. "As for Stormbreak, we don't have many personal connections with them. I hate to say it, but I'd rather play it safe and pull back and away. Gather information by being subtle and unobtrusive. Maybe even unofficially discourage any travel there." She's hesitant to forbid it entirely given it could be interpreted negatively by Stormbreak in a way that might hasten them into action, but she worries for their people just as much.
I'll pull up each of our anchors So we can get lost, you and me
It would’ve been nice to linger in that optimism, or as close as Deimos ever became to that confidence. Perhaps instinct and hope drove him onwards – they could pave a path of their own making in these regards. They would make mistakes. They would try to right their wrongs. They would learn and grow and it would be all right to fumble; and maybe that was where he’d achieved some conviction. Because for all the things that he’d encountered in life; this didn’t need such violence or vehemence.
She settled into his lap, and he listened, arms wrapped around her middle comfortably, loosely. Thoughts slipped away from the happier, more content portions of their life, and into the surrounding chaos and bedlam, and his breaths were long and low, purposefully controlled into the muster of viable frustration. “I do not understand what they want either, other than power. And I worry there is more than just this Dahlia character.” Why else would they have set their sights on Stormbreak and the Greatwood? Easier targets? And would they point their distinctions towards elsewhere thereafter? “So we can train the soldiers more,” he nodded, solidifying the choice, and rightfully intending to do so right alongside them; ensuring they could grow and prosper together, in all means to defend the rugged homeland. “What were you thinking of asking for, after we finish the walls?” What would be best – after everything they’d heard? For all his considerations and calculations, it might not have been weaponry; and some notions meandered to the healing springs.
As for other notations, pulling away from the hovering isle didn’t bother him, he’d already prepared for it in his mind. “Understandable. Though I do wonder what became of Sohalia,” to have been usurped abruptly, and seemingly with no outcry. “We can make it less overt, or at least travel in pairs if we must go at all.” Safety – rather than being lone wolves wandering out into the midst.
Come rest your bones next to me And toss all your thoughts out to the sea
Though the topic grows more dire, it feels safer to discuss it here in the nursery, in his arms, than she might have otherwise expected. There may have been the fear that it would taint or curse it somehow, but instead it feels like a safety net, a den that holds that tide of black at bay long enough to discuss it plainly.
"The Voice acted alone, but she didn't go to efforts to hold the guise of a human - if Dahlia is human at all." It's concerning how little they know about her, but given how The Voice had operated, Evie can't discount the idea that she might truly be operating alone. "Well, although she must have at least one compatriot, since the voice we keep hearing sounds masculine." But how many more? And would the void creatures bend to their bidding like willing servants when the time came? Just how far did all of this go?
"Something to balance the soldiers, maybe the springs? Or the infirmary?" More men on the field would keep the darkness at bay, but in war there would always be wounded to tend to, and to ignore half of that equation would be disastrous.
"I worry for her as well, but I don't know her well enough to guess at who might have leads or contact with her," she admits fretfully, wishing - as most did when faced with hindsight - that she'd made more inroads with the Heart.
I'll pull up each of our anchors So we can get lost, you and me
“Until she had more followers,” he pointed out – those like Wessex, who bent and catered to their goddess every step of the way – no matter how many were threatened. He hadn’t liked the way the broadcast had highlighted ‘joining’ or becoming members of such a group, and the slinking unknown in how many could potentially be around. “We just do not know enough,” and it was frustrating – the way it had always been, in some shape or form. The enigmatic twists and turns, the mysterious boundaries, the lengths in which they traversed and prevailed, or sunk. “No matter how many hunting parties we send out, it does not seem to make a difference.” The void cretins surged; potent and powerful and there all the same.
A long breath slowly billowed out, ruffling her hair on purpose. An ease in affection, when nothing else seemed to be simple. His brows furrowed further, gaze winding over the crib, partially lost in machinations. “I would not mind improvements or upgrades to either.” Another line of defense; the mending and caring of their people, from what seemed to loom and threaten.
Sohalia was another distinction that caused his nose to wrinkle, clutching at Evie closer, jaw purposefully raised to rest on her shoulder. “Nor do I." And too many questions lingered there too, adrift and unanswered Had she given it all away when the pressure became too much? And why Dahlia, despite all the posted warnings? Despite the known factors?
Come rest your bones next to me And toss all your thoughts out to the sea
Evie titters an anxious, thoughtful sound at the point he makes. It would be all too easy to sit and fret, but she takes a slow breath in and releases it with mindful intent, only broken by the automatic wrinkle of her nose when his own exhale stirs her hair in the way he often does to tease her. Tilting her head sideways to rest against his, Evie drops an arm to lay it over his, and squeezes gently at his wrist.
"Time reveals all. All we can do is try to gather more information, and shore up our defenses." The rest will only run them in circles, tire them, make them suspicious and turn them against each other. Evie refuses to let that happen.
Turning her head slightly, she presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "We'll get through it regardless." And even if she cannot promise it outright she will say it all the same in the hopes it will speak it into being. Closing her eyes, she tilts her forehead against his temple and clutches his wrist in one hand and the book with their child's name within it in the other. "I love you."
I'll pull up each of our anchors So we can get lost, you and me
Maybe she could sense the growing unease distilling and dissipating through his frame, with no answers, no reasons, nothing at all but the unfurling unknown peppered with each broadcast. He swarmed it down again, drank in her presence and the child within, curled and coiled around what he had, what he cherished, what was bound to be. An apology threatened on his tongue but he didn’t couldn’t name what for, and instead he shifted, feeling her touch, her expanse, and settling into its refrain. “Right,” he mustered. “We always do.”
Somehow, someway.
Brow against brow, Deimos eased another breath, smiled when her mouth met the edges of his. He extended the courtesies, the adoration, the distinctions, along the tip of her nose, the curve of her cheeks, the corners of her eyes. “I love you,” another echo with the same meaning and threshold. His lids slowly dropped, savoring what he could, one more breath to withhold and withstand. “Do we want to get anything else done?” A gesture to the nursery at large, or even the remaining pieces and pockets left untouched.
Come rest your bones next to me And toss all your thoughts out to the sea
She can almost hear the aborted apology in the heavy hang of time before his agreement, and she smiles slightly to hear it die unspoken. He has nothing to apologize for. Certainly not to Evie, who understands the depth and breadth of his concerns better than anyone.
Her smile dawns brighter at each kiss laden upon her skin, letting the world beyond fade away to leave her with only him, their child, this nursery they've built with their own hands. Turning to look out over the nursery, she reaches to her magic and levitates three plushies out of a nearby wicker basket with a few blankets within. She'd had to get them custom made, but they're the crowning jewel for the nursery; plush versions of Micah, Zuriel, and Belial. "I was thinking they could sit on the headboard of the crib to watch over them," she confesses, cheeks a tad pink. It seems a little childish now when said out loud but it had seemed direly important to her when commissioning them.
I'll pull up each of our anchors So we can get lost, you and me
Any remaining tension or melancholy gave way to love, compassion, and the bout of surprise, as her air incantations lingered through the threshold. His brow arched and his smile became boyish, mixed in with vague confusion, before he understood what had transpired. “Sneaky,” he murmured at first; the proud depiction and compliments of her resourcefulness apparent in his voice, as he beheld the plush versions of their companions.
One hand took hold of the miniaturized version of Zuriel, with the steel gray tones and the yarn mane, and the warm sentiments of all these gestures pulled and tugged at his heart; once too god damned decrepit and dead to even muster half a beat. “They are perfect,” was a declaration, eyes flickering back to hers and blinking away any tears threatening to pulse on their edges. From there he tugged her closer, head resting on top of her crimson crown, vocals reverberating again amidst their gathered wakes. “Can never have too many guardians.”
Come rest your bones next to me And toss all your thoughts out to the sea
Her preening at his approval, for that's surely what she hears beneath the singular word, does not last long once the plushies make their way into his hands. She had expected some sort of reaction, but her heart melts at the brightness of his eyes and the diamond-bright moisture that thickens his lashes. Her hands come up to brush just beneath his eyes even though they remain dry, and as he pulls her close her arms get caught between them and she can only laugh softly and tilt her head inward, fingers clinging loosely to his shirt.
"Never," she agrees, and closes her eyes as she curls deeper into his embrace, the swell of her belly well-protected between them. "You are going to be so very loved by everyone around you," she whispers toward the little life inside her, one hand coming to cup the curve of her stomach. "We will all work so hard to keep you safe and happy." A village of love and protection, human and beast, to ensure their precious gift of a child would flourish as they deserved.
- Fin <333
I'll pull up each of our anchors So we can get lost, you and me
