Court of the Fallen
Looking for Trouble - Printable Version

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Looking for Trouble - Phoebe - 04-28-2019

Phoebe was not one for trouble. No, siree, not Miss Phoebe. She liked to play by the rules. She liked to do well. She liked to receive praise. She liked to do what she was supposed to do how she was supposed to do it when she was supposed to do it. Phoebe was your standard straight-A, goody-two-shoes, teacher's pet, goody-goody-gumdrop sort of a girl. That Frey had told her to put herself in a dangerous situation was appalling to every single cell in her body. Her mind fought back against it with ever fiber of her being. Putting yourself in danger is just like breaking the rules. You're supposed to avoid danger not pursue it. her mind seemed to shout at her. But...when had Frey every led her wholly astray? Not once. They didn't simply things for her, certainly, but that was part of living; working through the messy bits.

So there she stood, in front of the Labyrinth, staring at it forlornly. What in Frey's name was she going to do now? Waltz right in to the Labyrinth which she had heard scary things lived in? She could almost hear Frey's typical "Mmhm." floating on the breeze around her. She was going to waltz right in there and face a very scary thing and put herself very much in harms way because that was exactly what Frey had told her to do. She had even dressed for being in a sort of scary situation where she might need to move more freely, her dark leggings and tunic that hit just below her bottom showing off the light boots she usually wore, hair pulled back into a braided ponytail.

Right. Waltzing in. Face the scary things. Danger abound. Ooh boy.

Gulp. Any time now Phoebe.


RE: Looking for Trouble - Melita - 05-01-2019

Melita was used to trouble. More frequently than not, she walked right into it – as easy, as natural as breathing air, hoisting trials and tribulations straight into her lungs, comfortable, familiar, a touch of the old amidst the new. Perhaps this made her a glutton for punishment, perhaps it heightened her sense of victory and triumph, perhaps it was corded and wrapped around her veins, an itch she couldn’t scratch, until disaster and melee plunged into her heart and soul, and she was alive again. She’d been so accustomed to danger, strife, and treachery, that sometimes she craved it, a piece of her bone, enamel, and structure, rapacious and voracious, tied off in swords and shields, in rapid, savage ministrations, in the deliberate coaxing of fire and infernos.

What she didn’t expect, however, amidst her skipping and leaping over brambles and branches, along the warm, sunny breeze, was to find Phoebe before the Labyrinth. The warren itself had been something Melita had longed to wander into for a while now, but she’d hadn’t thought herself strong enough, capable enough, and there’d be a thousand other distractions until this strangled, eerie moment. She likened it to a nest of hornets and wasps, the world waiting to devour them all whenever they crossed too far, whenever they touched the fringes of ruin and oblivion, and it made her heart race, her essence pounce, the staff in her hand shake and shudder – for the zeal, for the excitement, for the possibility of it all.

But Phoebe – what led Phoebe to this place? The midwife had always seemed gentle, patient, wiser than the honeybee child; not one destined to be caught in the myriad of broken things and monsters coiling along the threshold. Her curiosity fully piqued, she and Fangorn presided closer and closer, until she could call out from a safe distance, not frighten the other girl to death. “Phoebe!” She called, launching over some stones and fallen logs, the vampire gourd in hot pursuit. She knocked a few branches with her staff for fun, listened to the shaking of the boughs, the leaves, a daring, audacious little grin embedded along her lips. “What brings you out here?”


RE: Looking for Trouble - Phoebe - 05-02-2019

Phoebe nearly jumped out of her skin when Melita called out to her. It wasn’t Melita’s fault, the girl had tried to not scare her half to death, but the young midwife had worked herself up into a frenzy in her own mind. A sneeze would have given her a heart attack – much less her name being called out unexpectedly. She whirled around, her braided ponytail hitting her cheek and eyes wide in panic. Oh. But it was someone she knew, it was Melita. Her shoulders sagged and she breathed a sigh of relief.

[say]”Oh! Melita, it’s just you.”[/say] she said, a little breathless from her moment of terror. [say]”Well…I asked Frey for something to help me defend myself and others…because I’m not strong or combative…and one of the things I have to do is put myself in a dangerous situation.”[/say] she said, glancing back at the Labyrinth. [say]”This seemed like a fitting place for that…right?”[/say] Of course it was. She had heard the stories about it. But she was wholly unprepared. She didn’t know what to expect in there after all and had no way at all to defend herself beyond running for dear life and hoping whatever she might face was slower than her.


RE: Looking for Trouble - Melita - 05-05-2019

It’s just you scraped into her brain, but didn’t linger in its scalding depths for long (one day they’ll see me as more than just that, she promised in the back of her mind, illustrious and gilded); there are valuable things kindling in the dust of the woods. She tilted her head, listening to Phoebe’s tale, how she’d asked the gods (Frey) for a way to defend herself and others. There was half a moment where Melita nearly asked her why she didn’t just train as the honeybee girl did, allowing her muscles and bones to ache, to become stronger, more enduring, eager and ready to face whatever fray came their way. Why did she need the Gods to grant her something she could have acquired on her own? Melita would never have thought, or even asked – but perhaps that was the difference between the two, and so many others. The Gods hadn’t ever glanced upon the firebrand – despite her love and faith in the Sun and his blazing infernos, he succumbed to everything too.

“Oh,” she pondered, glancing back at the distance, where the warren webs crawl with their vivid vines and intertwining treacheries; it permeated and pervaded with an austere presence, varnishing and cloaking the world with an enigmatic blight. She’s been amidst similar tombs and catacombs, brandishing survival and persistence, tucking venom in her teeth, clenching her jaw and growling at the hollowed sanctions, where monsters lurked, where demons thrived. “I suppose,” she shrugged, staff light and fervent in her hands. Fangorn hissed something at her, and she followed his gaze, pondering if he was trying to tell her to stop, to not be sucked into the foreboding, ominous exploits, or to encourage her, knowing full well that there wasn’t about to be anything that could stop her.

“I could go with you,” the girl offered thereafter, her gaze already back on the labyrinth threshold.


RE: Looking for Trouble - Phoebe - 05-07-2019

If Phoebe had only known how her words had briefly wounded Melita, she would have been quick to explain that in this case she had meant it as a compliment. It’s just you… a friend, a companion, a kind familiar face, not a terrifying, midwife eating monster. It’s just you Melita was a sighed for sore eyes. But alas, she did not know these things and could not soothe the small hurt she had done.

That Melita so willingly offered to accompany her on this potentially dangerous journey was a surprise – but a welcome one. [say]”Would you really? I…I understand if not but…”[/say] Oh but Phoebe was not cut out for this. Where Melita was made of fire and iron, Phoebe was velvet and feathers. Even if she did train, even if she was strong and knew to fight, she did not have the soul or the disposition to battle. She was a soother, a healer, Melita’s foil in more ways than one. [say]“If you came with I would so appreciate it.”[/say] she said quietly.


RE: Looking for Trouble - Melita - 05-08-2019

“Of course,” she said without further regret or rue, a maiden long since mired and rooted in dangerous outlooks. They might’ve been spectacularly different, but similarly connected in kindness – Melita rarely opted to sway or dart away from those who needed a helping hand, a guiding squall, a oeuvre of treachery and distinction in their wake. She presumed Phoebe was much the same, healer and supporter, capable of wielding bandages, soothing hurts, assuaging aches and pains. Two sides of the distinct coin: Melita’s hands went for defense of her friends, Phoebe’s concoctions went for nourishing and relieving. Both could be heralded on the same larks and whims, and where the honeybee youth was clearly lacking in all healing departments, Phoebe was the opposite, knowledgeable and precise. Melita was wild. Phoebe was tender. There was nothing wrong with either thing; it made them pronounced and prominent in their disciplines, made them different, made them raw and real. Experiences marked growth, and they sprouted in alternating channels, reaching for the sun in varying ways, but still there, still bright, still devout, still reverent to their chosen realms.

The girl hastened her staff to rest on her shoulder, arching her brow, looking out past the labyrinth confines, to what could lurk within, to what danger sparked and sizzled, to what she could find in those blistering routes and valleys. “Are you ready?” She asked with an untamed, savage little grin, beholden to only rebellion and calamity, limbs suddenly itching to savor the tenacity and treachery lurking amidst the woods, the crags, the vines. Fangorn loosened his own feral growl, but its meaning was lost in the murky fathoms.


RE: Looking for Trouble - Phoebe - 05-09-2019

Phoebe stared into the terrifying depths of the Labyrinth. Her fingers curled into her tunic, already clearly fighting her natural flight instinct. It was unsafe. It was unnecessary. Why did she have to leave her comfort zone? She questioned Frey’s methods if but for a moment. She wasn’t cut out for this, why make her do so? But of course, as soon as the thought came, she answered it – she needed to live. Living came with risks and risks were not thing she was good at taking. To the contrary she avoided them like the plague. This was an opportunity for growth, the momma duck prodding the baby duckling into the water.

She took a deep, steadying breath, releasing the fabric and clenching her fists instead. [say]”Well…if I wait any longer I don’t think I’ll do it. So let’s go!”[/say] Phoebe said, though clearly more to herself than Melita. She was brave and raring to go – Phoebe needed to amp herself up. Sheer determination alone saw her feet propelling her forward, into the maze of vines and leaves.


RE: Looking for Trouble - Melita - 05-11-2019

Melita could still feel terror and fear, rummaging around in the pit of her stomach. It was the apprehensive recoil of the world churning over and destroying itself, it was the consternation, the trepidation, of devious exploits falling down around them. It was the sanctum and sanctuary of fire gods and their infernal blessings suddenly whipped away to nothingness, sacrifices made for naught but bare bones and infinite ghosts. But she always overrode it with her audacity, with her boldness, with her spark and zeal, because otherwise she’d drown beneath its waves, strive, kick, and scream towards the surface, and never make it. Fright was instinct, dread was born and solidified into every single creature, no matter how great or small. She pulsed beyond it, fingers tapping against her staff, for she didn’t dare look it in the face again – see her mother, see her sister, see other members of her home-spun family desecrated, decimated, before her eyes. Her heart was brave, uplifting, and strong, and she wouldn’t let her spirits be splintered, fragmented, and severed for the agony and distress of foreboding.

She allowed it to curl through her bloodstream, let it simmer, let it boil, let it brew, then smirked inwardly over it – an Amazon puncturing through inherent, innate quandaries and ultimatums. Not today, she’d tell herself, before she jumped off of cliffs, before she launched and leaped through thickets, before she scalded realms and smiled while swinging her weapons, while brandishing her knives, while pressing her vengeance into the ground.

Phoebe managed to gain some courage, and Melita tilted her head back towards her, sunshine and luminescence despite the ominous depths they meandered within. Danger and treachery was like a second home, unwelcome and deplorable, but still a measure of something she knew and understood. She smiled at the other girl’s sudden determination, the factions of gods’ hands leading her into peril, and stepped alongside her, intertwining herself within the warren, tangled vines and sodden leaves, high walls meant to lock them in place.

She breathed, inhaled, exhaled, the overwhelming air and ether of otherworldly possessions. “Why does Frey wish for you to be in danger?” It seemed bizarre to her, a twist, a ruse, she couldn’t quite employ or decipher – especially if Phoebe claimed to be amidst the favored. Melita wouldn’t know – the only celestial being she’d ever encountered was long gone, burnt out, and she’d yet to worship or adhere herself to any other icon. She’d tried – prayed with a grin, with resolution, and they’d pulled her offerings within – no answer otherwise.


RE: Looking for Trouble - Phoebe - 05-13-2019

Phoebe was tense. More than tense. She was seriously on edge, a deer caught in a bright light, ready to jump and bolt at a moment’s notice. Every instinct she had screamed for her to turn around and run back home. So even though Melita’s presence wasn’t a surprise, she still jumped a bit when she spoke to her. The blonde glanced at her red-headed friend, smiling a little apologetically. She probably thought she was such a scaredy cat.

Her question had her looking a bit more thoughtful, giving her something other than her own trepidation to focus on. [say]”Well…I think in part because I had no idea what I was talking about when I was asking them for something with which to defend myself.”[/say] she said with a small shrug. [say]”I’ve never lived anywhere wholly safe, but I have done a pretty good job so far of avoiding major conflict. But with the barrier down…well it’s pretty unlikely I will be able to for long. So…it could also be a way to make me less…wimpy. I guess. A little braver. To push my boundaries a bit. Frey does seem to like to make me do that.”[/say] she said with a small smile. [say]”Which isn’t a bad thing. If I don’t push my boundaries, then I will never grow, right?”[/say]


RE: Looking for Trouble - Melita - 05-14-2019

Melita supposed there was nothing wrong with a peaceful, pacifist outlook – dreaming in repose and sanctuaries, in sanctums and doves; she’d simply never been that type of girl. Clementine had, though not outright, simply lived amidst the clouds, the stars, the moons, the suns, drifting in and amidst songs and dance, pulling Melita along those flowery, blooming threads, and for a few seasons, it had been simple, just, and poetic. But time passed and the worlds came crashing down, and instead of bending like a lissome, limber willow, or decaying like the last fronds of a fern, the honeybee girl had dug down, deep, deep, and deeper still into the fire in her soul, allowed it to become unleashed so her sister, her twin, her bonded, could be protected, shielded, defended in the harsh, unrelenting terrain. For a while, it had worked, until everything else unraveled and fell apart too, and Melita hadn’t been enough. Not anymore, she’d whisper into the darkness, daring it to try and crawl back over her spine and rampage through her heart. You won’t have any of mine again, she howled back in adversity, constantly resisting, eternally devout to subversion.

The Gods had decided for Phoebe, that in order to know and utilize danger, she first had to understood it, live it. Anyone could find treachery, if they knew where to look, if they comprehended what they sought, if they could fathom the reaches, the depths, oblivion and ruin could take them. The youth once wound herself into all of those dark, bestial places, and came back stronger, more determined, and crushed, beneath the infernal weight placed upon her shoulders. She lifted them in a shrug now, listening, catching those falling strands of reasons, of motivations, of aspirations. “Nothing wrong with gaining some bravery and experience.” She found herself agreeing with those celestial beings who’d put Phoebe to this task – because she believed in strength, in conviction, in never backing down, in being capable of unfurling, of releasing, one’s own brand of hell before the rest of the void could return it. She swung her staff from side to side, knocking it into a few brush below her feet.

If I don’t push my boundaries, then I will never grow.

“Exactly,” Melita winked, playfully nudging Phoebe’s ankles with the end of her staff, then reaching around with it to strike at a fallen log, listening for the intonations, for the possibilities, of maneuvering vines, or shirking walls closing in. “If you want, I can always help train with you too.” Perhaps, if they made it out of the labyrinth in one piece, Phoebe would be willing to push herself a little further.


RE: Looking for Trouble - Phoebe - 05-15-2019

Phoebe smiled a little at Melita, glad she seemed to agree with what she said. [say]"No, nothing at all."[/say] she said with a little nod. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. It was a good exercise in facing her fears head on, growing, being better, being more whole. Melita would probably be disappointed to find though that Phoebe would need a lot of help if she was to train her. The nudge on her ankles threw off her gait, and though Phoebe maintained her balance with a graceful flail of her arms, it was clear knocking her down would take basically no effort at all.

[say]"Well...learning some basic self defense certainly wouldn't hurt."[/say] she said with a nervous smile. That was something she probably really needed to know honestly. [say]"Melita, if you don't mind me asking, what would you have found most useful in fights you've been in? A shield, something to make a portal, or something that would make you invisible? Or of none of those something else?"[/say] she asked curiously. She had already asked Ronin, and clearly Melita had experience, and being closer to her in size would be a good perspective.

Of course, neither girl so far seemed aware of the looming threat of the labyrinth, stalking behind them. Silent, deadly, hungry.


RE: Looking for Trouble - Melita - 05-16-2019

“I never had a shield,” and here she laughed; silly and tempestuous, but the sad, honest truth. She’d been her sister’s protection and guard, amongst a host of many others, all striving to survive until the next day, the next hour, the next moment. She’d had her guts, determination, and makeshift possessions – the heavy edge of a thrown rock, the notched, keen blade of a whittled branch, the possessive mind to ensnare or trap before the sliding claws raked their way down her back. She’d had no way to conquer ghosts or specters, they’d marauded their way into her heart so quickly, so effortlessly, that her wails had done so very little; luck and resolution had been her saving graces when the horrors pressed too close. “Portals could be useful.” They’d gotten her into the Rift but also out, she shrugged, swung her staff against a rotten log they passed. “Invisibility could be even better – your opponents could be incapable of seeing you strike or defend.” She hummed a merry tune under her breath, pondered over the dispositions and potential. “My fights were always won by willpower and luck.” If they’d been won at all; did one consider it a conquest if the end goal had only been survival? Her eyes scanned the vines and darkness, the encroaching shadows spinning in her senses, forcing her to pay attention and credence to the overlapping views and worlds. “I suppose it matters with your intentions. How do you want to guard yourself or others?”

As she turned back to Phoebe though, the ends of her grin turned sharp and malicious; gaze narrowed as a threat poised itself behind them. She could appreciate the nuance and effect – the intentions behind those who traversed on quiet treads and hushed, avaricious squalls. “Get ready,” the youth whispered, swinging her staff in place, Fangorn hissing at her ankles.


RE: Looking for Trouble - Phoebe - 05-18-2019

Melita seemed to lean towards invisibility but more credited personal qualities for her successes on the field. Like Ronin, while what Phoebe had suggested weren't awful, it seemed those with experience had different thoughts. Willpower, luck, comrades...how could those things be encapsulated in something she could use to defend herself and others. Her brow furrowed a little as she thought on it, not sure she had any more answers for Frey than when she had started this quest for knowledge. [say]"Well...I am mostly concerned about little ones. My sister in law has three young boys and...well I would like children and...I just don't want to be useless, you know?"[/say] she said and smiled a little at Melita. [say]"And it isn't reasonable to think that someone will always be around to protect me. I...I need to take some ownership of my own safety and those I am charged with caring for."[/say] But how exactly did she intend to do that? She wasn't sure. She felt more confused now than she had before.

"Get ready..."

Phoebe's first reaction was to freeze, staring at her friend wide-eyed. She followed her gaze behind them, on instinct lifting her arms to her chest. [say]"What is it?"[/say] she whispered, staring at the leafy hedges warily, not seeing the danger that Melita and Fangorn clearly caught on to. That's in part because they were moving. Silently, circling, such little prey, unknowing of the peril they were in. But they did not stay hidden long. Or it. In front of Melita and Fangorn stepped out a wolf, scrawny with hunger. Then another followed it. Then another. And then a fourth. Phoebe's eyes widened with trepidation, taking a step back, not realizing she was putting herself closure to two more wolves that had circled them.


RE: Looking for Trouble - Melita - 05-19-2019

The sensation of being watched had never truly left Melita – something akin to the Rift would always live inside her, embroiled and sizzling in her veins, catching and snagging at otherwise exuberant or enticing nuances. It prickled and seared over the edges of her shoulders again, repelling down the length of her spine. She heard Phoebe’s explanations – how she wanted to protect children, how she didn’t want to be useless, how she didn’t always want to be a sitting duck…

But she was distracted and deterred from responding by the encroaching predators. Fangorn hissed, then growled, intending to make himself known to those lurking on the fringes of shadows, imploring some ravenous declaration in hopes it would discourage the hungry canines from approaching or continuing in their carnivore pursuit. The wild girl looked to the paws slinking and crawling from beneath the veils and shrouds of darkness, the hungry, sunken in sides and jutting ribs of the monsters leering and encircling; desperation had made them appeal to hunting those they’d ordinarily fear. “Wolves,” Melita declared, swinging her staff in front of her frame, two hands ready and eager to wield. She’d seen her fair share in the Rift, some patron gods looking to prey upon all of their ignorant souls (ghosts; looming, spectral shades donning their immaculate, unattainable garb, rising catacombs looming in the distance). But she wasn’t about to become another hapless victim, so poor, pitiful little miscreant shuffling to the corner to await their doom and damnation. She’d lived through too much to succumb here.

“A portal would be handy here. But, we’ll need to be the bigger monsters,” she announced loudly, a barking, maddening sound, a minatory grin contorting over her lips, the only warning she proffered to Phoebe before she swung her staff. She intended to thrust it over the top of two of the wolves closing in around her, Fangorn shuffling in between her legs (growling and hissing all the more), and then allow it to descend in mighty blows across the top of their skulls, grounding herself so they were more precise, more accurate. She’d learned. She’d show them all. The youth tossed one more command over her shoulder to the other girl, because she was going to have to do something in this arena. “Grab anything. A rock, a stick. Swing it at them. Hit them.”