What do you get when two ruthless assassins raise their daughter travelling through the wildest reaches of Caido? Take one look at Theea and you'll get a pretty good idea. Cheerful and tenacious in equal measure, and curious beyond all else, she began her journey on a mission to find those her mother once called family. And find them she did, soon rubbing elbows with demigods, leaders and even ghosts from the past. Her determination is resolute, her thirst for knowledge unmatched. We can't wait to see where her next adventure takes her!
Congratulations, Theea!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
OG Skinning provided by Kaons, with functionality and many custom plugins made by Neowulf!
"If I could fly I would never come back", you said
Teaching how to fly without being able to explain verbally meant she could only show how she did it. After leaving the Bodega and the bustle of crowds behind, they had found a nicely secluded area to practice in. Figuring it would be best to start with landing and take off - things she had struggled with the most after gaining her wings - Maea had picked out a series of trees with good stout branches, and made a game out of flying between them. A mute Simon Says, or perhaps aerial hopscotch - either way, it was a pleasant way to idle away the afternoon.
Landing upon a gnarled branch, the albino gore crow shuffled around and cared encouragement to her company. It was the first time she saw a dreambird - and Nova hadn't exaggerated about the complexity of flying without three pairs of wings. Still - the only way to get comfortable with them was to practice. Starting, stopping and turning were the essentials.
As flying enters into everyday life, the dreams of centuries become actualities.
After her lesson with Everest, Nova was a little better at flying, although she still needed the practice - as much as she hated to admit it. It took a few tries to get into the tree, having to remember the rhythm of her wings and how to get them to work together instead of bumping into each other like they were competing for prettiest feathers. She had to use a few of the lower branches since she still couldn't get that high, but she made it up eventually, watching as Maea flit from branch to branch with ease. Hey! Wait for me!
But when she didn't get a response, Nova tilted her head, the rainbowed plumage catching in the light that filtered through the canopy. It was only after a confused second that she realized Maea wouldn't be able to hear her through the bond, so she gave a soft chirp instead, flaring her wings as she made to follow to the next branch.
It took more concentration than she'd like to admit, and it wasn't as graceful as she'd have liked, but as she bumped into the branch and caught her balance, there was still a prideful trill and a puffing of her chest feathers.
One by one they take shape and become stepping-stones for other dreams.
"If I could fly I would never come back", you said
Reaching for Maea through the bond was like fumbling for a hand in the dark. An absolute silence was all Nova would receive, and the ancient could only imagine how unsettling that must be, when you were used to connecting mind to mind. Inconvenient though it was, she was personally glad to have her thoughts to herself. The chirps from the dreambird was enough for her, and managed to convey enough that she paused on her branch until Nova caught up.
Clacking her beak in encouragement, she waited a few moments so her friend could catch her breath, then spread her wings and glided off to a nearby branch, situated slightly lower. Branching was how most birds learned to fly, and it helped to build confidence; pushing off, trusting your wings, then gauging the distance and speed and adjusting in order to land safely.
As razor sharp talons grasped the new branch, bark scattered towards the ground. Turning around, Maea croaked cheerfully for Nova to follow - however fast or slow she wished to go. Knowing her... it wouldn't be slow.
As flying enters into everyday life, the dreams of centuries become actualities.
One branch wasn't enough to get her wings under control, the feeling still awkward and fumbling, so when Maea moved on to the next, Nova figured she should follow. Shuffling her feet on the wood, her tiny claws scraped against the wood as she spread her wings again, dipping her head in preparation before she launched forward with as much effort as she could muster.
The slight breeze caught beneath her feathers as she did her best to remember the order: front, middle, back, front, middle, back. They were slow enough to lose her some altitude, but she managed to half-drift, half-fly her way perilously to the next branch with an abundance of chirps along the way. With one last flap of her wings, she nearly overshot, but managed to snag the wood with her feet, stumbling precariously before righting herself again to look at Maea.
One by one they take shape and become stepping-stones for other dreams.
"If I could fly I would never come back", you said
For a moment there it looked like the smaller bird would spill over the other side of the branch. Pale wings spread halfway in preparation in case she had to catch her from a tumble - but with a bit of flapping and staggering Nova managed to save herself. Again the heavy beak of the gore crow sounded an applause, encouraging; it had been a very good take off and a fully adequate bit of flying.
Deciding to switch up the game for a bit, as she leaped up this time, she remained hovering over the branch and simply pushed herself higher and higher, in an exercise of raw power that challenged the chest muscles to the max. It would likely leave them both sore even when they shifted back - but strength was essential to making the most of their wings. And given that Nova had six of them, muscle control could not be overstated.
As flying enters into everyday life, the dreams of centuries become actualities.
Appreciative of Maea's praise, Nova gave a small chirp, puffing her chest feathers in a poof of white and rainbow. She looked suspiciously like a tie-dyed cotton ball, but that didn't stop her from filling every ounce of her tiny body with pride.
When the gore crow chose to go up instead of to the next branch, Nova followed suit, her fluffed feathers settling a little in her concentration. She shuffled her feet before beginning to move her wings, keeping the same rhythm like a dance or a mantra: front, middle, back, front, middle, back. Slowly, painstakingly so, Nova lifted a few inches off the branch. She strained her neck higher, forcing her wings to work harder and faster to lift her just a little higher.
Once she was hovering slightly over her perch, Nova gave a small chirp of victory and pushed forward to the next branch, ready to follow to another section of the forest.
[FIN]
One by one they take shape and become stepping-stones for other dreams.
