From Attuned to Ascended to Ancient, Kiada Njovu-Reyes has been reborn several times throughout her short life, but her fighting spirit has never once been diminished. With beauty, grace and a quick wit, Kiada is the whole package wrapped in an infectious smile. Recent endeavours have found her in the heart of the Hollowed Grounds, aiding the region and bettering it for her new Ancient kin, and whatever she does next, we know it's sure to pack a punch.
Congratulations, Kiada!
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!
02-06-2020, 02:20 AM (This post was last modified: 02-06-2020, 02:20 AM by Oliver.)
OLIVER
Unfortunately, things weren't really going great for Oliver. He did recognize quite a few people, but none of them did he feel like he could approach. There was a consideration of Sunjata, but the man immediately started talking to people Oliver didn't even really know and he felt it'd be too awkward to walk up and interrupt them, especially when clearly gifts were being exchanged. Things were honestly quite miserable, which was sadly expected. Oliver remembered his conversation back with Bastien, that he could rely on him if he needed, but unfortunately his guildmaster wasn't anywhere in sight. Even Harper hadn't shown up, meaning he didn't really have anyone to give his gift to.
Oliver was about to head over to Loren since he remembered seeing the man, but unfortunately he disappeared when he turned to look back to where he was. Well fuck. Sunjata was out, Jigano was nowhere to be seen, which meant that there were a smaller selection for him to give his gift to. Might as well just get this over with.
Walking over to Deimos, Oliver waited his turn, watching Deimos exchange gifts with his friends. Hopefully, if the man looked over, he'd offer a small wave to indicate to the man that he needed to speak with him. It was awkward as fuck and Oliver honestly just wanted to go home. This party was miserable and he was slowly hating more and more of it.
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be
An astounding level of benedictions appeared to be heading his way – and Deimos couldn’t quite fathom or understand it. Perhaps he never would; eternally determined to be immersed in a low contingent of self-worth. This time though Oliver hovered in the background, a wave extended in his direction, an arch to the Sword’s brow the only thing resembling bewilderment or confusion. There were a few passing acknowledgments extended to others, like Maea, a courteous bob of his head, before his own nod beckoned Oliver towards him, to be situated and placed within the circle of compassion and friends. “Oliver,” he extended on rumbling measures, uncertain if there was something the younger man wanted, or needed to say, his arms and hands full of extensions and bestowals (something never in the realm of possibilities – cherished, beloved things, befuddled to be somewhere in the center of it all).
DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
She can’t say she had planned to give the gift to Deimos. She hadn’t actually planned to give the gift to anyone in particular, but rather figured she’d find someone on a spur of the moment whim. And look, she did. There weren’t exactly a lot of her Halovian peeps here for her to plan to give the thing to, after all. And no, Neron and his crew did not count. ”You’re welcome. I trust you to give it to the right person.” Which is to say, not to throw it away on the next pretty face. She gives him a nod as someone else comes to claim his attention, slipping back into the crowd.
Weaver plays wallflower a little longer, but in the end, this sort of thing is not her scene. Not that she wouldn’t enjoy the wine, but she doesn’t trust fae wine, and she doesn’t necessarily trust fae country either. Not that she probably wouldn’t be back at some point, but for now, this was enough. She slips away from the party without issue, given that no one will miss her, and makes for home.
***
Weaver out
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
Good news and bad news. Good news is that Deimos was actually super nice and invited him over to his group. Bad news...Oliver got invited to his group and Deimos also seemed super busy. Still, he had been acknowledged verbally so there was no turning back now. Taking a few steps forward, Oliver joined the group and offered everyone a smile before he turned to face Deimos.
"I know you're busy so I can try to make this quick," Deimos probably had many other things he needed to worry about, people to talk to, things to do. There wasn't really any time to waste. "I have a gift for you...I hope that you can find a place to put it," It wouldn't suit the barracks, but surely Deimos had a place to call home that the painting could be hung up in. Reaching forward, Oliver held out the painting, still hiding away what it actually looked like. "So...if you want to accept it, that's fine, if not then I completely understand."
Maea couldn’t hear the conversation that went on between the hybrids, but her delight at seeing him was so genuine that he felt bad for hiding. Now that the cat – or dragon – was out of the bag thanks to Loren there wasn’t much point in hiding, though he hoped Tarasha wouldn’t be too mad at him. Sheepishly he waited until the Fae had taken their gift before he shuffled his feet back under him and shifted to his human form, self-conscious and uneasy to be shifting in full view of everyone but unable to hide in such a large body.
He accepted Maea’s gift with a bow, eyes widening in delight and amazement as he opened it to find the quills in their beautiful case. ” Maea , these are gorgeous, thank you!” He beamed at her, then winked. ”A moment, please, while I get yours…” There were definitely upsides to his newly-discovered magic, one of which was never being caught empty-handed. He tucked the case under his arm and reached into a capacious sleeve, perusing the pockets there. He had planned the gift out a year prior, but after her disappearance he’d stopped commissioning the little tokens from Old Smitty…
Now, he could make his own. Bronze music tolled like small bells in his soul as his fingers closed around air which suddenly filled, and he brought the object out into the dancing firelight: a charm that might go on a bracelet or necklace. It was a small, delicately shaped lantern made of bronze with a silver flame wrought inside that seemed to dance in the firelight that reflected off it. Grinning, he offered it to his fellow pale-haired wraith of a friend before she went off to deliver more gifts.
It was, in the end, a nice night, but the one he wanted most to spend it with wasn’t here. Gifts given, and one beautiful one received, he made his swift goodbyes and then headed back into the woods on four dainty paws to make his way home again.
__________
i sailed seas of emotions to wander a forest of scars
i am a dance of light and darkness
Amalia comes rather belatedly to the gathering, anxious still to be out in public without the use of her legs. She remembers being in this place last year, dancing with a blind Remi in a sphere of magicked plants. He had been so brave, then, coming despite his disability, fearless in the face of danger, the face of disaster and disaster again.
And here she is, the Shield of Safrin, afraid to roll her way into a gathering held in her goddess' honor.
Swallowing hard she steels herself, pushing into the outskirts of the gathering. She has few gifts prepared, having been rather unable to do most of the traditional tasks this year. What she does bring she holds close in her lap, wrapped in cloth and awaiting distribution should she catch sight of her chosen few.
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be
Oliver’s hesitation was noted, but he braved his way along their assembled mass. Deimos remained silent as the other man spoke, only arching a curious, inquisitive brow as he sought to present the Sword with a gift. Not one to back away from a bestowal, even while it remained somewhat hidden, mysterious, and enigmatic (which made him childishly want to peek), he nodded, hands reaching forward for the proffered piece. “Of course. Thank you.” His eyes lifted, as if expecting some sort of explanation for whatever was contained, pondering if he was supposed to open it now or later.
He raised his head thereafter, eyes snapping instantly to Amalia on the outskirts; always capable of spotting her within a crowd. If he wasn’t surrounded currently, he would’ve gone immediately to her. Instead, he sent a warm pulse of affection her way, a bid of invitation and enticement. Hello, small offerings and promises, extensions of adoration in the midst of other silences.
DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Offering Deimos a smile, Oliver gestured towards the artpiece. "You can open it if you'd like? I mean, if you want to. Otherwise, it's fine if you choose to wait until you're home." He...wasn't really sure how this gift giving stuff was supposed to work. He didn't want to make Deimos feel like he was obligated to act happy or surprised over the gift or that he was staring the man down, hoping for a perfect response.
Tapping his foot ever so nervously, Oliver waited for a response from Deimos. To see if he chose to open it there or to wait until he was in the privacy of his own home. "If it looks weird...yeah, it's uh...it's kinda weird... it really isn't exactly of anything, but hey, art can do that." He was rambling a small bit, clearly growing steadily more nervous over the prospect of the art being seen as shitty by a, well, a non art person.
"I don't want to give my rock to anyone but you." You say with a look towards Kaimana. "Besides, they'll just say it's boring or not round enough. Only you understand." And what was there to understand? That out of all the rocks in all of creation, you've found this one, for precisely this occasion. There literally isn't another like it. And, were you the type for metaphors, you might think it's a bit like you. Overlooked, thought to be uninteresting. But rocks are just as amazing as stars are, in their own way. It isn't their fault that humanity has simply grown to like that which sparkles and shines over that which is steadfast and stable.
Deimos opens the present to reveal a helmet to go with the fancy armor that he’d crafted her. And her eyes grow wide, bright, surprise lacing her features as she focuses on the intricate details that screamed her and Auni, the same bronze of her armor set before – something to cherish, something to hold near and dear once more. A bright smile crosses her face at this, and she takes it as her face lightens up. “Oh, Deimos.” She says softly, thoughtfully, fingers running along the details of the helmet.
“Thank you!” She chimes, a bright vibrant sound that somehow sounds a lot like her mother in this instance, before she waits for him to open the gift she’d given him. It’s a double paneled box, within one side there would be a set of throwing knives, with snowflake details as well as a feathered sort of appearance on the back of the blade – almost making them somewhat serrated but not effecting their ability to be thrown. On the other side, she’d made him cookies that embodied snowflakes as well, but with the very same sweet ingredients that he had always been a fan of.
Oliver appears, and she steps aside and offers him a smile and a greeting. "Hey Oliver." She eyes the gift within Oliver’s hands, head tilting slightly as she watches it unfold, gaze flitting to Amalia. Hi Ama. She says quietly, pulsing a small amount of happiness, lifting the helmet as if to show her what Deimos had been up to.
all bright things must burn
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
Kiada has a large X scar on the right side of her neck.
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3
Libbs continued to wander the festival for a bit, trying to find one of her victims. Damn it all, she made these lighters, and she was going to give it to them! A bit of snickering and growling under her breath, and she visibly lit up at the sight of one of the gift recipents! Sunjata! Yay!
She ran towards him, losing sight of him, but as time would show- would eventually have her finally giving her gift. At least that means one person got a gift out of her today! And she was satisfied with that.
'Come on. I don't think I like this." You say a touch nervously. You're pressed against Kai, eyes wandering around those who are milling about, eyeing each one suspiciously. This sort of archaic treatment of myth is beyond you, and thought Kai promised you fun and merriment, you can't help but think of all that happened during the last large festival that you attended.
The blood. The ice. The screams.
Normally it wouldn't bother you, but you think of bright flashes of pain, of Kai in the arms of Sunjata, of Loren tugging you to safety. It's all too overwhelming; an experience you haven't properly dealt with.
"Can we please go?" YOu urge, feeling very small in this strange world you don't udnerstand. You need nature. You need earth between your finger nails and you need Kai.