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!
Her eyes squinted up at the sun, confused but...happy? It was warm and though the waves lapped below, high upon the cliff face she was safe from the sea's effects. Safe? Why safe? For a moment it struck her as an odd thought but then it slipped away. Phoebe laid down on the rocks and sand, arms and legs stretched out beneath the glorious warmth of the sun's rays. That it would easily turn her pale skin to a red crisp was the least of her worries. The heat of the sun warmed rocks beneath her, the Torchline sun near baking her through - this was her moment in heaven.
The world around her seemed to undulate, the heat of the day cradling her, the cliffside rocking her gently. A nap really would be so nice...but then she would miss how lovely she felt. "Frey, did you come get me again, you sneaky sneaker?" she said, giggling as the whole world seemed to nod yes.
"Uh...well m'name ain' Frey, but I guess y'could say I was here to get ya." Came the voice, familiar rough accent and humble, laughing tone: Emmett's voice; but for the moment there was no sight of the man himself in the vicinity. Phoebe would hear some footsteps behind her, possibly be aware of a presence stood over her.
Her nose wrinkled, eyes squeezing together at the sound of the voice. She couldn't place it at first - so familiar yet part of long forgotten memories. Wistful happy days and fresh cut roses...and potatoes? But the pleasantness was suddenly cut with the scent of iron and memories of bitter cold and crying children. The first Longnight. The Palmers. Emmett. Her eyes shot open, blinking against the sun which blinded her vision with white. Phoebe fumbled as she tried to sit up, rubbing her eyes and curling in her legs, recoiling against the horrible memories of frost burnt skin and death and heartbreak.
Finally her vision began to return, little bright spots still floating in the air as she blinked, but the cliffside once more in her view. "Emmett??" she said in confusion, looking around for him. Had she really heard that? Was he actually there??
"Am I dead?" she said, suddenly feeling like she was losing her mind, even was the world continued to rock to dare her to relax in the sun once more.
As Phoebe sat up, she might have become able to see the faintest outline of a person stood to her side; the edges blurred and smeared but identifiable as a person, if she focused.
"Yeah." He replied simply to the call of his name, the shadows where hands might be on the figure swinging out in a loose gesture. At Phoebe's second question he laughed, shaking his head and kneeling down next to her, his facial features coming ever to slightly more into focus as he did. "No, y'aren't dead. If y'were dead, you'd know about it."
Phoebe squinted her eyes, trying to bring the shape into focus. It was definitely a person - a wibbly wobbly person with wibbly wobbly edges but a person still. Wibbly wobbly, just like the cliffside that rocked back and forth in time with the waves. She reached up and rubbed roughly at her eyes. They tingled, wishing to droop closed again to bid her sleep but somehow Emmett was standing next to her. No...kneeling now. "Then how come I can see you?" she said confused, hands pressing her cheeks in. Emmett was nice. She liked Emmett. So how come she felt so sad?
"I'm hoooooooooot." she whined, waving the skirt of her dress, huffing in discomfort. But it dissipated quickly and she looked back at the wobbly Emmett. Her eyes squinted again at him. "Why are you all blurry? And why are we on a potato mountain?" she asked, patting the rocks beneath her, which most definitely were potatoes.
"People see dead people alla time, don' they? Through Ludo, or ghosts, whatever." Maybe-Emmett replied matter of factly, apparently completely nonplussed about the concept. Watching passively as Phoebe whined, it was impossible to tell from the vague outlines of his face how he was feeling.
A chuckle followed her question and he shook his head. "Ain' no potatoes, and I dunno...I guess y'can' see me all the way. Y'look kind of peaky, so maybe that's it." A ghotly finger reached out to touch Phoebe's forehead, as if going to check her temperature; whether she would feel anything was down to how delirious she truly was.
"I don't see dead people expect for right now..." she mumbled, brow furrowing. But she was distracted by her lack of paranormal experiences by the revelation that she was not on a potato mountain. The Nightingale picked up a rock, eyes squinting as she examined it. It sure did look like a potato...two quick sniffs and she nodded curtly. Definitely a potato. Maybe potatoes looked different to dead people...did Ghost-Emmett even remember what a potato was? Did potatoes exist in Morts realm? Did More even like potatoes? Life's grandest questions plagued her, drowning her in her own confusion.
"How come you're even here?" she asked, leaning forward as if into his touch. But whether Phoebe actually felt it was a great question - everything felt numb, her limbs felt heavy, and her eyelids drooped. She was exhausted but wide awake, deliriously aware of every cell in her body yet feeling simultaneously detached.
"What? Man Bee, yer ill, huh? Yer not makin' any sense." Emmett said with fond humour, sitting back properly to kick his legs over the side of the cliff. Phoebe leaned towards him and a ghostly arm did come to rest around her, but she was not actually held up by the action.
As for why he was there...there was a pause, as if he wasn't sure (or as if Phoebe's mind itself was searching for a reason. "Well...Y'ain' well, huh? Maybe yer close to th'end and I came to show you the way out." It was a dark answer, but it seemed to make sense and he tried to give her a comforting smile, his face now enough in focus that it could potentially have an effect.
Phoebe 'harrumphed' and crossed her arms. "You're not making any sense cause you're dead but you're here and you're talking." she countered. As she surveyed the mountain of potatoes, a familiar bird flew into her view. Those stupid flower wrecking Hels! "Stay outta my garden!" she shouted before throwing her guardian sphere at the bird, which shrieked and quickly flew away. "Dumb birds eat my garden." she grumbled.
But her gaze returned to ghost Emmett, eyes squinting up at him. "Isn't that Ludo's job?" she said. "And besides you don't like me anyways, maybe you'll just lead me to the monsters." she said, pointing out at the ocean, where the waves seemed to curl up and form into vicious water beasts.
"Y'never heard of a ghost, then? Y'must've at least heard one ghost story." He insisted, nudging her arm just a little. While this Emmett was indeed a fevered hallucination rather than a spirit, that was rather more difficult to explain to the one having the hallucination. He watched with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile as Phoebe yelled something about a garden to the birds above, unsure of what she meant.
What she said next made him frown though, and he leaned in a little, sitting down with a little faint thud. "Who said I don' like you? We had our differences, sure, but I dunno, Bee. Distance and time and bein' dead, y'know? All those things give ya some perspective, I guess. I certainly wouldn' say I don' like you."