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!
"Perhaps I will be able to help with that, too," Amhran chimes to her with an easy smile. He means healing, of course, and at the mere mention of it a soft breeze seems to pick up around them, injecting the room with something cleansing and pure. Neither of them particularly need healing, or so he thinks, but just in case, they should be feeling even better now.
Drowning he understands if only from Evie's conversations with herself her plants in the greenhouse, and he knows well the balance between too much water and not enough. And so, nodding sagely despite understanding nothing about why people might flail through water for fun, Amhran refocuses on the matter of his no longer socked feet.
"They make my roots feel strangled," he tries to explain, but of course he no longer has roots, and the vocabulary of perhaps those socks were too tight isn't available to him just yet, so this will have to do for now. At least, according to his mother, he is presentable enough now to meet Deimos.
"I would like that, yes please," he says.
Amhran used:
Magic: Walk it off | A clean, refreshing breeze whips around Amhran within a 15ft radius. Any ally within range is healed at Amhran's Basic level.
Type: Light | Rank: Basic
"Oh," slips out of her for the second time that day, slightly startled by the pleasant breeze that picks up in the room. It eases the tiniest of aches and irritations, prompting a thoughtless smile of pride as she recognizes the mending magic at its core. "I'm glad, being able to heal myself got me out of a lot of scary situations growing up," she admits with a relieved exhale. By age and curiosity alone she suspects she can't stash him away in the house until he's wise and powerful the way she sometimes wishes to do with Erebos.
"There are other materials that are looser, we'll give those a try later," she assures as she stands, considering the softer wool pairs usually worn over the snug layer beneath. He does have awfully large feet, she muses, though considering his stature it shouldn't be surprising. "Let's go figure out where he's wandered off to."
Opening the door is less daunting now that Amhran is dressed, and she steps over the threshold while lifting her voice, aware Deimos is home but uncertain of the specifics. "Deimos? Honey, there's someone I want you to meet." That's the best preparation she can provide because she can't bear to call Amhran a guest or a visitor when she'd grown him and doted on him for an entire season. Turning over her shoulder she smiles encouragingly, vacating the doorway to naturally shuffle them into the living room. They'd likely want to be sitting for this.
Deimos hadn’t been wandering – in fact, he’d been within the kitchen since Evie had left to tend to the greenhouse wares. An impromptu, but necessary bath had been had for Erebos, and he’d spent multitudes of time fussing over correct temperatures in the small basin within the sink. By that time, the Sword had managed to eventually find a suitable accord, and found the youth’s affinity for water, based on the amount of splashes conjured and liquid sloshed over the countertops and himself. Amused and quartering off Belial from joining in any antics, the baby was eventually quite content, clean, and was in the process of being dried off, when he could hear the Evergreen through the reverberations in their home.
His eyes narrowed suspiciously, because from what he’d known about the unfurling day, they hadn’t had any appointed visitors. Nor was she the type to throw such presumptions upon him without some manner of preparation…so naturally, he grew all the more reserved. “Just a moment,” he answered in return – mildly puzzled. Perhaps it was a surprise or chicanery, so he couldn’t help but snort, wrapping Erebos in his towel (with adorning ursur hood over his head) and holding him tight to his chest as he advanced towards the sound of her voice. “Time to see what your mother has planned,” he whispered, and while Erebos squirmed, his long strides made headway towards the living room.
we exhume our enemy's bones we are battling, hungry beasts
"Yes, knowing how you help others is what spurred me to become what I am," Amhran agrees with an easy nod. And it might even be true - though he is certainly of Rae by nature, Evie has nurtured him all season. Under another's care, perhaps he'd be adept with thorns or poisons, or something else entirely?
Nodding again - gladly at the idea of meeting Deimos, more warily at trying on socks a second time - he dutifully rises to his feet and pads after his mother out into the rest of the house. Resisting the urge to call out a greeting - barely - Amhran follows Evie into the livingroom and takes a seat upon a couch, glancing around with curiosity at the adornments of the Ignatius household.
At the sound of the Sword's arrival he brightens, smiling sunnily towards Deimos and the infant in his arms. "Hello," he trills. "I am called Amhran."
Is it possible for a softening heart to melt so far that it hurts? He looks so little like the plant she cared for - obviously - and yet she can't deny how immediately she cares for him. "I can't wait to see how you make it your own," she murmurs, settling onto the couch beside him. Will he be a wandering healer, a doctor, a field medic? Will this initial power he's born with direct his life as it had hers, or simply be another in the arsenal, meaningful but not integral to his pathway?
She's shaken from her musings as Deimos' voice calls back to her, his puzzlement clear. Their house is large but not overwhelming so it doesn't take him long to round the corner and for Amhran to introduce himself. Evie smiles calmly to project comfort, allowing her husband time to decide whether to remain standing or to sit before she interjects. "He was born from Rae's plant, the one I was tending to all season." That alone will provide plenty of context to contend with. She isn't keen on overloading him with information, so she only adds, "He learned from everything I was saying to him over the season, but even with my chattiness I'm sure there's a lot missing." Dimples pop in impish humor, choosing her words carefully to not paint Amhran's lack of experience negatively to the demigod, but to also clue Deimos in that the full grown man beside her does not have the accompanying life experience one would expect from new introductions.
Were Evie not sitting directly beside this unknown, lanky individual, the Sword’s hackles and suspicions might’ve been raised to alarming and detrimental heights. Only her closeness, and Erebos in his arms, kept the restless and specious notions at bay, though he couldn’t fight his eyes narrowing in quiet, careful scrutiny, nor settle into a chair nearby. Not when the speculations were running rampant and murkiness clouding over particulars –
And her words weren’t a lie – not when Safrin’s amulet did nothing against his chest – giving way to understanding and the sudden complexities surrounding their household. Though not as quick to rally and adopt, he could still fathom the sudden weight, clarity, and nuances between none of it being anyone’s fault, and being bewildered, confused, and rattled by the entire event. His silence likely spoke those volumes, and it took a moment of Erebos gurgling and squirming before he breathed and settled. “I see,” and granting the Evergreen and demigod both a firm nod, he extended a hand towards Amhran, trying to break over and through whatever emotions threatened to bound against his shoulders. “I am Deimos.”
Glancing over at Evie, because he didn’t know what else to say to someone who’d likely been a plant less than an hour ago, he shifted the infant so he could glance at the Rae newcomer. “This is Erebos.” The youth gurgled again, blue eyes centered on the stranger before a tiny wiggle of his fingers followed. “Will you be staying? Are you hungry?"
we exhume our enemy's bones we are battling, hungry beasts
Listening patiently to the exchange between husband and wife - and listening more intently, in truth, to the gurgles of the infant against Deimos's chest, Amhran only focuses properly as he is addressed. Nodding politely at the names he already knows, at least knowing better than to voice as much, as Deimos approaches and extends his hand, he automatically rises to his feet.
Never having shaken a hand, of course, he isn't sure what to do a first, glancing fleetingly at Evie and patting his pockets but finding nothing within, of course. Eventually, he reaches out and gently taps his own palm against the Sword's, as if in an offer of a very polite high five, and smiles, satisfied.
"It is nice to meet you both in person," he intones, and were the infant less bundled up he'd have offered a smaller high five handshake towards Erebos. As for whether he is staying or if he is hungry, again Amhram looks to Evie for help, knowing the answer to neither question.
