From being an Abandoned who had rarely left the Hollowed Grounds, to embracing the call of adventure, to dying and being reborn first as an Ascended and then as an Ancient, Maea has gone through quite the amount of changes in her life. One thing remains common, though, in her attempts to find out just where she belongs; she’s always had a craving for knowledge which has brought her to so many places and to meet so many people here in Caido. We can’t wait to see what else is in store for her!
Congratulations, Maea!
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!
LongHeat pressed its wares against her crown and she dazzled in the light, in the warmth, in the eternal embrace of summer. It was in the rocks, in the stones, in the trees, in the earth, singing its sublime tendencies into her ears. They were crescendos and warbles of birds, memories of draconic sand tickling her feet, a clashing of oasis spray echoing and emboldened from her fingertips, the illustrious, bountiful whims of fire, of passion, restlessly intertwining in her bones. She’d never forgotten it – not in the falling of the Dragon’s Throat, not in the ashen, wake of the Rift, not in the passing of seasons here in Caido.
But there had to be more; stories, tales, and legends, sprung from the lips of inhabitants, those who reigned here long before portals sent the rest of their masses down. Perhaps the Naturals knew. Maybe the Fae stoked their beliefs.
It was a pattern, cyclical, perennial, and she craved the last of the last; when autumn approached, she would’ve been here for an entire year, grown and prospered beneath the heavens and skies, shifted, changed, and altered, but still strong, still determined.
Her feet were light, her strides buoyant, as she crossed form lane to lane, path to path. Fangorn trailed behind, consistently distracted by insects, attempting to snatch them into his great, gaping, fanged mouth, then ambling a few more strides before starting the process all over again. She waited, laughed, and searched, scanning the world (the rubble, the dirt, the debris; a home away from home, like desecrated remains of kingdoms and sovereignties left behind) for something, for someone, to show her the way.
She thought she saw a familiar form amidst the columns and skeletal buildings, taking shape as she grew closer and closer. The youth waved and hollered, eager and fervent all over again, scooping up Fangorn, ensuring he wasn’t left behind (as he grumbled about missed opportunities and snacks), as she approached. “Roana!” Her call was a vibrant, outspoken decibel, forever seen and heard, racing up to the older woman’s side until she was breathless. “Have you heard the capture the sun story? I seemed to have missed it!”
And she wanted to know everything.
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
”Boys! What did I say about going out of sight?!” Roana shouted, very frustrated with the little hooligans she had so graciously given life to that now were running around the Ruins like complete lunatics trying to capture the sun. In her own hands was a large basket, unceremoniously held so that the sun above poured into it.
”But ma the sun is over here!!” Rhett called back from wherever he had run off to with his brothers as they chased the sun, full speed ahead, baskets held in outstretched arms as they tried to get the angle just right for the light to fill it. Roana sighed and ran a hand down her face. ”The sun is everywhere it is high noon boys! Get your butts back here!” she shouted back. That was when she heard another voice and glanced back, smiling a bit to see Melita and Fangorn on their way over. ”Hello Melita, Fangorn.” she said with a wave. ”Capturing the sun is exactly what we are doing, while simultaneously breaking the rules – Boys I will count to three!” Roana started, ending her sentence by facing back towards where her devil’s spawn had run off to last.
A gaggle of voices and exuberant splintered through the air, and Melita could only catch glimpses of movement and motion – very wild, energetic, enthusiastic children rampaging their way through the ruins. Had she been their age, she would have eagerly joined and split the day with uproar and ardor too. The youth could unleash full pandemonium when she put her mind to it – loud and obnoxious, howling like a banshee, roaring like a monster. Unfortunately, despite the craving and yearning to simply play, her curiosity stemmed the outreach, and she found herself listening to the brim of Roana’s words.
“Capturing the sun?” Her head tilted, leaning closer to Roana, and Fangorn maneuvered himself closer to Melita's chest (as if the boys might somehow come and grab him, take him away to some dark, dangerous, small child oblivion). “What does that mean?” Her eyes lifted up to the heavens, knowing full well the sun could never be captured, it was far beyond the sky, their grasp, their hopes, and their dreams. It’d once been her favored God, destined to be a beatific star blazing in the undying heavens – until that was gone too. Where had such a tale originated? Why were they using baskets? Were they meant to snag sunshine? What would they do it with it when they were gone? Did it require a more spiritual understanding, a notion she hadn’t fathomed in so many seasons?
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
The ruins fell silent. Oooh, these boys were testing her patience today.
”ONE!” Roana shouted. Nothing. Then a bit of uncertain shifting about and not so hushed whispers.
”TWO!” Roana shouted. By now it was clear where the boys were hiding but had yet to come out.
Roana took a big breath to shout three, which was a dangerous thing to mess with, and that was when all three blonde-headed boys came rushing out, worry etched into their faces. ”We’re here, we’re here!” Cormac said, all three boys breathless from their hurry. Only Jax noticed Melita at first, smiling and waving. ”Hi! I like your punkin.” he said.
”Sorry about that.” Roana said, shaking her head. ”So capturing the sun…it’s a Fae tradition done in LongHeat. You make a basket and figuratively capture the sun to make the days stay longer, and then you do something to entertain Safrin so she keeps the night away as long as possible. It all culminates in a big celebration.” she said and shrugged a bit. She wasn’t much of a storyteller. Ianto would have a lot to say about her version of the story.
”Momma is real good at it, show her momma!” Jax said, bouncing on his heels, basket held in both hands. Roana sighed and held her own basket up, tilted slightly so the rays of sun illuminated the inside of the basket.
The cacophony continued, streamlined from Roana to her children, suddenly all bombarding and echoing their way through the arcane columns, new and old, fresh and foreign, innate and golden. She watched, hardly rattled or baffled by the discord (for it was amongst her own bloodline to outcry and roar, like a lion, like a beast, like a monster), somewhat amused when one of the boys approached her and Fangorn, appreciative of the gourd. The pumpkin grimaced and hissed in response, and Melita rolled her eyes, patting the top of her companion’s head in a subtle scratch. “Don’t mind Fangorn,” she whispered to the youth. “He’s shy.” Then she winked, and postured her attention back to Roana.
A Fae tradition. She hadn’t ever really heard much of the Fae – she always imagined restless, toying spirits, eager to share their deceptions and melodies, fervent to embolden the world in upheaval and grace. She’d yet to meet one, despite the barrier coming down, but perhaps that would come in time too, and her curiosity could be sated for few moments. Making a basket sounded a little daunting, but if she could manifest beams of wood and assist in constructing places for Spark Birds to land, a basket shouldn’t be too difficult. Capturing the sun itself seemed otherworldly and ethereal, exactly as the Fae likely intended, and she wrinkled her nose at the way it was worded, at the intricacy layered beneath. Entertain Safrin. Big celebration. There were many pieces, but there’d always been – the seasons streamlined from one to the next, and she had so many inquiries and questions to follow upon – but lo and behold, the moment Roana lifted her basket, Melita peeked in, noted the fringes of sunlight illuminating the bottom of the wicker, and she wanted to do it too – have the sun in her hands, hers to hold for seconds and snippets. “Oh,” she breathed, impressed and reverent all at once. “How did you do it?”
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
Jax did startled a bit when the gourd hissed at him, stepping back and holding his hands up defensively, as if the basket he held might somehow keep the creature at bay. With wide eyes he looked up at Melita, smiling a little as she explained that the gourd was shy. "Ohhhhh Rhett is shy sometimes too." he said before smiling at the pumpkin again. He took a big breath and copied the hissing noise at him, thinking that it would help the creature feel more comfortable.
"Well you collect some reeds and make the structure. See here how these are all connected?" Roana said, showing her where reeds bent around each other. "Then you take more reeds and simply weave them around, going opposite every other row, and tuck in the ends when you reach the top." she said. "Mr. Ianto helped us make our baskets! He is real smart and fun too!" Cormac said with a sage nod. Rhett wasn't really paying attention. He was too busy still trying to catch the sun in his basket, clambering up onto a piece of rubble to get a little higher and hold the basket out to the sky.
Unfortunately, despite the potential for camaraderie in shyness, reserve, and reticence, the corresponding hiss did little to soothe Fangorn’s ruffled features, and the gourd’s eyes widened, very large, gaping, eerie, before turning his entire face to the breadth of Melita’s chest, hiding, as he must’ve so often did. It was how he’d managed to survive so long while the rest of his clan and kin had been butchered, tossed, and played with. Melita leaned down, closer to the boy, a smaller smile appearing on her face. “He likes to be scratched,” she proffered, extending the vampire pumpkin outward, so that Jax might try that instead, one of her fingers pointing to the top of the vegetable’s round crown, a favored spot.
Then she was dutiful towards Roana’s instructions, gaze riveting on the way reeds had been woven, connecting, eventually combining to become something other than dried plants, capable of carrying, of snagging, of ensnaring bits of sun. “I see,” she murmured, pondering over the amount of precision required, how long it would take her, how Clementine would’ve been far better at this than she, patient, understanding, not waiting to embark on the next journey and conquest. “How long did it take?”
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
Jax looked a little taken aback when the pumpkin hid, frowning. He had just wanted to be friends! But Melita held out the living gourd and showed him where to scratch, and the boy did so gently. ”It’s okay, little punkin. I just wanna be your friend.” Jax said quietly. ”Do you wanna catch the sun with me and my brothers? It’ll be fun!” the boy said, still determined to win the favor of Fangorn.
”No, not long at all. It’s a good afternoon project.” Roana said, shaking her head at Melita’s question. ”Then you really just need to leave it out to let sunlight get into it, but the boys wanted to actually chase the sun of course.” she said with a light laugh. ”That one is Jax, that’s Rhett, and then Cormac. Boys, say hello to Miss Melita.” Roana said, pointing out each boy with his respective name. ”Hi, Miss Melita!” They all said in unison.
Jax’s scratching worked wonders, and Fangorn preened a little under the ministrations, half-turning, eerie, enigmatic square centered on the boy. His eyes then went to Melita, as if asking permission (where ordinarily he would’ve just gone, curious and inquisitive, bestial and barbaric, knowing how to survive on his own; the enduring gourd of nightmares and revelry). She nodded, arching a brow in a sort of mocking display, before setting him down on the grass. Fangorn obliged the boy with a hiss, and then set off in a rambling, leaping sort of movement, ducking within some of the ruins and then coming back out; an invitation to chase.
As for the basket weaving, it seemed Melita was in for another undertaking requiring some form of precision (which seemed too bad, really; why didn’t anything in this world simply require an educated guess, a disastrous run, and then just high peels of laughter?), struggling to picture how she’d entangle reeds and twist them together in some pattern, let alone get then conform to a basic shape. This would’ve been another concept and capability for Clementine: born to sit amidst the sun, sing, and create. Melita had been baptized in the same gentle tunes and harmonies, but had never quite taken to it – diving headlong into battles and savagery instead, grasping at flower crowns and petals when it suited her. “Where did you get your materials?” She asked next, pondering where to start the next venture; perhaps the Oasis had some suitable wares, and then she could beg some other poor individual nearby for some assistance.
The boys’ introduction came thereafter, and she smiled at them, identical but not, certain that differing personalities trilled amidst them. “Hello boys,” and she nodded to each in turn, nearly proffering information about herself, about her twin, about the orange blossoms lost to the darker places in life. But she kept inward, tucked away, brow furrowed slightly, before smiling again, as if the sudden pang and pain couldn’t quite make it to her face.
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
Identical but not indeed. Cormac was the leader, stoic and a bit stern. Rhett was the brainiac, a voracious reader with a bit of a rude side. The Jax, the sweetest and most talkative of the boys who loved to bake – and it did show based on his slightly rounder cheeks. Together the brothers made quite the dynamic trio. But that the pumpkin would play chase with them? They could not have asked for better! Jax whooped his excitement and hurried off after Fangorn with reckless abandon. Rhett and Cormac flanked the ruin the pumpkin had darted in to planning to trap their new friend in the ramshackle structure he had hopped into – their baskets all but forgotten as they sat on the ground in the sun.
”Oh there are plenty of materials in the fields.” Roana assured with a grin, keeping an eye on her boys. ”You be careful with Fangorn now, boys!” she called after them, cautioning against being too rough with the poor gourd who likely didn’t realize the trouble he’d gotten himself into.
Fangorn hadn’t survived the entire autumn, amidst hunters, trappers, and mutineers, to suddenly be bombarded and mutilated by the likes of three young children. He might’ve been a runt, but he was clever, swift, and devious, slipping along crags and alleyways amidst the ruins as if he’d been born in its very annals, tucking himself into shadows, eerie stare pinpointed on the next escape, the next evasion. Their footsteps were loud, not trained in the arts of duplicity and hiding, and the gourd was a master – ducking into the parallel darkness, until he’d rounded out the side of the many old, ancient columns, a wily grin pinpointed on the cracks and grooves of his face. Melita spotted him and muffled her laughter, watching as he bounded along the back, starting the entire process over again with a haughty growl and roar to lure the boys out again.
She turned back to Roana, pleasant smiles and amusement evident. “Thank you for all the information. Every season brings something new.” Her gaze twinkled and scintillated, catching on the air of the arcane world, inhaling, exhaling, the ether of what once was, and what would come to be. Hopefully the upcoming festival would be as diverting and wonderful as Fiat Lux’s; with the enchantments and ethereal qualities igniting and enthralling.
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
Roana watched with a big grin as he boys gave chase to the pumpkin, shouting orders to each other and making quite the racket. Jax began to tucker out first, being a little heavier than his brothers, but still well into round two of the chase. Rhett was next, plopping down on the ground, chest heaving for air. Then finally Cormac relented as well, leaning on his legs to support his shoulders. ”Okay Fangorn! You win!” Cormac called out, signaling the surrender of the brothers.
Pumpkin 1, young boys 0.
”Of course, happy to spread the word. It does seem each season brings something new doesn’t it? Leafchange will be a bit of a refresher I think…something we’ve all done before.” Roana said, laughing a bit as Jax laid on his back with a tired groan. ”And thank you to Fangorn for tuckering out my boys! He is welcome to do so any time!”
The little beast was triumphant – full of conquest and victory, settling around the curve of his enigmatic grin. Melita arched her brow at him as he sauntered forth, a bit more bounce to his bounding, clearly pleased and satisfied with the arrangements and proceedings: outsmarting tiny children. She bent low to pick him up and scratch the top of his head again, smiling beatifically all the more as the boys came back into the fold, announcing the gourd’s success. Fangorn, for his part, besides the obvious, smug outliers, brandished a growl, a hiss, meant to be taken as tokens of friendship, rather than fear, apprehension, or the usual bluster. “Thank you, boys.” Melita encouraged and acknowledged their efforts, beaming at them again.
As for the incoming roles and changes of seasons, the honeybee youth was inclined to agree, but also ponder and wonder over what else would adapt, spiral, or recoil. Would it be the same as the last time – hunting down vicious, wild pumpkins (and then what should she do, when one already had claimed and partnership of her soul?) Her heart settled – striving to predict the winds would be fruitless. “Maybe. I guess we’ll have to see.” Leafchange had brought her new life. Leafchange has brought her Fangorn. Leafchange might have more foreign things to prosper and regale, revere and ascend; or more of the chilling notions, creeping along the winds of Frostfall and its hollowed LongNight. Time would only tell.
Then she turned to leave, a wave of farewell to all four other occupants. “Thanks again! See you all soon!” The pair hastened along the ruins again, clinging to columns, shadows, and the bright, whimsical pockets of sun.
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
