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.
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The evening after Flora's going away party was soon enough to visit Safrin's shrine, Hadama had decided. Both to give his co-ruler a chance to recover from her drinking and to time their prayer to the glitter of stars above and rising moon appearing on the eastern horizon. The blessing they asked was a powerful one, and the Tidebreaker was disinclined to leave anything to chance.
"Are you ready?" he murmured to his co-ruler, stepping back from the flat-topped stone above the tideline on the black sand beach where he had set his offering of bracers worked in silver with a motif of stars and moon phases, and holding out his hand to Flora. If she reached back he would wrap his fingers gently around hers, giving them a squeeze of support - of pride and sadness in her willing sacrifice - before he looked to their impromptu altar and then raised his gaze to the constellations above.
"Safrin, please hear us. We have done as you asked to keep the Family from the shores of Haulani."
RQ to protect Torchline/Haulani from the Family received in i'd pay any price
1. A thread of at least 3 torchers (including 1 mer) gathering stones from the Rainbow Road [RQ] staying grounded
2. A ME to decide whether the coast or haulani should be protected [ME][RQ] A Court of Stars & Strategies - Haulani was chosen
3. A PQ placing stones all around the chosen area.. Must have 8 rounds in total. [PQ] All this has happened before
4. A thread with at least 1 torcher capturing a physical piece of a member of the Family. look what you made me do
Sunlit Shadows (mastered) | The user can read the surface thoughts and emotions of those within a 60ft radius. Control is excellent. Note: "Thoughts and emotions" include anything written in a character's narration in a post.
Type: Grey | Style: Offensive | Level: Mastered
Deadly Recall | Can recall 1, or 2, or 3 of her feathers to her hand, within a range of 30ft. Recalled daggers do 1/2 damage when recalled.
Rescue (Mastered) | Remi can bring a fellow Old God demigod to his side in a time of crisis for three concurrent posts. One use per thread. If the summoned demigod also has mastered this ability, they can remain until the end of the thread.
Flora had spent the morning at the healing fountain, soaking away the worst of her hangover and pretending it wasn’t grief pooling beneath her skin. The party had been a blur of laughter and colour, of sweaty kisses and clinking glasses (and things that haven't happened yet), but now that it was over and done, Flora was left feeling lonely and cold once more.
She stood now at the edge of the shrine, the white sand cool beneath her sandals and the stars rising like a verdict above. The sea murmured behind them, and though her curls were swept into a salt-tangled knot and her white sundress fluttered gently in the breeze, Flora felt anything but light.
Hadama’s fingers wrapped around hers, solid and grounding. She gripped them tightly, fiercely, as if she could cling to the last pieces of the city through him.
Her other hand unfurled slowly. Nestled in her palm were five Prince Rupert’s drops, glittering teardrop-shaped things formed in glass and sea-coloured magic. They looked impossibly delicate—thin tails tapering like hairline cracks—but their cores were strong enough to shatter metal. Like the city. Like what she hoped this blessing would be. Like the way she wanted to be.
She knelt and set them down gently beside Hadama’s offering, the drops gleaming faintly in the moonlight. Then she straightened, fingers still locked with his, throat thick. "I’m ready," she said, though her voice was barely above a whisper. Not just for Safrin, but for whatever came next.
It came not from the sea, but from the stars—soft and warm, like the hush of twilight before the moon rises. The scent of jasmine bloomed briefly in the air, curling around the offerings on the altar, and then Safrin was simply there.
She stepped from the horizon as if walking down the spine of a constellation, starlight clinging to her limbs like silk. Her gown shimmered with the phases of the moon, her eyes aglow with the ancient clarity of the night sky. In the hush that followed her arrival, even the ocean seemed to quiet.
Her gaze swept across the silver-bright bracers and the delicate teardrops laid beside them. The corner of her mouth curved, not with amusement, but something deeper—something reverent. "You’ve done beautifully," she said, her voice the sound of waves breaking on starlit shores.
To Hadama, her smile grew warmer, pride flickering like reflected moonlight. "Steady as ever. You have brought Torchline strength." Her hand extended, her fingers brushing lightly over the bracers. "And beauty."
Then to Flora, her expression softened in a way it rarely did—a fondness too deep to name. "And you," she murmured, taking in the gleaming drops, the trembling steel of the queen’s spine. "You’ve given not just beauty, but meaning." Safrin stepped closer, her hand cupping Flora’s cheek for a moment, letting warmth radiate out through her touch. "I see you."
Then she stepped back and lifted both arms toward the sky.
The stars above seemed to slow in their twinkling, brightening, shifting—then pouring downward in a soft cascade. Threads of starlight spilled from her fingers and wove into a dome overhead, vast and glittering. At first, it was opaque—a hushed celestial hush descending like a veil—but then it thinned, drawn taut and nearly invisible save for the soft, glimmering outlines of stars still traced across it like a watermark. It settled over Haulani like a mother’s hand, protective and absolute.
['say]"Nothing of the Family’s flesh may cross into your borders now," Safrin said, her voice echoing with quiet finality. Her hands lowered, the dome gleaming one last time before fading to near-invisibility. "But," she added, gaze sharpening just slightly, "the one who calls himself Vox... is not of flesh. He may still listen. Still whisper. Walls cannot bar what has no form." Her gaze lingered on Flora then, then Hadama. Then her expression softened again, the stars behind her dancing playfully as her smile returned. "But for now, rest easy. You’ve earned it."
Torchline has completed their RQ and received;
Starlit Barrier | A faint starlit barrier that surrounds Haulani. The Family cannot physically bypass the barrier.
The pride and compliments of his goddess washed away his weariness and refreshed his spirit, and Hadama's smile bloomed beneath her light. He bowed his head deeply in gratitude for her approval, fingers still wrapped around Flora's to remain her strength as well.
And then their goddess was stepping back from them both and the sky came alive with her power. Hadama watched in awe, silent and wide-eyed with the glory of divine magic at play, as beautiful and magnificent as the three barriers that they had already worked to build around their region. Starlight settled over the pearly perfection of Rae's Barrier, assuring the safety of those within from the Familiy's incursions, and as it did so Hadama felt a portion of his soul lighten.
But only a portion. Safrin's gaze cut back to them once more, her warning falling on alert ears. He nodded solemnly, and squeezed Flora's fingers gently in his own again in success at what they had accomplished. And in recognition of what the Doubletake had traded for it. "Thank you, Safrin. For the protection of our people... thank you."
But not the protection of his Queen. And until she was included, he could not rest so easily. Not even at his goddess's command.
Sunlit Shadows (mastered) | The user can read the surface thoughts and emotions of those within a 60ft radius. Control is excellent. Note: "Thoughts and emotions" include anything written in a character's narration in a post.
Type: Grey | Style: Offensive | Level: Mastered
Deadly Recall | Can recall 1, or 2, or 3 of her feathers to her hand, within a range of 30ft. Recalled daggers do 1/2 damage when recalled.
Rescue (Mastered) | Remi can bring a fellow Old God demigod to his side in a time of crisis for three concurrent posts. One use per thread. If the summoned demigod also has mastered this ability, they can remain until the end of the thread.
Safrin’s touch was warmth and recognition in equal measure—gentler than she’d expected, fiercer than she deserved—and it almost undid her. Her breath caught, not out of fear or awe (though both sang like high notes in her bones), but because I see you hit her like lightning through the ribs.
She didn’t cry, though her eyes glistened like the glass she’d laid at the goddess’s feet. Instead, she clung tighter to Hadama’s hand as Safrin stepped back and the stars themselves bent to her will. The dome that unfurled above was more beautiful than Flora had dared to hope. She could feel it settle over Haulani like a seal over a wound, see it glimmer against the air in places only magic could trace. And yet—when Safrin’s warning followed, her stomach dropped.
Vox could still reach them.
"Of course he can," Flora murmured, more to herself than anyone else. Her jaw tightened, defiance flaring like a match struck too close to her heart. Of course the Family would find a way. They always did. But then Safrin smiled again, and for a moment, it felt like dawn. Flora straightened slowly, carefully, and inclined her head. "Thanks, Safrin," she echoed after Hadama, voice steadier than she felt.
Even if it meant she’d never walk Haulani’s streets again. Even if it meant losing something else. She smiled then, small and aching but sincere, gaze flicking to Hadama beside her.
As the shimmer of starlight faded into the sky and the hush of the waves crept back in, Flora’s shoulders dropped with a quiet, weary exhale. The barrier was beautiful—perfect, even—but it glowed like a lock behind her eyes. She had asked for this. Voted for it. Fought for it. And now, she was no longer allowed to set foot in the streets where she’d grown up, where Enzo had laughed, where she’d first kissed and ruled and bled. Half her home was now closed to her. She didn't cry, didn’t speak, just stood there for a moment longer with her hand still clasped in Hadama’s, the sea behind her and the stars above, and let the loss settle like sand through her bones.
