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!
Determined, determined, determined, striving to make amends for the revolting nuance of her latest string of fault and flaws, the youth refused to break. It was more difficult than it sounded now, despite the amount of times she’d persevered and endured in countless other regions. Maybe it hurt more presently because of how deeply she’d been controlled and compelled by something that was and wasn’t her at the same time; desperate to be monstrous, but completely out of her element. She’d been incapable of deciphering who was friend and who was foe, turning on everyone and everything because of the blighted curse pulsing and pervading its way through her soul. It was disgusting. It was vile. And some primordial part of her soul hated herself for it.
Today’s walk into the woods was not immersed in its prior effervescence; not ready for the buoyancy, for the relish of savoring life. Instead, she picked and rummaged along the boundaries, bag in hand, bending down and rooting through fresh powder and rime (adequately prepared with gloves this time), striving to uncover snow moss. Perhaps she could start making amends by gathering enough for wherever they were staying (would anyone want her in their home, in their shelter, in their refuge? - that was heartbreaking too, and she suddenly wondered where she’d even be allowed, permitted, to go). She dashed away the forlorn thought, not allowing it to sink any further, too much to swallow, too much to consume, already devoured by everything else around her. “Fangorn,” she murmured, soft and gentle to the companion who nestled nearby. “Can you find some snow moss too?” The gourd might have better luck – and with some strange aplomb, he bounded and leapt, sniffing over bark, and she tucked herself back into her cloak and furs, hoping for a better outcome.
The forest welcomes his furred form in a way it can never do to his two-legged one. The scents are muted beneath the snow, but those who traverse it leave behind trails that pull at his sharp senses in colorful, artistic, three-dimensional ways he cannot experience outside of his furs. Cera trots along through the snow, far warmer than any clothing could offer, though his path remains aimless and ambling. There's little for him to do leading up to LongNight. The Temple and the College will shelter him, and others in this realm know far more about how to prepare than he does.
Speaking of such...
A fire-haired girl is scavenging around the trees, collecting something that looks like moss. Curious, definitely. Cera lopes closer, nose snuffling, and sharp green eyes catch sight of a bumbling...gourd? It is definitely moving on its own willpower, which is increasingly odd, and something tickles at his memory that tells him he should be investigating this closer. Frustrated at his own inability to recall, Cera shifts before he reveals himself, walking out on two legs with a warm smile and golden hair cascading against his cheeks.
A hand rises in friendly greeting, calling out to the girl. "Hello there! Care for some company?"
Fragments, portions, quandaries of a different time, of a different place, of a different world, mixed together in shambles and splinters, as if her mind was still striving to process the things left behind. There were days when she picked her head up too quickly and thought there were flashes of sun-streaked hair or lightning bolts; horizons flickering together on denizens of sand and dust and earth. Sometimes she thought she heard her mother’s sweet lullabies, her gentle tunes, her humming songs as she dried herbs, as she kept them together, safe and warm. Sometimes she thought she heard the whimsical songs of her sister, bright, spring-laden laughter, like blossoms, like honey, like greater, better parts of herself, compassionate airs she wished she had, dutiful, beatific dreams she yearned to crave.
When her head lifted at the sound of a voice, one she hadn’t heard in so long, she believed it was happening again.
Her jaw dropped on a sharp intake of air, a fleeting nuance of yesteryears pouring through her, moss completely forgotten in her hands, pilfering its way to the snowy, sodden ground. She blinked rapidly, must’ve looked ridiculous and stupefied, struggling to piece together if this was real and tangible, or some portion of the blight again, come to sear and sneer, take her away to darker thresholds, beckoning her back to the Stygian wiles, to the taunted abyss.
“Cera?” Her inquiry was on a feral whisper, neither tragic or reviled, but something more awe-inspired, struggling not to be jubilant in case it was all a mirage, in case it was all a cruel joke. She’d been little the last time she’d seen him, illustrious and shining, the Golden Prince of the draconic lands, one of those distant paragons citizens were sometimes deigned to touch, to stare upon, to revere. But she remembered, she remembered, portions of the Dragon’s Throat that still burned in her core, in her heart, in her lungs, in her body, in her soul, and yes, even if he was a haunting, wavering thing, she’d take his company for an instant, for a lifetime. “It’s Melita,” she murmured, daring to tread no further; maybe she was mistaken, maybe she was foolish, maybe she was wrong. Fangorn nudged at her knee, completely perplexed, but steady, a stalwart guard as they gazed into the known and void all at once.
