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!
i sailed seas of emotions to wander a forest of scars
i am a dance of light and darkness
Laughing delightedly at Deimos' confusion and the way he rubs against her hand, scratching the soft grey ears obligingly, utterly infatuated with their appearance. Kiada's own partial shift only fuels her laughter; before she knows it she has to pull her hand down, her giggles too strong to continue unrestrained, more tears appearing on her angular face. "I'm sorry-" she gasps out between mirth and tears, sitting down on a chair by the counter trying to catch her breath. There is no hint of mockery in her voice; the laughter is not at his expense. It is moreso an overflow of pent up emotion, a bursting forth of feeling she has tried so long to suppress.
"I just-" Amalia tries again, her breath coming slower now, her face losing a little of its bright red tone as she smiles up at Kiada and Deimos, expression open with happiness and exhaustion and sincere adoration for them both. "I needed that. Thank you."
The Sword wasn’t a soul enamored with ignorance; but with his new methods, new shifts, new everything contained within his entity, the brutal unfamiliarity struck at him in a continual cycle. His brows furrowed, somehow at a loss, having seen Amalia orchestrate the same things time and time again, pieces and pockets of fur, of feathers, while still remaining human, and he’d never put much thought into them. He’d considered them Attuned reaches, gifts of alterations and morphing properties, something granted and given and a customary portion to their daily lives. He hadn’t questioned their existence or how they maintained them – so he remained hopelessly lost in the rings of laughter (which almost made him shy away from it at all; had Kiada not insinuated a compliment somewhere in the ether – realizing it was acceptance again amidst the chuckles). His eyes watched and caught as the Harpy joined in, and together they were all human and animal alike; bizarre and strange and just, he supposed. “What causes-,” the beast began, the curiosity and intrigue getting the better of him, until Amalia moved away.
Then his tiger ears were absent of the baker’s hands, and he lifted his head upright again, furrowing his brow to catch whatever conflagration came next, the necklace still in his hands as she pulled back to sit down, to reel away from the nuances. The General gently placed the chains and its baubles, its charms, its keepsakes, along the counter, pausing, waiting, the uncertainty still springing along his presence. “You are welcome,” he shrugged and insisted, even if he wasn’t sure he’d meant to draw out the plains of amusement in such a way; a less purposeful intonation, but still there, a residual effect of their attempts. Perhaps that was simply enough.
Oh, Amalia’s laugh is brilliant and beautiful, and Kiada positively beams while the Shield giggles. Even Deimos’ words are cut off as Amalia moves away, to sit and look at them all – this strange, stitched together family they have, written in the stars in a way, as it were. And she can’t help the quiet snort from leaving her own person as she looks back toward Deimos. “It is kind of silly. But that means we need to see the full form now, to see just what you look like.” She jests with a wink.
When she had discovered hers, she had been trying to compel animals like Amalia could, trying to call out to those similar to her, to bring them close and gather them. It hadn’t worked, but it had shown her the tufted eared feline, bronze in color and rather small in comparison – but still beautiful. And it certainly kept the bed warm, nestling into her blankets with furs and paws, rather than her cold, lonely person.
So she nears Amalia where she sits, bright grin still cascading along her face as she leans against the table, uncertain what to even say from here – though her dark ears flicker with her thoughts.
KIADA
Kiada has a large X scar on the right side of her neck.
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3
i sailed seas of emotions to wander a forest of scars
i am a dance of light and darkness
Leaning against Kiada where she has come to stand beside her, Amalia exhales a contented sigh, still trying to catch her breath. The three of them must make a foolish sight: the massive man, the slender baker, the muscular warrior, all with cat ears of varied shape sprouting from their hair. Utterly ridiculous and utterly wonderful; Amalia can think of no one else she would want to spend this time with, no one better to claim as her friends, her family, her kin.
Rising back onto her feet, the baker walks back toward her lover and rises onto pointed toes to place a kiss upon his lips. "I love you," she whispers, dark eyes bright with adoration, gratitude and happiness shining within. Then she turns away from him, reaching back to pull her long locks and expose her slender neck, knowing that once she dons the garland she will likely never take it off. "Will you?"
Full forms; as if he had any notions or ideas any longer, barely used to or understanding of the noble eagle feathers and tawny rapacity; taking her wink with a slight smirk, the ears still twisting and turning atop his head, swivels at each noise and nuance. There seemed to be something else stirring along them too, but he couldn’t quite fathom it – his gaze resting on the Harpy with an arched brow, before Amalia flickered into his orbit again. These moments have gone beyond his realm of expectations and beliefs, so he had no considerations in mind other than watching, waiting, a breath or two inhaled, exhaled. Then she rose on her tiptoes, lips on lips, and he nearly laughed; something shattering in his soul, once contorted and covered in ice.
The whisper was enough; he coiled it back in waves of adoration and devotion, gaze lingering from Kiada and back to Amalia as she turned, hair lifting, intending to wear their gift. Gently, meticulously, he gathered the charms and chain, looping and draping it along her nape, fastening, and then allowing it to slip away from his fingers, resting on her skin. The final touches and fringes; glimpses of moonlight and stars, of swords and shields and harpies, of strong, stalwart bonds and things that couldn’t break.
