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!
They’d done well with the salvageable pieces, some they might not have found without some precise selecting, nodding his head in acknowledgment and thanks. Destruction already taken care of, ashes, embers, coal, and cinders, fully hastened by his hands, and then extinguished, there wasn’t much else to do but tend to the remains, the bones. His eyes lifted upon the individuals, gaze suddenly sharp and piercing, before ghosting down to the fragments and pieces found; hardly enough to designate a small grave, collected and assembled, but they’d do so just the same. “Thank you for your help,” the beast extended and rumbled, all the other materials and conversations sliding off into the ether and vestiges, his mind entirely occupied by the foreboding ritual.
None of them were Naturals. None of them had been born or raised here; and it almost felt blasphemous to think himself worthy of extending these honored traditions. His experience melded to the battlefield, to the quick irreverent slide of death and demise punctured and demolished on a millisecond, blood staining dirt, fields, and earth; digging holes to place friends within, a few words, and then onto the next catacomb, the next sepulcher. It rooted into him now, his revolution, his dominion, all the specters presiding on his shoulders. He knelt, grabbing hold of the cloth, tucking the ends gently, carefully, in his palms, the bones barely shifting as he returned to his prior position, lifting, lifting, lifting, his gaze sliding towards the barren field, the distant shroud of trees. “We can honor them now.” And he wouldn’t mind if no one stayed, if no one wished to continue, free to leave whenever they wished – walking meticulously along the outskirts of where they remained, pondering if this was an adequate area, if a marked grave where they could look over the scorched earth, or the foretold, eventual rebirth of the guild, would be enough.
As they ran out of wood, Amun stopped, glancing around at the rest of their little group. It seemed they weren’t sure what to do, at least until Deimos took up the bones. Then the potter looked around again, before shrugging. As the tall dark and handsome man searched around for something, the Ascended figured it was time for another song, one beffiting a funeral procession.
I am sailing, I am sailing,
home again ‘cross the sea.
I am sailing, stormy waters,
to be near you, to be free.
I am flying, I am flying,
like a bird ‘cross the sky.
I am flying, passing high clouds,
to be with you, to be free.
This time, his voice came out more sweetly, though still with more force than finesse.
With a nod, Oliver proceeded to move all of his stuff over to the pile that Kiada had already created. It should make things easier for Deimos and she had offered, so Oliver saw no reason not to argue with her. It's too bad he and her hadn't really gotten the chance to talk. Then again, he had hardly even talked to anyone here, which was to be expected. When you work, you don't get to talk to each other, however, discovering the bones had truly killed any chance of conversation. Someday, hopefully, they'd be able to meet on better circumstances. Flashing a smile to Kiada, Oliver had finished up everything, so he walked over to Deimos.
Standing a few feet away, Oliver looked away from the bones, rather, he looked forward. He didn't really want to see the bones, it wasn't something he felt comfortable with. While Amun sang, Oliver remained quiet, listening closely to the lyrics as a distraction from any feelings he didn't exactly want to confront. There was nothing Oliver could say or do to add to this situation, nothing to help out. He didn't know these people, he couldn't say kind words or tell stories of them. There was nothing he could do other than stay quiet and listen to the Ascended's song.
It’s somber, but at the same time it almost seems… Relieving in a sense. That they can send their friends to better places, ensure that their more earthly bodies are out of the hands of the LongNight monsters for the coming years. That, at least, has gone right. And she gives Oliver a light nod of thanks when he brings his pile over to her own, the salvageable pieces.
Eventually, however, their work is done, and she focuses on the fires that burn while Amun sings. Now, she finds herself drifting closer to Deimos, hand reaching out to rest along his forearm. She’ll stay, she’ll stay the entire night if need be. She says her own silent prayers to Ludo for Caiside, because she knew him, knew who he was and who he had been. And Auni, too, a sorrow brimming from Kiada’s own thoughts as they drift between the two. “Thank you.” She says to him, to the rest of them too.
and you wonder why he lets you,
the butcher
touch him
the sun
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
His hands claimed a shovel too, and he dug into the earth, where the folded cloth and its bone containments could have a final resting place – uncertain of what to say, or what to do, beyond laying them down into the loam, and covering them over – giving and granting their remains back to soil and silt. It probably would never be enough. The General's jaw clenched, entire body taut and rigid, too many others funerals flooding through his mind; no thought to his own, a demise in a world that met a similar fate. Perhaps these too would be resurrected, brought back in a different way, a different light, or their souls traversed directly into beyond, and they had no need of second chances or opportunities. Maybe their purposes were fulfilled.
A sigh flickered through his frame, and then he rose from his crouch after he buried them, hands ghosting over the dirt, putting it back within its place; the fabric still clutching over the parceled remains, tangled and tethered in the earth with them; a marker, a designation, of something more. He could hear Amun extending another song, far more than Deimos could ever offer – listening to the fitting tunes, the quake in his lungs, the half-healed membranes of scorched pinnacles. Loss and loss, over and over again.
“Thank you again,” he extended to each, palms only extending once more to manifest some markers, indicators of the newfound grave; honoring those thought to be a part of it. “Perhaps in time there will be something else here.” His eyes glanced at Kiada, some portions amused, other contortions merely riddled in worn, rattled outsets. Then to Amun, a tilted head, considerations and curiosity. “I heard you were opening your own pottery shop. Come see me at the Artisan’s Guild if you are interested in joining.” Worth an opportunity for recruitment.
Otherwise, they could be well on their way, their efforts combined into a potent force – between cleaning and funeral processions.
--
Feel free to wrap it up! I’ll close it within a day or so!
As his song concluded, Amun bowed his head respectfully. At the leader dude’s dismissal, though, the Ascended looked up. ”Well now, that's a very attractive offer big guy. I might just take you up on it." Winking, he turned to Kiada. "Nice to meet you, wings."
Finally the potter turned to Oliver and gave the young man a brilliant grin. "I'll see you around, Blondie." With that, Amun waved at the group, then turned. Depositing his shovel by the wagon, he slipped his hands into his pockets and began to walk away. He was careful to avoid the sunlight as he whistled the tune he'd just sung. However, as soon as he was out of earshot, it morphed into something much more upbeat (and something that had much dirtier lyrics).
The procession and events were quiet, at least on Oliver's part. He remained a bit in the back, not really taking as much part as the other two were. Soon, the bones were buried and Oliver spoke up, muttering a silent prayer to Ludo and Mort in hopes that the three individuals would be safe. That they had found their way despite LongNight's treacherous events.
Oliver stayed quiet even when they had finished with the funeral. Amun came over and said a brief goodbye, one that finally broke a smile on Oliver's face. He wasn't exactly good with handling emotions, especially when he didn't quite understand them. "See you," Then he turned to face Deimos. Even though Kiada was still there, Oliver still felt safe to at least somewhat speak up.
"If you ever need help again, no matter how big or small it is, come to me...I want to help you." Then he turned to face Kiada, a soft smile dancing on his lips. "Same for you. I want to do as much as I can to help, so if either of you ever need any assistance, come find me. Currently I'm staying with Loren at the manor, so I shouldn't be too hard to find."
And with that, Oliver headed off, going back to rest for however long it took for him to get out of this new funk.
“In time.” She agrees to Deimos with a small smile as Auni comes and settles before her. She remains standing tall, iceberg gaze flickering over Amun as he approaches during the dismissal. “Nice to meet you too.” She replies easily, though uncertain what kind of nickname to give back. She hasn’t ever really received a nickname before – aside from those that are closest to her have called her. It puts her a little off center, but she says nothing on it.
Eyes drift toward Oliver as he approaches next, giving him a nod and a small, softer smile. “I’ll let you know. Thanks.” She’s not used to having so much attention, not at least in this regard. The last time she had she’d been the right hand of a god that destroyed the world. And my, my how things have changed.
and you wonder why he lets you,
the butcher
touch him
the sun
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
