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!
She refused to leave his shoulder, and perhaps that was a touch of reality, something he required but wouldn’t, couldn’t, say it – another word, another void, another presence inside his head that meant something other than the world falling apart, unfurling, around him. He couldn’t pervade happiness in return, not for a while, but at least he could let the waves of it flicker, bound, and leap around him, raw moments meant to be savored and cherished. When she finally drifted off muscles and frames, he dug into his bag, pulling out another jar, twisting off the lid and placing the leaf within – safekeeping, protection, until he could deliver them all to Safrin.
When he glanced up from his movements and motions, the Harpy had returned to her natural state, curling his own words back to him. There was a snort embedded through his nares, flaring, a roll of his eyes, but then his gaze sunk back to the ground, desperate to dissolve those particles and nuances into his figure, into his mind, into his thoughts too. Was there another way? Simply time? Patience? While Amalia wasted away in the infirmary? While the world erased more and more prevalence and sought continual decay? Did things ever actually get any better around here? Or did they merely shuffle from one ruined instant to the next, with brief little lulls in between, where they believed, believed, believed, placing their hopes and convictions into things doomed, damned, to be tarnished? “We shall see,” was all he could surmise, safeguarded and reserved, afraid to force faith into an abyss that might not accept it.
do not fear the dark, wolf cub, for when the sun leaves the world,
His gaze lifts, and she focuses on him with a similarly avian intensity, a brighter smile along her face as she rebounds words of support to him that he’d given her once upon a time. But all he does is snort to her, roll his eyes, and she knows him well enough to know that it’s not going to mean anything. She still loves him though, and finds it worth it to have said it in the first place, a reflection of sorts. So she drifts nearer to him, to embrace him close like he’d held her when she’d fallen apart last LongNight.
“We will. And then we’ll take on the next challenge.” She tells him, burying her face into his chest. “Because unfortunately life sucks and we do what we have to.” There’s a slight glimmer of humor in her tone, muffled as it is. But she’s decided that the only way she could somewhat get over a majority of the shitstorms she’s dealt with in life were with some form of a dark humor. Self-deprecating or not.
the world fears you
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
Her words held shape and meaning, but he might’ve been too far gone to allow them to settle over his mind. It was a machinating, ruminating, calculating machine, but losses were heavy, burdens were cumbersome, and sometimes it was entirely too much. Perhaps that had been how she’d felt during LongNight, when he’d tried to reach for her and grant her some form of advice, some notion to hold onto when everything else seemed so wiped, obliterated, and blown apart: a little empty. A little overdrawn. A little mentally exhausted, fatigued, by the way failure carved and whittled, sculpted and molded, far more than success or triumph ever seemed to. In Helovia, he would have simply shifted into the shadows and sought to lacerate and annihilate whatever circumstances or individual had led them to this point, a challenge he might not have come back from. It was harder here, much more difficult, to even ascertain which enemy or adversary to obliterate; and in the end he had no one to truly blame. A man consumed by the grief of his daughter? Deimos understood, comprehended, the netting of rage and all its gnarled, conspired knots. Those who’d tried to heal and simply couldn’t undue all the damage caused? Who was he to say whether or not they’d put their heart and soul into it, when they’d all been just as exhausted and terrorized?
It’d all been too much.
She’d wrapped herself around him again, and he was effectively trapped. A sigh echoed from his lungs, and could’ve come directly from his bones. “It would be nice to have a season without disaster,” and his arms curled back around her. He didn’t have much else to add, eyes glancing skyward, because wishing and hoping weren’t going to do a damned thing now.
do not fear the dark, wolf cub, for when the sun leaves the world,
She hugs him tightly, keeping her face against the Sword’s chest, her amusement fading with the somber tone the conversation shifts toward. He sighs, a deep rumbling one that she knows means he’s just… done. Done with everything and all things. But she doesn’t let go, holding him tighter a bit longer among the woods of her god. “I agree.” She offers quietly at first.
She’s silent for a moment before she removes her arms from him, stepping away with a light smile. “So far so good on Longheat though, yeah?” She asks him. Of course the season wasn’t over yet, and she still had to figure out what entirely to do when it came to her own life between the guild and the bakery… But with everyone chipping in, in what little ways they can, perhaps it makes it better for him. Alleviates some of the frustration.
the world fears you
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
Tighter and tighter still, as if she might be afraid he’d fade away, and sometimes, given the option, he’d like to. It would be so much easier to fray apart and with no one asking for anything in return; deep into the recesses and voids of yesteryears, savage steps and minatory presences once in a blue moon, to eradicate or devastate something in the midst. To live without the weight of caring, of failure, upon one’s chest, spine, or shoulders. His eyes drifted down, to the Harpy, to the ground, to the rooted sanctions where he could fumble and fall, crawl into the leaf litter, wither and decay like the rest of them. When she pulled away, light smiles, she must’ve known she wasn’t getting anywhere with him – too stubborn and too drawn now to put in much effort into basking along glories and triumphs, his eyes still went back to her. A sardonic edge to his voice, a quiet snort at her admission. “Give it time.” The Sword would likely assume everything they prepared or enjoyed would eventually settle into some sort of disarray, chaos, and combined bedlam – too relegated into apprehension and treachery than to believe in the power of LongHeat. Something would sizzle and sear. Something would unravel. They’d either be ready or face another disastrous ultimatum.
“Thank you,” he added, again and again, offering his arm as they continued to walk along paths leading out of the forest, some portions of worn down trails since their admission back into these hallowed halls and copses. For everything. For anything she’d offered. For finding leaves when he’d just stood around like a fool.
