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!
Smoke and fumes, dangerous for an Ascended, but exactly what many adversaries would attempt to throw their way. He pondered the possibility of Rexanna gaining some other incantations or attributes to fend off the flames entirely (surely water manipulation would help?), or if the Voice had ever sought to impart a portion of those enchantments into her followers. He prepared himself for some other onslaught in return though, eyes scrutinizing, examining, the rest of his frame primed and ready.
Except, perhaps, not for her to come towards him.
The smirk was a dead giveaway for something up her sleeve, and he arched a brow as she reached out to snag at him, instinctively unfurling another winding flame in the palm of his hand. Too late though, as her fingers settled along the crook of his elbow, and the inferno threatening, heightening, immediately dimmed. Barely cinders, embers, coal along callouses – he snorted, suitably impressed. “Neat trick.”
She watches with baited breath as the hand covers his elbow, as the simmering danger engulfed in his palm — so vibrant and bright against the promise of pain and destruction and combustion — becomes something next to cinders, embers cut short, and she removes her hand and shuts off the upgrade as she stands back, arms crossing her chest as she focuses on Deimos with a catlike grin.
“Thank you.” She says, flashing him a bright grin that scrunches her nose before she settles in and reaches up to brush away at the burned fabric of her jacket. “I wasn’t entirely sure how it worked, to be honest.” An admission, turning her green gaze back toward Deimos as she remains in the shadows, bright and perhaps a bit proud at the result.
There was temptation to roll his eyes at the Cheshire grin manifesting along her features, but he shrugged it away, allowed her moment of pride and adornment. The enchantment was an illustrious one though, blessed for defensive maneuvers, in siphoning and shutting off a fellow Abandoned’s magic; especially those potent, powerful, and set to poise in treachery, pernicious persuasion. The only drawback appeared to be requiring closed quarters. What if she wasn’t fast enough? What if she wasn’t swift enough? What if it faltered, altered, and wasn’t executed perfectly? Then she’d been in full range of an incoming blow, and it could be costly, deadly, lethal. They’d already had it occur more than once, based on her adventures during LongNight. His calculating, warrior mind, in full General mind, pondered the platitudes, rummaging and spiraling through his brain. “Hn. Does it always require touch?” Rumbling tones, already immersed in a steady stream of machinations and considerations for her benefit. He backed away, out of her orbit by a few feet, experimental in his movements. One hand flared back to life, but the flames didn’t quite administer to his requests, sputtering, twisting, turning, less magnficience, almost a hesitation, as if the inferno couldn’t get enough air.
His question is met with a slight raised brow as she activates her upgrade again. She hasn’t tested it – in fact, the test had been entirely on him to see if it even worked in the first place. So as he begins to drift away from her, she keeps her upgrade activated, keeps her eyes on his hands as she stands in the same place, watching casually to see what changes there are.
“You have good control, is it affecting it?” She asks, squinting as though she can see the way it ebbs and flows in a way that’s not expected, not warranted. “I can see it twist and… Sputter?” She purses her lips thoughtfully, turning her palms up to try and create a small flame within her palm as well, only to find it dead within as well, as though there’s a plug on that channel and well of magic she holds so close. Her gaze flits toward Deimos then, turning off her upgrade, waiting to see if his flames react to his control once more.
Control, lacking the fundamental strength and calamity he usually poured into the flames – watching as it waned, as it twisted, as it turned, visibly striving to adhere to his commands, but incapable of doing so. “Interesting,” he muttered, eyes glancing to watch her strive for something else, but then nothing came to life. “It is weaker.” Certainly useful – an endeavor they could’ve easily utilized in Helovia or Isilme, shunting and shutting off enchantments, invocations, and incoming threats as they battled their way through country-sides and kingdoms. Here might have been the same way, stoked and inveigled towards monumental adversaries. “What about you?” Did it have any effect on her? Or was that another nuance she wouldn’t have to rely upon?
Then, all of a sudden, the composure, the authority, the sway came back to life: ministrations executed and exact, the infernos rising towards the sky once more, raised and infernal, coaxed as if they’d never been fractured, fragmented away. His brow arched, indicating his intrigue, his interest, the expanse of calculations returning once more, waiting for an explanation.
She agrees with the initial analysis. That it was interesting. And as her question leaves her lips, her gaze flickering between her palms and his, she notices the control wavering in his, the sputtering of her own where she can’t even draw on it. His question reaches her, and she focuses on her hands, palms facing up as though she could summon it. But she reactivates it, watching as it sparks to life before her with a shiver along her spine at the flames so close to her face. “It turns mine off when I use it.” She purses her lips thoughtfully, swirling the flame around her finger briefly before activating the upgrade once more and watches as it disappears.
Her gaze drifts toward Deimos with a raised brow. "Well, that's certainly something, isn't it?"
He watched and waited, eventually funneling his magic down to nothing purposefully, leaving the cinders, the embers, to coil back into his palms. Hers were reignited soon thereafter, as if they were merely playing, biding their time now, seeking out quandaries and enigmas, chasing down nuances and notions. His piercing eyes went back to hers, the arch of his brow evident as he mulled and mused. “A useful tool with some drawbacks.” Granting opportunity, but with a jaded, rancorous outlook; sacrificing her own arms to ensure no one else’s were utilized. It had its time and purpose, but one had to wonder at the cost as well. In a group setting, she might’ve ensured the rest of her allies couldn’t dig into their own qualities, but an opponent wouldn’t be able to either. Someone like Zariah, who’d been rumored to have so many incantations, powerful enchantments, might be rendered into weaker distortions with Rexanna’s device in play. But it was still a double-edged sword, some edge of the blade pointing back at her. “You will need to be careful in how you wield it.” It would require some cunning, which Rexanna had in spades, and perhaps a bit more training, curiosity, in how she was going to aspire its wielding dispositions. Maybe it was meant to belong to an Ascended without the Abandoned traits locked and chorded along within their blood; but the Penumbra had never fit any particular mold.
A nod to that, a half Cheshire grin crossing her face. “What I lack in magic, I can make up with other things I imagine?” Such as the speed that came with her Ascended body at night, the other upgrades she might one day get, some things she might end up asking for. She doesn’t know where to begin, but at her disposal right now at least she wouldn’t be left completely unarmed.
There’s a hint of how her smile softens at the magic he creates, the double edged sword. “This upgrade is geared a bit more toward my Abandoned side… I wonder if perhaps the Voice might be willing to impart an upgrade that’s geared toward keeping my fellow Ascendeds inline?” She muses, pinning the General with a raised brow. The idea of the penumbra in full, the sun and moon of the eclipse, both a blessing and a curse for both sides of who she was, giving neither the advantage unless she wielded them.
Deimos was only acutely aware of some of the Ascended’s powers in their making and reshaping, could ascertain her knowledge with a shrug. Perhaps he’d rather not know. Perhaps he craved to have all the wisdom and sagacity, just in case anything else should come to pass. But for now the roll of his shoulders transpired and transferred, hands aching to do something else besides meander and legs no longer intending to just stand there, meandering towards one of the targets and putting it back in amongst the line-up while they continued their discussion.
The notion of the Voice granting something that would make the Ascended more in Rexanna’s lines and details caused the arching of his brow again – somewhat in disbelief, granted his limited experience in the Voice’s threshold, and any other information he’d ever been told. “Would she?” For all he’d understood, the manifested goddess was perfectly content in allowing her children to run rampant amongst and amidst destruction, no matter the cost.
She follows behind him, keeping to the shade as he goes to right pieces here and there. Fitting them back in as though they’d been taken out for the specific purpose of adjusting the field to practice on for other reasons. Her attention returns to Deimos as her musings do, pulling up her hood to let her verdant gaze linger on him curiously.
The question of would she is granted with a small shrug. “It’s possible.” A purse of her lips in thought as her gaze returns to the targets. “Though, I’ll let you in on a secret.” She says, drifting closer to the General with a bright smile. “When we bite, we can take a magic or shift or something from whomever it is, right? Well, by Ascending and keeping my magic, my magic is mine.” There’s a hint of pride in the revelation. “Nobody can siphon it from me.”
His intrigue towards furtive notes and speculative schemes had always resided within – and she knew that, having worked as his Thief, in collaboration with machinations and ruses, in gaining access to sagacity, in orchestrating means of war. Perhaps this wasn’t quite the same. Perhaps it was – further down the line, when and where the riddles were unraveled, no longer so knotted and gnarled, no longer so deep in the fathoms. His hands positioned and propped up a few more targets, listening all the while, attempting for his features to remain carefully neutral, but incapable of holding back a familiar smirk at her pride and revelations.
He knew about the aspects of the bite – only because he’d been witness to it amongst caves, when Wessex had bit down upon Remi, absorbing powers, turning and twisting into something she hadn’t had moments before. “Well, congratulations,” he snickered, arching a brow. “Then perhaps it is worth asking.” If Rexanna was special, unique, amongst her wealth of Ascended.
The congratulations is granted with her own bubbly laughter, a bright fanged smile sent toward Deimos as she focuses on the way he picks up and adjusts the training targets – what a different life they both lead here from the mountains of home. But at least some things did remain the same, the way they speculated and shared information with one another all for a better purpose. It’s a feeling that feels as close to home as they might get, if they weren’t huddled within the mountains themselves.
So she takes it.
She gives him a nod to that, her smile shifting to something a bit more crooked. “It can’t hurt to ask.” She says, pausing lightly before her head tilts in consideration. “Worst she could say is no and then we’ll know the answer.” A shrug to that, before she steps to follow Deimos along the field, hood lifted once more to hide her from the sunlight above. “Also, I’ve gotten a bit stronger when it comes to dealing with the sun… Nothing substantial yet, but I’m getting there.”
There would always be some aspect of the mountains and lives, time, spent in its shelter, its seclusion, its serenity, impossible to shake. For now, it was the aspect of Machiavellian tendencies, to plot, to scheme, to deceive, to ponder, to wonder, instead of taking everything at face or surface value. How deep they could go. How much they could swindle. How rebellion might stir, even in the warping quandaries of a present peace. But Rexanna was Queen now, and he was no king again, serving in the best way he could, with his targets, swords, and aptitude for violence. He shrugged at the notion of asking the Voice. “Let me know,” following, a general reticence thereafter; if not, they could unfold further into other strategies and machinations.
Then there was the sun to deal with, his gaze maneuvering over her hood, things those amidst the other races never had to dwell upon. For them the heat was a certain irritation and nuisance, and for Ascended, nearly a death sentence in the rays. Was it worth the sacrifice? He might never quite understand, but comprehended why she’d done it. How she’d escaped. How she’d thwarted. How she’d lived as she always had, one step ahead of adversaries and enemies. “How does that come about?” Notes of curiosity and intrigue again, all to grasp the speculations and information. His stare drew away from her, considering a few more of the propped targets, shifting some of the stuffed contents that had been pummeled askew earlier, hands creating a few more beside their brethren.
She nods to Deimos with the information of whether or not the Voice will allow her such an upgrade. She smiles brightly still, happy and pleased to have thought of something that might both benefit both sides of her – to protect the abandoned within and disabling the Ascended just as her upgrade worked for her Ascended side. But she isn’t done informing him further, instead she chooses to comment about the sunlight as she remains in shadow and cloaks.
“I’m not sure… Wessex mentioned that once we get a bit stronger the sunlight affects us less, so I suppose I’m advancing.” She snorts, before her voice and smile turn a bit more nostalgic. “Though I do miss feeling the sun on my face.” An admission, before she shrugs. As far as things went, she could handle it, the missing out on that detail – especially when she didn’t feel her eyes removed and the beam that impaled her chest.
