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!
"And through the jolly sea we search the grid for seagulls keep. Storm your vessel creek, as the lord himself their soul will reap. Treasure cove ever fortune will keep, as the rum preserves your body through the heat. Brand them now to claim your sheep and sell them off to feed your needs.." He half mumbled sung where he resided as the lazy man he could be on a patch of sand before the tide would cover it all up, and probably him as well. But he had time, not a lot, but he had time. After all he was pretty darn close to the border of this place so in worst case scenario he just got a little wet. What else is new after all? He was always getting soaked either from fishing with the crew or looting. Wasn't an uncommon sight for him to jump overboard to fix this and that at all.
SURPRISE SURPRISE -not-, he had a bottle of strong alcohol accompany him where he laid baked as a potato in the warm sun in the sand that didn't seam much cooler. He was a creature of heat though so this was really cozy for him as he laid stretched out dressed in his usual attire. Jeans-like pants, white shirt, attached well-used sword and trinkets like bandanas and jewelry. As he lifted his bottle for another sip he noticed a shadowy shape in front of the sun approaching which made him place his alcohol wearing hand to cover his eyes as he tried to identify the shape of whomever was approaching. Should he bother getting up even? Felt like a choir to be completely honest since he loved being warmed by the sun... but still... might be unwise to lay like a fried egg if a stranger approached him.
With that thought he yawned before with surprising agility rolling up on his feet without spilling a drop of the strong smelling rum. Half covered in white sand he kept an eye on the figure that seamed to be.. oh a woman ~ Why did this bonnie lass come all the way out here? Did his crew send him a gift?! Ohh yes drunken ignorance was always a fun activity, no?
Apparently her new profession is explorer, because she has spent very little time hunting lately. Her and Korbin had been in the Grounds for quite a while and then finally gone home to Halo. However, when they reached the portal there was a new place visible on the signs and of course, they decided to go. Not that she didn’t hunt at all (they had to eat, after all), but she wasn’t living in the same monotony of hunt, trade, sleep, do it again. It was nice, honestly, to change up the pace of life and get out. There’s still something about the portals being open that worries her, but this seems like one of those ‘if you can’t beat em, join em’ scenarios and she definitely wasn’t going to beat them.
The portals were being opened, whether she liked it or not. Might as well roll with it.
Torchline is unlike anything she could have imagined growing up in Halo. She finds herself wandering without much purpose, ending up on a beach beside blue seas and oh...a man, apparently. It is low tide and she’d wandered across the sandbar to find an impossibly stunning building of seaglass and coral but also a man. A drunk man, she thinks, given the smell of rum in the air. Not like she didn’t know how to handle a drunk man.
Her skin had been getting used to the sun during her time in the Grounds, and though it is stronger here she is brave enough to go with a short-sleeve top, pants, and barefeet. Her shoes are stuffed in her pack, the sand and water was too tempting a thing so she’d cuffed her pants and gone wandering around wiggling her toes in the sand. It was such a strange and wonderful thing to walk barefoot. You didn’t even walk barefoot in the house in Halo.
She turns her attention to the man, eyes drifting to the knives along her person (much like her own collection of knives, strung along her belt and hidden in all sorts of other places). Her scythe sweeps above her head in a macabre sort of halo. “Well well, it seems I’ve stumbled upon someone with good taste in drink and weaponry. Care to share?” Let’s see just want she’s dealing with.
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
Blissfully, slightly drunk as he was he looked at the vision before him as the wind flickered her hair while the sun kissed her pale skin. Though as she spoke he gathered enough information to decide that maybe this goddess weren't sent to him as a gift but more had stumbled upon this place by herself. But in any case there was no time to mope over this disappointing fact, just enjoy her company while it lasted. As she asked to get some of his precious rum he rose a eyebrow slightly amused over the question at hand. Didn't really fit into his work to share his goods normally but to be fair it wasn't like the world was running out of rum either. The weapons she had, as intimidating as they really where did nothing to make him show he was uncomfortable. After all; he had seen worse and this far she seamed safe enough. True however that it was also a part of his job to not get intimidated easily.
With sand falling off him as he approached her he looked upon this little sea gem, studied her while he got closer in that easy manner. Smell of the rum carried in the wind both from him and his bottle. Yep, she was not from torchline and since the women from the other parts of the world had seen to be a bit more rigid over the mountains he would have to try at least a little to not just treat them like the common bar wenches he usually hung out with. As hard as that may proven to be. Though of course he wouldn't really turn into something else then what he was, and his manners had always been flawed.. come to think of it; he wasn't very proper at all so would this even work? Might have to dismiss the mission before it even started after all. But let's see..
He had arrived in front of this attractive woman and held out the bottle of rum towards her , indeed offering her to taste it. If she would accept she would instantly notice just how strong this rum actually was, filling the tummy with liquied fire and a neat smokey taste sensation. Most would reject it just for the nose-hair melting scent but it was indeed delicious IF one had the guts to try it. "Feel free ~ Though i fear that your lips are only worthy of the finest wines and may not appreciate this cheap concoction" Ohh how weird it felt giving such a "proper" compliment, and to be fair also felt a bit like an insult.. Is this the crap that other men actually lived by?! What? So according to them pretty women couldn't appreciate cheap liquor? He had actually furrowed his brows together in disgust over what he just had said to this poor woman. "Eh fuck it." He said disgusted by the compliment he had tried to make so proper. "Take a sip, it's truly great, call it a home recipe ~ " Geeeeez being all proper was so exhausting!
She was decidedly not a common bar wench, though she would be offended at being considered rigid. Weaver wasn’t quite as frozen as the homeland she came from, but she was certainly the type of girl you earned, though you didn’t earn her with presents or pretty words. No, you earned her by being fun, by being reckless and wild and offering something she wanted. Often that was a pretty face, or booze, but still, the way to her was not to assume you would get anything at all. It was the safest approach to a girl covered in quite a number of blades.
He comes closer, eventually holding out the bottle of rum in answer to her request. It smells strong, far stronger than anything they had in Halo, though it doesn’t stop her. Weaver takes a swig, fire burning down her throat, though she doesn’t mind. Instead she grins, handing the bottle back to him, feeling as warm on the inside for a moment as her skin felt beneath the sun. “I’ve never really been a wine girl anyway, though I appreciate the compliment. These lips like liquor though, what can I say?” Not that she wouldn’t drink wine, but it was not her choice if given one.
“Do you make it yourself?” she asks, eyebrow raised slightly as she takes in the man. He’s tall but not overly so, his skin is tan, his hair messy and tousled, and his outfit suggests a story-book pirate. She supposes they must be real, though the concept of an ocean to her is so shocking she cannot yet imagine actually sailing on it. Regardless of occupation, he is attractive, and it does not go unnoticed. “I’m Weaver, by the way” she offers.
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
Merkesh, still annoyed over the whole 'acting proper' deal soon loosened up into a interest to see how this woman would be able to handle the strong rum. Most women and men he ran into tended to cough with teary eyes from how strong the beverage was that he offered and refusing to take another sip. Hell, he himself had been like that once upon a time before he learned to embrace the strong spirits. His first encounter had made him a laughing stock upon his shit as he only were about 13 years old when he first got to drink with his crew-mates. That first experience had been horrible with him hanging over the railing throwing up what felt like every meal he had ever had to then pass out and wake up later on with a hangover of doom. Even though the rum had been way to strong for him back then he kept on drinking it and got what he deserved, having to endure all the work the day after with a throbbing headache combined with high nausea.
But this lady.. ohh what a woman! She drank of the rum like a warrior and even with a smirk on her face instead of the normal 'to hell with you and your poison' speech he tended to hear a lot. Fascinated and surprised he took back the bottle to take another sip himself, without leaving the goddess with his eyes. After all; This didn't happen a lot. He swallowed his liquor as he lowered the bottle, clearly used to the burning sensation with a smile lighting up his face. "Indeed i am. I tend to notice how thin the regular rum is so just thought its easier to make myself. It takes a while however to make." He stated taking a step towards her since he still thought he was a bit to far away from her but had manners (for now) enough to stay after that step. Yes the rum took at least 5 years to get strong enough for him so he tended to put his booze away to ripe ever so often to make sure he wouldn't run out. The mere amount of his storage was insane and hidden away at the same, secret location where he stored all his loot. And to say he had a small amount of loot would be lying to the point of one exploding. He had been at it a while after all.
Since the proper streak still semi was stuck in his noggin still he couldn't help but to play it out a tad more. Even though he made sure that Weaver saw that it was a rare occurrence from him. He bowed down in a greeting where he stood all ruffled and semi drunk to greet her. "Merkesh is my name, it's a pleasure to be run into by you i must say"
Her mother was the type of mother that taught her daughter how to drink. It was an art, one Weaver was exposed to at a young age. She had the sort of mother who simply poured her children wine for dinner, explaining how to taste it, how to experience. Other times they were simply given shots and taught what it felt like to be drunk, to understand one's limits and the repercussions of going overboard. Her mother believed that her children should be prepared for life as it was, not life as parents hoped it would be. Real life was harsh and seedy, real life happened around alcohol and drugs. So she has been drunk, but she was purposefully drunk at her mother’s doing. The concept of being grateful for the life lessons has never really crossed her mind, but maybe because she doesn’t know that others don’t have such luxury.
It probably helped that she had two brothers, and Weaver being Weaver found it entirely necessary to keep up with her brothers. Korbin drank like she did, being the youngest and skinniest of them all. Erebor though was a tank, and damn hard to keep up with. She lost that game more than she cares to admit, but she learned to hold her own through games with him. She laughs as he replies, an amused and pleased sound. “Normal rum is thin?” she says with a wicked little grin. “You like to get the job done, it seems.”
He takes a step forward, and bold as ever, Weaver takes a step as well, hand snaking out to grab for the bottle of rum if he’ll let her. He bows in greeting, and she keeps from laughing again though the smile on her face gives away her amusement. “Are you from around here, Merkesh?” she asks, wondering if he’s a natural of Torchline or someone who happened to sail his ship in at the right time.
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
Merkesh may drink a little too much but it didn't concern him all too much however. As long as he was clear enough in the head to either fight or flight he really didn't mind feeling the alcohol course through his veins. There was a limit to his drinking after all and the few times he had gotten a little more drink on than he had intended he did the smart thing and POOFED until he had regained his sea-legs. To fight during extreme influence of alcohol never tended to go as great as one thought in the moment and normally left a new scar to the collection. As her comment came at him he smirked in that mischievous manner a pirate tended to own no matter where you went and nodded. "Yes. It's like drinking spiced water. When i drink i wanna feel the fire within my very soul, take myself to a level that spiced water rarely delivers me to. After being used to this i can't seam to enjoy the regular kind anymore."
Her hand came slithering as they both took a step closer to each other and he COULD have been a little bastard and pull it away from her, asking for her to nicely beg him for another taste but thats not what he felt like at this very moment. Instead he let their hands meet up before letting her take it from him with his eyes locked in hers. What.. a... woman. This told him clearly that she didn't just pretend to enjoy the magical rum which was VERY rare to encounter. After all; Most drank the spiced water. As her question came towards him he shrugged a bit in a friendly manner. "Im from.. around. Technically in a way i'm from here, yes. But i grew up on the sea however." He was indeed not a man that was shy as he did one of the things he really enjoyed; lifted a hand to grab a strain of her hair and trap it behind her ear. Nothing more than that really but enough to show he was not really a shy man. If that hadn't been apparent already that was. He looked at that pale skin of hers, thinking she probably hadn't been very much at sunny locations growing up which made him open his mouth again. "Lemme guess, you are from Halo, aren't you?"
She may drink a little too much too, but she’s pretty good at holding her liquor and stopping. Usually. The nights she doesn’t stop are the night she doesn’t care to stop, the ones when she isn’t worried about something jumping out at her from the shadows. Usually these were the nights she ended up in her own home, a boy in tow or just her and her brother drinking and laughing and being completely foolish. She laughs at his comment about spiced water. ”You would not enjoy the booze Halo has to offer, then. It’s never that strong and generally tastes like piss. Hard to make booze when your most abundant resource is snow.” Which was true, they never lacked for snow. How they had managed to live for so long in such a wasteland always amazed her.
He lets her have the bottle, touching her hand as he gives it over and she grins, taking another swig. She passes him the bottle back, tipped as if inviting him to drink with her (not that he hadn’t been), as the rum lights a fire down her insides. ”Can’t say I find that surprising. You do look like a pirate out of my childhood stories.” Of course, she doesn’t actually know he’s a pirate, but she’s wondering if her hidden question will get him to reveal an answer without actually asking. Not that she’s judging, just curious.
He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and she gives him a teasing, mischievous grin. ”I am not so easily won,” she warns, a slight tilt of her head, a bit of a raised brow. It is not that she cannot be won, but she doesn’t like to make the game too easy for them. ”Yep, Halo born and bred. Be amazed, this is tan for me.”
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
"Piss is not meant to be consumed, I would not fare well in Halo it seamed." He smirked and for a moment consider himself deserted on a block of ice considering how he always laid warm and cozy from the inside out under the sun here in Torchline. Yeah he would probably end up a frozen fossil quite quickly in Halo if he wasn't careful. Then again he could see the issues in finding spices and herbs in a snow wasteland. So piss.. was maybe the correct term. If he ever made his way there he would probably look like a snowman with all the layers of fabric and haul his booze over there with him.
He looked at her as she drank from his treasure and when she invited him to do the same he did not hesitate at all. Grabbed the bottle to also consume the liquid fire within. As she mentioned him looking like a pirate he made no sign outwards of getting chocked over this "unpredicted" term of events, but at the inside he indeed became curious. Was it that easy to spot him in the crowd after all? Oh well he really didn't care that much since these clothes were comfortable an came in handy for this and that as they were meant to do. "Pirate huh? Should i be honored to be considered a pirate or offended?" He asked with a genuine grin on his face that stated he really didn't care at all to be either honored or offended. Just held the bottle back towards Weaver to offer her another sip.
As she stated she was not easily won his face didn't change either, he didn't really care if she was easy or stubborn. He enjoyed this meeting none the less and so what if he had to work for it? Made it all interesting right? "Well my little Snowflake; i'm not looking for easy all the time in life you know" He said amused while he drank some more after she had either drunk or refused another sip.
She laughs at his comment. ”Most don’t, in Halo. Takes a certain kind of crazy to do well there,” she raises a brow, realizing she has yes, just called herself a certain kind of crazy. It is true though. Halo is not for the faint of heart, and it is certainly not for those who enjoy lazing on the beach beneath the sun. You do not laze in the snow of Halo. Hell, you don’t even make snow angels because it’s too damn cold to risk getting snow inside your clothes for something as frivolous as snow angels (except of course, as children, her and her siblings made them anyway).
He takes her invitation to drink, and she gives the bottle back over, enjoying the warmth from the rum that courses through her now. It matches the warmth of the sun slowly scalding her skin, and she knows she’ll probably need to find some shade soon. ”I don’t know. That depends on if you are good at being a pirate or bad at it. Do you have wonderful, shiny things?” She is not fishing for anything, not really, unless he wants to impart a knife or two her way because she never can have enough of the things. She’s just curious, wondering if it’s true or if he’s just playing along.
He holds the bottle back her way and she takes enough swig. Enough of the stuff, and she’ll forget that the sun is the enemy of her skin and let it fry her. She hands the bottle back again, laughing as he calls her a snowflake. ”Oh dear no. You see, snowflakes are gentle, soft things. I am far more the large icicle waiting to fall on your head.” Which was only partly true, because she cared and had her own version of kindness, but she definitely was not a snowflake.
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
"Well at least i have the crazy going for me, so that's a plus i guess." He said amused, looking at her in an intrigued way. Maybe that's why they got along this far then? Crazies tended to fare well with others of their species after all, haha. Merkesh himself had not seen snow even once during his lifetime since the barriers had been up and not letting him sail over to Halo for exploring. Hard to get to a place that had been sealed off after all. True he could probably gather up his crew and walk through the portal to Halo but where was the fun in that? To not have the constant danger of the seas to deal with and if they found something of interest.. where would they store it until they got back? A weaponized ship was way handier then a wheelbarrow showing off their loot after all.
As she kept at the pirate line he had to consider how much he should share with this woman. Should he just play along and let her guess still? That was indeed more fun then admitting to something to be fair. So, either claim to be a rich pirate (as he really was) or a dirt poor farmer? Ohhh the possibilities. In either way she would not completely know anyhow. So with that thought in mind he just in a mischievous wat chuckled as he then took a sip from the rum like a real champ. "Ohh yes, shiny items all over the place. As you can see my clothing is made out of diamond and gold." He teased and watched her take another sip of the killer strong booze. Man, she could drink! "I actually made it all out of diamond powder and glue and cast an optical illusion over it to make it appear normal." This was fun to say the least.
As she stated she was ffar drom gentle and something that indeed could split you in half from above he couldn't help but to chuckle. Ohh he didn't doubt it at all, a woman from Halo should be tougher then what a man of the seas could even try to comprehend. How else was one able to survive in such a harsh climate? He let his tanned finger touch that pale skin of her forearm slightly, let it trail over the overheated skin so unused to the suns deadly rays before letting his own hand leave her alone. "We should probably get you in to some shade before you will transform into a new you. Trust me; the sunburn will make you peal like a snake."
”Well, you were baking in the sun,”, she says, agreeing that he might indeed be crazy. She didn’t quite understand the concept of just laying in the sun. It was not appealing, as much as she was getting used to the heat and brightness and the slightly tan color of her skin. Of course, it likely wasn’t appealing because she was not made for such things. She was made for ice and snow, for layers of clothing and her thick black cloak. Though she was definitely enjoying the sand beneath her bare feet.
She picks up a corner of his clothing at his comment, as if examining it for the gold he claimed was there. ”Ah, I see. Invisible gold and diamonds. How clever of you. Seems like quite a lot of effort to go through for clothing, though, I must say.” She drops the edge of his clothing at that, letting her hand skim his skin if he’s close enough, before pulling away.
It does give her an idea though, and she wonders if, in her long list of magic wishes, she might just need to add illusionism. Perhaps it would be useful…
She is distracted from the thought as he trails a finger down her arm, suggesting they find some shade. She nods with a slight chuckle. ”Oh, I have already learned that lesson. It’s taken a while for me just to get out of long sleeves.” It was probably a good thing she’s gone to the Hollowed Ground first, where the sun was not quite so strong. ”Lead the way.”
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
"Believe it or not; but you get used to do that in a place like this. Most even enjoy it." He said with a small smirk, sucking in the vision of this impressive woman in front of him. How many could both drink and share the crazy in a manner like this? Merkesh was used to either loose women or stuck up women when it came to women folk. He never really met someone like her until now, especially not from outside of Torchline.
As she investigated his clothing he took the opportunity to move a little closer, both because he really wanted to and to let her examine his fake valuable clothing. "Yes.. would be unwise to let people know how much of a rich big shot i actually am, don't you agree?" He said in a comical way, since he already knew she had figured out the joke. True, he was indeed a very rich man but it wasn't like he would admit it just like that. He had his little hideout of valuables, both from his fathers time and his own and most he just collected. He loved his valuables. He had "long lost" paintings, gems, gold, fabrics, trinkets.. yes you name it and he pretty much had it.
"Trust me; even here long sleeves are needed, just not in such heavy fabrics. It protects the skin from the sun way better than short sleeves." He said as his hand left her overheated skin to grab is long sleeved shirt to prove a point. The fabric was light, very light but indeed protected him from the dangerous sun rays. As she told him to lead the way he offered her his arm and whether or not she accepted it he started to lead them towards the beautiful coral and glass cathedrals location. It was closest after all since they were kind of way past the point where jesus lost his sandals right now. Would take maybe an hour in direct sunlight to get to town while the beautiful structure was maybe 5 minutes away from the point were he had baked in the sand. "I think you would enjoy this place, even though it doesn't look like it would protect you much from the sun it has a cooling effect once in there. Besides it's quite pretty so it would fit you well" He said with charm overflowing from his body. But ohh how could he resist? ~
”Ah, but I am not from a place like this, and I will never quite understand the concept of tanning for fun, I don’t think. Or sweating constantly. It is sort of unpleasant, even if it’s nice to actually be able to feel my fingers and toes.” After all, she had long ago gotten used to the numb, tingling pain of freezing extremities. You didn’t venture outside for more than a few minutes before you lost feeling in those basic parts of you, including your nose. Scarves were useful, wrapped around nose and mouth and ears, but even still on a cold Deepfrost day, the winter winds would cut through you anyway.
She wondered what treasures this man might have. Was he truly a pirate? If so, what was that life like, with the sea your constant companion and your pathway to who knows where. ”Tell me, what other lands have you found beside Caido? Are there others reachable by ship?” She doubts she would ever go, ever leave behind the life she knows and, in her way, loves. Yet curiosity at the idea of it, at the possibility of it, always gnaws at her. She simply wants to dream of what it might be like.
He plucks at his own long sleeve shirt and she chuckles. ”I was wearing sleeves for a while, but I had not planned to get stopped by a sunbaking man on my walk today.” Indeed she had planned to move inside soon enough, to spend just enough time basking in the idea of short sleeves before returning to shade. ”It is a novelty to me to not need to be covered in clothing, and I am enjoying it.” She says it seriously, though there’s a lurking double entendre in that statement if one cares to hear it.
She takes his arm. Who was she to refuse such a polite gesture from a handsome, muscular man? Just because she needed no help didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy being treated like a damsel in distress on occasion, or simply like a lady who deserves an arm. She does deserve one, after all. ”Are you taking me to the Hanged Man?” she asks, having already found and enjoyed that particular spot. And it’s owner, for that matter.
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
