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!
Melita wondered why on earth he was even down here in the marketplace, bothering her, striving to pick a fight. "Don't you have anything else to do?" Perhaps she was right in holding her grudge, her bitterness, in this instance, if he always acted like such a condescending dick. Despite her attempt at moving forward, at moving on, at moving away, he was either incapable of taking a hint, or there was more at play here. Her eyes narrowed, ignoring half of the things he said, taking in a massive breath, glancing at strangers as they roamed by. An accusation of her being a hypocrite was intriguing – wouldn’t be the first time (Wessex had leveled that upon her before, and then the girl was a bit more apologetic – here though, with this ridiculous, inept, asinine man? No.), nor probably the last. But she bit. “How so? I’m implementing a great amount of control right now.” It was loosened on a snarl, on a glint of malice in her eyes.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Loren let out a huff of laughter and shook his head at Melita's comment. "Not particularly." Indeed, he kept following her, even straying within range of her staff though not getting close enough to actually invade her personal space.
At her snarl, he just grinned, the expression on his face as savage as hers. Rubbing the rabbit's foot idly, he tilted his head to the side. "Well, let's see. You channeled a god on me for no particular reason just because you had a fit of pique and weren't willing to even give me a chance to back off. And instead of focusing on the task at hand during capture the flag, you let yourself get drawn into a fight with Kiada." Voice taunting, he narrowed his eyes. "Doesn't exactly seem like a person in control of herself to me."
“Oh no, there was a reason. I did it because I thought you were going to destroy the snow creature. I wasn’t close enough to stop you on my own.” She would have though – she would have reached down into something and spiraled hard. As for Kiada – that really wasn’t any of his concern or business. “Kiada and I have a long history. And my task was to distract her. Sounds like I accomplished it just fine.” And that was all she needed to say – no point in justifying those actions to him. A shrug, a voice of indifference, to his taunting, to his ridiculous farce. “Leave me alone, Loren.” Perhaps his final warning – a low growl, a hiss, in the crackle of her voice. Fangorn knew enough to give her a wide berth, gliding along market stalls and kiosks with a look of apprehension floating in his eerie eyes. A rumble towards Astra was a clear omen, but otherwise he couldn’t do much else.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Loren laughed, deeply amused by Melita’s completely inability to take responsibility for her actions. ”You could’ve asked me to stop and I would have. But nooooo. You jumped straight to the most extreme option.” Smirking at her, he raised his eyebrows challengingly.
Shaking his head at her response regarding what went down at Capture the Flag, his smirked broadened. ”No your task was to retrieve the flag. Kiada was all you. And if I remember correctly, you hurt her so badly we had to call the game off.” The words came out short and clipped. ”What does that say about you?”
At her ultimatum he leaned forward. ”Or what?” Scoffing, he tilted his head to the side and regarded her cooly. ”You’ll lose control again?” He rolled the rabbit’s foot across his knuckles idly, clearly unimpressed with her threat. He ignored Astra’s worried bleat as well.
Every ounce of feral energy seeped into her bones. She’d tried. She really had. Her patience wasn’t the greatest, nor the grandest, but she’d taken more than a fair share of hits and blows, when all she’d wanted to do was look at some damned mountain market.
So maybe she should embrace every single nuance and notion he thought about her. She had during the blight, after all. It had lanced into her soul and ensured she was just as wicked, just as feral, just as savage as he seemed to think.
Why not hasten to it again? Why not breathe more life into her anger? Into her rage? Why did it matter, when she was striving to keep herself together, for an individual that already thought the worst of her? That she already despised?
Why not lean into the contempt, the abhorrence?
It only took a single moment: staff in her grasp, the brunt of it reaching forward to annihilate, to crush, that stupid rabbit’s foot he kept holding onto (like it’d protect him, like it’d shield him, like it was worth anything), a hiss in her throat. “Fok jou.”
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
As Melita finally lost her temper, Loren didn't move aside as she swung her staff. He just stood there, and let it slam into his hand with a sickening crunch. Not only did her blow destroy the rabbit's foot (which burst and scattered across the snow), it broke his hand. Letting out a cry of pain, he quickly recovered. Astra cried out as well, and placed herself between him and the redheaded woman, pawing at the ground with a hoof.
Cradling his hand to his chest, he smirked. "There it is." Reaching down with his uninjured hand, he unsheathed his knife. "I assume that was an expletive of some kind." Swiftly, he cut away his glove, revealing the mangled fingers below.
Finally, he stepped back. "Don't worry. I forgive you for breaking my hand and destroying my property." His voice was quiet and pained, though sparks of sky blue healing magic were already creeping down his arm. His fingers rearranged themselves into the proper position with an almost revolting display.
Lowering his hand, he grinned. "Enjoy your time in Halo. And the shopping." Turning, he started to walk away. However, he paused and glanced back at her. "Oh and by the way? This makes us even." With that he resumed his slow retreat.
She was content with the destruction of that stupid foot, watching it flicker and fall apart into pieces, with the snapping of his hand, with the breaking of so many other nuances. “Good.” To all of it: they’re even accords, they’re schisms of ridiculousness. She didn’t feel the least bit sorry either – even as Fangorn hissed, shaking his head, in either disappointment, dismay, or everything else crumbling together. All she could do thereafter was snort, no apologies extended, as petulant as the rise of the mountains, turning her head, and leaving, further and further down the stretch of stalls.
{-fin}
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
