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!
As fascinating as his investigation was, Josh was human; he still needed to eat and sleep. The eating he'd handled for the moment from the bakery, but the sleep...well, he wasn't opposed to resting in the fields if he had to, but he hoped a place with as many dimensional visitors as this town could lay claim to might have some sleeping arrangements established.
The homes in the domiciles seemed to be in various states of disrepair and as far as he could tell, mostly already claimed by residents. Josh walked along the buildings with a distinctly unimpressed frown, unhappy with the privacy each of these lodgings might allow him, if he could bunk in with one of the families. He was beginning to consider going back to the black Obelisk he'd seen when he'd first arrived, finding somewhere to stay within, when something caught his eye.
He wasn't sure what it was about the large man that attracted him, but he felt like he might help. Maybe because he looked almost stereotypically like a warrior hero from some fantasy movie, maybe because Josh picked up an air of 'don't fuck with me' from the man that implied he had to have some things sorted out. Regardless he approached, beginning to speak as soon as he was close.
"Where do you sleep?" Probably not the best opener, but it cut to the heart of the matter.
Wandering down the streets, currently at no particular beck and call, his duties done for the day at either Artisan’s Guild or barracks, left him maneuvering towards his house. What it didn’t prepare him for was the man nearby, intervening, strange, and completely, utterly unfamiliar (when he’d been here for quite some time now, knew quite a few despite his need for seclusion, nonchalance, and detachment). He ceased all movement and grew quite still, a rigid, taut predator, ready to coil, ready to spring, ready to unleash something, anything, jaw taut and clenched. Out of habit, he scrutinized the other man quickly, efficiently, pondered platitudes of strength, of abilities, tilting his head a fraction to break apart the rapacious outset.
Then, at the inquiry, he blinked rapidly. His piercing eyes narrowed, wondering briefly if this was some sort of joke that he wasn’t in on. “My house.” His gaze went to the last one along the row, more towards the outskirts, ramps assembled along the front porch (no longer necessary, remaining there just the same), the framework completed, perhaps in need of a new paint job, given time and no other pending circumstances, events, or chaotic shambles. He didn’t motion towards it now, however, inherently suspicious.
Deimos' answer, as short and blunt as it was, brought a grin to Josh's face (a face unused to grins, so the expression was rather manic); he nodded as if agreeing, then asked: "Where is your house? How did you claim it? Is there a process? How much personal information does it request, if so?" This said he took out his notebook and got ready to write down Deimos' answers, hoping he could plan out some false information for whatever process was before him.
The grin was odd, peculiar, but perhaps he shouldn’t be so judgmental on the subject of smiles when he rarely did himself. His arched brow remained, waiting for the inevitable, bizarre moment to stretch. “There,” and he pointed to the designated house at the end of the street, close to outskirts, a refuge, a sanctuary, a sanctum. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously again, however, wondering if he was inviting a threat to his domicile, residence, or anyone he sought to keep safe within.
Then the questions continued, and it seemed the stranger just intended to obtain one himself. The process had been simple, if not a bludgeoning of irritation via the Naturals, and he could understand that – Outlanders tending to snag at whatever they could. Habits, maybe, after all the worlds they’d come from. “I simply claimed it. It was vacant.” A shrug of his shoulders, as if this was all normal. “It required none.” No personal information, minus a few sneers and snarls, and then gradual acceptance.
Josh followed Deimo's point down to the house at the end, which he leaned around to look at for a moment. Quite drab, same as the rest, really; not the home of a mighty warrior or King, to be sure.
That there was no process both pleased Josh (he did not like to give away his information) and annoyed him (he could not hack into the system for other people's information). "Right." For a moment he stepped back and it seemed as if he might leave to go and find himself a home, but then he turned back to Deimos, tapped the top of his notebook with his pen.
"You came from another world too. Not Earth? Another planet?" He asked, leaning in close as if encouraging Deimos to share a secret.
He believed the strange interaction would end then and there, and he’d be free to return to his responsibilities. He was half a step towards his domicile, no matter how drab, a sanctuary, a sanctum, when he was forced to desist the motion. The next inquiry, still accompanied by the notebook, left his eyes drifting upon the pieces of parchment, the subtle notion of curiosity coiling through his mind. His head tilted once more, quiet and contemplative, as the question was launched towards him – uncertain about what Earth was. Maybe one more of those worlds – where Outlanders seemed to spiral from. “I am from Helovia. And Isilme.” Which…was probably confusing, but multiple lives meant multiple homes, intermingled, intertwined, perishing and resurrection.
Upon hearing the names Deimos gave him: Helovia, Isilme; Josh was suddenly madly interested, scribbling down the names with a desperate haste as if he might lose them if he did not get them down right away. "Describe these places to me. Other dimensions? Planets? Have you made contact with Earth from these places? Are you a native to them?" If Deimos was an alien he was a boring one, but it was a start.
Clearly not going to leave the man alone, now completely enraptured with Deimos and what answers he might give, Josh for the moment entirely forgot his quest for a home.
Unfortunately for Joshua, Deimos had no inclination or clue to at least half of the things he referenced. Out of his depths, his brow furrowed, uncertain what this man was attempting to gain and incapable of proffering much to him. Perhaps that was just as well, and then he could leave. “I do not know what dimensions, planets are. Or what Earth is.” His head tilted again, one brow arched, curious, but completely confused by the levels of unknown and enigmatic quandaries. The man before his was an absolute anomaly, and while Deimos had long since assimilated into the Hollowed Grounds, he remained within the Outlander status. This man had it with alarms ringing. “I was born in Isilme, beside the ocean. I journeyed to Helovia, which were encompassed by kingdoms of deserts, mountains, jungles, and cliffs.” Amongst an assortment of other lands – but he wasn’t sure what the stranger meant to do with the notations, or why it was important. Both worlds were gone anyway – vanished and vanquished. "What do you need this information for?"
Deimos seemed to be struggling with his questions. Josh waited, seemingly patient on the outside, but inwardly chastising himself for asking such things of a man with so much muscle - brains or brawn, very few had both. Just when he was about to assure Deimos it didn't matter and leave the poor fool to his walk, he received a reply.
"Dimensions are alternate versions of realities. Planets are different worlds in a universe." He rattled off quickly, leaving out a definition of Earth; if he didn't know of it, there was no point explaining the features of that specific planet.
It seemed that Isilme and Helovia were on the same world, but beyond that Deimos' description was not useful. "I am taking notes so I can understand what has occurred and reverse it. Create a way to freely travel between these planes. It would prove my theory of dimensional relativity."
The explanations proved helpful at least, as his brows furrowed in concentration, in circulation along his mind. “I have lived through different dimensions, then.” Multiple lives: perished in one, only to cycle back through on some resurrected scale, purpose unknown, except he utilized it for redemption. Born in Isilme, died in Helovia, born in Isilme again – partaking in some of the same machinations and motions, and then scraping into obvious alterations when he was spun and plucked into Caido. As for planets, he couldn’t be quite certain – he’d traversed too long and too far from Isilme to Helovia, but not enough to transmit across opposing voids. “Same planet though.” If that could be regarded as any explanation.
But why that information was required caused his eyes to widen, briefly, before flickering back to his normal, reticent stature. Reverse it. Travel back to where he’d come from. How many of them would yearn to go back to where they’d once lived? How many thought Caido to be better, how many thought it to be worse? “How would you reverse it?” Curiosity again, another tilt to his head, because they didn’t even know how the Voice had procured them, brought them here along portals and enigmas, much less if they could alter or overturn the events.
"Multiple dimensions, same planet." Josh nodded, writing this down. "Makes you an interesting case study. Might interview later?" This was a question, only made clear when he looked up with raised eyebrows towards Deimos, trying to gain a confirmation. While he was sure in this place where dimensional hopping seemed common he could find someone else with experience of it, Deimo's multiple experiences were certainly felt like a significant find.
As for how he'd reverse it...well, he'd only been there less than a day. Josh shrugged. "That's what I'm working out. There was a way here; there will be a way back. These things don't only go one way." He was certain of that, after his years of research. It might take a long time, but he figured he could work it out.
Deimos blinked more than once, then narrowed his eyes, aiming to construe the stranger’s words into something that made sense. Case study? Interview? Like question him constantly? He’d likely rather sink into the ground and disappear, eroded by the earth and soil, then have constant attention and inquiries over things he wasn’t truly certain about lobbed at him. An inward grimace took shape, and he wondered if this would be the opportunity to escape – nodding in agreement just to make the notions cease.
Except reversals of the portal behavior was still slightly intriguing – even if Deimos had nowhere else to go; Helovia vanquished, Isilme shadowed, and everywhere in between just as murky, others might have yearned to traverse back from where they’d come. “Perhaps you could talk to one of the gods.” A shrug; the only consideration he could note of significance: he couldn’t imagine anyone other than the heralds and deities having enough power to do just that.
Deimos only had one more suggestion for him, that he speak to 'The Gods' - the man was not the first to suggest this, but the notion still made Josh nearly wanted to laugh. As it was he shook his head, looked back up to Deimos with a skeptical eye. "You actually believe in the Gods? That I could speak to one?"
The Sword understood the skepticism. He’d grown up with the notion of gods, heralds, and deities, but with little experience intertwined – usually ignored, discarded, and had subsequently done the same towards them. Helovia brought him little sustenance in regards to their philosophies or powers; the God of Time mostly sneered at his existence, the Goddess of the Moon pushed them out of their home and orchestrated murders. Here though, he had seen them, had discussed things with them. Still bizarre, still strange, still a wild notion of thoughts. He shrugged back at the stranger, eyes lifting to gaze along the horizon, before slipping back to this man with a bizarre series of inquiries. “I have seen and spoken to them. They are real.” He paused, pondering, wondering if he shared the same fate as the rest of those embedded in the Abandoned roles. “Though, if you have magic, they are less inclined to appear.”
