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!
He hadn’t expected it to still be raining when he’d sent that letter to Weaver, asking her to meet him in Ludo’s Woods to talk. Already too used to the heat of LongHeat and having taken it for granted, shirtless and roaming the beaches of Torchline enough that his skin had shifted in its tanned hues, freckles dotting out the panes of his face brought out by the sun. Now? Now this season was dreary and still somewhat warm with the remainders of longheat nearby, but it was full of dark clouds and warm rain…
And perhaps it felt a bit too much like his emotions, especially for this year. His birthday falls sometime in this season though he’s stopped keeping track, too focused on the next soon to be failure of his, the next great mistake to take over. But this? This wasn’t one of them. A bar in Halo seemed hardly like a mistake to be made.
Rain has thoroughly soaked his hair and the skin along his tattooed shoulders and neck, streaming rivers along the shirt he wears. But it’s too warm to be out here with jackets to cover up, and as a man born for water, a moniker of the flood, a little rain meant little. So he stands, steel gaze shadowed and dark as he focuses on the lanterns hanging from the trees while Haai chases a mouse through the underbrush and bouncing through puddles, waiting to see if Weaver arrives.
maybe i'll cope with life without hope
maybe i'll open the door and fall through the floor
SuNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
If she was going to come; how silly. Of course she was going to come, even if it meant coming to the Greatwood and getting lost a few times. This wood has a way of doing that, turning around even the best navigators. Weaver can navigate a (moderate) blizzard, and yet she finds herself lost in this damn place time and again. Only slightly lost, but still, it is enough to be annoying. The Fae were tricksty, and she had to give them credit for it.
Eventually she finds Sunjata. The rain has yet to let up, but her weatherproof gear is far too warm for the Greatwood and so she comes only in a black cloak with a hood, the fabric not waterproof but at least somewhat water resistant. Her hood is up, though her usual braid spills out of the front and across her right shoulder. It is less to keep herself dry and more to keep the water out of her eyes, keeping her vision clear at least (albeit somewhat limited on the sides). Her scythe sweeps above her head as usual, and dressed a such, she looks like a rather pretty grim reaper. Shame death wasn’t as attractive as her, somedays.
”Sunjata,” she greets, once she is close enough to be heard over the rain. ”Why are we meeting in the Greatwood, of all places?” It is a strange place for them to meet, neither of them belonging here and with no business here either. Was there some bit of pleasure involved, some desire to see if the tales of the Greatwood’s magic were true? Perhaps, in which case, she was happy to play.
“Sunjata.” He hears at first, shifting where he stands to better focus on her as she approaches. And with it, a slightly fanged bright smile is sent back to her in greeting. “Weaver.” He responds quietly before letting her continue, lifting a scarred hand to brush away the water that’s clung to his eyebrows that threaten to fall into his eyes. He views her a bit more fully now, the scythe above her head, the cloak. Ah, he’d been right to assume she’d fit in well with his Guild.
He steps toward her, then, to take up a space beside her as he looks around the woods one more time. “Rumor has it there’s puddles here that can tell fortunes.” He rumbles somewhat thoughtfully, head tilting as he looks over and down to her when he steps up beside her. “But other than that we needed to talk about the Halo bar.” A brighter smile to that, still filled in with his partial shifting. He’d offer his arm to her if he wasn’t also soaking wet, but for now this works well enough.
Rain trails down his cheeks and neck as he glances around the earth for another one of those magical puddles. “I’ve been given a favor by Neron himself. That favor I plan on being your bar, if you’re still interested.” A wink sent her way, somehow somewhat confident that she hasn’t changed her mind.
maybe i'll cope with life without hope
maybe i'll open the door and fall through the floor
SuNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
His grin is fanged, quite literally wild, and she wonders if he would always have some animal piece to him when they met. It seemed to be a trend, not that they had met all that frequently for her to really call it a trend, yet. ”Fortunes?” she says with a laugh. ”What a very nice way to put it. From what I’ve heard they show you dreams and nightmares. Though I suppose the Fae think they are prophetic...” Not that she believes much of anything the Fae tell her. Not when they live in a wood so magical everyone ends up turned about three times.
The next part though leaves her grinning. He comes to stand beside her, both of them searching the ground for silly wonder puddles. Even if they could show her nothing good, it was something fun to do. ”Well, I’m glad one of us has met Neron properly,” she mutters, feeling so vastly unimportant in her own home. Not that she had ever been a somebody there, but damn that an outsider (and an Outlander at that), knows her own Warden better than she does.
Not that she is annoyed with Sunjata at this. Quite the contrary. He was presenting her a future on a silver platter, and of course she was ready to take it. ”What if I wasn’t interested anymore?” she teases, the mocking tone of her voice clear. She leaves the jest there for a moment, before continuing. ”So what do we need to do?”
Her laugh and explanation incite his own quiet chuckle to leave his throat. “All the same at some point.” He shrugs to that. Whether it be dreams or nightmares, fortunes or follies, it was still something that wasn’t real. A good way to pass the time, however, keep his mind off of things in the long run.
But he comes to stand beside her, searching the earth for those magical puddles, when he hears her mutter and glances over toward her with a slight raise of his brow. “He wandered into the VlamVloed and asked for some drinks and a basket.” A slight smirk crosses his face to this, as if to say what kind of deal it had been. “So I asked for a favor in return. Of course, you’ll likely see him since it is a bit one sided of a deal. I offered him some drinks from the bar when he’s in the area.” Meaning her bar, not his. He hopes she doesn’t mind.
Her teasing, however, has that smirk growing a bit brighter with the pause. He’s half tempted to tell her he’d need to find some other Halovian Natural that knew her way around a bar with a pretty face and the personality to back it up – but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes her question and nods as he steps forward a small amount to pass by a few more normal puddles, still searching. “Well, we need to find a place you want to put it. I’d like to have it be similar to the VlamVloed, much like a Tavern with rooms. One section maybe hidden away for any Guild gatherings.” He turns partially to look back at her with a raise of his brow to that. “Other than that, just tell me when and where and I’ll be there to help you build it up and get it going.”
maybe i'll cope with life without hope
maybe i'll open the door and fall through the floor
SuNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
”True enough, I suppose,” she says, taking a moment to ponder the idea of fortune. Weaver has never believed in destiny or fate, has never believed that there is some set path for her. Of course, she was not raised to believe in such. Straia had taught her children that they could shape their own fates, that life was theirs for the taking should they choose. That is the real crux of everything, choice. Along with the understanding that you cannot control nearly as much as you might like to think.
Maybe fortune isn’t total bullshit after all.
Weaver chuckles as he explains how the favor had come to be, and if that’s how one got favors she was even more excited to get her own bar. A few drinks in exchange for a blank check? Yes please. The trade though perhaps ended up somewhat equal, if she really thinks about it. A new bar in Halo was a boon for Halo, and it was not much for Neron to give, particularly when he didn’t actually have to give anything beside his blessing. He just had to say yes and watch other people do the work.
”I’m pretty sure drinks will be on the house for the Warden of Halo regardless,” she muses, not caring that he’d offered a few free drinks. Not that she expected to see Neron around regularly, but it seemed like bad business to charge him. Weaver keeps walking, drifting to and from Sunjata’s side, inspecting the puddles as they talk. So far she sees only mud beneath or occasionally her blurred, dark angel reflection.
She listens as he talks, leaving so very much in her hands. Surprise twists her features just a little bit that he dictates so little, but she appreciates that he trusts her. ”There’s an empty house near the marketplace,” she says, thinking aloud. Her eyes grow distant, tracing the paths of the Citadel in her mind. After a moment she nods. ”No more than a block or two, if memory serves. I’ll have to inspect it for a useful hidden room, but I am sure we can find or make one.” Her tone is matter of fact, like his question and raised brow are not at all surprising. What is the point of expanding if they cannot meet in secret in Halo when they need?
”I’ll go scout whenI get home and send you a letter. But I think we can get started pretty soon.” There’s something bright and glowing behind her eyes as she talks, excitement written plain on her features like a little girl being given a doll (or in her case, like a girl being given a scythe). ”How do we set up the alcohol supply, or are you one step ahead of me there?” she asks, grinning back at him.
“You’re a Halovian natural, you tell me.” There’s clear amusement in his tone as he glances to the huntress at his side. He couldn’t really care less, but based off of the interactions of some Outlanders and some of the Naturals in the Grounds, he can only imagine that Halo probably doesn’t like to be ruled by Outlanders all the same as well.
But he listens with interest, stepping away to scout into a puddle that disappears as soon as he drifts near, pursing his lips somewhat in thought as he steps over where it had been and returns to the space by her. It’s not a big deal if they need to make one, it’s certainly something that can be accomplished easily enough — especially with it being an old house of sorts. Still, he nods his head to her at the mention of a letter, agreeing quietly with that statement.
She grows vibrant with the idea, and he catches her grin with a bright pale smile of his own in response. “Well, I have people in the Grounds that make it. I imagine we’ll just increase it and send reserves up there.” He considers her a moment. “Torchline, however, rumor has it they’re big on smuggling. I plan to move the headquarters there and perhaps snag a few things for us that might be beneficial for both the VlamVloed and the Kraai.” He hums thoughtfully, gaze snapping to the space where he’d seen her raven tattoo once before.
“Other than that, we’ll make it work.” His smile shifts to something of a smirk as a puddle catches his eye again and he drifts toward it, staring down with some intensity before it vanishes too and he huffs a bit of annoyance at it.
maybe i'll cope with life without hope
maybe i'll open the door and fall through the floor
SuNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
”You’ll find I’m more open minded than the average natural,” she points out, just in case he hadn’t noticed yet. Truthfully she doesn’t much care where you come from or what you’ve done in the past so long as you prove yourself in the present. If Neron could prove himself a good Warden, she’d tolerate his rule. Heck, maybe at some point she’d even respect it. That said, she wasn’t a fool, and if he came wandering into her bar and wanted a drink, she’d give it to him. Whether she liked him or not didn’t change the fact he had power, and getting on his good side seemed like the clever business move. Actually, just the clever life move.
She listens as Sunjata talks of supplies, imagining that they would need to be sure to send reserves for winter because no one was reasonably getting through Halo with crates of alcohol in Deepfrost. The portal was inconveniently located, after all. Shame it couldn’t have been placed right outside the Citadel, and for a moment, she is reminded that once upon a time Halo wasn’t the frozen wasteland that it is now. Ah. The machinations of gods.
Her interest perks up at the mention of moving headquarters to Torchline, and she stops her puddle search for a moment to look up. ”Have you found out if those rumors are true?” she asks, picking that one, of all her many questions, to ask. Though she wonders if that means he has also moved, she wonders who will man the VlamVloed if not him, though for the moment she tames her millions of questions for the most intriguing of the bunch. Even she, despite her Halovian roots, felt the call of Torchline.
Weaver drops her head back to the ground, drifting past puddles that keep disappearing before she can ever look into them. ”Even the puddles are tricky bastards here,” she mutters.
Her honestly is like a balm, and he chuckles lightly at her comment with it, tipping his head a small amount. “I have found that out to be true, yes.” He offers with a slight smirk. He’s thankful for it too, far less explaining why it might be a good idea, far easier to not cause offense by simply doing the things he wanted to do without realizing just how it might affect those around them. The bar, it seems, is something Halo needs. Something of decent alcohol that doesn’t taste like piss, for one.
He’d be happy without as much snow as well, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, he supposes.
So he tells her of the rumors of Torchline, and her question has him shaking his head a small amount. “Not yet. But there’s a ship docked and I’d like to meet the captain and get a feel for it.” He doesn’t know the captains name, but if Melita is joining as part of the crew… Well, he supposes he’ll be able to find out just who to speak with. “Remi and Ronin have been there awhile too – not sure if they’ve done any smuggling but they certainly know their ways around it.” He chuckles lightly to that.
But then the puddle disappears and even Weaver’s does too and he snorts slightly in his frustration, shaking his head and moving onto the next one. “They really are.” He agrees perhaps a bit wryly, before one remains in place and he can view into it. It’s shadowed and dark, not at all a reflection like he was expecting – and in place of it, seeing a pair of golden eyes and spots. Like his panther form… But different, more vibrant, more golden, and he can’t help the furrowing of his brows as it disappears in confusion.
What the fuck does that mean?
maybe i'll cope with life without hope
maybe i'll open the door and fall through the floor
SuNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
His luck in tracking down the truth of the rumors has been about as good as hers, though he seems to have a promising lead if he can get an audience. And Weaver does not doubt that he can get an audience. Sunjata does not lack for that particular type of charm, the sort that weasels you in to all manner of things. The sort that gets you bars in Halo, a guild of nefarious underlings, and everything else Sunjata has managed to achieve in his short time here.
”If you have not yet been, the Hanged Man might be a good place for information. Though that seems like the sort of place you would have already found,” she says with an amused grin, suspecting he’s long ago also found the bar. She has no idea just how on the money she is, but only that bars are always a good place to seek information.
Next he mentions names like old friends, and she looks up again, cocking her head slightly. ”You speak like they are old friends,” she says, because she has no way of knowing their history in the Grounds. That was before she was freed from Halo, before she was willing to actually use the portals even once they were opened. She wonders too if it’s the same Remi she’d met on the beaches of Torchline.
She’s watching him still when he stops at a puddle that does not disappear right away. She cannot, of course, see what he sees, and she waits until it seems like the right moment to ask. ”Did you see something?”
“Am I so easy to read?” He asks her somewhat playfully in regards to the Hangman. Honestly, he’s already almost gotten into two fights within that bar — more than his own. But regardless, the alcohol was fine enough. He wasn’t much of a fan of rum but it surely beat anything in Halo so far. “They’ve got good rum. I’m more of a whiskey fan myself.” He offers a bit offhandedly, shrugging as he speaks of Remi and Ronin next.
The mention of old friends, however, has him chuckling lightly. “I consider them friends, yes.” He agrees. Not sure how old considering, but they’re certainly not in the current line up of kicking his ass, so that made them golden to him at the very least.
He finds the puddle and spots the creature within, confusion lacing his bones as she speaks and his gaze lifts toward her with that very same confusion. “Looked like a leopard, I think.” He rumbles a bit in his confusion. “Like one of my shifts but different. Brighter.” He shrugs, stepping over it and filing it away for later as he moves to go walk with her again. “Have you found anything yet?”
maybe i'll cope with life without hope
maybe i'll open the door and fall through the floor
SuNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
”You own a bar and trade in information. It does not take a genius to figure out that you’d find such a venue everywhere you go,” she says with a wink. After all, she was no different. The Hanged Man was one of the first places she’d found when she arrived in Torchline, along with its owner. The best sort of people to know, after all. ”Try the mamajuana. Sweet as hell, but tastes like swinging in a honey hammock in the shade,” she says, parroting the description Raza had given her because it was the best description out there. ”Though I agree, I would pick whiskey any day.” Which makes sense; she looks like the sort of girl who enjoys whiskey neat.
He gives her no more information on Ronin and Remi, and she doesn’t pry. It’s enough to realize he must have known them before Torchline, which means they must have come from the Hollowed Grounds at some point. Other than that though, she can’t decide if they are remarkable names for any other reason. Maybe they meant something in the Grounds that she’d yet to discover.
He explains what he saw, and she shrugs slightly. ”Perhaps it is telling you that you have a very bright future ahead of you.” Which did seem entirely plausible, simply given who he was. Though she can’t help but wonder what the Fae might say, if they were to interpret it. Did they understand the puddles better? Perhaps. ”Nothing,” she says, kicking at the place where a puddle was only moments before. Like the gods, they did not want to be seen by her.
A snort leaves him at her wink. She has him figured out, all the bits and pieces there to elude that he likely would frequent a bar. And not just for the drink, either. But that’s what made them alike in that regard, too, so it’s not too much of a loss on his end. Still, she suggests a drink to try and with the thought of a hammock in the shade he can’t help the slight light to his eye. “Mmm well, that sounds great.” He agrees – and it does, really. When you’re in the mood for something sweet and different, that is.
Whiskey’s always a good choice.
But when he explains what he sees, hears her offering her own shrug and thoughts he can’t help the quiet chuckle that leaves him as he focuses on pushing those thoughts aside for the possibility of a bright future. “Ah, unlikely, but I suppose I’m not one to know.” A slight purse of his lips at that, a slight smirk crossing his face after. But then she kicks the place of a puddle and says she hasn’t seen anything yet – so he keeps looking. Reaching up briefly to brush the water from running down into his eyes again from the rain, he continues to scout.
He spots one begin to form, and he reaches for her then to try and tug her toward it – hoping she might make it in time to spot something within.
maybe i'll cope with life without hope
maybe i'll open the door and fall through the floor
SuNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
She chuckles slightly. ”You say unlikely, and yet you are building an empire of bars across Caido. An underground network of informants. And you have lived here for how long? I’d argue there’s at least something bright about you.” The Fae would probably have something infinitely more cryptic and probably accurate, but was it so hard to predict possible futures? For someone like Sunjata, perhaps not. It mostly just came down to how you described “bright”.
He reaches for her not long after, and she moves quickly, years of practice fighting and hunting coming in handy in all parts of life. Weaver stares down into the stupid puddle, watching something vastly less cryptic unfold before her. It is simple. Her behind a bar, red and black, lines of bottles behind her. There’s no Korbin, and she wonders if the puddle is trying to tell her something by his absence, or if she’s simply only shown the thing currently on her mind.
Eventually she looks up when the puddle disappears. ”That puddle wants you to know you have a bright future too,” she tells him with a chuckle. ”Honestly I just saw the bar. Magic picking at the thing on my mind, I guess.”
