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!
By the time word reached Rance in Sanctuary, tales of the lights around the cathedral have already spread far, taking on a more fantastical note with each retelling. Spirits of the dead or creatures of pure light, paying their respects or causing mischief around the small temple. More than one person claimed that to have been told to spread the word by the god themself. Rance had his doubts, even if Maea had implied that the gods of Caido applied a heavier hand than those of his homeland. He’d never been particularly religious and he had yet to see anything that would give him a reason to change. Perhaps a little respect for the deities would curb his curiosity, but that was doubtful. He followed that curiosity through a portal and back to distant shores, near where a great, flightless bird had called for help. Directions from the locals led him to the growing group of onlookers and worshipers. Most seemed to be hanging back, conversing and observing from afar. He recognized a few — Jigano and his gryphon are hard to miss and he spotted Sunjata’s own feathered companion well before the man himself. Some others seemed vaguely familiar, maybe they’d been there with the L’ma as well?
While the others might be holding back, Rance had heard nothing from the locals that would lead him to believe the floating lights were dangerous. Will’o’wisps could be trouble, or had been back home, but there was only so many ways to trick people when everyone was out in the open, as opposed to a dark and tangled swamp. Instead of hanging back with the others, Rance stepped onto the sandbar between the beach and the cathedral, walking to about the midway point before pausing, eyes on the playful lights and how they made the seaglass walls glow.
Twilight and sea glass; casts of moonlight spread along sands, primordial vows he might’ve once uttered or made on bounds of gangly limbs and laughter. It was nothing now but reminders, a heavy, aching weight in the center of his chest, colliding along ribs and lungs, eyes flickering over lights, over will-o-wisps, over heralds in rags and masks. He watched orbs race along shoal and dunes, and others meander their way into the sanction – half-tempted to spirit along as a bird, as a tiger, as a bear, something else other than his human form, protected from the wake of detachment. The makeshift cathedral was a distraction, and then everyone else pulled into its wake, bag on his shoulder, not advancing like some, keeping himself tucked away, watching, waiting, deliberating.
under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed
Ludo’s presence was a balm to her sour, embittered, rancorous mood – she ran up the shoreline, lacquered by sea spirits and sprites, the orbs of light casting, serenading her way. Fangorn was at her heels, growling and hissing as he was mired more than once in the sandy confines, and her bare feet tread a light, diligent path, long since used to the dancing across dunes. Her hands were full of trinkets, of stones, of little rocks she’d found, ready and eager to offer. She might have blossomed and raced straight to the ragged herald, had there not been others already there (tempted to raise her hackles at Maea out of principle, and then irritation). So instead, she stood a little off to the side, arms full with her offerings, with her extension of hope and praise, uncertain of where to go or what to do.
Word spread quickly, but even faster when they were whispered by lips that did not know time or space or physical reality.
Delphia arrived once more into Torchline, making her way quickly towards the shrine where Ludo had made it's appearance. Her idol, her soul sibling created by Mort - she would not miss any opportunity to see them. And for a god to appear so suddenly and stay long enough for a sizable crowd to gather? Certainly this was something of great importance. "It is good to see you again, Ludo." she said lovingly to the raggedy god, eyes adoring and eager.
cigarettes, the taste of whiskey on your lips
still haunting my every kiss - do you remember it?
Zariah too heard the news and made the trek from Halo to Torchline...which was far too warm in her opinion now that she had acclimated to the colder environment. But she knew her presence was likely unwelcome, and so she remained on the fringes of the group. Hazel eyes watched, curious but guarded. The soul guide had made quite an impression when she had met them last. That they would simply appear, surrounded by will-o wisps was certainly a curious event she was not wont to miss.
I knew about them, of course, but as they’d been trapped in the Hallowed Ground bubble for several centuries, their worship had waned over here, people preferring to pray to Gods they knew might be able to answer. If they prayed. When they prayed. Whatever.
Curiosity drives me; I have no particular affiliation to any of the Gods - life or death or creation - far more focused on the realities of my existence to think some deity will deign to look on me. That doesn’t mean I should miss this opportunity to look on them, though. Following the crowd, to the now-lit buidling of glass, I ease my way through the crowd until I’m in or near the second row of people, curious, but with some dose of what I think to be healthy skepticism, as I look for the first time upon the floating rags that is Ludo.
People talk and Wessex listens. These days her thoughts often drift to last year’s Festival of Lights and the images of her beloveds. It’s bittersweet, these memories that she clings to. Knowing that she won’t participate in the Festival this year unless it’s by herself, some old (the forty-year-old part) part of her still finds itself aligning with tradition and her feet carry her the rest of the way. The seaglass building is pretty with its bobbing lights and she finds many faces she recognizes (some with a quiet growl of ire and some time a restrained smile), but Wessex settles at the back edge of the crowd. There have been many developments since last year, and now the demi-god prefers not to draw the Herald’s attention, though she certainly isn’t dumb enough to think it doesn’t know she’s there.
Arriving quietly at Deimos' side, the Shield offers her lover a squeeze to his hand, pulsing greeting and affection through the Attune bond. She is deeply curious to know what is going on, intrigued and eager to press further and know more - but she is content too to stay here at his side, to let the others share and investigate. She has had enough experience with Ludo and cannot imagine what it must mean to those who lived outside the barrier, that it would be here now.
So settling into the soft white sand, Amalia lets out a silent prayer, confident the soul guide can hear (and allowing any other Attuned to listen in as well). Ludo... thank you for guiding the souls of our loved ones into Mort's embrace. Please help those lost to find their way, and light our path to the other side.
It might have seemed strange for Ronin to follow a strange hawk (a hawk that did not, to any untrained eye, seem all that different to any other birds), but here he was. He had felt it too, in the air - that strangeness, the way things seemed not quite as they were. And as the seaglass cathedral appeared in all of its majesty, he fell to a halt among the rest of the crowd.
Suddenly, seeing Remi perched upon one of the spires with Mort's herald so close by... it locked his jaw and had his fists clenching at his sides. Why he felt so suddenly anxious was beyond him; perhaps it was because of everything Ludo had done to Remi in the past. Either way, Ronin tried to school his expression that he might experience the moment for what it was.
They came, all of them, over water or otherwise, and Ludo waited patiently. It heard their greetings, their prayers, their offers to play, but remained still but for the flutterings of its rags. And once they had all arrived, or so it appeared, the porcelain mask seemed to light up with a broad and cheerful smile...
And Ludo disappeared completely.
The wind still played through the cathedral spires, carrying with it the sound of a child's laughter - for any who looked close, they would see a glimpse of a dark haired youth with blackened fingertips, peeking out within the structure. "Find me!" it called, before disappearing once more.
It would be impossible, surely, for Ludo to hide successfully within such a small structure... but somehow, it was so.
03-11-2020, 09:15 PM (This post was last modified: 03-12-2020, 12:04 AM by Jigano.)
So many, many others had come that Jigano marveled a little at them all as they joined him on the strand before the cathedral. One in particular came to join him, as much a ghost from the past as any soul afloat on the wind, and the white haired bard broke into a broad smile of delight as the dark-haired man drifted to his side.
"Seiji! Gods most fortunate, it's good to see you again," he greeted his old friend warmly. "These are will-o-wisps and perhaps a few playful souls bobbing among them," he explained with a grin. But then Ludo vanished after giving them all the cold shoulder...
Or so it seemed. The laughter danced in the wind much like a certain dark set of rags, and Jigano laughed back, beckoning Seiji along as he followed his god into the sea-glass cathedral. Fire bloomed in his hand and then floated up to hover a little ways from his shoulder (away from his hair) like a particularly combustible will-o-wisp. He used its light to peer into the cathedral's nooks and crevices there with a rarely-seen playfulness. "Are you in here?" he called out, sing-song, to the mischievous herald.
03-11-2020, 09:27 PM (This post was last modified: 03-12-2020, 09:33 PM by Odd.)
The hawk didn't move. He wasn't feeling particularly playful, but nor did he think fluttering about was doing to do him any good. Ludo was a god and there were no tricks any of them could play upon it, that would catch it if it didn't want to be.
Fluttering off of the spire, Remi shifted at Ronin 's side, nudging his husband. "Come on, let's search over here." So saying the alchemist compelled a few Hels towards them, that the pair might stroll out onto the waves. 'Out that way. That is where the ship was.' Remi said in a low voice, nodding towards the open waters. He wasn't actively looking for Ludo of course, but memories of his most recent encounter with the herald of death out on the sea, was a good enough place to start.
He hoped Ronin wouldn't scold him for not wanting to search for the god beneath sea-shells or in pockets as others were likely to do. That sort of whimsey felt far away, just now.
REMI
I wish I could discover something that doesn't expire
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
She ignored the rest now, tucking her offerings away, for later, as there were movements, motions, torn asunder – playful intonations instead of the world pressing down heavily on shoulders. Whims, capricious, mercurial, circumvented and coiled, and for once in a long while, Melita allowed herself to laugh. Enticed and tempted into the fervor, without forethought to any dangers, to any alarm, to any ominous fathoms, the youth inveigled herself into the play, grabbing hold of Fangorn in her arms, and traipsing along the outside of the cathedral. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” She crooned, a light giggle in her chest, eyes searching up and down along the sea glass arches and spires, hoping to catch just a subtle glimpse of rags or masks.
He hadn’t noticed Ludo upon his initial arrival, too focused on avoiding and evading anyone else, but then things start shifting and he finally spends the time to look at it – seeing it disappear in a flash and the sound of childrens laughter ringing behind. He raises a brow in his battered state, shifting to his macaw form and attempting to fly over to Melita despite how much of a difficulty it proved to be – searching from above to try and find the ragged god all while not trying to fly directly into his niece.
you gave all that sweat and blood,
now you think you're gonna drown
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.
