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!
03-07-2020, 11:31 PM (This post was last modified: 03-07-2020, 11:49 PM by Melita.)
but there's chaos brewing
underneath my skin
Maybe she was a fool. But that had never stopped her before.
A deep, deep inhalation of air curled through her lungs, and then back out in a long, swindling breath, advancing across docks, eyes keen, tracing over the foundations of ships, of vessels meant for the sea. The bag over her shoulder carried her belongings, gifts and trinkets, a tapestry of dragons, of homelands and birthrights, and the weapons she couldn’t fit on her person. Her quiver settled along there too, beckoning at her back, her bow tucked carefully into her bracelet, her staff along her waist, her daggers drawn somewhere along her thighs, under yards of fabric. Everything else was cut and dry, gone; no regrets, no remorse, no weight of loss.
A moment to move forward, and not to look back.
Fangorn uttered nothing as they crossed along wooden boards, as they peered around boats. Everything was unfamiliar, and while her curiosity stoked, kindled, and unfurled, a portion of apprehension guided her along too. If it was a mistake, if she’d heard wrong, if they would refuse her, if the offering was no longer on the table –
She clenched her jaw, gritted her teeth, and persisted, until finally, her stare rummaged to the Ark. Her eyes lifted, lifted, lifted, drawn to the scale of her might, of her beauty, of her wares, wonders beheld in their effervescent glow. Impulsive, rash, and entirely emboldened, her strong voice reached, scaled, and scalded, below the ship’s depths. “I’m here for a job!”
Saiden had been hard at work checking on the ingredients they had in stock and what they needed to replace while they were docked. As the woman’s call echoed through the ship, he raised his eyebrows. Closing the sack of potatoes he’d been counting, he scrambled to the upper deck, eyes blinking rapidly as they adjusted to the sunlight.
Dressed just in a pair of shorts, with a cutlass strapped to his waist, he shaded his eyes and looked around. It didn’t take long to spot the strange woman with the bright red hair. Grinning charmingly at her, he meandered over, lowering his hands. ”Here for a job? Did you have a particular job in mind? And does Jack know about ye?” His voice was friendly, though his eyes were sharp as they gave her a once over, taking in her clothes and the strange pumpkin at her feet.
Melita waited, but with each passing second she wondered if she’d committed an error. Her movements were restless, head swinging back and forth at the sounds of ships rumbling and groaning over rippling tides and waves, the pull of tightened ropes, the sway of threads and strands. She pondered an escape tactic, if this was all truly a farce, already dead set in her mind about evasions – the youth could always scramble off the docks and pretend she was never here, or stumble around as if she were drunk, amble away, down roads and streets –
Then there was motion along the ship, a voice billowing over the surface, and she lifted her hand to shield her eyes, to stare upon the individual. Not someone she recognized, like the man she’d met beside the bar, her gaze catching over muscular abdomens and features, shrugging inwardly (no harm in looking). That’d she be questioned wasn’t a surprise; and strived to answer, to respond, as best she could; an effervescent voice, betraying her excitement, along the ebb and flow. “I didn’t catch his name. He told me to find the Ark.” They hadn’t exchanged namesakes, not while he was beating up another drunkard and while she was sneering at him. “Something about cannons?” If her accompanying smile was feral, wild, and savage, then so be it.
Saiden arched an eyebrow at the woman's words. Then his brow furrowed, and he glanced around, wondering where the rest of the crew was that he was left stuck on welcome duty. Finally he shrugged and returned his attention to her. "Can you describe the man you were talking to?" He crossed his arms as he waited for her to respond.
However, he found his eyes widening as she grinned in a slightly deranged way. "Cannons?" He cocked his head to one side and met her grin with a matching one of his own. "Have you ever shot a cannon before?" The question came out in a conversational tone.
Describe the man she’d met – she raised her hand several inches above her. “About this tall, bronze hair, blue eyes,” tilting her head for a moment, striving to conjure anything else remarkable about that particular evening. “Probably drunk.” Which, unfortunately, might be able to describe a series of individuals along these lands. Maybe, if she didn’t give the right or accurate details, she wouldn’t be allowed on. Apprehension curled its way through her gut, but she refused to let it flicker along her face.
Instead, his grin eventually matched hers with discussion of cannons, her voice an ebullient, effervescent chime, as if readily able and ready to apply vehemence and disaster at any given moment. “No, but I’m willing to learn!” The blast of vitriol and vehemence was right up her alley; naught said of the fire-laden arrows along the quiver settled upon her back.
As the redheaded woman described the man she'd encountered, Saiden's eyes narrowed slightly. Then he laughed, the sound bright, friendly, and inviting. "Aye, that sounds like Jack." Winking lazily, the expression more playful than flirtatious, the Hali dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't tell him I said this, but he hits the bottle a little too hard." He gave her a secretive smile, features and tone amused.
Holding out a hand, he grinned. "I'm Saiden." As she asked about the cannons, he arched an eyebrow. "Better wait until the captain has a chance to confirm with you." Then he glanced at the nearest hatch. "Until then, I can get you situated below decks. You hungry?" He cocked his head to one side as he waited for her response.
For some reason she hadn’t expected warm, inviting laughter, but it set her at further ease, a shrug to her shoulders, effervescent pulsing and pervading through her instead of the initial hesitation. A name of the individual who’d first offered her the role came, and she stored it within her mind, Jack, for later purposes. The latter comment too, which just had her nodding. After all, she’d known quite a few others to do the same, and didn’t pass any judgement, considering she lived in a bar.
The youth stared at his offered hand, before extending her own. “I’m Melita.” The girl shouldered her bags once more, ensuring everything was in its proper place, at his arched eyebrow, confirming the notions with another nod. It made sense. She might have not even mentioned anything about being hungry, had her stomach not rumbled immediately after the suggestion, earning her an eerie smile from Fangorn and a snort from herself. “Sure,” to both, intending to follow.
Melita took Saiden's hand, for which he was grateful. "Nice to meet you Melita." Grinning, he gave her a firm and polite shake, his own hands calloused from life on the seas. Cocking his head to one side, he slipped his hands into his pockets. "So what convinced you to join the Ark?" Voice bright and curious, his grin gained a bit of a wicked edge.
Nodding at her words, he started leading her towards a nearby hatch. Opening it revealed a ladder to the main part of the lower deck. If she took it, and her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, she'd see a series of bunks. Some of them had belongings on it, but a few were unoccupied. He gestured for her to go first, still smiling.
Her hands weren’t soft or gentle, too many grasps of bows, of strings, of staffs, calloused as well. Strong, dependable; a matching grin settling over her face. Convincing her to join the Ark had been relatively simple and easy: Sunjata had his own trials, tribulations, and dramatics; something she either didn’t want to mire, involve, or get immersed within, and what else was out there for her? The Monster Hunter’s Guild was run by someone she detested, and companions, friends, seemed all the more scattered. So she shrugged, the easygoing smile still there. “Just seemed like a place where I could belong.”
Then she was led, Fangorn and Melita following Saiden’s footsteps, eyes widening, taking in every sight, striving to memorize lines of wood, of string, of things placed in corners. But then she was forced to pay attention to the lifting hatch, and the ladder revealed below the door. Adjusting her essentials, grabbing hold of Fangorn in one hand, she used the other to ensure they went down safely, and when they reached the bottom, allowed her eyes to adjust before roaming further. Bunks, where some things were kept, and some empty, hollow. Something drifted over her – a late, lonely call of homesickness or nostalgia, before she wandered forth, towards one closer to the back.
Arching an eyebrow at Melita's response, Saiden couldn't help but smile. "So you're a wanderer and an adventurer then?" Laughing, he gave her an understanding look. "If so, you've come to the right place. We're a fairly accepting lot, so long as you pull your weight." Then he leaned forward and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Some of the boys can get a bit rowdy, but I figure you can handle yourself." He rocked back on his heels, giving her a considering look.
Leaning against one of the bunks, he just watched her as she headed towards one of the farther beds. "Our quartermistress can hang some cloths or something if you'd like some privacy." He scratched the back of his head, glancing at an area that had been cut off by what looked like curtains.
Did it count as being a wanderer, an adventurer, when she’d been forced out of her home, and endured treacherous things to survive in other worlds? She shrugged, an impish tilt to her smile. “I can pull my weight.” Always had been willing to work, sometimes not as effectively as she could, driven by impulse, but also compassion and the feeling, the need, to help and assist. The notions had entangled and wrapped themselves around her mind long before the Rift or Caido, pressing their wake into her soul with her mother’s herbs and kindness to everyone she met. Only the select few Melita had sifted and shifted into adversary territory weren’t permitted her assistance. “I can be rowdy too,” she wrinkled her nose, an indication of mischief, but no further explanation. She’d handle herself just fine. The weapons at her back and along her belt could tell infinite stories.
At his suggestion, her eyes went to another bunk adorned in the particular way. “That would be nice.” Perhaps the only notion of privacy they received; all living together in the same sanction, day in and day out.
Saiden smiled brightly at Melita's response. "Somehow I'm not surprised." Tone admiring, he gave her a pleased nod. As she mentioned that she was a match for any of the other sailors, his smile blossomed into a full on and cheeky grin. "They won't know what hit them." He winked at her, though it was playful rather than flirtatious.
Shrugging, he put his hands on his hips. "Can definitely be arranged." Then he grimaced a bit. "She's a bit...of a chatterbox. And nosy. So it's best to get in and get out as quickly as you can." It was clear he wasn't particularly fond of the quartermistress.
She donned a smug little smile at the compliments; fully confident in her own abilities, enough weapons at her disposal to ensure not many would bother her. She’d grown from the child left in the Rift, tossing stones and sticks at monsters. The youth wrinkled her nose once more, and winked back. “Do you know how to use any weapons?” She presumed sailors must have some means of defending themselves, especially out at sea, or whenever they managed to reach shore. Plus, she’d like to know if there was anyone she could spar with, constantly honing and practicing her munitions.
At his grimace of the quartermaster’s chattiness, she raised her brows, but didn’t say indicate anything otherwise. “That’s all right. I can be the same way.” Another shrug, infinite bounds of mischief entangling somewhere in the midst; Fangorn growling in her arms in response, until she set him down on the bunk, allowed him a moment to breathe.
Saiden smiled disarmingly at Melita's question. "I know my way around a sword. A cutlass specifically." Cocking his head tot he side, he gestured at her. "How about you?" There was something almost eager about the question.
As she mentioned she could be chatty as well, he raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?" Crossing his arms, he shrugged. "You'll forgive me if I'm not a fan of chatting just to chat. I prefer to put my mouth to other uses" His eyes sparkled.
Then he smirked, the expression inviting and more than a bit self-satisfied. "However, if you ever hear any juicy rumors about treasures, I'd love to hear them." There was something conspiratorial about his tone, and he winked at her.
