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!
An older woman hurried over - well, as fast as she could hurry, anyway. "I can help. Hold still, dearie," she said. She laid her hand over Melita's that was pressing the fabric to her neck, and closed her eyes.
A warm relief swam into the younger woman's veins, like coming out of chilly water and laying in the sunshine, with steady, solid earth beneath her, supporting her, stabilizing her.
The old woman addressed Quanil. "She'll need to rest. Make sure she has a hearty dinner tonight, good protein, maybe some red wine. She'll be okay. She might want to take it easy for the next couple of days though. I can't magic up blood to replace what was lost, unfortunately."
Quanil nodded at the woman's words. "I'll tell her." Because, honestly, they weren't in charge of Miss Melita; they couldn't make her do anything. They weren't really sure why the old woman was telling them and not her, but doctors and nurses and healers all seemed to do this, so they went along with it.
As the woman went back to her table, Quanil approached Miss Melita. "Did you hear all that? Are you feeling okay now? Do you want me to get you a glass of red wine?"
Not a single word of protest fell from her lips as she was fussed over (both things a rarity), displaying the level of shock still running rampant through her system. There were a few muted nods in between, as the older woman went to work, the anguished pain beginning to recede, slowly, carefully, arching away from her mind. The directions, though clear and concise, weren’t something she wanted to readily adhere to, but she understood just the same. “Thank you,” nodding again to the healer as she receded into the background.
Quanil’s concern was sweet, but something in the whole ridiculous situation made her want to balk and fight just out of normalcy. “I’m okay. Surprised is all. Thank you for helping.” Irritated she’d been an ineffectual mess when the glass had broken, when everything had shattered around her. She maneuvered a little to grab Fangorn and hold him in her lap, the gentle purr and reverberations a comfort. “Um, sure.” Maybe she did need a drink.
Then she spied her items, her artifacts, her memorials on the floor, not harmed, but displayed amongst the glass. She immediately began to rise, intending to pick them up and follow through on her plans of hanging them, and then helping to clean.
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
"Sure, I'll see if I can..." When she rose, Quanil looked to her destination. "Oh. OH." They cast about and saw their own memorial for Herri cast down amongst gourd guts. "Ew. Uh, hold on just a..." They went to see to saving it, pulling it up by one corner and eyeing it in distress. "Uh. Hope you understand, Herri. I'll get some napkins with the red wine, then get the broom. It's my job to clean up, after all."
They started to head for the bar, paused as they realized it'd be easier not to take Herri's memorial with them, and came back to set it on the desk. Then they headed for the bar to get a glass of red wine; surely Mr. Sunjata wouldn't object since it was for his niece, so they intended to get the best. They weren't really sure what that was, but figured they'd know it when they saw it.
They grabbed a stack of napkins first, and then yelled when the remaining gourd barreled out of nowhere and straight into their ankle, knocking Quanil down to the floor.
Melita, wobbly, a little unsteady, carried on, bending down to pick up the antlers, the gun, and eyeing the stool once more. Fangorn grumbled several vocal signs of protest, that the honeybee child instantly ignored. At the very least she was careful about the glass, not intending to cut herself open after already losing blood. A sigh rolled through her, the dizziness consuming her eyesight, her mind, as she rose back up – only to hear a yell, and a thump, right after.
She swung around, stepping gingerly over the shards, and glanced behind the counter to see Quanil down on the ground, her brows furrowed, tired, listless expression swiftly changing to one of concern. “Are you all right?” Fangorn, ever faithful and stalwart, leapt and bounded across the floor, intending to follow the sights and smells of the third gourd.
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
Quanil was kicking rather ineffectually at the third gourd. They could batter it back, and it would just roll forward again. "Be careful! There's another one! I mean besides yours there, there's... GET BACK!" Kick kick.
They began pulling themselves away from the gourd - or tried to, anyway. "Stubborn little thing..." It was an acorn squash, so not too large, but a bit dense. At least, it felt dense when it had hit their ankle. "STOP IT!" They looked over their shoulder to her. "Be careful, Miss Melita!"
Being careful had never been the girl’s strong suit, and she stared across the counter at the interaction – the gourd refusing to give in. While Fangorn rushed along, intending to grapple as well, Melita heaved a heavy sigh, and went looking for a basket. She removed the remnants of food within it, intending to put it back later, and then maneuvered forward, carrying the object in her hands, indifferent to the tinier squash, either too tired or well over all the proceedings to give much of a care. Within a moment, she lowered the basket on top of the gourd, and sat down upon it, intending to keep the menacing plant-life at bay, and from evading. “There. Do we have any way to grab it, maybe, and chuck it outside?” Preferably, far, far away, in the distant woods, placing her chin in her hands while the basket tried to move beneath her - angry, hissing noises coming from within.
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
Once freed to stand up, Quanil scrambled to their feet... well, foot. They tumbled to the floor again when their injured ankle wouldn't support their weight. "Uh... Miss Healer Ma'am?" they called into the bar.
There was a loud sigh and the sound of a chair scraping back.
While waiting for healing, Quanil cast their eyes about. "There!" they pointed at the bar top, and the circle of metal upon it. It gleamed as best it could; there was only so much scrubbing you could do after a few years. "The drinks tray! Slide it beneath your basket, b-between the basket and the floor, that is. Then carefully pick it up, keeping it trapped between the tray and the basket. After that, it should be easy enough to carry off."
More circumstances and trials, a vibrant sigh flickering through her lungs as even poor Quanil required healing now. But she could at least follow the instructions, grabbing hold of the drinks tray quickly, rushing back, while tottering dizzily, back towards the basket. While it grumbled, maneuvered, and hissed underneath the weight of the object, she slid the tray beneath. Then, she tried to lift the entire assemblage without swaying or dropping anything, hastening towards the door. “I’ll be back in a moment,” using her back to open the aperture, and sliding out towards the woods. The whole intention was to remove the gourd without maiming or murdering, since it was essentially part of Fangorn’s rather brutal family.
When she’d successfully dropped the tray, basket, and vampire pumpkin combination, she might’ve given the animal a hefty kick towards the underbrush, and then intended to return straight to the bar, wandering back into the midst quickly and efficiently.
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
When she returned, the old woman was giving Quanil a scolding about being careful, but they were standing well enough on their newly-healed ankle. They looked up and smiled at Miss Melita's return. "Okay, red wine for you, Miss Melita! Comin' right up!" They turned to examine the bar's offerings. "And, thank you. If I'd had my staff with me, I might have been able to defend myself better. Maybe. But as it was... well, thank you very much."
They found a very fancy bottle with what looked like red wine in it, picked a random glass, and filled it half full, the way they'd often seen Mr. Sunjata do with other drinks. They had no idea they were pouring port in a brandy snifter, and if you'd told them, they wouldn't have known why it mattered. They offered it to her with, of course, a smile. "I'll go hang the memorials, if you tell me where you want Mr. Adam's?"
She had half a notion to tell Quanil not to worry about the red wine, eventually she’d recover, and everything would be fine – but she ceased too, when they mentioned their staff, and she could only helplessly glance at hers still resting by her desk. She’d never even had a chance to use it, even with the temptation, the inclinations, to ravage and maim.
So instead she sighed, and sat back down with in her chair. Fangorn leapt, and she snagged her favored pumpkin to sit in her lap, patting and scratching the top of his head while taking hold of the wine. “Thank you,” was all she could say for the moment, eyes glancing back to the wall, to the ornamental figures meant to represent figments, spirits, and souls. “How about there?” The youth sipped her wine, and pointed towards the center, and down a little, where there was enough free space for them to be nestled together.
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
Quanil looked where she was pointing. "Oh, good choice! You rest up, I'll take care of this. So long as I don't get my ankle nearly broken again." They went to collect the memorials, keeping theirs apart from Miss Melita's, since theirs was still a bit gourd-gooey.
They noticed her staff when they were back there, and on their way to hang the memorials, they asked, "Would you like to, uh... to spar sometime? With the staves. I'm not very good yet, but I'm trying to get better, and Provost Silversmith said you're excellent. Uh, with a staff." They set the memorials down on a table close to where they were going to be hung, so they could put them up one at a time - starting with the one Miss Melita had made, of course.
((I was actually going to have Quanil ask this long before they got the quest to do it anyway. xD Jigano had mentioned Melita as a possible trainer, after all...))
The feeling of uselessness didn’t sit well with her, uncomfortable, jarring, grating on her nerves, sitting there, doing naught while Quanil worked. Fangorn’s rapid purr and the wine helped though, so she watched as Quanil placed the artifacts and objects where they were meant to be. “It looks good,” a proclamation made after a moment of quick perusal and study, following the plains and lines of everything else looped together.
She sipped, sighing a little, when Quanil’s inquiry came across – her eyes immediately going to her staff. “Sure.” Her smile grew impish, a daring, emboldened thing, mulling over Jigano’s insinuations as if they might be a source of pride. “I won’t go easy on you though.”
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
They stepped back to look at their handiwork as well as Miss Melita's. "Yours is really much nicer than mine, but I didn't know Herri so well. But they're both remembered." They smiled at the memorials. "That's the important thing."
They came back to the bar to clean up some. Quanil didn't miss the impish smile. They returned it with their more earnest one. "Well, it's training, so I wouldn't expect you to. Besides, I'm not sure you can be too much harder on me than that Fae woman I fought my first time out. Er... well, she fought me, I mostly got beaten up and fell down a lot. I did manage a few dodges though, so... so that was good! And then the provost trained me after that, just in some basics. So... just keep me conscious, and we'll call it good."
