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!
Time is the substance from which I am made. Time is a river which carries me along, but I am the river;
She chuckles at the mention of trials. ”Maybe we will uncover a place that doesn’t want to kill us. Gods, would we even know what to do with that?” It is a joke, though there is some deep seated truth in it. Would they be content, if life were easy? Would they be content, if there wasn’t something to fight, something to rail against? Or would they do as humans are wont to do and make their own trials and tribulations?
As he says that his family is gone, her little baby dragon disappears, dissipating into nothing as if it never existed. He mentions friends and loved ones though, and she nods, understanding what it is like. Particularly as the portals open and new faces come into Halo, she finds her tiny definition of family growing to include others. Not family by blood, but family all the same. ”And was there someone special enough to get that pendant I gave you?” she asks, her voice just a little sly, curious not so much about the pendant but more about who he might have given it to.
it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.
04-23-2020, 03:23 PM (This post was last modified: 04-25-2020, 02:55 PM by Deimos.)
Whoa, you let your feet run wild
Time has come as we all go down
Imagining a world not inhabited by monsters, by beasts, by shards of treachery and danger at every unknown turn seemed wildly implausible or impossible, simply based on his own experiences. They always managed to find themselves sequestered into some sort of event marking hazards and still venturing forth, with or without pertinent information. A land designated and reserved for their brand of foolishness and ignorance was unfortunately a lost cause. It did prompt a laugh though, a quiet rumble in his chest, a dimple to his smile. “No. We would not have a clue.” What would he even do during repose, or peace? Perhaps it was unfortunate that question even reigned along his head, ill-used to doing anything without a form of trauma, devastation, or foreboding behind it.
The exceptions being the next alterations in subject.
While her fiery fledgling meandered away, the elemental war of his formed dragons seemed to cease, tire, and desist too, intentionally making them slow down, as if the battle had worn both to infinite exhaustion, spiraling, circling overhead, locked in a quiet, searing rage, but conforming to their fatigue. He wasn’t weary or lagging, which was intriguing too, because there’d been times, like in the Spire, where his energy peaked and exhaustion toiled away to the back of skull, leeched into his bones.
Her question caused another chuckle, lighter and lighter as the dragons drifted downward, hovering over the oasis once more. “Perhaps,” cheeky, a wrinkle to his nose as he stared out over the water. In that vein though, he could extend an invitation – considering Weaver a friend. “Amalia and I are getting married before the end of Leafchange. You are welcome to attend the reception.”
04-25-2020, 01:35 PM (This post was last modified: 04-26-2020, 01:39 PM by Weaver.)
Weaver
Time is the substance from which I am made. Time is a river which carries me along, but I am the river;
She chuckles at his laugh, though she has little to add to the conversation. They could only dream of worlds that did not try to kill them, and in the end, she isn’t sure she’d want that. She loved Caido, for all its many faults. She loved her home, despite its deathly climate and ravenous carnivores. Even when Loren asked what she would change, if she could, she’d said she’d change very little. A little warmer, perhaps. A little friendlier to humans as a whole. But otherwise, there wasn’t anything she would change about her home. She loved it, through and through.
His own dragons cease to battle, as if the war has been waged and won. It has certainly been waged, will continue to be waged, though it would never truly be won. They won one war to move onto the next. Perhaps really, they won one battle to move on to the next, in a war that would never cease.
His ‘perhaps’ brings a slightly devilish grin to her face, waiting for him to give her more. At the name, she smiles broader, remembering the baker and how Deimos had been in the shop. Though she did not know Amalia well, she seemed nice enough. Something about the two of them certainly made sense. ”Ah, you did look rather comfortable in the bakery,” she says, as if putting it together now. There hadn’t been enough to guess at the time, but in hindsight, things are often made clear. ”I'd love to attend. Just tell me when and where, and if there's anything I can bring.”
it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.
Every world he’d been within had its own form of torture and devastation: Isilme with its prejudices and ensuing wars because of the latter, Helovia with its own brand of petulant distaste for repose, spreading avarice and melees into any bleak situation, and now Caido, with its moments of stark, beatific clarity, and then winding down into monsters and mayhem. He’d survived all of them – in a way, perishing amidst the Aurora Basin, his bones laid to rest somewhere within the mountainsides, damned later when everything became nothing – learned to assimilate, adapt, and define his way through the eroding blunders and swift, changing tides. Perseverance, fortitude, and might arced, sculpted, and reigned throughout his existence, and that was how he clung here too, digging in, not permitting the wind to assail him, not allowing every tribulation to send him into despair (but gods, they still left their mark).
The draconic interludes eventually ceased to be elemental lizards at all, winding and unwinding into plumes of smoke and steam, rising and falling in a quieter maelstrom, defying one another in their ebb and flow of disaster and bedlam.
Impending ceremonies and weddings only caused another round of light laughter, the piercing sway of his gaze wandering from his incantations and enchantments resting over the brim of the Oasis, and towards Weaver. Comfortable in the bakery indeed; though she wouldn’t know the half of it, especially the days of Zariah, when they hunkered down in Amalia’s basement and plotted rebellion, or hours spent cutting through the earth, ensuring there was a route to the prison in case one of their own ended up locked within the cells. He grinned instead of parsing through the history of their relationship, keeping everything to themselves, content at her agreement. “We will put out a notice.” Once they had tasks completed, at hand, amongst the circle of brethren. “We should have it covered.” Just to bring herself and enjoy – one last celebration before they all hunkered down, maneuvered towards Deepfrost’s consternations.
Time is the substance from which I am made. Time is a river which carries me along, but I am the river;
She has known only Caido, only it’s trials and tribulations. And even that, in its way, has been sheltered. Life contained to the cold northern reaches of her tundra home. The monsters of Halo were predictable enough things, carnivores and blizzards, blood and ice. Around her, the elemental storms raged, and they knew little of the rest of the world. They knew little of it in general, given how difficult even communication is between Halo and other regions. The few open regions of Caido alone were a novelty to her. To live lifetimes and yet to be so young...she would not quite know how to understand it, if he explained it to her.
Weddings though, are something she understands. An excuse to dress up, an excuse to drink, an excuse to celebrate and forget, if only for a moment. They are a reason to rejoice, and the gods only know, they could use reasons to rejoice. She nods at his words, smiling slightly. ”I think I’m supposed to ask what you intend to do with your short lived freedom, though I suspect you are the settling type. Still, any sort of stag do planned?” Was that even a thing he’d know of, or was that only Caido? Or perhaps only Halo. She doesn’t actually know.
it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.
Perhaps it was better that they experienced, that they grew, that they honed knowledge from every corner of what was available to them. Outlanders with their sagacity and wisdom of other times, other places, other abilities and notions, and Naturals with their keen sense of awareness, their calm intellect towards things others couldn’t comprehend, merged and melded into something resembling collaboration. It hadn’t always been that way – the first year within these wiles and halls had been something of a bristling, contorted nightmare, between acceptance, tolerance, and vitriol, measured and marked by the arrival of so many like him, and the desperation to call another place home. Vehemence had rolled like wildfire, matched only by the Merciless’s ascent, when she’d managed to unite a common front amidst foreign and accustomed, simply by their contempt and abhorrence for her policies, stature, demands, and audacity. Maybe it would continue in the same stead; or they would spread out amongst themselves, the more they found, the more portals opened, the more they chased down heaven and hell.
They hadn’t had many weddings in Helovia or Isilme. Celebrations had been hard to come by amidst wars, battles, challenges, death, and damnation. Festivals had erupted once or twice, and he’d been the sulky, brooding, lurking figure in the corner, designated for guard duty, apparently an alarming, intimidating, menacing form to some guests. Here though – Caido always seemed to find a way to dig in and find happiness, contentment, when they could; even if sometimes they were damned and doomed from the start.
Not this though. Not for the Sword and Shield.
He arched a brow at her question, genuinely uncertain what she meant – mainly because he’d never been a man of such character. Instead, Deimos was prone to roots, to fortifications, to having something and holding onto it. There was still freedom, still liberation, still deliverance, but clearly there was some other meaning behind it that he’d yet to fathom. Amalia wasn’t a cage. Neither of them were. They simply meant to bind their convictions, their trust, their devotion, into ceremonies – not much else besides the wearing of rings would alter, would change. The promises had always been there. “No,” he shook his head and laughed, as if the sentiment was foolish. “Is that customary in Halo?”
Time is the substance from which I am made. Time is a river which carries me along, but I am the river;
She cannot say she is particularly surprised by his response, both that he has not heard of them and that he doesn’t have one planned. Imagining Deimos at a stag do is vaguely like imagining a stick in a sea of swaying grasses. He would loathe the whole affair, she suspects, though she could not help but ask anyway. ”It is,” she says with a nod. ”For the men, it is a stag do, or stag night, as you prefer. For women a hen night. It is as you might expect, a party for either all men or all women before they get married.”
Her grin turns a little mischievous at that, angling to face him slightly without the fire show before them. ”There can be rules, if the soon-to-be-newlyweds wish, but usually the point is that there are no rules. Anything goes, for one last night.” Many did have some guidelines, and there was certainly a line drawn between getting a stripper and sleeping with the stripper. But technically, you could do even the latter. ”It certainly does not seem like something you would actually enjoy,” she says with a chuckle and a shake of her head.
it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.
Curiosity had compelled, and then diminished, flattened in a matter of moments. The more Weaver described, the less inclination he had towards such an event. The air of a grin vanished, and in its place was a juvenile wrinkle to his nose, very nearly impish, boyish. “Sounds horrendous.” He’d likely be uncomfortable in every aspect of such a gathering. Often times meetings gave him similar apprehension, likely due to a haunting poignancy of mercurial Basin inhabitants (and their inability to do anything but complain), at home in the shadows, in the midst of silence. Watching. Waiting. Listening. Active involvement delivered another sense of consternation, expecting some uproar and upheaval from the crowd.
Some would probably enjoy such aspects, he could think of several winding their way through his mind (shocked, honestly, that none of these things had happened – or maybe he just hadn’t been invited). He couldn’t quite picture Amalia going for any of those notions either. “You might be disappointed in our reception then,” conformed and rumbled on a mild, teasing grin. Meant to be a mild celebration, depending on what friends had in store, just a coming together, before they all shuffled off to portals and other worlds.
Time is the substance from which I am made. Time is a river which carries me along, but I am the river;
She only chuckles, amusement crinkling the corner of her eyes. ”Yes, I thought you might dislike that.” She truly cannot imagine him being forced into it, though she wonders if no Grounders have such traditions. Perhaps it was only a Halo thing, to celebrate as such. Then again, they live in a place with so little cause for celebration that any excuse was a good one. Maybe that’s all it really was for them, an excuse for something good, for something wild and fun and reckless. Those were not things they enjoyed often.
She shakes her head at the mention of the reception though. ”Doubtful. The stag do is for wild debauchery. The wedding and the reception are for the bride and groom, though mostly the bride. It is a time for polite celebration instead.” Someone, or many someone’s, often ended up drunk, but not always. Weaver was usually reasonably well behaved at things such as weddings simply because she wanted to make sure the spotlight stayed on whom it belonged and not some drunken idiot.
it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.
Different lands and different traditions – whether or not they’d eventually be melded together, assimilated in a force, as more and more connections broadened across portals and kingdoms, would be something else to ponder. Similar aspects occurred across the Grounds, Ronin and Remi’s wedding not done in the same stead as Rexanna and Bastien’s (and he was happy to have missed Sunjata and Phoebe’s nuptials altogether), or like the Festival of Lights, broadening along horizons. At the very least, LongNight’s deepening reach of darkness extended across regions, but not its monstrous incantations, its fiendish, demonic alms.
Alterations and times of debauchery were made apparent to him, in the crook of his brow, in the smile slowly reappearing, his eyes flickering back to the glade before him. Polite celebration sounded like all the Sword or Shield would be able to handle; but knowing their scope and range of friends and family, it wouldn’t be difficult to achieve. No blighted madness. No phallic-shaped fireworks. Besides, if things became too out of hand, Deimos would be able to handle it accordingly. “Moderate drinking, dancing, and eating is our main focus.” Perhaps that was tame and light, but it was all they required, one last round of commemoration with those they cherished, before they all parted, went their separate ways, for the chill of Deepfrost.
Time is the substance from which I am made. Time is a river which carries me along, but I am the river;
She rather loved weddings. It was like a day of sunshine that didn’t blind you, a day that was almost warm in Halo. They didn’t ask for much here, not really. Weddings were always inside, of course, but they were always a party. Never too much, never over the top, but full of fun. The sort of enjoyment that lifts your spirits and reminds you just why you live where you do. Halo may be a hell of a place to live, but it was a small place and you knew most everyone. Weddings were almost always large, because you simply invited half the town, and they showed up with food or booze and everyone shared, everyone celebrated, everyone enjoyed a minute of peace.
He does realize that he’s invited Weaver to his polite reception though, right? Probably not the smartest plan, though she would be on her best behavior. She is good at getting the liquor flowing, good at starting a dance floor. Maybe that makes her the ideal candidate, because she also knows how to cut people off, how to get the party started but without sending it into a spiral. Usually, anyway, for sometimes things just went south and there was nothing to be done about it. ”That sounds like a very perfect wedding. I assume there will be cake, yes?” she says, a teasing lilt to her voice.
it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.
Revelry and merriment, though not often experienced prior to Caido, was something Deimos had finally learned to live with and strive for. To take those moments in between the tragedies, the traumas, the treacheries, and the trials, to simply allow themselves instances of happiness and contentment. Few, rare, and caught in the nooses of other devastations and perils, the wedding was intended for the Sword and Shield, but also the enjoyment of others – their friends, their families, their bonded, close allies and comrades. Something to focus on, in the present, in the threshold of soulful regard, something to cling to in hours of impending, forbidding horrors, something besides agonizing, digging into melancholy, or burrowing themselves into work.
Her inquiry made him laugh though, a deep rumble through his chest and out into the ether, recalling their very brief instance of silent, hushed fighting, a rivalry, over provisions in the bakery. “Yes.” A firm nod, since she seemed to have a penchant for sweets as much as him, and there was damned and doomed to be ensuing competition. “A variety of flavors to choose from.” Likely a mass of other things lined up as well, but the important factions already reported.
Time is the substance from which I am made. Time is a river which carries me along, but I am the river;
Her mother had told her stories of her wedding to John. Weaver had painted a fantasy of it, in some ways, though not an unreasonable one. Still, she couldn’t help but imagine the figure her mother had cut in her gown, white with a red sash around the waist. She can’t help but imagine John’s face when he saw his bride that day, because he had loved the wildness of Straia in a way no one else could have. He’d seen her, had known his wife for exactly who she was and never asked her to be more (or less). He would have seen her that day. Not just the dress, not just her cool amber eyes, not just the dark hair that fell in waves around her shoulders, or the kohl that lined her eyes. He would have seen her heart as no one else could. He would have seen the color of her soul.
Weaver hopes that is what Deimos experiences.
Weaver grins slightly at the laugh, at the discussion of cake, and their quiet rivalry for the sweets on the table as if there were not enough to go around. There had been plenty in the bakery, there would likely be far more at the wedding, and yet they would fight for the goods all the same. ”And what is the best flavor? I will make sure I only eat most of those,” she teases, a playful curve to her lips, mischief sparking in her eyes.
it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.
Oh, Deimos wouldn’t have needed to see Amalia in a wedding dress to know her soul, to understand her heart, to fathom the reaches of her perseverance, her convictions, her strength, and everything else laden in between. But he knew he was lucky, fortunate, perhaps for one of the few times in his life, to be a part, a figment, a fragment in her orbit. It was a reverent, awe-inspiring thing, to be loved and to love in return, and though he wouldn’t wax poetical on it in Weaver’s presence, or frankly anyone else’s, the honor still resided in the once-withered, decayed contortions of his embittered heart.
At the tease he laughed again, eyes going to the deepening skyline, to the signals of a day’s end. “I am certain you will be happy to discover them for yourself.” No revealing of choices, of décor, of frosting, of flavors; never a beast to give away anything unless he wanted to. If it was mischievous, impish, and slightly infidel-inclined, he’d only shrug his shoulders, no sense of denial in the sentiments.
But such would be the way of things, more and more surprises before Deepfrost settled, before portals were closed. “I will leave you be. Keep practicing. You can show me how far you have come after winter.” When spring came, when Flowerbirth was session, when the looming damnation of LongNight had ceased searing and smothering. “See you at the reception.” A promise and conviction, before waving, and wandering back the way he’d come.
