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!
oh, cover your crystal eyes and let your colors bleed and blend with mine
Trick or treat? Lily is for one of each, personally, but doesn’t quite know how to go about it. She wants to trick some people and treat others, but the trick she has in mind isn’t so easily taken off… Maybe the solution is to have two options and don them appropriately? And maybe if she hides her hair, makes a mask, finds something else to give as a treat in opposition to her trick… Hmmm.
Trying to work the logistics out in something that definitely doesn’t need to be this complicated, the redhead slips into the Greatwood, bound for a place she’d heard of, but had yet to visit. She takes more than her fair share of wrong turns (or perhaps the Greatwood is testing her, seeing if she truly wants to find the Whispershore) until it leads her to the banks of the river - the trees suddenly opening up to reveal the roaring river about thirty feet away.
She approaches cautiously, peering over the drop to the little bank and the beautiful, precious stones that gleam there. Leaping down, the redhead begins to sift through the stones, looking for the ‘right’ ones.
Melita followed Lily – keen on seeing her friend far more than just at the bizarre soiree they’d attended – a bag on her shoulder, skipping along towards the Whispershore. The land was one of her favorites anyway, because it always held some lovely stones and rocks, and she’d intended to grab hold of some gilded forms, or anything else that caught her eye – uncertain how she’d be using them in this trick or treat foundation.
A portion of her was all for devilry, and another part of her was embedded in compassion. Could she impart both? Or maybe it would depend upon those she came across.
Fangorn bound and leapt while she stuck along the shoreline, waving energetically to her fellow crimson-haired companion. “Hello!” She waved once, before diving in amongst the embankments, grabbing hold of some rocks that had already caught her eye.
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
oh, cover your crystal eyes and let your colors bleed and blend with mine
Shame on her, she didn’t notice Melita was following, so intent was she on finding her way to the Whispershore. Or perhaps they took two different ways here? Regardless, she pokes her head up at the greeting, genuinely surprised. That surprise, however, immediately shifts delight as she sees a sprig of red hair. Melita! “Hi!” she calls back with a little wave, grabbing a potential white and multi-colored stone she’d dug for.
Stepping gingerly over the rocks, she is all smiles - offering Fangorn a little pat and her friend a hug. “Goodness, how long has it been?!” Too long is the immediate answer in her head and as she thinks back, she realizes that the other probably doesn’t know about her recent developments. That causes a little spark of mischief in her eye as she waits to update on the very exciting turn of events in her life.
Crimson mischief, perhaps, embedded and emboldened by traits and attributes of strong, bull-headed women. Her features rampaged into an illustrious, glorious little smile, dipping along the edges and obviously rife with impish accord. She hugged the woman back, enjoying the reel of friendship again, as if everything else had been scorched and burned in the interim. Thereafter, she gathered a few more rocks in her hands too, some a placid, muted, pale ivory, others heralding a mingling of manifested blue and lavender, tucking them into her bag as Lily spoke.
The devilish delight was reflected in the other ginger’s smile, so she laughed. “A while,” a solemn nod to follow, uncertain of what had kept them apart. Time and business, she supposed – Melita off to train with whatever weapon she could get her hands on, then maneuvering out to sea when the anchor was lifted. A tilt of her head indicated her curiosity, however, voice inviting it even more so. “What have you been up to?”
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
oh, cover your crystal eyes and let your colors bleed and blend with mine
“This,” Lily replies impishly before shifting. Her little bag drops to the ground as a strikingly beautiful auburn cat stands in her place. The red of its coat isn’t as bold as the red of Lily’s hair, but it nonetheless reflects the filtered sunlight with the same gleam. Its green eyes nearly as bold as her own and she seems to smile boldly up at Melita, her mouth opening a little to display tiny little cat canines. A bit fluffy, but not too fluffy, her black-tipped tail lazily swings back and forth as Lily takes a few steps towards Melita, inviting a little pet with a mrow and a raised, beckoning paw.
There’s a second surprise to follow - but one thing at a time.
She hadn’t realized her friend had Attuned – watching as Lily shifted from human to cat; the auburn chords and green eyes still there (resoundingly Lily), and the audacity, the boldness, tucked and scorched within. A warm ring of laughter exuded from the youth, rather than envy like it might’ve been in the past, kneeling down automatically to scratch at her friend behind the ears. “Well, congratulations!” There was half a moment where she was tempted to pull a reed or grass to wave in front of the feline’s face, but she figured it might’ve been a little insulting, and refrained. Instead, Fangorn ambled forward and grumbled, hissed, his own form of signature greeting, animal to animal, friendly and amiable just the same.
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
oh, cover your crystal eyes and let your colors bleed and blend with mine
Pushing her head into Melita’s hand for the scritches, Lily offers a low level purr at the congratulations, ears flicking when it stops. Even Fangorn is kind, and the fire-cat dips her head down and offers her nose to the little gourd - tempted to bat at the companion in a friendly way, but thinking better of it - for now. Instead, she looks back up at Melita and then winks, shifting again to a nondescript, larger songbird. Brown, a slightly reddish tail, and cream throat and belly would make the bird unnoticeable, unlike some of the other, more flashy birds flying around.
The bird rises to the top of the bank and tilts her head to the sky, opening her mouth and letting loose a beautiful, trilling song. It’s actually quite varied for a bird, and though she doesn’t keep it up for long, it’s clear there’s a reason why this form is hers, too.
Lily must’ve kept the secret for a long time – because no sooner than she’d enjoyed petting and scratching the beautiful cat, did she alter, change, and morph again. A little songbird, not so garish or opulent as others, but not insignificant either, causing the bright smile to widen on the youth’s face. A beautiful, mellifluous melody followed, and she was suddenly so distracted from whatever tasks they’d had, coerced and cajoled into the ditty, into the strains, into the ebullience and reel of Lily’s magnificent talents and merits. “I think I like this one better,” she whispered, and laughed all the same, Fangorn hissing in accord but incapable of holding the same reverent tones. Melita was suddenly, almost instantly, reminded of her sister, of her twin, of the separated piece of her soul, of her gentle trills, of her sunshine hums, of playing amongst and amidst wildflowers with songs on her lips and generosity in her heart. She removed her hands from the bird, but sat down, chin in her palms while her arms sank upon her knees, mesmerized and rapt for the miniature recital.
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
oh, cover your crystal eyes and let your colors bleed and blend with mine
Lily is thrilled to hear that Melita likes her shifts. But all good things must come to an end and she, after all, here to find some treats, not to show off her voice. Their attention and murmurs of approval feed the entertainer’s ego and she finds she’s loathe to shift, but the human part of Lily begins to pick up on something. So back to her human form she goes, sitting like a regular person on the bank, toes dragging against the rocks beside the river.
“Thank you, I'm glad, I've been wanting to share them with friends. But, ah... are you okay?” she asks Melita after a moment’s hesitation. She’s curious about why the younger girl is sitting on the damp stones, about that vaguely distant look, and though there are no outward signs of distress on her friend, Lily feels the need to check in. The entertainer hops down and crouches at the same level, perhaps just a tad more feline in her movements than before.
The recital and rehearsal over, and Melita’s smile softened again, content and happy for her friend. She nearly asked her must it be like, to become something else altogether, powerful or unique, pondering over how it was drawn through veins, muscle, and tissue, if it was just a thread to be plucked, a satisfaction in one’s flesh and blood. If there was something beyond merely shifting, if animalistic instincts took over, and if one was already a predacious, carnivorous thing, was there any alteration at all? Did she look too deeply into it, striving to see something that it wasn’t?
She stood then, indifferent towards her damp clothes, the way the water seeped and soaked into the fringes and edges of her dress, picking up a few stones along the way, adding them to the collection already forming in her bag. The youth hadn’t even thought about anything else for a moment, strangled and mired and rooted deep in her thoughts, so her head sprung up swiftly, quickly, at Lily’s question, at her concern. “Oh, I’m fine.” A handwave, brushing everything aside, attempting to not strangle herself down into the reaches and niches of despair. “You just reminded me of my sister. She loved to sing.” A half-smile crooked along her mouth, fading visibly when her eyes went elsewhere, hands searching for a distraction, bending down to grab hold of a particularly bright, ivory rock. Maybe it was just the time of year – between floods of memories, lantern making, souls left to go off to Mort, and Melita completely uncertain where her family’s had ended up.
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
oh, cover your crystal eyes and let your colors bleed and blend with mine
Lily reaches deep into the past two years, into all their interactions - the Bone Bridge, the luxere, the gift-giving, the various hit-and-runs with magical forces - and she can’t remember Melita ever telling her she had a sister. And if the other Outlander has, she’ll have to forgive the entertainer, for that particular information was swallowed up by whatever event surrounded it.
And when they get down to it, it doesn’t really matter if Melita has or hasn’t. Lily can tell by her tone that it’s a compliment, that the girls’s sister was someone she was fond of or loved, and that the comparison is made in affection. She smiles and ducks her head, finding the last stone she needs before straightening again. “What was she like, your sister?” If the other Najya girl was anything like her friend, Lily can imagine that they were a pair to be reckoned with. Wild and sweet, bold and caring. Two women she would have wanted at her side.
Picking through the stones, snagging at the ones that glint a different hue, or catch her eye, the girl figured that’d be it. The curiosities would end, extinguish, and the rest would be kept to herself. So she raised her head, albeit briefly, her gaze slipping back to Lily quickly, before dashing back to the rocks. Surprise, maybe, had been shaped and sculpted in the complexity of her gilded gaze – she never really got the opportunity to talk about Clementine. So many others had lost their own, that her twin was just another drop in the bucket of departed souls, of wonderful people never permitted to be by their sides again.
The youth quieted, face forming a whole series of emotions, before deciding to move onward, forward, a light smile adorning her features, even as it speculated towards silt and water. “Very sweet, gentle, and kind. She wouldn’t have hurt a fly.” Or a bee, or a blossom, living her life amongst the flowers, the tendrils and tassels of whatever honeyed things life had to offer. Except eventually the latter stopped proffering those moments of grandeur and compassion, ripping it apart, bone by bone, flesh by flesh. “My mother was a healer. I think Clementine memorized every single one of her herbs.” A laugh billowed, rather than a sob, a shake to her head as she grabbed a pinkish hued pebble, pretending to inspect it.
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
oh, cover your crystal eyes and let your colors bleed and blend with mine
Maybe it’s the knowledge that she has - had? - so many siblings and yet doesn’t know a goddamn thing about them that makes her ask. Family, any kind of family, really, has always intrigued Lily. She isn’t a loner by nature, just by circumstance.
And if her question about Melita’s sister can bring her friend joy through reminiscence? Then the singer is here for it. A slight smile spreads across her face as her friend begins to describe Clementine. More or less finished with her rock-gathering, Lily sits herself down on the rocks and waits for the other to do her thing - no rush, no fuss - instead, happy to continue prompting her. “So you’ve become a bit of the opposite, I see,” she teases gently, well aware of the bows and arrows, the staff work the girl has been doing.
“When did you… part?” There’s a bit of hesitation before she chooses her final word, not wanting to create sadness in this space. But as another Outlander, she knows (somewhat) what it’s like to leave her own world on the whim of another. It turns out its for the better, but she can understand that not everyone feels that way - especially if they’ve left loved ones behind. "Was it before Caido, or when you came here?"
The youth absent-mindedly searched for rocks now, some small stones rolling their way across her palms before sifting into her bag, an idle machination when the rest of her mind remained occupied on the questions Lily stoked. The slightest bit of tenacious fire curled in her smile; because she’d always been the opposite of Clementine – though they’d fit together nicely. Warmth and radiance, pulsing and pervading in either gentleness or a wild, vibrant, raging storm, generosity and benevolence, compassion and dedication. Melita only slipped into other factions and deviations when it came to violence, pushing her beliefs into stoked shields and caustic insurrection. Defending, defending, defending until the ends of the earth, until she simply couldn’t any longer.
Or when she failed.
She heard Lily’s hesitation, the pitch and tone change throughout the conversation, and the honeybee youth was torn in two; between burrowing into her sadness or wallowing in things that once were. Maybe she opted for the middle ground, a softened sigh billowing into the air. “Um, when we were in the Rift. I tried to save her.” From monsters and demons, from things that preyed upon little girls with too much sweetness in her existence and not enough spite; who gave instead of took. The answer was obvious thereafter; she hadn't, no way to liberate and deliver her twin to safety and sanctuary. “It was before. In a different world. We got sent through a portal from Helovia, into the Rift.” Without their mother; who’d sacrificed herself so her daughters might have lived.
And then there was only one.
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
