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!
It truly is not a hunt. It is a slaughter. As Loren regains the ability to move, he summons a dragon. Despite the fact Korbin had mentioned this trick, she is still surprised, her grin wicked as a talon pins the banshee in place. Honestly, it is almost too easy. The banshee’s shriek is cut off, and the sounds of death follow. It is a swift death though, the cut clean.
Weaver turns her attention to Loren first. ”Are you okay?” she asks, taking a moment to finally ensure that he’s not going to bleed out in the forest. ”The dragon is quite impressive,” she adds, nodding to the beast. It would be rather useful to have one of those. ”Where have you been all my life?’ She pretends to swoon slightly, before turning back to the corpse.
Weaver sets to work, cutting free the rags that the banshee wore. She discards the truly ruined one, tossing them to the side, unwilling to present Ludo with something so completely bloodstained. She collects the best of the rags, which is not necessarily saying much, but still, she does try. It is hardly her fault that the banshee didn’t take care of her clothing.
Loren kept the dragon right where it was as Weaver finished the job. There was a look of grim satisfaction on his face as she basically butchered the creature. Considering that he was fairly certain that it would've killed him without a second thought, he didn't feel bad for it in the slightest.
When she asked if he was alright, he nodded. Already, his wounds were knitting themselves closed in a shower of sky blue sparks as his healing magic took over. "Peachy." Still he grimaced as he poked his fingers through the new holes in his shirt. Apparently he had some sewing ahead of him.
As she pretended to swoon, he grinned, and patted the dragon's side affectionately, even though it was entirely fake. Then he had it lean forward to lick her with a slimy tongue. "Waiting for you to finally notice, I suppose." He winked at her, before finally dismissing it.
Nodding at the body and the rags she was discarding, he tilted his head to one side. "What should we do with the rest of it?" He was half tempted to suggest they bring it back with them. One never knew when some rare creature parts would come in handy, and the ice would probably preserve it, especially in Halo.
His magic is so pretty. Hers, so far as she had discovered, came with no sparks or obvious signs. Cuts just stitched themselves up and bruises just disappeared. How boring in comparison. ”I would offer to fix that shirt for you, but honestly, you’d be better off asking the banshee.” Though she could sew, she really did hate it. Her patch jobs were generally terrible and half the time she gave them to a neighbor who was happy to do some sewing in exchange for a bit of meat.
The dragon licks her, and she closes one eye and screws up her lips in mild disgust. His words catch her attention, though she only mutters a response that he is unlikely to hear well. ”Not sure I’m the one who hasn’t noticed.” The words are covered up by her attempts to wipe away the dragon slime, and if she wasn’t busy dealing with the banshee, she’d absolutely wipe it on Loren. Lucky for him, she is a hunter first and foremost, so she only flicks some in his direction.
Apparently he has some of the same hunter sensibilities, asking what they ought to do with the body. ”I don’t know. Are there any good uses for banshee parts? Seems a shame to waste it.” Though it’s not like they would eat it, and even if they would, there’s hardly any meat on those bones. Hell, even the cannibals probably wouldn’t want it. But maybe there were some useful bits they ought to take with them.
Snorting, Loren wiggled his fingers at Weaver through the rips. "Don't worry, I know how to sew in addition to knowing how to bake." Letting out a huff of laughter, he bent down towards the corpse. "Unless you'd like to lend me another hand." His lips twisted in a wry smile, since her claws had been what caused this to begin with.
Luckily for her, the dragon slime would disappear when the dragon did. The bit she flicked at him popped out of existence mid-flight. "What was that?" He titled his head to one side, giving her a curious look.
Brow furrowing, he shook his head. "Not that I know of off the top of my head. But I can ask around, see if anyone knows more than I do." Then he grinned. "Worst case I guess we could always use it as fuel."
”You know?” she says, her voice rather light given all that had just happened, ”I am no longer surprised.” She flashes him a grin, coming to realize that Loren was full of all sorts of tricks. He was rather useful to have around, it seemed. Useful and enjoyable, if she’s giving him the credit he deserves.
The slime disappears, to her obvious relief. She goes back to working on the rags, folding the rags and stuffing them into the pack she’d brought with her. ”I was muttering about silly boys with dragons,” she says, flashing him a teasing grin. It was true, if not the whole truth. Though as far as she knew, he was dating Sam, so he wasn’t getting the whole truth. Of all Weaver’s bad traits, getting in the way of someone else’s relationship was not one of them.
Weaver curls her lip in disgust at the idea of using it for fuel. With the rags mostly gone, there’s too much thin flesh over bone. ”That smell though.” There was nothing pretty about the smell of a burning body. ”We can take it back though, if you want it. I assume you can summon something to carry her?” Because Weaver doesn’t really feel like dragging the body all the way back to Halo. ”Unless you want me to carve her up right here.” Also not high on her list of things to do, though she could.
Grinning at Weaver's lack of surprise, Loren's expression grew even more amused at her quip. "Just wait until you see what else I can summon." He was only partially teasing, and there might have been the slightest hint of flirtation in his voice. However, he was mostly just playing around.
When she asked if he could take care of the body, he nodded. Summoning one of those hardy ponies that were the only pack animals he'd seen in Halo, he loaded the banshee's corpse on it. "Before you get worried about me mistreating animals, first, I would never do that and second the things I summon aren't actually real, nor can they feel pain or discomfort." Although his tone was light, he shot her a cautious look.
People had complained about how he used his summons in the past, so he just wanted to make sure they were all good. Surprisingly, the topic hadn't come up with her before. Then again, despite all their incredibly pleasant interactions, there was still a lot they didn't know about one another. Or maybe she just didn't care.
04-25-2020, 11:21 PM (This post was last modified: 04-25-2020, 11:22 PM by Weaver.)
It’s not dying I’m afraid of
She gives him her usual look, that raise of an eyebrow, that half-smirk, half-smile. ”Oh?” she says, all mock innocence and definitely some flirting in there. Though it was always hard to tell what was playful and what was sincere with her, because her version of sincerity was playful. ”Like what?” she asks, a hint of challenge in her voice.
Then a pony appears and he loads the banshee onto its back, launching into a preemptive defense about how he’s not cruel to animals. Definitely not what she’d been muttering about, but she suspects he’s gotten an earful from a number of people and was just protecting himself. ”I mean, it’s a pony. Even if it were real, it can carry one dead banshee.” Which is to say, she’s not going to accuse him of animal cruelty. ”Have you been lectured on this topic previously?”
Not rising to Weaver's challenge, Loren just grinned. "Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?" He winked, partially playful, partially flirty. "You're just gonna have to stick around and find out." Tone teasing, he raised his eyebrows, issuing his own challenge.
Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair as he turned to head back to the portal, pony trotting behind. "Pretty much. People seem freaked out that I treat my summoned creatures so callously." Pressing his lips together, he shook his head a bit. "They're essentially extensions of my thought and will, given flesh by my magic." He spoke in a grumble, clearly annoyed with those who criticized him for his treatment of fake animals.
Weaver chuckles, her grin growing into that mischievous look of hers. ”You say I just need to stick around now. Wait till you are sick of me,” she says, giving him a wink. She stands, slinging the now very full pack onto her back. She takes a moment to wipe the blood and grime from her scythe in the grass, and hooks it onto her back as well. ”I am vastly hard to get rid of. Like a parasite.” Yes, she can absolutely make fun of herself.
She just shrugs slightly, finding that people were always overly offended by something or another. ”People do enjoy having things to be righteous about though. You are doing them a terrible disservice by not giving them a reason to complain.” Her tone is clearly joking, though there’s something a bit rueful in there as well. It’s not like she’s not used to courting lectures from others, though not for careless treatment of fake animals. After all, she had no such skill.
Loren pointed an almost accusatory finger at Weaver. "Hey, whoa, no fair, that's my line." Grinning, more than a bit amused, he gave her a pointed look. "In fact, I already told Korbin that I was growing on him like a fungus." His expression indicated that he was fully expecting her to join him in the joke.
However, he smirked a bit "Good thing parasites are just some of the many things I can heal." He winked at her again. "I can take anything you throw at me."
Rolling his eyes, he sighed dramatically, though the crinkling around his eyes showed he recognized how he was acting. "Trust me, I give them plenty to complain about." Tone wry, he had to let out a huff of laughter.
Weaver chuckles, reaching out a hand to push his finger back. ”I am a parasite and you are a fungus. What a pair we make.” She laughs a bit harder, reaching out to pull her braid back over her shoulder. It never did stay in place when she fought or hunted. ”And how did my brother take that particular image?” She imagines just how much he would have pretended to hate it.
She gives him a sly look. ”That sounds like a challenge, if you ask me. Though I would start throwing rocks except I know how you handle that already.” By summoning a bear. He probably could handle most anything she managed to throw at him, literal or figurative.
”Well,” she says with a teasing grin. ”I suppose that is true. But you are taking away yet another thing for them to complain about by being all reasonable and logical.”
Laughing at Weaver's comment, Loren nodded. "The world won't know what hit it once we start to spread out." As she asked how her brother felt about that comment, the healer smirked. "Oh he absolutely loved it." Deeply amused, he gave her a knowing look.
Grinning at her threat, he spread his arms as if inviting her to go right ahead. "Throw away, but full disclosure I might start having flashbacks to my childhood." Strangely enough, he actually managed to get through the quip without sounding sad about it.
Nodding, he smiled. "No one ever said I was a good person. Quite the opposite in fact." He raised his eyebrows, wondering how she'd take that news.
”Poor world,” she agrees, with a wicked little grin that suggests she does not feel sorry at all. ”Poor Korbin, really.” At that, she laughs, because while she does feel a little bad for her brother, he probably needs the parasite and the fungus in his life. Even if it hates it.
She gives him an appraising look at the comment, finding no sadness in there as he mentions his past. Well well, Loren. ”I was referring to the lovely stone golem incident. You survived that rather well. Better than I did.” Not that a few rocks would end her, but it had gotten her shoulder pretty good.
”Good is funny term,” she muses, adjusting the pack on her back as they walk with the pony, heading out of the forest and back toward the portal. The trees are a little less here, a little more sunlight beginning to filter through. ”People use it because they are afraid to admit that maybe they aren’t good. Because really, how many of us are actually good?”
Shaking his head, Loren let out a huff of laughter. "I would feel bad for him, but he makes it so hard." Freezing for a moment, he gave Weaver an apologetic smile.
Raising his eyebrows, he ran a hand through his hair. "As I recall, it was your fire that helped keep it in check, while my magic did absolutely nothing." He didn't sound upset about that. If anything, he was weirdly proud of her performance during that particular incident.
Checking the pony, he nodded at her words. "I've given up on being good, I think. Instead, I'm striving for minimal harm these days." He flashed her a quick grin.
