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!
His words echoed and reverberated under her skin, and she nodded swiftly, quickly, to undermine the brimming of tears again. She wasn’t certain what could’ve sparked them this time; but it’d been a long while, before Sunjata, where anyone had ever really thought to take care, to bother with her. Wessex had in her own way, but they hadn’t been family, and the mentorship broke apart when the blight rippled and scarred her heart. “Right,” she bristled and hastened back, and maybe that was enough of a promise, a formidable smile there, a strength in the planted fists, and then the subsequent rampage to the ocean.
Melita could hear his inquiry, but always preferred a show, rather than just tell, contortion to her antics. Poor Fangorn eventually caught up to both in their swift proportions, gasping, wheezing, and growling in the dunes, and she laughed, laughed, laughed, expressed more joy than she’d awakened with. As Nate rambled into the surf, she pressed one foot along the surface, not sinking, not delving, not diving into the veneer, but above, walking upon the reel of surf, shoal, and tempestuous waves, at home in its essence, in gliding along its boundaries, in beholding its power. The smirk, the impish platitudes returned, an arch to her brow as if to say see?, not indicating the mark of her enchantments wrapped around her ankle, in beaded and bountiful charms of the Naiad.
Then she ran; an exuberant exultation; all at once a wild, vicious, savage thing racing across edges and might, always skimming over its predilections, its might, its menace, intending to embark her way towards the rose-hued dolphins.
Don't make me a liar, 'cause I swear to god When I said it I thought it was true
There's no answer to his question, but it doesn't really matter in the mad dash towards the ocean, sand flying behind them. The water should be cold, this time of night, should have him shivering, will have Mel shivering, when she steps after him, like he assumes she will. It seems his worry is misplaced, forgotten in a moment, because while she does step after him, she doesn't sink, the water apparently as sturdy as the ground was for her. Blue eyes widen, his head cocking to the side as Nate tries to figure out the trick of it.
Still, he gets no answers, and she runs past him again, towards the deeper water, where the empanadas frolic beneath the waves. Nate has no choice but to swim after her, he can't her run into the ocean alone. That would be some kind of irresponsible, he's sure. He is careful to not approach too closely to the brightly coloured ocean dwellers, unsure if they holds grudges. "Careful!" He calls loudly, glad he has no need of breath, and therefore doesn't have to worry about wasting it. "They're tricky."
The youth had never been one to follow or hasten to any warnings; not in her repertoire, to listen to anything but the impulsive, impetuous declarations in her mind, body, or spirit. It might’ve served her well to do so, especially in the realms of Ludo and its potential deceitful measures, or currently, in the bask and wane of the tides.
Instead, the foreboding measures likely galvanized her more – the smirk entangling along her mouth, extending into such a wild, savage regard, one might have thought she belonged to the wicked fiends, to the drowning wakes, to the bestial shards of treachery, duplicity, and menace. Once, immersed and ignited by the blight, she had been. “Tricky?” She called back, as if delighted by the thought, head over her shoulder to watch him swim closer, half-inclined to continue wandering without him nearby. “How so?” Then her gilded eyes riveted solely to the dolphins, tiptoeing along the surface, across the veneer, like she were in pursuit, as if they wouldn’t see her winding her way towards their presence.
Don't make me a liar, 'cause I swear to god When I said it I thought it was true
Tricky how? Nate has no idea how to quantify the whims of wild animals, especially animals as smart as the dolphins were, has no idea what kind of warning will actually put caution into Melita's effortless steps. "They tried to drown Amun. Caught him in a whirl pool." He finally catches up to her, treading water beside her and feeling more than a little bit stupid for it, for his effort. "He... may have pissed them off though." The admission comes with a little wince, an absolution of the hand he'd played in pissing off the creatures, all of the blame slipped easily onto the other ascended's shoulders.
Regardless of his caution, there is nothing he can do to stop the creatures from approaching them, curiosity piqued by these two intruders in their waters. Nate is prodded, more easily accessible in the water as he is, but that doesn't stop some of the more adventurous encantado's from breaching, and trying to get a good look at Melita.
The story made her laugh for a moment, a bit befuddled, a bit surprised, a bit confused. “They tried to drown Amun?” From her experiences with the Ascended, he’d always been fairly nice, a bit mopey and melancholy as of late, but she couldn’t fathom the weight of the circumstances (perhaps she didn’t know him well at all; imagining whirlpools opening up beneath, and her eyes fell to the surface momentarily) until Nate’s next line. “Oh. How?” She hadn’t seen him as a colossal instigator, agitator, or provocateur, but maybe things had changed, altered.
By then though, they’ve intrigued the dolphins – she watched and cooed eagerly, interested, harmonious, and eager within an instant. “Hello there,” she whispered, watching them breach, sail through the water rapidly, elegant and refined for the touch of the sea, for the flight of waves and tides. On impulse, which happened far more often than anything methodical, she reached for one close by, intending for a gentle scratch or pat.
Don't make me a liar, 'cause I swear to god When I said it I thought it was true
Of course she would ask how, on the heels of the enticing story he spun, the hook he just left dangling out. The fact that it's his fault doesn't stop Nate from wincing, the look hopefully hidden by the waves. "He was given a uh, quest, I guess, by the Voice. Had to gather a whole bunch of shit from the region, as far as I know." Though he'd only actually seen the items for a moment, before they were combined, reshaped into the shrine hidden in the coast. "One of those things was blood from the empanadas. And they took some offence to... well, everything about that." Again, he was careful to avoid associating himself with the events, though it wasn't like they'd killed the creature.
Melita is the far more interesting of the two of them, walking on the water as she does, reaching out for them as she does. Nate is almost entirely ignored, something he's quietly grateful for, though he keeps a careful eye on the girl, ready to do... something, if anything turns ugly. So far though they are gentle, fighting each other to be the one to lean into the curious, impulsive touch. Almost as if they're as eager for the interaction as Melita herself is.
She listened; a prime example of a youth enamored by legends and myths, by stories and pathways left open for her to nudge a foot within, and then slam the door wide open. Her mother often told tales, both children gathered at her knees or in her lap, following thickening plots and favored characters. So while she might have looked occupied in her curiosity, the girl could deviate her attention simultaneously, snatching at the bits and pieces Nate offered.
A quest from the Voice nearly made her sneer; but what would she have expected? That’s what Ascended did – while the rest of them tended to the Old Gods, or not at all. Except her experiences had been left wanting, when the blight fell upon all of them. What other insinuations were in those broad strokes? “What for?” Why gather things like…blood?
And then her eyes were only for the dolphins, skimming over the surface, pondering why the Voice would require their ichor, what on earth it could ever be utilized for. These creatures were foreign to her, but pleasant and lovely nonetheless, and her hand went to reach again, patting the first head she could softly, gently. “Aren’t you all lovely,” she murmured and crooned, uncertain if they’d be able to understand her; but conveying the presence and sentiments just the same.
Don't make me a liar, 'cause I swear to god When I said it I thought it was true
Really, their feelings on the Voice, on the tasks she doled out, were more similar than they should have been. But that was neither here nor there, not a conversation to be had when the subject at hand could see all, hear all. Maybe he should have been more careful with the information he offered out, as easily as if it were pieces of candy, but it was after the fact, by a long margin, and it felt safe enough. "She needed the blood to establish a shrine. To make a real uh..." He snapped, the sound sad with how wet his fingers were, and struggled to remember the words the Goddess had used. "A real connection to the area, or something."
The dolphins clicked and whistled in response to the crooning words, and the gentleness of them finally manages to set Nate a little more at ease, his body language loosening just a little as he watched the interaction. He bobs closer, a trick of the sea, and gains the attention of one of the encantado's properly, the inquiry towards him far less gentle, perhaps because of the way he was actually in the waves, not lingering above them. Poked and prodded, and, if that wasn't bad enough, he can feel the water pressure changing around him, the current squeezing, more than it should naturally, holding him in place.
"I think... we're getting close to the end of our welcome." He says, trying to be as diplomatic as he can, while also keeping aware of the pressure around his chest, though he wasn't quite sure of the intent yet. It wasn't like Nate had to worry about drowning, but he did worry about keeping Melita from seeing the attempt.
She hid the clench in her jaw, the reel of apprehension, consternation, and something like rage billowing and flickering through her. The youth had been remiss to not think about how and why the Voice had embedded herself within each and every world; her eyes narrowing, staring out over the horizon for a moment, carving a measured response (for once). “How do you feel about that?” About the Voice’s power? About the way the goddess immersed herself into land? About the potential spread of so many others things? Or was Nate like so many of the others?
His warning rang through her head though, and her gaze went back to the dolphins beneath her fingertips, at the alteration in their stances. She knew enough to heed some foreboding instances, and so she gave a few last, lingering pats and scratches, attempting to maintain peace and semblance before another round and rotation of vitriol pervaded, choked, and smothered. They had far more potency here than either human. “Thank you for letting me see you, lovelies.” A smile within the tension, lit and effervescent, gentle and cajoling, appeared and failed to dissolve. The youth stood from her crouch, and then started backing away, slowly, inching towards the shore.
Don't make me a liar, 'cause I swear to god When I said it I thought it was true
It's a question he should expect, his feelings on the Voice, on her actions, but somehow, he doesn't. Nate very rarely does, prefers to think that he has no stakes in that particular wager, but it's a little bit hard to play the middle here, where he's very clearly already on the side of them. "I don't particularly like it. But," he bobs underwater for a moment, maybe a wave not accounted for, maybe a purposeful attempt to drag out his answers longer, like the extra seconds will make her forget she'd asked something, "I suppose it's useful for me personally. Means I don't have to travel to the grounds every time I need a uh... refill." It felt insidious, true, but it also kept him in Torchline, and Nate couldn't exactly complain about that much. "If I could, I'd rather go back and avoid it, but... I have to deal with it now." Nate knew, in the back of his mind, that it more than likely wasn't the answer Melita wanted from him, but he wasn't going to lie to her, not about something like this. It felt like some kind of cheating.
Much to Nate's relief, this warning is heeded, and as soon as he's certain Melita is going to follow him to the coast, he starts kicking away from the rose coloured dolphins, not moving for the first moment as the watery grip around him doesn't loosen. Not until the girl finished her goodbyes, the dolphins rising up against her hands once more, and actually took the first step away. Nate could still feel a heavy pressure against his back though, and he didn't dare slow down until they were a distance away, until it had faded.
"That was nice." He offers gently, trying to cling to some kind of dignity from his position in the water. He wants to say it's a good distraction from nightmares, but bringing up her reason for nocturnal roaming feels like a mistake, especially on the heels of what had been a magical (for her) and stressful (for him) experience. It can wait until they're back on shore, at least.
The next set of questions died on her lips as she wandered along the tides and currents, the water rippling beneath her feet, the cool embrace of the morning sketching over horizons, reminding her of the altering seasons, the layers unspoken of and uncertain. Why did you decide to change? simmered over her teeth and tongue, but she chose to listen instead, the hovering mass harpooning through her form. Why not do something else, if you don’t like it? There were measures and calculations to the artifices though – beyond the traveling portals, it meant he could…feed, and here she repressed a shudder. The ending statement though pierced something through her, and her eyes were on the shore, not on him. “Couldn’t you, maybe? Would the Old Gods want someone to return to them?” It was mostly a rhetorical question; neither of them would likely know or understand the implications, but it made her wonder. Could the Ascended contortions be stripped away, back to normalcy? Or was it a permanent fixture, a choice they’d made, as much as the Attuned? Could any of them move back the hands of time, alter the changes?
She knew better than to answer that – pushing it to the back of her mind as they lingered away from the dolphins, no harm measured in the instances. “It was.” A soft smile embarked, chased after the haunting remnants, permitted a deep breath to sanction from her mouth as they reached shore, and she touched back down upon earthen wares and configurations.
Don't make me a liar, 'cause I swear to god When I said it I thought it was true
Nate wants to let loose a humourless laugh, wants to shake his head. He can't even get his own goddess to answer him, doesn't think it's likely at all he'll attract the attention of any others. Though, with his luck, the way it ebbed and flowed, he likely would, the impetuousness of the action, the request, drawing just enough attention to smite him. "I've... heard some bad things happen when someone like me tries to pray to the Old Gods." He offers, still trying to keep one foot in neutrality. It feels a little bit better than saying he's afraid of what would happen. And even if he gets an answer, even if it's something better than bad, if it's somehow the secret fix for what he is, or even a half measure, then the Voice would know, and he does not want to know what kind of revenge a Goddess scorned would enact.
The smile on Melita's face is enough to chase away the lingering eddies of worry and regret in Nate, the decision, made easily, to focus on the moment, on the night before them. His struggle to shore is, like most things that night, far less elegant than the girls is, he might feel tiredness, might not feel the toll the exertion had taken on his body, not really, but his limbs felt heavy in the air now, and he took a moment to simply sit in the sand, catch the breath that he doesn't need. "So... how's you do the trick with the waves?" He turns to her as he asks the question, feeling the need to fill the silence with something, and deciding to slake his curiosity at the same time.
She hadn’t considered the alternative, a little too drawn into the impulsivity again, voicing whatever happened to be on her mind. The youth thought about withdrawing the notion entirely, but there were so many questions, inquiries, unraveling into her mind. What would the Old Gods do? She could recall the admissions of Ludo, how it had attempted to send Roana into murdering one of the Ascended, and then grew silent in those roots and thorns. “That’s too bad,” she answered eventually, a quiet whisper on the waves as her toes dug into the warming sand, hands brushing off portions and pieces of dunes from her clothing. “Do you regret your choice?” If he’d had one at all? Were there deeper meanings to it, other livelihoods and capabilities he fostered, rendered, and enjoyed? For while she couldn’t fathom kneeling before a New God’s shrine, others clearly had, for one reason or another.
Lighter topics eased amidst transgressions, curiosities, and the swing of inevitably though, and without any foresight or forethought, the youth lifted her foot to show off the anklet residing there. “This!” Adorned with little charms and shells, a fixture of days spent in the Greatwood, before everything seemed to become so dark, dreary, and heavy. “I got it from the wisps! The Naiad was performing, and we got to watch.” She dropped the foot and spun around on the shore, as if she were one of the classic nymphs and fey of the forest. “Then they dropped this in the water near me.” Ceasing her spin, bending down to scratch at Fangorn, who’d waited dutifully on the shore, her eyes lifted back up to Nate, a genuine smile on her features.
Before realizing that he’d never get to experience that either, based on the Fae’s jurisdiction and bans.
Don't make me a liar, 'cause I swear to god When I said it I thought it was true
Nate doesn't pretend like he can even begin to figure out what's going to in Melita's head, what the intention behind the questions is. He has to choose to trust in her, to trust the intention is pure curiosity, not sure if they're close enough to think it might be concern. "It is too bad." Nate sighs, barely catching the words over the crashing of the waves. Her next question is more difficult, nearly tugs another sigh from him, before he turns to look her over carefully, chewing on his words before they're offered out. "I regret it sometimes." He starts, jaw working. "I miss... specific things mostly. And it feels like I lost more than I gained." Anything more than that would have to be asked after specifically.
Sand sticks just about everywhere on him, the hazard of sitting while still wet, but Nate doesn't seem to care, or even notice. Too focused on Melita, her answer, the foot that comes up. That he automatically reaches out to grab, half to keep her still so he can look at the anklet, and half to offer support. "S'real pretty." He offers, before her story immediately leaves his depths, delving into what he suspects is something to do with the Greatwood, based simply on how much what she's saying sounds like a fable, a fairy tale. His hand retracts as she drops her foot again, Nate humming thoughtfully. He has so many questions, most of them admittedly some kind of why? "Seems pretty lucky to get a present just for listening in." He says with a smile, a kind of conspirators wink between them. "And something useful too." The smile fades, just a little, when she dips to gather her pumpkin in her arms, both of them seemingly coming to the same conclusion.
Another topic then, maybe a little bit of backtracking, because... well, he's concerned, and he can only keep away from a sore spot for so long. "Are you feeling better?" Tired still, more than likely, but hopefully the rough edges of her night terrors have been smoothed down, for the moment.
