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!
i'm tired of the weight of mortality, i want to tear it from my veins
until i bleed silver and gold
He has come a very long way. Such a way that pride lingered in her mind at the idea of how he used to be versus how he is now. And with it, she aims to shower him in every sort of emotion and touch that she can get away with – against the odds like she had once before, only this time with far less pain and destruction involved. After all, he’d saved her life – pulling that beam from the center of her chest and healing her with the help of Zuriel – something she’s unsure she’d ever be able to repay.
So when he mentions that they don’t have to give them anything, she can’t help the curl of her smile. “I don’t have to do anything, you’re right.” She chimes to him with a wink before she settles and grins a fanged smile to him. “But I want to. And you, my dear friend, can’t stop me.” She adds with another brilliant laugh that slips from her throat. “I’ve had this planned since you told me about it, so yes I’m giving it to you both.” She offers on a bit more of a serious note, lifting the cup of tea to her lips again and taking a deep sip from it.
maybe one day they'll chant our names
and name galaxies after us, and we too shall be eternal
He’d saved lives as the Reaper long before the Sword; the actions and motions had simply been embedded in acrimony, in enmity, and antipathy, stretching out blades and limbs to incapacitate, mar, and ruin the adversaries daring to come after children, after his citizens. Perhaps that left them less meaningful, as he stood along summits or borders, bleeding from freshly-honed lacerations, daring to defend and defend and defend until he could no longer. Perhaps it was taken for granted, assumed he would for eternities, a breathing oeuvre to bloodshed and condemnation, scouring and scarring the earth in pursuit of vengeance, justice, and insurrection. It had been duty, shelter, a sanctum, a sanctuary, he’d carved out of the earth, out of the mountains for them. Not once had he asked for anything in return.
The same could be said for this world. Though it wasn’t entirely his to guard or defend, the position he’d filled meant protection, defense, and expressions of wisdom via weapons, techniques, and tactics, no matter what was damned and doomed to come their way. He’d try to save them again and again, because no matter which life he led, the ruminations spread through his bones, his flesh, his muscle, his existence.
Rexanna’s injuries during LongNight had merely meant more despair infused into his actions.
He watched her wink, felt the rise and fall of his chest on a rueful sigh, and stilled his head, before he shook it or rolled his eyes. Some emboldened trace of his being wanted to insinuate he very well could stop her; but over something meant to signify celebrations and contentment, it was far wiser merely to keep silent, accept her bestowal. “Fine,” he muttered, begrudging, purposefully juvenile in the wrinkle of his nose, in the inclination of mischief in his eyes.
i'm tired of the weight of mortality, i want to tear it from my veins
until i bleed silver and gold
It’s amusing to her, able to see the shifts and changes of his mood, able to read the panes of his face in only a way an old friend would be able to. So as she sips from the glass and he offers a fine with that childish amusement lingering back, she sets the cup in her lap and watches him with all that air of happiness and content. “I really am happy for you, Deimos.” She offers on a more serious note.
The idea of him and Amalia together was enough to settle any of the thoughts of whether someone would be good enough for him. Amalia was that, the light in the darkness Deimos often needed. And despite the Shield’s own differing opinions on the Ascended, the woman had still helped her find the stones to be made into her eyes when she’d been left blind.
It was something else she couldn’t entirely pay back, aside from trying to ensure her people didn’t cause more problems than they already had. And so far, so good, things had gone well enough with it. “So, Deepfrost plans then. Do you think we could squirrel away a place in the center of the Sanctuary to erect a permanent spark bird perch?” She asks, cocking her head a small amount with the question.
maybe one day they'll chant our names
and name galaxies after us, and we too shall be eternal
Foreign things; to have happiness applied in his direction. He was used to sinister growls, to winds of discontent, adversaries surveying one another in contempt, in abhorrence, or in utter apathy. But what he’d lacked in Helovia, Caido seemingly made up for: people far more tolerant, far more obliging, far more accepting. Even in the midst of demolition, wreckage, and ruin, the perseverance, the hope, and the faith they had guiding them along pathways and cinders was something to behold – even if he couldn’t fathom it. He preferred to dig in, to claw, to root and settle and devastate, and then instead of insinuating himself deeper and deeper and deeper into mires, into warrens, into labyrinthine conjectures, he’d somehow wound up here. A monumental journey he wouldn’t have been able to make on his own; he would’ve stuck to the foothills of barrages and shadows, of sieges and assaults, of melancholy and listlessness, until something drove him to another brink of disaster.
And here they were, talking about how he’d managed to find something other than armaments and battles.
Except he still didn’t know what to do in the face of it, disbelieving at his fortune, lowering his eyes to the floor, the prior wrinkle to his nose flattening, brief glimmers of warm smiles. “Thank you.”
She must’ve sensed his discomfort in the prolonged discussion of his life, shifting it entirely, allowing him a small reprieve. He breathed easier, his mind capable of focusing on things known, things fathomed, things comprehended. “I believe so.” He put his trust in Amalia, in all the others who would know an applicable place for it to be featured year-round. “We could always put it where we had before.” He shrugged, Machiavellian thoughts meshing and mulling together. “I can have the Artisan’s Guild put together offerings.” Because despite their rendering of the perch in the previous Deepfrost, no Spark Bird had been summoned. Maybe there’d been too little bestowals, not enough insistence or pull to lure the creature to the Sanctuary.
i'm tired of the weight of mortality, i want to tear it from my veins
until i bleed silver and gold
All she can do is offer a warm smile in return to his thank you, knowing how much he hates being in the spotlight, the center of attention, having things focus and revolve around him when she know she’d much rather like to hide out in the privacy of his own thoughts – a stalwart monolith akin to those towers that despite breaking down still warded off intruders from the Basin.
So talk of Deepfrost certainly helped the idea of it all, give him the fresh air and breathing room he needed, a nod granted to the response. To put it where it had been placed before – in ways that might help make it seem a bit more official, a bit more permanent. “Let’s do that.” She offers with a bright smile granted his way, before she calculates some thoughts as well. “If we all plan on staying in the College this year, perhaps separating space out in front of it for the Luxere would be a good idea.” She comments, head tilting as she considers it.
“And perhaps we can see if anyone would be willing to lead a few treks around to sing to them and try to convince them to come. Maybe we’ll get more than we did last year.” Another quiet thought, a raise of her brow as she focuses on him again, calculating it out.
maybe one day they'll chant our names
and name galaxies after us, and we too shall be eternal
Mental notes and calculations began anew, no need for attention to be entirely focused on him, an easier discourse to partake within. The luxere would be another necessity, recalling days and years before where they’d all tried their hand at coaxing them forward, some far more successful than others. “Where we intend to only utilize one area, it might be easier.” No need to sort them out into too many spaces, unless others didn’t deign themselves suitable for the College, or stuck, kept to their traditional ways, staying within their own confines.
Leading treks, and ensuring the mythical deer stayed would be a feat as well; for the lighter of hearts, minds, and souls – his own callous incantations, his infernal, nefarious wake, were not suitable for summoning and beckoning the gentler creatures. “Lily would likely be willing to help,” the songstress immediately coming to mind. There should’ve been several others, talented and generous enough to provide the means and measures. “We need to sort out snow moss gathering, and then assistance in ensuring the College is adequate.” For people, for resources, for anything they might need when they were sheltered and locked up.
i'm tired of the weight of mortality, i want to tear it from my veins
until i bleed silver and gold
She nods to his question, a light smile playing on the corners of her lips. “We can section it off ahead of time just to ensure that it might be suitable. Perhaps moveable for now until we decide someplace permanent?” Already imagining fencing that can be easily picked up and moved once Flowerbirth arrives, a place to store them, and in the meantime perhaps a nice little addition to Deepfrost to try and keep the spirits light.
The mention of Lily has her humming lightly, a bright grin sparking across her face with it. “Yes, let’s reach out to her. They’re not a fan of me, alas, but perhaps Lily might know a few others willing to help as well.” Some lighter souls, beautiful voices, the ability to soothe and keep them content and distracted to help the Grounds during the longest week of their lives.
She watches as he explains the treks needed to acquire items, nodding along with it when she goes to take another sip of the tea. “Is there anyone you know who might want to take a bit off your plate?” A tilt of her head. “Amun has been great at collecting things, perhaps I could reach out to him and see if he might be willing to help gather the snow moss?”
maybe one day they'll chant our names
and name galaxies after us, and we too shall be eternal
Sectioned off sanctioned areas for the deer, a mental checklist unfolding again and again, along with several other provisions (food, water? What would make them want to stay besides fencing?). He nodded at the inquiry, ensuring he’d find time to discuss the matters with Lily, someone far more capable than either of them of luring the fickle creatures into the sanctum. Their darkened incantations, and his other faults, flaws, ensured his dominion and presence wasn’t expected in that particular range. There were other matters to attend to, and he’d already concocted, created, charcoal and paper before him, writing out other forms of plans and machinations. His food and drink were ignored altogether now, entirely focused on the matters at hand.
Rexanna apparently thought he had too many projects going on at once, which certainly wasn’t incorrect, and as he tilted his head, glancing down at the neat, precise scrawl, he had to admit the predilections were time-consuming. Between the Artisan’s Guild, the militia, and everything else requiring gathering, it would likely be best to delegate other factions and support. Wise that she’d spoken up about it at all, maybe fully aware he would’ve plunged on and on to the point of exhaustion without complaint., shouldering burden after burden. “That would work. I can recruit others during our Artisan’s tasks to make fencing for the luxere, while some of us create the offerings.” Many hands making light work, efficiently, sufficiently. Amun could snag at snow moss with whomever he wanted. “We will still need other resources: specifically food and wood.” Hunting out flora and fauna – he’d done some collecting already, but it wouldn’t be near enough with the strain winter put on the populace.
i'm tired of the weight of mortality, i want to tear it from my veins
until i bleed silver and gold
There’s a nod granted toward Deimos as he mentions that they could separate out the tasks – because she knows he’d end up trying to take them all on, ensuring their success and what not. And it would certainly prove to be difficult come LongNight if he was burning at both ends, to try and be on top of the game when it mattered the most. So here she is, caring and looking out for him, even if he didn’t think he needed it.
At least he accepted it.
“Yes.” She agrees, flashing him another bright smile. “Perhaps we can see who might be willing to lead those as well? Give a time frame to try and gather as much as we can. Should we separate a section out in the Temple to store things while we prep?” She asks, tilting her head toward him in a thoughtful manner before she purses her lips slightly. “Perhaps some extra bedding and things can be made? Drinks from the VlamVloed might be something worth seeing to bring in for the week?” Because while she couldn’t drink anymore, she knows a great many still would prefer to have the option.
Who is she to deny them?
maybe one day they'll chant our names
and name galaxies after us, and we too shall be eternal
Habits long since formed in Isilme, in Helovia, and now in Caido instilled the tendency for the monolith to merely take on everything at once. He didn’t complain. He didn’t mention exhaustion, fatigue, or burning his way through strength; sometimes he wondered if it was expected, for his might and persistence to simply wander amongst every avenue and alleyway, intending to help and assist. His savage paces and diligent battle-scars earned in Helovian and Basin predilections leaned towards this sway, and one could always wonder if it lent his way to an early grave, a perishing, when fortitude and endurance suddenly ceased to exist any longer.
He was also overly fond of control – composure for himself and others – a hovering, stalwart, steadfast mountain, willing and able to lend a hand.
So even if he didn’t want to admit any reluctance in permitting others to take on tasks, to lift them from his shoulders, the beast permitted a breath, an exhale, before soldiering on. While she spoke, he wrote, acknowledging with a nod, relinquishing management, pondering over the notion of delegating. “Sounds good. Any food stores can be frozen until they are necessary.”
i'm tired of the weight of mortality, i want to tear it from my veins
until i bleed silver and gold
“Wonderful.” Rexanna chimes, flashing Deimos another bright grin. Plans in formation, things beginning to form, preparing for Deepfrost when the snows hit and everything else starts to become full of anxiety and frustrations. It was an entire ordeal in and of itself, the previous months being relatively quiet for the Grounds. It feels like something will certainly be afoot, wondering if something will start to burn down this year as well.
At least this year she doesn’t plan on going outside, without a very good reason at the very least.
So she downs the rest of the tea, going to stand and offer Deimos the rest of the scones should he want to take them home – a bribe perhaps? Knowing the sweet tooth that lingered beneath Deimos’ stony exterior? Before flashing another grin. “Let me know if I can help with anything else.” She offers brightly, unsure what else he might have to add.
maybe one day they'll chant our names
and name galaxies after us, and we too shall be eternal
The patterns had been familiar, routine, a sinking and settling of Basin ramparts instead of Caido ones. Except nowadays there weren’t any gnashing teeth from other kingdoms, no brutal adornments, threats, ultimatums, or conjectures from opposing sovereigns. Instead, they defended against the very land they chose to call home, attempting to outsmart infidels, demons, and monsters. The brighter idea would’ve been to not stay at all; but maybe all of them were deliberately hard-headed about the notions, about traditions, about things they thought they knew and understood.
His paper filled with new scrawls, details, sketches, and outlines, he lifted his head, his eyes, back to her chimes, a snort threatening to unravel from his chest. Instead, he stood, pocketing the list, saving it for future excursions and duties. His brow arched at the scone bribery, which he wholeheartedly took without fanfare or argument. “Of course.” Most of it was handled anyway; between weddings, receptions, and LongNight plans, they should’ve been adequately prepared. Should being the key distinction, since they’d felt the same way the previous year. “See you at the reception,” a slow smile twisting back to his mouth, and a nod of commendation to the Queen, before he took his leave, more furtive pieces set into his machinations.
