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!
how do you wanna face it? when the end is so close you can taste it
It’s shopping day; not much can drag me into the swell of ripe bodies and fish-spice-food-whatever else they’re selling in Haulani proper. It smells like childhood. Smells like memories better left in the past and of a place where I don’t have control. The beach edge where the Hanged Man and my little hut is is much better. Still - I need to eat, so I saddle up and put on my sturdier shoes (they protect my toes much better than my regular sandals) and head out, large bag in my hand.
First stop is the fishmongers, and he pulls out some lovely pink fish for me in exchange for a bottle of pure alcohol. So it goes with everyone I meet, trading various variants of alcohol for other things, favors written down and small things changing hands. Perhaps most importantly, I’m listening - walking slowly and blending in, listening to the gossip behind old, wrinkled hands.
It isn’t until reach the end of the market that a new stall catches my eye; it carries pretty things. And I like pretty things, I just don’t wear ‘em all that often. So I linger here, trading small talk with the lady who runs it while I peruse items I’m likely to walk away from. But hey, she doesn't know that.
There were still no bruises or marks across her neck, but she felt their force just the same, another night, another evening, spent in either torture or no slumber at all. It left her irritable, far more than regular, volatile doses, kicking and stomping her way through corridor after corridor, hall after hall, Fangorn restlessly diving out of the way. Waiting for it to pass over had been sickening, horrific, and impossible to erase from her head; perhaps a warning, not to let her memories go so easily, when their gnarled nails and claws had gotten hold of some knot.
Eventually her sour mood lightened, more walks along beaches, by the sea, skipping rocks and collecting shells, before she ultimately wandered into Haulani itself, bag on her shoulder and Fangorn in the crook of her arm. There wasn’t any purpose to her motions other than actual movement, distractions, deterrents, from the plague nested in her brain. At least within the market, there were too many bodies, too many people, too many other things to focus on, then the rapacious edges of hands wrapped around her throat.
In fact, once her gilded eyes peeled away from a kiosk of rather old-looking fish, she caught a familiar sight amidst a sea of strangers. Raza appeared busy, far more intent than the honeybee youth, but it didn’t stop her (it was a rare occasion when anything did), a walk and some elbows thrown in to get to the bar owner’s side – the glint of pretty things catching her gaze too. “Raza!” A greeting, uncertain if the woman cared for content, happier, chirping tidings, and maybe indifferent to it too. The girl was a bit tired of surly, grumpy contortions all the time. “How are you?”
how do you wanna face it? when the end is so close you can taste it
I’ll admit that I didn’t expect to see Melita coming out of the crowd towards me. I pause in turning over a snake choker inlaid with amber and onyx (the complete opposite of Hoa) and straighten, unable to tell how I feel about being disurbed. The lack of an emotion is an emotion in and of itself so I settle on ambivalent and give a little nod, briefly resuming my inspecting of the jewelry until she gets closer.
“Oh, I’m alright,” I answer and toss a couple of coins towards the stall keeper, placing the jewelry in my bag. Making a mental note to return to this stall next time, I finally give my full attention to the younger woman - and then to the gourd? in the crook of her arm. It seems to be alive, too. “What in the world is that?” comes out a little more incredulous than I meant to, but for all our fantastic creatures, we don’t have… anything like that little pumpkin. At all.
If I’m rude, I don’t mean to be. Blatantly curious is more like it.
The cool reception stifled and stymied her a little, the projection of wildness, ebullience, and everything notched in between quieted, hushed, as her eyes fell on the crowd, on the jewelry adorned and bought (instead of stolen; maybe a rarity in these parts, some semblances of honor amongst thieves). Her features rendered into something resembling reserve, while her restlessness curled and contorted, ready to fan out into flames, into movement, into motion.
But it was Fangorn who earned the attention, as he so often did amongst and amidst other worlds. Naturals to the Hollowed Grounds never asked, they always knew the reputation of the pumpkins, especially in the last season. Traversing and traveling elsewhere, however, meant similar inquiries and accords – she couldn’t blame them. The sight was baffling. “This is Fangorn!” The announcement was proud, made on edges of mischievous grins, holding him out in a firm grasp on either side, while he hissed and growled, in case Raza wanted a closer inspection. “He’s my companion - a vampire gourd. We get them in the Hollowed Grounds in autumn.” The following grumble emitted from the bonded would permit Raza an opportunity to see glimmering, glinting fangs and a narrowing of his enigmatic eyes.
how do you wanna face it? when the end is so close you can taste it
“Fangorn…” I repeat, bending down a bit to get a closer look at its face, finding the - vampire gourd? - yes, that’s what she called it - both delightful and horrifying all at once. The hissing, the nonverbalness, the teeth. For some reason it’s just… different from an animal companion. And while we’ve got cats that talk and spout nonsense, this feels different. After a moment I decide that it kinda fits her. The same kind of ferocity. Indignation, maybe. Pulling back, I regard the two of ‘em with an amused look. “Cool. Learned somethin’ new today.”
My gaze drifts to her bag, to the market she’s obviously passed through. I know they’re fed on the Ark, if they show up for meals while its in port, so I’m curious why she’s here. “So. How’s it goin?”
Fangorn hissed and snickered in response; whether this was contentment or any other emotion was difficult to decipher, so Melita pulled him back against her chest, shrugging her shoulders, setting herself back into fervency, normalcy.
The inquiry wasn’t expected though, and so she took a few moments glancing back at the objects, the finer goods around them. “Exploring,” she ventured, a broad grin on her face. The youth enjoyed the walks, the blistering pace, the rambling through each and every avenue, corridor, as if things altered, changed, their appearance. It ignited her curiosity while they remained on shore, while she couldn’t blister and embolden herself out to sea yet. It gave her something to do in the midst of nothingness – like she had a place, a purpose, instead of the aimless meandering and drifting.
how do you wanna face it? when the end is so close you can taste it
Exploring. What a delightfully vague answer. I raise a brow, not quite believing that she’s just exploring, but ain’t gonna pry on this one. Or so I tell myself. Tying the bag shut and throwing it over my shoulder, I look back the way I came and give a little jerk of my head to indicate where I’m going and that she’s welcome to come along. “Lookin’ fer anythin’ in particular?” I ask, wondering if she might be up for something a little off the beaten path. The girl looks young, but if she’s gonna run with Jack, she better get used to seeing some shit, or at least getting wrapped up in situations.
‘Sides, Torcher kids are practically adults by thirteen or so. Some girls are mothers by fifteen, some boys are dead by sixteen. I start to saunter back through the market, sparing the barest glance over my shoulder to see if she’ll follow. If not, no hard feelings.
05-19-2020, 08:10 PM (This post was last modified: 05-26-2020, 12:54 PM by Melita.)
every time she burns to ashes
Melita had always been one for exploration, likely right from birth. With no semblance of danger, treachery, or deceit in early years, she’d ventured high and low, unaware of how many hovered around her, protective and shielding as she went off on her miniscule quests to stare into open seas or wander into unknown caves. Here was partially the same, only she hoped she’d grown into something, someone, capable of defending herself.
She’d seen a lot, in her short amount of time on multiple worlds.
And she wasn’t about to let it destroy or defeat her.
So she followed along, shaking her head in answer. “No. Just learning, observing.” A shrug to her shoulders, accepting the invitation of movement and motion, grateful to be stirred into something other than glancing at wares.
how do you wanna face it? when the end is so close you can taste it
With no concrete answer, I’m not sure what to do with the girl.
It’s surprisingly annoying. I don’t feel like guessing. If she’s content to learn and observe then that’s great, she can continue to do just that. Making a humming sound of acknowledgement, I continue to make my way through the market until we reach a more open area, at which point I turn to her, and in a friendly manner, simply say, “Well when you think of something specific, or want an introduction somewhere, let me know.” Giving her a little clap on the shoulder, I turn to go. “Gotta get back to the Hanged Man. Have a good ‘un.”
Unless she stops me, I’ll head down an side street towards the bar.
It wasn’t the first, nor the last, nestled somewhere in between her inability to render calculated responses, going off of impulse and inclinations. Afraid she’d irritated the woman, the youth lost her grin, but the uncertainty remained, racking her head for answers, for things she ought to know. She’d had enough experience with the crew, despite not yet having gone out to sea, and it would likely be unwise to ask or pry any further into histories between the whole lot of them – dumb on her part, and suspicious on anyone else’s.
Maybe monsters and legends were safer.
“Do you know anything about the Maw?” Something Melita had yet to explore, but the rumors surrounding it were enough to sate her curiosity, trudging slowly behind Raza, feeling like a tagalong. “Or what could be in the tunnels? What would’ve left those marks?” Because eventually that was a notion they’d have to solve.
how do you wanna face it? when the end is so close you can taste it
It’s not that I don’t want to talk to Melita, jus that there wasn’t anything to talk about yet. But as she finally spits something out, I turn with a grin. “See? That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” Instead of leavin’ her on the main thoroughfare, I slow for her to catch up and then continue my way down to the bar - because yes, I do actually have to get to work.
“No one really knows ‘ow deep the Maw is. I think some people ‘ave tried to swim it with Manta stones, but they don’t always come back. Legend says it’s actually an underwater volcano and there’s a Kraken down there keepin’ it from goin’ off.” I shrug a bit, not really wanting to interact with either a volcano or a sea monster, but the danger is an allure for some folks. “Personally, that deep, dark hole is a bit unnervin’.” I don’t know why Jack sales across it so often. Just… go around.
“An’ as for the thing in Rae’s Fingers…” I make a face. My theories are very generic. Likely ain’t nothin she hasn’t thought of. “What’re you thinkin it is?”
She’d finally found the right alley, venue, and fragment to Raza’s points, so she was apt to listen, catching up, eyes widening on the notion of fathoms within the Maw, swimming with manta stones only not to return, contortions of more volcanoes. Her mind spun, rapid and revolving, trying to snag and snap upon what would be all the more enticing, inviting, dangerous, treacherous, a seditious calamity. It was the finality of the first statement that embarked confusion, and led her down wayward paths. “What’s a Kraken?” Had they had something similar in Helovia or the Rift? In between the ghosts, phantoms, and wraiths, she couldn’t recall, too many other things, moments, and instances at stake. “How would it stop a volcano?” What sort of creature was this, to have such extraordinary powers?
But in return, she was asked her own theories about the thing residing in Rae’s Fingers. “I don’t know as much as the rest of you,” a given, since she was Outlander through and through. “But do you think it could’ve come from the volcano? Maybe journeyed in there when everything erupted, when they sent the lava flow in?” A hunch, and not much more, her face scrunched up in complexities and thought. It couldn't have been there all along, if there were age-old marks from other smugglers, right? But Melita hadn't known what the chiseled descriptions contained or warned about.
how do you wanna face it? when the end is so close you can taste it
Melita comin’ in with the hard questions, I see. Sometimes I forget that Outlanders don’t automatically know all our creatures. And I thought mebbe someone on the crew had told her about it, but they’re’a bunch’a assholes sometimes an’ like to test the newbies. “It’s a big sea monster. Ain’t no one seen it in years, but its’a posed to have lots of tentacles an can swallow ships whole, it’s so big.” As for how it might stop a volcano, well that makes me pause, cause’a course we don’t know-know what it’s doin’ or how it works.
“I think that’s just how big it is,” I illustrate into the empty air, drawing shapes of said volcano and kraken in the air. “It sits on it or somethin’” Shrugging, I admit to not knowing exactly how it goes. I don’t really want to, but I wouldn’t mind talkin’ to someone who does know.
I don’t know about the monster in the Fingers, either, but I think Melita might be onto somethin’. Nodding in agreement, I elaborate a little. “Yep. I think it was in the volcano, too. Maybe a spirit or somethin’. The soul of the volcano that’s been asleep for all these years. An’ if it is that then who or what woke it up?” After all, they got water spirits and all kinds of shit here. Why shouldn’t Apopo have a spirit inside it?
“And then we gotta figure out how to either put it back to sleep or move it. If it is a spirit-thing.” Might be worth going to Remi about her theory, actually. See what he thinks they should do when the time comes.
Rapt with attention, as she often was with any layer of story, myth, or legend, the youth conjured an assortment of images in her mind – finally given light to this Kraken. A breathless whim of excitement drove her, reminded her of days when their noses were pressed against the glass binding them to the sea, where they could glance over veneers and surfaces to watch the enchanted world below. “Oh, like a squid! Or an octopus?” Both? Long tentacles, but big enough to swallow a ship whole; perhaps she ought to have shuddered under the nuances. Instead, her grin grew, a wicked Cheshire edge to it. “Maybe we’ll see one someday!” A giant creature sitting on a volcano, resting its limbs along its sides. She was mildly disappointed to have missed all the action.
Raza’s theories enveloped with hers, and so the youth nodded, taking in all the nuances, speculations, and ideas that she could, considering they’d eventually be sketching their way back in through the Fingers. “Hm,” was all she could adhere to for a moment, willing her mind to come up with something to go along, the back and forth of nuances and notions. Her nose wrinkled in thought, her eyes wandering as she brought the images to life in her head again, beyond wild and free impulses. “Maybe we could use ice or something. Normally I’d say water, but -” then she laughed, since whatever it was had chosen to maintain its existence around the element. Could it be frozen and maneuvered? Could it be bartered with, or persuaded?
