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!
The first glints of the Citadel through the snow and fog, glints on the towers of the palace, could be seen in the distance. There was still some way to go, but it was always good to have a destination you could see; with the expertise of someone who knew where she was going Morgan turned Eunike onto a downwards mountain path, going slowly and steadily so they would not fall on the steep sides.
"Shift into an animal. Those especially beloved by the Gods, the Attuned, can shift." Never having done it before herself, she couldn't really advise Mallorie on how it was accomplished: for that she'd have to ask someone who'd had feathers or fur before in their life.
A small smile played on Morgan's lips as she heard the held intake of breath. She couldn't seen Mallorie's expression, but imagining her trying very hard to become an animal was amusing enough. It seemed she was unsuccessful. "It would be innate. Magic too. But that's alright - you've just arrived. Experiment later. We have Outlanders who try to do too much at once, and they quickly learn their lessons. These mountains...hold the bodies of a few Outlanders." She said grimly, not having expected her words to get so dark but unable to stop them now.
Mallorie relaxed as she saw the first signs of civilisation; peaks and points where sunlight caught architecture. It was strangely similar - though she supposed there were only so many ways to build even in another world. It looked, from a distance, like towers of glass. Given what she’d been told, she assumed they were made or held together by magic of some sort.
Distracted by the sight, the thought of shelter, she wobbled when Eunike started on the downward path and momentarily tightened her hold.
Changing shapes, she thought as she grit her teeth, having just got used to the motion of the unicorn’s movements and now being once again unsettled. Sounds...unpleasant.
If the other woman had noticed her attempts to do…something, she hid it well.
“I’m not sure I’d know where to begin experimenting.” Mallorie admitted. Added, as an afterthought, “Thanks for the advice though.”
The news that she had escaped an apparently common fate disquieted her. Set her stomach (now beginning to grumble) ill at ease, something like...dread, or maybe grim foresight settling inside her. Gut plunging with the thought of her trail turning cold, literally, in the middle of the mountains.
She was pleased her voice remained steady when she asked, “Do you...keep track of all those who make it?”
"There is...a magic academy, in the Citadel." It would be obvious from Morgan's voice that she was hesitant to say this, Zariah not being one of her favourite people, but it was possible there could be help for Mallorie there. "Or you could speak to one of the many Attuned in the Citadel. In the palace there is Loren, but there is also...a Grounder, I believe? Who is here for the Deepfrost. I'm sure there's more here and in the Grounds too." She couldn't speak of Torchline.
Mallorie's question was a little odd and Morgan wasn't quite sure what it meant, which was likely clear from the pause she gave. "...I..don't personally, but I'm sure the Outlanders that have arrived and made it to safety have friends and so on by now. ...Are you...do you mean to look for someone specific?"
A magic academy? How...quaint. Mallorie thought for a moment of people wearing pointy hats in dormitories and resisted the faintest urge to smirk. Smirking was not something she did, no matter what impulses her face decided to have.
The hesitation was enough to tell Mallorie that the academy was maybe not the best place to go first; she appreciated her honesty in telling her about it, but wondered at why she was reluctant to do so. That she offered alternatives only made her more curious.
“I may take your advice once I have shelter,” she said, “I assume a ‘Grounder’ is an outsider?”
It certainly sounded like a term for someone who wasn’t local. She’d have to look into the geography of her new locale once she was able.
No tracking of outlanders meant her first line of inquiry was out of the window. It had been well over a year since her hunt set on her path here, if he’d come through here…
“An acquaintance. If he came through he would certainly have made himself...known.” She explained. Not false, if not the entire truth. “He would have arrived well over a year ago.”
If Morgan was a halfway decent captain she probably would have encountered Adam at least as a minor horror story from her guards. It seemed a little foolish to give a stranger the full details but also, somehow...wrong to be cagey about him. And yet Mallorie wanted to guard him somehow, as well as her feelings on the matter.
"Ah, no. Grounders are people from the Hollowed Grounds, another land in this world...not accessible at the moment, as the Deepfrost snows have covered the portal. Soon though, once the Flowerbirth comes around, you will have a chance to go there yourself. I understand a lot of Outlanders settle there." Why she wasn't entirely sure, but there had to be some kind of reason - possibly just because it was where they had begun, in the Voice's barrier, she supposed.
Now that she'd begun to explain this to Mallorie, terms and geography and the world, she realised just how much there was to learn.
It was interesting to hear she thought she might know someone in the world. Morgan shrugged her shoulders. "You can give me a name and I can tell you if I knew him, but I am not in the habit of socialising with many Outlanders." She thought it pretty unlikely that she might know him: most of the Outlanders she knew were coincidentally women and past that, a lot of them were barely acquaintances.
“So I’m stuck here for the winter?” She asked, “Are we cut off entirely? No other villages nearby?”
Mallorie considered the tundra around her. She shivered at the thought of how cold a settlement would be if this was the surroundings; the cold itself was a threat, something that coiled round the very bones of a person and invaded the breath.
The Hollowed Grounds. Outlanders. Her head was beginning to swim under the steady drip of new terms. She sighed and resigned herself to picking more up as she went along, pacing herself and prioritising. Shelter and seeking.
Morgan’s offer threw her for a second. The odds that she knew the one person Mallorie was trying to find (who she didn’t even have proof had come through here) were...miniscule. But then, so was finding herself in another world entirely. She had to take time to consider it - still hadn’t after minutes of Eunike descending the path.
Chance was not Mallorie’s friend, historically. But she knew this was the time to take it.
“Pikely, his name was. If he came through here the guards would probably have known him.”
Winter had to be some Outlander name for Deepfrost, Morgan supposed. "You do not want to go to the only other village here." She said plainly, hoping Mallorie would take that warning to heart: Cannibals were not a good introduction to the Naturals of Halo. "Once the season is over, the portal will allow you to travel where you wish. Take heart. Halo is far from the worst place to be trapped for the Deepfrost." At least they didn't have monsters.
Morgan took advantage of the quiet pause to briefly stop Eunike and look over the snow beneath them, make sure they were taking the wisest paths: she knew the mountains like the back of her hands, but the ever-beating blizzards created an environment that could change day by day, new avalanches born in the night and waiting to fall. Eventually she seemed satisfied to continue, just as Mallorie asked her question.
"Pikely..." The name did sound familiar, though for a moment she was unsure why. "...I believe that was the surname of the man our late Spymaster was involved with. Adam?" Right now she held off on telling Mallorie of the man's fate.
The firmness in Morgan’s voice told Mallorie she did not want to find this other village. In the short span of time from meeting her she’d considered the other women and decided her to be not one for sentiment or superstition - if she were offering such a stark warning, it was likely one to be heeded.
She gathered that ‘Deepfrost’ was a season or weather pattern, judging by the name and her surroundings. It made sense to spend time in one place to get her bearings, regardless of weather, so she nodded at Morgan’s advice. Tucked it away for later as Eunike manoeuvred their way down the path.
At the mention of his name, Mallorie froze. Fractionally, only for a moment. But still.
Hope bloomed somewhere inside her, and she couldn’t help thinking that of course he was involved with a spymaster. That must have been the fourth or fifth sexiest profession to Adam, she was sure. And the thought of him coming here, surviving, thriving, was almost enough. Almost.
Except that she’d come here to find him, to solve the mystery of his disappearance. She needed to know what had become of him to close the case. That was all. Nothing more than professional curiosity pushing her past confirmation that he’d passed through.
“Adam was his name, yes.” She said, as neutrally as possible. Put on professional armour thick as the cloak round her shoulders.
“A miscreant, but not malevolent. I...worked with him.”
Not technically a lie. Barely half the whole truth.
Morgan took in breath through gritted teeth at this confirmation that the man she had briefly known was indeed the one Mallorie was looking for: she knew the end of his story and the Outlander did not. Mallorie was not particularly forthcoming about what her relationship had been with Adam, but Morgan tried her best to soften the blow as much as she could.
"...You will not find him." She wasn't really sure how to do this: when it was a guard she usually had the chance to think over what she wanted to say first, usually could say they had at least died in the line of duty. "I do not know the full details of the mission. ...Our Spymaster and Adam Pikely both went into the mountains with a few others and were killed. I was told...by a dragon." Maybe Mallorie wouldn't care and she was massively overestimating their relationship, but Morgan waited in the quiet to see what would come now, preparing herself for the potential of a sobbing woman on her shoulder.
The sound of an inhale sent a chill through Mallorie that had nothing to do with the tundra around them. She often felt she knew how to read other people’s reactions better than her own, and this reaction…
She flexed her fingers, suddenly feeling like the strength was sapped out of them where she held on to the unicorn. Morgan’s words that she wouldn’t find Adam uncomfortably familiar - almost comforting in their straightforwardness. As a guard she’d occasionally had to say similar things, and much as that made it reassuring, it also made something inside her seem to crackle and splinter.
He’s dead.
Mallorie didn’t have much to say, and listened, mute, as Morgan explained. Held back half the story, she was sure, but not the important part.
“A dragon…” She echoed faintly. Beginning to feel like she wasn’t in her own body at all, with the way emotion seemed to start running through it. Something dark, and cold, and heavy in her gut. Thought, stupidly, he would have loved that it was a dragon.
She always knew Adam was cut out for tragedy, rather than the comedy he treated life as. And this- well. That she’d find herself following his wake only to come up empty-handed was…
I should have known, she thought, grip turning from weak to vicious. Blinking back the surprising sting of wetness from her eyes before the wind could turn them sharp, make pinpricks of ice instead of grief.
While Mallorie thankfully did not fall into wails of despair or cry herself off the back of the unicorn, Morgan could hear in her repeat of the words 'a dragon' something a little lost, a little sad; a thing in the tone rather than the words. She bowed her head just a notch and let the woman behind her have her moment to mourn, as if it would only take that long.
"..No." Morgan had to say, wishing she had a better answer; she did not even know what had happened to the bodies. Still, she could guess pretty well why it was they hadn't returned. "Dragons are...ferocious. It would likely be incredibly difficult for anyone to get close enough to get the bodies. I'm sure those that knew him lit lanterns at the festival this Leafchange, though." Or at least, she hoped so: at least then Mallorie might find some companionship in her grief one day.
It didn’t take long to rein herself in - especially in front of a stranger. But Mallorie was quietly grateful to Morgan for not asking any question or, worse, trying to comfort her. She sniffed, sat up straighter on Eunike’s back (as best she could, with the unicorn moving steadily onwards), and tucked the information away with the sharp edges of grief beginning to unfold inside her. Back into the space below thought. Back where it could do no harm until she chose to acknowledge it.
Some things refused to go easily. Namely dragons and Adam’s body, somewhere out here in the cold. She’d have to do something about that, she thought. Not now though, nor soon. Not when she was stumbling, blind, about the place.
“At least he had friends here.” Mallorie said, finally.
She sighed, a little shaky, and reordered the pieces in her mind. Prioritise, she told herself, manage the manageable.
Mallorie grimaced, though she knew Morgan could not see it, and dragged another question out of herself.
“I presume you have inns in this world? And ways for one to occupy one’s time?”
Hearing the sniff Morgan took in a tense breath, but thankfully it wasn't followed by any tears. As much as she was sure it was unhealthy for Mallorie to hold in her emotions, it was also going to be unhealthy for her to try and work them out with the Captain, who had the comfort expertise of a hacksaw.
"He did. I...believe...Amalia. She is a devotee of the Old Gods in the Hollowed Grounds. I think she was close to him." Or at least, she'd picked that up from the buzz of conversations around the man and his partner when the death had occurred, but had only recently had a face to put to the name.
The question almost made her laugh. Did Mallorie think she had landed somewhere savage, with nowhere to stay or no way to entertain oneself? "Yes, there are inns. I can arrange for you to have free boarding while you settle in. It is a common charity given to Outlanders." If Mallorie wanted to be proud and refuse Morgan would not argue, but there was little other choice for her. "There are many ways to occupy your time. What are you trained in? A craft, or a skill?"
Shutting everything away was easier with Morgan politely not saying anything. She was able to focus on the immediate future a little better now the past was locked up again.
Amalia…
She wondered what type of person this Amalia was, if she’d been a friend of Adam’s. Probably a fellow scoundrel, given Adam’s history - though if she was a follower of gods like Morgan said then maybe she was a more virtuous influence on him. Not that such influences seemed to affect Adam’s ability to get into trouble. Which, given what she’d just learned…
Mallorie made a note to track down this woman at some point - probably when this apparent winter, or ‘Deepfrost’ was over. If nothing else she might find some...something that let her feel Adam was at peace.
Thank god something’s the same, she thought, as Morgan explained the inn situation. She might not freeze to death overnight in the streets, which was a plus. Much as she disliked charity, she disliked dying more, and ‘hmm’ed her assent to Morgan’s suggestion.
“I suspect it’d be stupid not to accept.” She mused, aloud, before answering Morgan’s question. “I worked as a guard for a long time. Mostly patrol work. In the later years I was more involved in handling the trickier problems that arose in the city. Occasionally I...would investigate further for those desperate enough to ask.”
She paused and tried to consider what her actual skills were, unsure of quite how much history to divulge. Eventually she decided on the practical.
“I am trained in the sword and shield, though I seem to have misplaced the latter. I have passing knowledge of most plants. I am a competent cook, though my food...isn’t to everyone’s tastes.”
