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!
You sit at the base of the lighthouse and look over the water, a quill and paper resting on the ground beside you, whittling at a piece of whalebone and whistling a jaunty tune.
Ki has found a warm rock which juts out of the lighthouse not far above your head, and though she is supposed to be keeping sentry you can tell she's actually fallen asleep. Not that you mind; you don't expect to be bothered or assaulted, it's far too nice a day for that. You'd come out with a Singular and Important Goal, but of course the warm sunlight and dancing wind had left you swiftly distracted.
Too nice a day for scribbling, you instead set about your carving work, sanding down the bone and wondering what creature will emerge within it. Maybe a whale, homage to what it once was; or maybe a mermaid, or a cat. You've got a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over your eyes, mostly concealing your face and shielding you from the sun, and if anyone approaches you don't look up enough to show your face, nor offer any greeting, instead continuing with your song and your work.
give your heart to a wanderer who found your soul and called it home
It turns out that Wessex really likes this little peninsula/outcropping. For whatever reason. It’s quiet-ish. The sea is variable, able to shift at any given time. She likes the way the wind ruffles her hair, even if she can’t feel the cooling effect it brings. Loki is with her, and it’s actually the dragonling that spots the chameleon on the rocks, a screech of excitement shot into the air as she thinks she’s found another one of her kind. She’s in for a rude awakening, as Wessex can see from the image she sends her bonded of the ‘other.’ It’s missing wings, but she won’t tell her delighted companion that.
Instead, she follows the little black lizard towards the other pair, standing at a distance as Loki swoops down to land on the rock, flat snout extending in greeting to the other.
Wessex chuckles a bit, in no rush to leave the area. Let the kid (as she affectionately thinks of her companion) do what she wants. Experience and learning are the names of the games these days. And as for the man - he seems absorbed in his thing. No need to bother him.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
You are absorbed in your thing, but you're aware enough to realize that something's going on with Ki. Ever vigilant little shit she is, she notices the dragon immediately, quickly tensing and changing colors to camouflage with the stones.
Not that it does much good, because the dragon still drops down next to her without a care in the world. Backing up quickly the chameleon sort of hisses, puffing up indignantly in an attempt to appear intimidating (she is not). You can feel the threat she exudes, her aggravation at having her space invaded.
From under the brim of your hat, you chuckle. "Aite, Ki, take it easy before y'get yerself made into a snack."
give your heart to a wanderer who found your soul and called it home
Neither Loki nor Wessex have seen a chameleon before, the former a tad rebuffed by the puffing and the hissing, but only because she doesn’t quite understand that to this thing that looks like her, she is still a predator. The dragonling pauses in her investigation and takes a tentative step back, wings tucking against her sides as she snorts and opens her own mouth in response as if to say what the fuck?
Wessex can’t see what’s going on, but when the man tells something to calm down before being made into a snack, she assumes the lizard is his and responds amicably, “Oh Loki won’t eat yours. I think she thinks it’s a… wingless version of her?” She chuckles, but nonetheless keeps an eye on the two companions.
Just in case.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
Well, Ki takes the withdrawal of wings as a clear sign of her (obvious) dominance in this contest, invisibly relaxing. Still, best to keep the yougster in line. Colors bloom over her sides, red and blue striping on her scales aggressively, and in the blink of an eye her tongue uncoils to strike the dragon on the nose.
Gonna get herself killed, you think, no matter what the stranger says.
"Can't say the same for mine." Tilting your head back at last, you peer up at the stranger, a hand over your eyes. "She's used't bein' the big lizard on the block, despite her size. As likely t'bully yours as anythin'. Little shit." There's warmth and affection in your voice despite the words.
give your heart to a wanderer who found your soul and called it home
There’s a curious, rapid sequence of emotions in the dragonling. First, she’s delighted that the other has stopped hissing. Then she’s startled by the color change and the tongue bop on the nose. Finally, she bares her own teeth in actual warning as she crouches down a bit, tail whipping back and forth across the rock.
The man gives a bit of a warning, which makes Wessex smile. “The kid can stand to learn a thing or two.” Either by standing up for herself or seeing the consequences of her actions. Noticing that the man has glance up, she offers a shrug, then look back to the two companions. However, a flicker of something, a small movement, catches her eye an she jerks her head upward. It takes a moment before her eyes narrow at what look like small, moving clouds - or something creating clouds?
“What’s that?” she asks the stranger, pointing up at the unusual thing in the sky.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
Under the brim of your hat your eyebrow raises, clearly amused by the woman's exasperation with her companion- an emotion you definitely share. Returning to your whittling, you begin to change the shape of your work. "Can't say I see a lotta dragons 'round. She's a beaut." It's a real compliment, and it makes Ki bristle further, the chameleon creeping toward the dragonling slowly, peering at the exposed teeth while flashing black across her sides in an attempt to match.
"Name's Zeph," you offer convivially, figuring it's probably that point in the interaction. Her question about whatever's on the horizon has you peering forward again; your eyes narrow and then widen, a low laugh exhaled from your lips. "Ah- looks like a flock'a cloud wyrms. Closest thing t'your Loki we get around here. Harmless little fellas, but thieves, the lot of 'em."
Turning back to the woman, you tilt you head. "Take it y'aint from 'round these parts, then?"
give your heart to a wanderer who found your soul and called it home
Loki holds her ground, confused about the mixed messages of dominance and matching and no-wings on this aggressive cousin who boops with her tongue. But as no one’s hurt or shedding blood, Wessex refrains from swooping in like a helicopter mom, splitting her focus more evenly with the man on the rocks. “Thank you. Does Ki always… what kind of lizard is she?” The Grounder’s seen a bunch of new things in Torchline things that are vaguely familiar and things that are brand new, but this - both the companion and the cloud wyrms - feel uniquely Torchline. It must be the colors. It seems… fanciful. Delightful. Tropical.
“Wessex,” she replies, and ventures to take a seat, staring up at the group of wyrms with studious fascination. Not sure what he means by thieves, but it sticks in her mind, just in case. “No, I’m a Grounder born ‘n bred. I take it you’re from here?”
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
Seemingly content with her dominance over the large black dragonet Ki at last backs down, settling in onto the stone with all the stern stoicism of someone who wasn't just showboating like a damn frilled-neck. She keeps a beady eye on the kid, of course, ever vigilant as she is, but now seems to be demonstrating that most important skill of reptile kind: sunbathing.
"She's a chameleon- sneaky fuckers when they wanna be, don't let th'colors fool ya." In response to this statement Ki changes again, casually adopting the color of the stone she sits on with an eye to Loki as if to ask, can you do that, squirt?
The woman sits beside you without much further ado, confirming your suspicions about her origins. "Lived here all m'life," you confirm, looking fondly over the sea. "You heard about our governor, then? Friend'a yours at all?"
give your heart to a wanderer who found your soul and called it home
Whatever seemed to have gotten under the chameleon’s skin is gone, though Loki isn’t sure if she’s won or if she’s been bested. All the companions she’s met thus far have been kind and excited to meet someone new - a sentiment she enthusiastically returns. Ever curious, she inches forward as Ki sets herself to sunbathing, and that she recognizes, so the winged lizard unfolds her wings and imitates the other companion, taking her change of color - to something darker as a compliment. It only seems natural that the other might make amends for her initial aggressions.
Wessex meanwhile, chuckles at Zephy’s description of chameleons and nods in sympathy. “I can imagine. At least they can’t fly,” she jokes back, wondering what kind of damage Loki might do if she could do all that she does and blend in with the background.
“He’s good enough for an Outlander. Done alot to help the Grounders, even when we didn’t want it.” Taking a breath to ponder what the exact nature of their relationship is, the familiar phrase it’s complicated halted right at the tip of her tongue. “Mutual respect between us, but I don’t know if we’d ever call each other friends.” They might have, once, but Ludo calling in that vow changed everything.
“If I might venture a guess… you aren’t thrilled with him?”
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
The idea that Ki would ever go out of her way to make amends is absolutely laughable; lucky that companions can't read each other's minds, or Loki would be in for yet another boop by a lizard with a death wish.
For your part you're cataloguing the information given out by this woman, who seems to have a close personal history with your new Governor. Which means she probably does with the 'biter and the whole lot of them- gods, are you the only person not in this little fuck fest? "How's that?" you wonder in respect to their not-friendship, curious for more information about the mysterious boy king.
Her question only earns a shrug, and a noncommittal grunt. "Can't say I've got much'uv an opinion." False. "Or that it'll matter much- it ain't like a dock hand's got much sway in political nonsense." Also false. "But I like y'know what's goin' on. Who's in charge, what that means for us lowlifes." Ah, finally. Something true.
give your heart to a wanderer who found your soul and called it home
Recognizing a dig for information when she hears one, Wessex has to hand it to Zeph; it was understated and smooth. “Oh, you know -” waving her hands above her head to indicate powers above them, “Things far beyond our control.” Gods, spirits, or even just loyalties to mere mortals that they cannot and will not change.
But enough about her. “What do you so-called lowlifes do?” she asks innocently, as if she’s never been a type of lowlife herself. Absently picking up a bit of loose rock, she plays with it a bit before tossing it into the ocean.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
Things beyond her control sounds incredibly dramatic and thus rather uninteresting to you, someone who attempts to avoid the attention of the gods and spirits and other watchers as much as possible. Things that lowlifes do: keep their noses out of divine business as far as possible.
"Ah, Bit'a this'n that. Movin' things mostly, 'tween the boats an' the docks." You roll your shoulders as if to say you know, boring stuff. Tit for tat, given her own reticence.
You're putting the finishing touches on your whittling, but make no effort yet to rise and leave. It's a delicate conversation, but a fun one. "So tell me, Grounder - you seem like an honest type." Steady and sly and a little playful. "I gotta know- what's the best place out there, from what you've seen?"
give your heart to a wanderer who found your soul and called it home
Her reticence seems to have the intended effect and there are no more questions about her relationship (or lack thereof) with Remi. Or the other Grounders, which might be as equally difficult to explain without touching on who she really is.
But him? A lowlife moving things between boats? The corner of her mouth purses together in amusment. “Ah, I’d heard of the smuggling underground here, but if all you do is move things between boats, I suppose you mightn’t know much about it.” And Wessex, of course, wouldn’t presume. His next question about the best place in Caido brings a chuckle out of her- half for his assessment of her and half because she’s wondering if he’s fishing for a Torchline compliment.
“Depends. My kind don’t like the sun much, so some might say Halo is best. But if you’re a normal person and can hold your own, I imagine Torchline is best. There’s the Greatwood if you love a good maze and have a thing for people with wings, and the Grounds if you like shitholes.” After listing them off, she comes to a pause, and she tilts her head to one side, looking out to the horizon.
“But there’s so much more we don’t know. So. Ask me again in a year or two.” Giving Zeph a bit of a side look, she has a question of her own. “What’s down in the Maw? And in the Fingers?” It's difficult to have exceptional hearing and not pick up whispers of things, you know.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
