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 arrows are retrieved, and swiftly cleaned up for the time being. And Sunjata begins to tie the legs together, trying to keep everything close and not fumbling, trying not to make the job harder than it was. He didn’t have a sled, didn’t have magic to craft one, but with the two of them (and Haai as well) it should be made relatively easy. Regardless, the feet are tied, the question uttered as he turns to look toward her with a raised brow – waiting to see what she decides.
And for the both of them to bring it back, he nods and flashes a grin before tying a few more pieces of rope to the creature. One around the middle and one to both legs. He hands her the rope to her own end of the creature, before whistling for Haai to come around, wrapping a makeshift harness around the griffin to tie her to the middle, before taking up his end of the creature – the legs near the head where it’d likely be heavier due to the horns that sat along the creature’s cranium.
“Alright, let’s go.” He offers with a playful grin sent her direction, wrapping the rope around his hand once before beginning to walk with them all back toward the house. “So have you given any thought to Nate’s offer?” He rumbles, raising a brow as he glances back toward her. The offer of a place with them, an offer Sunjata had offered once before as well, before Nate was around. But the statement was reiterated, and he wonders if she’s given it any more thought, whether she’d want to stay with them or not, whether she wanted a place to hoard things like bats and trinkets she’s claimed in her travels.
we were young, dumb, taking our chance and making romance and breaking our promises trying to be and failing miserably, but am i too late or hearts to your spades?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
A readied agreement, positions decided upon, and the youth gave no thought to the exuberant effort it would take to bring the prey home; muscles at once bounding with enthusiasm, pleased and eager to have been made use of. The ropes were helpful, and her calloused hands and palms failed to exude any amount of pain (until, perhaps later, when they’d made a journey instead of initial movements). Fangorn followed near her ankles, staying somewhat off to the side, attempting to stay out of range of feet and possible entanglements.
Melita’s mind had already begun to wander – full of potential wreckage and demolition, a hum to her outset – when Sunjata’s inquiry brought her out of the seditious reverie. For a moment, she paused in thought, eyes widening, because she believe she’d already given an answer, readily accepted without heed or notions thereafter. A home besides a port or the sea, a place to come to when the waves didn’t cast them aloft, when the treachery could be stilled and silenced, if only for an instant, a season. “Didn’t I already say yes?” A smirk, a snicker, to follow; and if she hadn’t, there was the foundation or fortification there now, out in the ether.
They pull and tug at the rope, the creature pulled along behind them as they walk toward the house again – already seen as a small dot on the horizon through the tall dune grasses. His head angles toward her as his question is aired, steel gaze flickering along the youth for the reaction to the offer – something both him and Nate had offered now, when her comment is aired and he has a huff of laughter. “You did, however, you’re not there yet.” Perhaps there’s a small hint of an almost fatherly tone to it, covered up by the light smirk that crosses his face.
“So anyway, I took some time to get one of the rooms set up for you.” He looks back to the path they take, continuing to lug the creature back home. “And I think you’ll like it.” He can’t keep the slight grin from forming on his face – one of the little things he’s done specifically for her. Perhaps an added boon to continue their trek toward the house without tiring out so fast. Regardless, he’d taken the items from the VlamVloed that she’d left behind, some that hung around those boxes they had made for the shelving for lanterns – converting it in histheir home, to add the lantern to and the trinkets that reminded her of Clementine.
Of course, it was all still a big secret until they got back.
we were young, dumb, taking our chance and making romance and breaking our promises trying to be and failing miserably, but am i too late or hearts to your spades?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
A silence hovered over her now – at his first statement, and then the second, and the last, her eyes downcast, less a speck or a spark, more or less overwhelmed. It’d been a long time since she had a home; not since the Dragon’s Throat, with its potent sands and powerful ambitions, with its stark, hot, humid outreach, leathery wings and promised beacons, legends caught in cycles and waves, sights for a young mind to behold and cherish and love. The Rift hadn’t been shelter or sanctuary, only hell, and the weight of loss.
She didn’t know how to tell him how much this meant to her – another place, another foothold, another region she could root herself in and not be afraid of it. To not think about chasing off into the winds, waiting for the realms and kingdoms and worlds to flicker apart again.
It was happiness and contentment, and it panged vividly across her eyes, and she lifted one arm to dash away the sudden onslaught of tears, pretending they hadn’t been there in the first place. “Sounds good,” she said, a chirp, maybe a little forced, to cover up the choking sobs nestling their way into her chest. “Thank you,” she added softer, quieter, uncertain how to convey everything lodged in her heart. The gratitude, the peace, the essence of family all over again, hovered along her shoulders. “For everything,” pierced in a whisper.
She might have her reasons, she might have the moments where she’s unsure if the offer is true or not – but hopefully having a space specifically for her, sectioned out, something that screamed Melita’s and not just a room in a bar he’d put together, but a room in his home.
Room in his heart. Room in his life for her. He hopes she sees it.
So he remains quiet, giving her all the time she needs to respond, his eyes focused on the horizon that the four of them walk toward, keeping his attention on it as she works through her emotions – though he can tell, of course he can. Her words aren’t full of the fiery vitriol and quick witted responses they usually were. This was choked out, forced almost, as if he shouldn’t know how it’s affected her. So he pretends he doesn’t, at least at first.
And the earring in his ear makes it easy to pick up the thank you, already feeling the comfort it brings to have her near and a part of his life when so many had been taken. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to be afraid, knowing that she could handle herself at the end of the day. She is strong. And he loves her as the niece that she is to him, as the family she is to him. The one last piece of Korofi.
The house is close now, but Sunjata can’t help but to edge a bit closer toward her as they drag the ramphire back to the house – a long tattooed arm outstretched to rest about her shoulders and pull her in for a small hug, head tilting down toward her while they continue to walk and hopefully not get tangled up. “Of course heuningby.” He offers her, quietly, in response to the thank you. “I know I usually have too much shit going on that it seems like I forget – and I have in the past and I’m sorry about that – but… It doesn’t mean I don’t care or anything. You’re family, you know. Whether you like being a part of mine or not.” The last bit is added with a hint of humor, a wink sent her direction before he slows before the porch and drops the rope to go and grab a piece of wood to use as a ramp to get the creature up the porch and into the house where they could clean it without any other predators coming to pay a visit.
we were young, dumb, taking our chance and making romance and breaking our promises trying to be and failing miserably, but am i too late or hearts to your spades?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
It wasn’t that she’d always been alone. The comfort, the concept, of family was wholly familiar to her; had been since the very beginning, a source of stability in her defiance. It was just after; when she’d tried, ground bitter claws into the earth and did more than wish, beg, and plead for their existences. She swung weapons and honed skills. She howled into the void and waited for it to roar back. She blistered and seethed, she bit and tore, and it still amounted to nothing.
Not strong enough. Not powerful enough. The same old song, strains, and refrains.
So the honeybee youth had become used to fending for herself, for proffering her compassion in multitudes of warmth and generosity, or peeling away into seditious splendor. It was routine, to remember she had nothing.
Then people like Sunjata kept blending into her life, and the disbelief that they remained pierced, punctured, lacerated those old scars, and primordial pieces of armor.
She wasn’t going to fall apart, not now, but she leaned into the small hug, clinging desperately to those ropes and lines like they were tethers to something else altogether. Her will? Her ambitions? Her strength? “I know,” she smiled, shaking her head, sniffling away any other ambiences.
The porch was a worthy distraction, and her eyes went to the ramphire, waiting for him to supply the wood for an suitable ramp, thinking of the daggers notched along her calves, ready for cutting and preparation.
There isn’t much on her end in terms of words, but Sunjata can feel that she understands it, that she knows it to be true. So he squeezes her shoulder and offers her one of those characteristically rogue smiles of his, before he’s dropping the rope and grabbing the ramp to set along the stairs to drag the creature in – propping the door open to make it easier to fit the creature in. And he returns quickly, picking up his rope again, fiddling with it for a brief moment before working with Melita and Haai to drag it up and into the front door.
And once it was there, he was sure nothing would come and get it, and he drops the rope again and bends down to untangle Haai from the makeshift harness. And when that’s over with, he looks up to Melita with a small grin. “So, if you go down the hallway, it’s the first room on the right.” He rumbles, moving to stand and follow her inspection should she decide to.
Inside, she would find a variety of things that were her and hers. The lantern for Clementine settled on a shelf on the inside, along with the myriad of little trinkets she’d kept that reminded her of her sister. A well put together bed with furs and blankets of a wide variety for warmth. A bedside table that had room for anything she might need. And up against the wall where the wardrobe was, sat the short sword he’d told her he’d make her, fitted with the pearls they’d found on the beach that one day.
His ear wasn’t quite pierced yet, but he’d had the earring commissioned, sitting in the bathroom upstairs ready and waiting for when he did.
we were young, dumb, taking our chance and making romance and breaking our promises trying to be and failing miserably, but am i too late or hearts to your spades?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
They continued in their positions of maneuvering the beast inside; and though Melita thought it might be better to carve the creature up outdoors, she was too distracted to argue or plead her case.
Once they were within though, and the ramphire out of a scavenger’s wake, the permission to proceed down the hallway, and see, enter, her own manifested confines instigated a bright, fervent grin. She dropped the creature without hesitation, launching over the side, before leaping and bounding down the corridor, paying zero attention to anything else amongst or amidst the rooms. Her fixation was solely on the one prospered to her – and though she could hear Fangorn grumbling, aching to catch up, the excitement threading through her blood insisted she wait no longer.
She slowed when she finally came to the door, poking her head in and then proceeding with the rest of her frame. Her gilded gaze took it all in: Clementine’s lantern on the shelf, safe and pristine, her trinkets, and wildflowers she’d long since dried, reminders of a sibling never to have again. Her eyes followed along the bed and its spread, the table, the wardrobe, and then the sword glinting in little gentle beams of sunlight.
A rush of breath came over her, and she didn’t know what to say – other than to holler down the ramparts. “It’s perfect!”
There’s a specific place chosen to carve the creature – a space where he’d already prepared to right in the kitchen atop a wood block with all the space and tools necessary. And at least this way it wouldn’t attract any predators – none that could fight with Haai over the remains of the creature that she entirely loved to nibble on. But regardless, he watches as she darts down the hallway toward the room, hearing the creak of the door and its familiarity with how often he’s gone in and out of it to get it ready for her.
He lets go of the rope, hearing her holler down the corridor as he offers a light chuckle back – slipping toward the girl with a wide grin splashing across his face. “Well go on.” He offers, leaning partially against the doorframe, his other hand gesturing toward the inside of the room. “We’ve got time to carve the ramphire. Go grab the blade and make sure it’s a good weight for you.” A wink sent in her direction.
“I tried to get it right for you, but I’ve been wrong before.” He adds on, another chuckle leaving him, amusement lingering along his face with that.
we were young, dumb, taking our chance and making romance and breaking our promises trying to be and failing miserably, but am i too late or hearts to your spades?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
The ensuing encouragement was all she needed, stepping forth and forward, first to the blade, her hands wrapping around the hilt. As with all weapons, she immediately felt a kinship with the short sword, another extension, a part of her, to live and breathe and die with, meant to protect, meant to savor, meant to destroy. After a moment, she maneuvered it through the air, testing, deciphering its weight, arching a brow and segmenting the slightest of grins back to Sunjata, before delivering any verdict. “You, wrong?” Too many hints over instances where her uncle had embedded himself into disastrous, ridiculous schemes, tides, and marches, but she didn’t declare any now, not wishing to ruin the day.
Eventually, she nodded, bringing the glint of the blade back to her. “It’s wonderful. Thank you.” A portion of her already began to chime I don’t deserve it in the back of her mind, but she inhaled, exhaled, and let it flicker and die away, cinders and embers. “Let’s go carve.” The depths of her smile became impish, ruffian, a bit more rogue than intended, ducking around his frame, and back towards the ramphire.
He remains leaning against the door frame as she slips into the room, going immediately for the short sword. And he watches her test it, maneuver it through the air, and when she seems satisfied enough she turns to him with all that spitfire he’s sure comes from her Korofi heritage. His hands come up in an innocent gesture, though the amused grin that crosses his face is anything but. “I know, it’s strange right?” He teases her, both of them knowing full well that it was one bold faced lie.
But the blade is glinting in her hands as she goes to set it aside – the thank you reaching him as he nods. “Of course, heuningby.” He offers, flashing her an even brighter smile – content that the gift was well received as well as the room. A space, just for her, whenever she deigned to come and go. There was even a nest in the corner for Fangorn, one that Haai had helped put together. But she’d have time to explore, as they’ve got work to do.
So saying, he watches as she ducks around him and slips through the door to head back toward the creature. So he follows, padding through the hallway to reach the girl and the ramphire, going to reach for the rope and drag it to the section of the kitchen where he’d partitioned a space just for this with all the tools and buckets and everything necessary. “Alright, let’s get this up there. I only have two requests – we take the horns off and keep them and the feathers for Nate.” He flashes her a grin with that, tugging at the ramphire toward the kitchen.
we were young, dumb, taking our chance and making romance and breaking our promises trying to be and failing miserably, but am i too late or hearts to your spades?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
Adherence and compliance, while not one of her strong suits, implored here, and she assisted in raising the ramphire when and where directed. Her short sword placed on her hilt, another hum hastened under her breath, calm and tranquil, as she eyed, surveyed, the beast on a closer inspection than when it’d been first felled. Horns and feathers for Nate, the medicinal properties he’d spoken of earlier? She tilted her head a fraction, eyes going to the tools they’d be using. “Do you know what the horns and feathers contain?” Questions she might’ve asked her mother, a grand healer in her own right, if she’d been even remotely interested in her childhood. But her intrigue and curiosity had been instilled towards flames and fury, trials and tribulations, instigating, agitating, and fighting.
She pushed the thought aside, delving into what was necessary now. “What do you want me to do?” Never squeamish at the sight of blood, having seen too much of it within her lifetime, her gilded gaze went straight to her uncle, fervent, eager to help.
They hoist the creature onto the block, and Sunjata flashes her an accomplished grin before settling down and making his request. He goes to grab the tools, to hand her the pieces necessary for sawing off horns and buckets to collect the feathers. And he begins to get to work, taking one of the saws and going to the creature’s head to start sawing off one of the horns. “Not sure what exactly they contain, but I’ve heard from some of the Naturals that they’re used with medicine.” He offers, before pausing to hand her one of the buckets with a small smirk.
“There’s another saw if you want to work on the other horn, or you can start defeathering it.” The option was hers, and he’d let her pick whichever task she wanted. It was the least he could do, after all. And with not much else to say with it, he works to remove the horn, sawing into it. It takes a fair amount of work, and at some point Sunjata’s removed the light jacket he had wore for the hunt. But before long, the horn is removed from the creature, and he puffs out his cheeks with a light sigh, placing it to the side on the counter top.
we were young, dumb, taking our chance and making romance and breaking our promises trying to be and failing miserably, but am i too late or hearts to your spades?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
Her eyes glimpsed over the saw, the strength and accord going into removing the horn, and while she wouldn’t normally shy away from something that required brute strength, the youth was probably better off removing feathers. She thought she might get in his way, otherwise. Experience with the Hels, and any other hunting of fowl, had helped her in those foundations, and she took a bucket, placing it by her feet, hands getting to work. Steadily pulling, twisting, turning, and then placing the feathers within the container became a routine, certain and sure, and then she could comfortably listen, respond, without forethought towards her task. “Oh, hm.” Maybe her mother would’ve known, had she been a Natural in these parts, capable of so many great, illustrious things, memories of herbs hanging along windowsills, of labels, of names sprung near sprigs, petals, and stalks of green. “How is he going to find out?” Experiments? Trials? Some either fortune or unfortunate patients? How had anyone discovered medicinal qualities and properties?
But then she had no other inquiries for him, and started to work in silence, in recollections, in days of a wild youth that had only altered in statuses of loss. And that wasn’t fair for him to be immersed or embedded within, so Melita kept it entirely silent, while Fangorn remained back in their designated room, trying out the newfound nest.
