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!
knew what she was doing when she invited the wild in
She watched, waited, listened, an exercise in patience she didn’t often have. She didn’t receive much in return, but attempted to hide her frown, the roll of her eyes as she hastened back to her artwork. The honeybee girl didn’t comment on the first portions, and took ample time in sweeping more charcoal across hairlines, forgoing the hum under her breath for more concentration, applying pressure into the name, emboldening it over and over in lines and formation.
How did she know him? The curve of a smirk threatened to buoy along her mouth, her eyes not wandering back to Kellan. “My uncle and him are together.” Whether or not that meant she’d receive no more information was an uncertainty, and she’d have to play her cards right – going for the protective angle (and it wasn’t a lie; considering how often Sunjata managed to land himself in hot water, literally and figuratively). “Hence why I wanted to know more about him.”
She nodded towards the praise and compliments of Jiao – the girl had enjoyed her time with the Quartermaster too, and the Fae woman had far more skills in needlework than Melita could ever hope or strive to achieve.
But it was the topic of Fangorn that held her attention, and she lifted him into her arms in case Kellan wanted to peruse closer. On impulse, due to his inquiry, she lifted the gourd’s lips to reveal fangs. “I thought it was fitting.”
Kel's focus was mostly on his art, the poster taking shape with a few smudges here and there, but otherwise with a clear, clean hand. He didn't see her expression or her frustration with his close-mouthed wariness and discomfort at bringing up that night, but he glanced up with startled eyes as she revealed a far closer connection to the man than he would have guessed.
"Your uncle... is the Arbiter?" he asked, swallowing hard as a feeling like lead settled into his stomach. He hadn't known the tattooed man held the position when he'd showed up to help clean the boxing ring, but later the rumors of the new government's agents had filtered down even to him. "The Arbiter is protecting that mo-- that man?" He hadn't been about to call Nate a 'man' but with Melita's connections now made clear the hunter visibly wilted as any hope of finding protection from the local authorities burned away like mist in the morning.
His hands paused and he bowed his head over the poster for a moment, but his jaw firmed and he gripped the charcoal with a steadier hand, working even harder to bring out Nate's more monstrous personality traits alongside his physical ones. If this was the only catharsis he would have, he'd take it in both hands.
Talk of Jiao had a calming effect on him, at least, and Fangorn's curious existence distracted Kel from his angry sketching to startle the flicker of a smile from him, eyes brightening at the fangs that gave the gourd his name. "Yeah, I guess it is. What... what does he eat?"
knew what she was doing when she invited the wild in
Her first poster relatively complete, she studied it for a moment, before putting the paper aside, placing it on a nearby table. She fumbled with a few sheets of paper, before making another similar sketch to the first, rough lines of Sunjata’s head, only this time instead of the overly-embellished nose, his smile had a few missing teeth. While she worked, she listened again, tilting her head vaguely, a shrug to her shoulders as he seemed to be swallowing down a multitude of emotions. “Mhm.” To both inquiries; she presumed – though she hadn’t seen either of them in danger lately. Were there hints of treachery lingering, loitering, beneath, she hadn’t been aware of? Melita collected the nuances of information, miniscule and simplistic at best, into the back of her mind, to savor, ponder, and investigate later.
Her eyes went to him, arching a brow at how the man seemed to practically wilt before her. “So I’ll ask you again – is there something dangerous about Nate?” If she was supposed to be pulling the daggers against the Ascended now; a confliction, a juxtaposition, perpendicular sketches crossing this way and that. Her own experiences quantified something, but so did Kellan’s.
Fangorn remained a steady distraction though, as he ambled along her paper, instructing for deeper charcoal marks where Sunjata’s incisors were mysteriously absent. “I’ve seen him eat a lot of bugs.” Another shrug, though the inklings of a devilish grin began to warp along her lips, as her gaze went back to her artwork. “Most of his kind prefer blood.”
He might have smiled at her completed masterpiece if the conversation topic wasn't so heavy and hard for him to focus on. He continued his own pictorial insinuations until he though he'd captured a truly wicked likeness of the Ascended. Her confirmation of his fears was enough to make him set the poster aside, fingers still curled loosely around the charcoal as he looked down at the table before him with a stubborn tightness of his jaw. "Can I have another one, please?" he asked quietly instead of answering her question immediately. There was a tension in him as he tried to find the words to describe a thread that wasn't over yet that night of fear and flight to someone who had some personal - familial - connection to the Ascended.
"Yes," he said softly at last. "Dangerous and cruel." But if she hadn't seen it already, as close to this Nate as she apparently was, why would she believe him? The word of a stranger against her uncle's partner? He was tired of feeling so adrift and alone in the world, but the few friends he'd made were rarely found and Haulani was full of those like Nate who sought to prey upon the weak.
The strange, mobile gourd was clearly a helpful companion and art critic and Kel watched Fangorn gratefully for the distraction he provided. Bugs made sense, the hunter supposed. Carnivorous plants ate bugs, didn't they? But at the mention of blood he looked to Melita sharply - and saw the grin stretching her lips. He found a small smile of his own in return. "Oh yeah? Whose blood?" People? Animals? Ex-boyfriends?
knew what she was doing when she invited the wild in
While Melita remained light, airy, nearly ethereal, save for the devilry of amusement settled within her blood, Kellan maintained their heavy, darkened composure. It was nearly enough to drag the whole caricature, humorous poster bit down into the dregs, so she whittled away at her contortions, making Sunjata’s hair stick up on end this time, a few pieces of bird droppings caught in its strands. She managed not to frown when Kellan continuing to be un-forthcoming, the slightest sigh escaping from her as she passed him another piece of paper.
Only thereafter, as she drew a few more unflattering vacancies of teeth, did he seem to say anything at all. It was soft, but she heard it all the same. Dangerous and cruel. Her brow furrowed, the charcoal a little sharper in her grasp. “What did he do?” If it felt like an echo, perhaps it was, repeated inquiries to get to the bottom of things.
She’d had her own problems, trials, and tribulations with the Ascended, after all.
The honeybee youth had somehow managed to get Kellan to smile though, only on the topic of Fangorn. Her gilded gaze went from the stranger and back to her favored pumpkin friend, the edges of her grin turning all the more sharper, amused. In a deeper intonation, as if prone to theatrics, the girl whispered. “Anyone’s.” Whether or not that was true didn’t really matter to her. “They’re not picky.”
He caught the sigh, at least, wincing as he accepted the paper. "Sorry," he apologized quietly. "I'm not trying to... I mean, it's just... I really don't like remembering... that night." An understatement as he squirmed uncomfortably, fingers tensing on the charcoal as he stared down at the blank canvas once more before him. He snuck a glance at Melita's current undertaking, the mockery inherent in the details, but they were light-hearted slights in the end, unlike Kellan's more pointed renderings - as much warning as caricature.
Dark lines began to trace out on the paper once more, slower this time, but heavier as he began to sketch the shadowed face that had leered and loomed so close to his own, moonlight glinting from fangs and pale eyes. "He... toyed with me," he said at least, the words barely a whisper. "Pretended kindness, then yanked it away to threaten and mock me. He... grabbed me..." A shiver ran through him, smudging his line and Kel hurriedly shifted to try and rub some of it out as he went silent again, not speaking until Fangorn caught his attention.
In spite of his dark mood, some of the shadows lifted at the topic of the gourd and he watched Fangorn with his smile lingering as Melita intoned her wicked whisper. "I could... bring him some ramphire blood, the next time I go hunting?" he offered impulsively, unsure if the strange vegetable would care for blood that wasn't fresh.
knew what she was doing when she invited the wild in
It was understandable that Kellan wouldn’t want to recall or remember something horrifying; Melita had sacrificed a memory after all, based on its traumatic schemes (though she couldn’t recall which one), for a dose of power. But those instances of experience and trauma also instilled other things besides fear; a reckoning of how to survive, past rushes of adrenaline, panic, and shock, solidified in inherent, primordial maneuvers. So she said nothing, biding her time, humming again, some soothing contortion her sister or mother would’ve conspired while Melita gnashed her teeth over some insignificant moment.
Eventually a miniscule amount came forth, while she sketched and outlined more haphazard hair, deciding some patches would be rendered bald for comedic effect. Nate, toying, teasing, threatening, mocking, and grabbing made her eyes widen, but she didn’t turn his way. Better to wade through what she could fathom and understand, a different aspect to a man she thought she knew, somewhat. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” she offered in return; a comprehension with days of demons, infidels, and monsters. Whether or not Nate was amongst those heathens and fiends would remain chiseled in the back of her mind.
Fangorn watched him intently though, and the notions conspired forth made her laugh, made the gourd grumble with delight. “He’d probably like that.” She’d often let the little pumpkin do as he pleased in regards to food; though he’d never been a figure to hunt after humans, like the rest of his brethren.
He didn't notice it at first, the humming so quiet and soothing that it slipped through the air without him being quite aware of it. It helped, though, reminding him subconsciously of his mothers and grandmother, of the cousins who had been close as sisters and how they would soothe the young halfbreed when bullies's taunts had gotten beneath his skin. He relaxed a little in spite of the bad memories and the horrible man staring back at him from the page, and the words tumbled out, rough and unrefined, but it was enough for now. For the moment, at least. Her words almost sounded like sympathy, almost raised his hackles in instinctive defense, but a glance from behind a fall of his dark hair showed an understanding he hadn't expected in her eyes, and the prickle of pride subsided as he swallowed and gave a grateful nod.
The gourd was so strange it was kind of cute in a pointy-toothed, unexpected way. The grumble it made teased forth a little more of Kel's smile and he looked from gourd to girl with the warmth remaining. "I'll remember," he promised. "Are you here often? Or is there a place I could maybe... maybe find you again?" An awkward question, a flush to his cheeks when he realized it sounded like a cheesy pickup line when he didn't mean it that way, but rather than dig the hole deeper he ducked his head and went back to his art with renewed vigor, sketching more boldly as Nate's shadowed features took form - with the addition of a slender, pointed, warty nose and a wicked leer twisting the sharp-toothed mouth.
knew what she was doing when she invited the wild in
Nothing more was said on the matter, and she’d likely have to settle with that (not that she particularly cared for it). Maybe she’d have to ask Nate himself, see what she could snag for answers, if opposite sides had alternating viewpoints, if the world painted everyone in such an array of colors it was difficult to decide who fit where. Instead of pressing anymore, the youth understood she’d worn out her welcome on the accord and subject matter, finalizing a few final touches on Sunjata’s name and title down on the bottom of the paper.
If Kellan thought his line in the realm of pick-up mantras, he was safe from Melita, who remained completely obvious, humming softly as she brought the sketch upwards, surveying it from a different angle, pleased with what she saw. Distracted, she answered absent-mindedly, placing the drawing down to put more pressure on particular strokes. “I live with Sunjata and Nate,” and then figured…that probably wasn’t a great notion. “But I work on the Ark.” Uncertain if that was any better, considering some of her shipmates, she shrugged. “Are you finished? I’m going to hang mine up in the bar.” The resounding smirk was embedded, lacquered, and layered with devilish contortions, hands grabbing hold of a hammer, and some nails she’d tossed in her bag for this very occasion.
Well, damn. An 'uncle' might have been a distant relative, perhaps, or maybe he simply hadn't wanted to consider her closeness to the man who had waylaid him in the moonlight. There was no denying it or avoiding it now, however, not with the words laid out bare and stark between them. He hadn't even considered that she lived with the monster in man's clothing, and that silenced him as his fingers clenched on the charcoal, sending a sharp line cutting through 'Nate's' neck.
He didn't know much about the Ark, other than that Jiao was on it and that it had people she'd been wary of introducing him to. The name had no bad connotations with him, though it was a bit late for that to matter either way. He swallowed hard, finishing a few quick strokes as he gave a sharp nod, desperately wishing she had been related to anyone else in this too-hot, too-wet city of thieves and scoundrels. "I... y-yes. Just about..." He stood slowly, gathering his two pages and taking a deep breath to try and find the fleeting warmth he'd felt when they'd been sharing smiles over Fangorn. His fingers smudged the paper but he didn't notice as he reached for a pair of nails and trailed in Melita's wake to borrow the hammer when she was done and add his own posters to the wall near hers.
"I... well, I hope I'll see you around. Here or... around town," he offered, though more subdued. "Maybe... we can go hunting together some time?"
knew what she was doing when she invited the wild in
She kept the remnants of their conversation in the back of her mind, something to linger upon, something to parse her way through, along recollections, time, experience, and space. Instead of delving further into it now, she deflected and rummaged, taking the nails and hammer in hand, placing the posters along several beams. She forced the nail through the wood, blunt strokes of the munition in her grasp, stepping back to survey, admire, the newest additions with a wry grin and mischievous decree. The youth handed the armament over to Kellan, and when he was done, she folded her arms over her chest, pleased and content. “Nicely done. They capture their likenesses well enough.” And if the supposed pair walked into the bar later and saw the sketches, no harm, no foul, Melita here for a good laugh.
At his next suggestion, the girl lifted her head, distracted from putting tools away, back into satchels. “Sure!” Very rarely had she passed up the opportunity to hunt, to savor and relish the undulations of power, prestige, and prowess, to sink serrated edges into fellow monsters. “I can test out some of my new weapons.” Like the short sword Sunjata had commissioned for her, its pearl inlets set to become stained. A ferocious edge to her smile caught along the eaves, before she hastened a wave, and with Fangorn following, sought out the exit. “See you soon then!” Then they were out, back into reality, turning and twisting along the grounds of Torchline.
