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!
Naavi understood that the trees around her were most certainly alive, more alive than other parts of the forest. And she felt closer to her mother, and her beloved Alcyone when she was visiting Ludo's Forest. It made sense, to feel so close to the dead in a space named after the herald of death.
The small woman's choice of clothing was a very feminine dress, white in color, and it flared at her knees. Her short hair was brushed out, like always. The strangest thing about her choice of clothing was the fact she was currently kneeling in the soft dirt, placing small bugs of a certain type into a vial.
Herbs had medicinal properties, mushrooms, even some animals. But she knew nothing about bugs. Of course she'd not experiment on anyone important to her, because what if she's scooping up bugs that'll poison someone when ingested? The only truly safe bugs are maggots, and those are good for gangrened wounds.
Her attention shifts, as she claims another jar from a basket beside of her. This one she's filling with mushrooms, whispering musical thanks to each thing she scoops into a jar. Naavi, like always, is out and about gathering herbs and other medical supplies.
She has a surplus back home in the village, but she always tries new combinations of items together, constantly searching to learn more, and today is no different. She's at peace, with her brief visit to Alcyone's grave, and her mother's.
Once she determines there is nothing more to gather from this patch of the forest, she claims her basket, jars jostling softly together as she sets off, searching for anything else that catches her eye.
She doesn't know how long she runs. Until the sand turns to stone turns to trees, and though they are not her trees they welcome her all the same. Protecting and concealing her as she sheds her disguise and bundles it up, buries it where nobody can find it. All the while blood seeps down her side as she bares herself to only her breast wrappings and shorts, and kneels in the undergrowth to coax the Ascended fluid off the chakram she had used, letting it drip into the singular vial she had carried with her. Corking it and stringing it back upon her neck, even the pain of her stab wound cannot stop Nephele from turning her head to the sky and smiling triumphantly. Within moments she is sinking into the ocean and hissing and crying at the salt that stings away at her wound. She methodically washes the chicken blood from her skin, the clay from her hair, and when the sky greets her at last it is only these few articles of clothing and Lasracha upon her wrists that chain her any longer.
The flight to the Greatwood has never felt so long.
Everything aches. Adrenaline is not all that it's made out to be, and she feels drained from the constant stalking and surveying of her targets. Not the mention the burning, twisting ache in her side where Sunjata's dagger had taken its own version of revenge. In truth she does not make it all the way to the Village. She arrives in Ludo's woods, bare skin shivering in the slight chill of the day as she alights upon the grass. Here is where she had found her fate. Where a new door had opened and given her a second chance. It is the most peaceful place she knows, now. The Village too tainted with memories of Eriadne to have the same pull any longer.
So tired and distracted by recounting her efforts in her mind, Nephele nearly walks right past the shorter Fae that occupies the woods. Instead she comes to a graceless stop, cheeks heating as she recognizes that it is Naavi she has run into. And wearing nothing more than her necklace, Lasracha, breast bindings, and shorts. Ah, but even a crush bears no weight upon the respect she holds for the older Fae as a healer. "Hello, Naavi," she calls out softly, one hand still braced to the wound on her side that she has haphazardly bandaged as she moves a little closer.
The comfort of the silence, of the dead, is shattered when someone comes into view. Instead, there is guilt, as her cheeks flush brightly, and her name enters the air. "Nephele," she breathed out, her tone quiet, but certainly excited to see the other woman.
It's a crush that will never happen, because Alcyone spent decades at her side, and only a few years apart. It's a crush that guilt stomps on, any chance it gets. And of course, a crush is overridden the second she noticed the wound, and she is moving forward.
"Did you find trouble or did trouble find you?" She inquires, as she settles her basket down. Though Naavi has not yet been gifted the ability to quite literally heal wounds, she still devotes herself to healing, to learning the ways nature has created to keep them alive, because nature always provides a way.
True, no way to thwart death, but even miracles existed. The things almost a century of life had shown her? The things that Alcyone, who had been much older than she, had told her? There was so much out there. So much to see, to do, to learn.
But for now, her thoughts return to the wound hidden beneath a petite hand. "May I see?" She inquires, hands clasped in front of her until she receives permission.
"May I know what happened?" She did not mean specifics, not in the sense of who and what. But rather, what had been used, was it sterilized, any other important factors, including Nephele's own self-care of the wound.
Familiarity is a comforting notion after the risk she has just taken. Ludo had been her goal, but she will take any friendly or helpful soul that wanders across her path. A wry grin twists her pale lips at Naavi's question, brushing a lock of fiery hair away from her forehead, wind-tousled and stubborn. "I found it, this time." And, wound or no wound, Nephele refuses to regret it. She has injured one of the Ascended, hopefully blinded him at the very least if she was robbed of killing him outright. That is victory enough for now.
The older Fae is kind to ask permission, but Nephele has no shame of her bared body, no reticence to hide a wound from a healer. Her delicate hand drops away from the dressings she'd fashioned from her tanktop in Torchline, which had been clean and sterile if nothing else. The saltwater had cleaned the wound and kept it from becoming infected; her botany inclinations had her smart enough to tend the wound, but she's certainly no dedicated healer.
"I attacked someone on Ludo's orders. Their companion stabbed me before I fled." Loathe as she is to apply personhood to an Ascended in that sentence, it is the best explanation she can give Naavi. Sliding Lasracha up her arms so the chakrams are not at risk of hurting Naavi as she bares her wound to the older woman.
Naavi grinned at the answer, that trouble had been hunted down. Her lips curved, as the woman explained further. “Ah. I see. Hopefully Ludo will be pleased.” She stated, studying the wound. Fingers pressed into the flesh, tsking quietly.
“Torchline, then? Ocean salt.” She held her hand up, fingers covered in blood and crusted salt. “Wished you’d gotten some in a jar for us, it’s useful.” She reached down to her basket, fiddling with vials and pouches until she found a pouch.
”This for the pain,” next came a vial filled with a paste, and thin bark that would act as a bandage, sap to keep it to the skin, proper bandages were back in the village. She carefully covered the wound with the paste, securing the bark bandage in place, brushing her hands off on her dress.
“That’ll do for now. Next time tell me you’re going out, okay? I can send you off with some supplies,” The botanist certainly knew her way around plants, after all. The simplest fixes were often the best ones. "Or I'll come with you." She offered, straightening, basket in her hand.
Her own smile is wistful and perhaps a touch hopeful. Though she has never been a religious woman, Ludo had given her a path to walk, a purpose to grasp. She, too, hopes it will be pleased. "I hope so as well." Though first she must recover from her wound before she can seek out the herald of death. It would not do to swoon over mid-sentence in Ludo's presence.
"I will return before long, I can...bring you some if you'd like?" Her voice falls tentative and unsure for a moment in the middle of the offer. It shouldn't be something she thinks too hard on. Surely other Fae do this for their kin, their friends. There's no need to be flustered, and she squashes the feeling ruthlessly despite how it still shows a little on her face.
Nephele patiently sits through the procedure of bandaging and treating the wound, finding it methodical and soothing to the point that her exhaustion begins to catch up with her, head nodding. Only to jolt as Naavi speaks, apparently finished, and she tries to fight the bone deep exhaustion that the coordinating, attack, and headlong flight have inspired in her. "I couldn't ask that of you, it's far too dangerous." And Nephele will not risk Naavi. "But if you have supplies you could spare, I would appreciate that."
Naavi's focused on her task, but a heavy flush has settled over her cheeks. Anyone whose been alive in the fae community for the last few decades knew about Naavi and Alcyone, their intent to marry. The loss, suffered when the Mathair died. Guilt is something she's used to grappling.
"Please? If we can evaporate the water, but keep the salt, even better..." She mused, testing the bandages.
"Tired?" She inquired, moving to sit next to the other woman. "I... Yeah, I know it's dangerous. But--" She chewed her lip. "--if I'm there, there's less chance of sustaining a terrible injury. Besides, maybe I could help in other ways." She wasn't sure what was going on with Nephele, not exactly. But she cared; even if she didn't want to care. She couldn't... not.
"I can get some supplies gathered for you..." She hummed quietly, studying Nephele. Pretty, smart, and boy did Nephele remind Naavi of Alcyone sometimes. Stubborn, set in her ways.
Clearing her throat, she moved to stand, offering her free hand out to the other, "Let me escort you the rest of the way?"
Nephele is not unaware of Naavi's loss. She kindly averts her eyes from the flush on the older Fae's cheeks, both to assist in the two of them avoiding this...whatever it is that always exists between them, and to avoid having to think how flattering it is. "We could bake it, in a kiln of sorts. I'm sure we could find a way to do it." Her tongue falters and seizes before she can end that sentence with 'together'. It's an implication she can't afford to make.
"I'd not make you come with me into assured battle," she denies quietly as Naavi settles beside her. "You are...to kind, for the things I am tasked to do." And what does that say about Nephele? That she has forsaken so much in this last ditch attempt to save her people? That she has strayed so far from the girl she once was? It only further reminds her that she's not worthy of Naavi's affections, if they were available in the first place.
Even still, she's helpless but to accept the proffered hand. Letting it pull her up and only giving the slightest wince as her wound pulls beneath the poultice. "If it won't interrupt your harvesting," Nephele agrees, not wanting to burden the other Fae but willing to spend more time together if the opportunity was available.
Naavi grinned, brightly when the other decided it was doable. "That sounds like a wonderful idea!" A kiln was certainly easy to make, at least, she thought. She doesn't think anything of the fact Nephele doesn't say she'll help--it's implied, and she accepts the implication.
"But I could help, I'm trained to fight, you know." She murmured, pursing her lips. "But... I'll stay safe if you promise to always take some medicines with you before you go." Naavi had Keyes and the rest of the Sens to watch after as it were, and a duty as a healer to record the various plants and medicines she crafted.
She shook her head, fingers briefly curling into Nephele's hand to lift her. "I was done, for the most part." She explained, with a smile. She appreciated the other woman's company too much to go back to harvesting.
Though not nearly so naturally cheerful as Naavi, Nephele is prompted into a small, warm smile at the woman's more than apparent enthusiasm over the idea. It's infectious, and though she would never be the type to laugh aloud and flaunt her joy so freely, it's easier to relax and allow herself the freedom of contentment in Naavi's presence.
"And would you be okay with killing? For the purpose of murder, not for self defense?" It's spoken quietly, but there's no accusation or harassment to her tone. Merely seeking the truth beneath Naavi's spirit, feeling out with tentative fingers the trappings and inner machinations of the woman's ideals. "Even if you were, our people need you here in our home. Far more than they will ever need me. I would prefer to be the one risking my life." Which is perhaps a bit too forthright and revealing about how little she considers her own life to be worth, but it's far from depressing to Nephele. To her, it's merely a fact. She will die for her people, and surely the Ascended will retaliate at some point. All she can hope for is to make a difference before the time comes.
It's always a battle, to determine whether to reveal her exact task to someone. Naavi is someone she trusts, but Ludo's request always seems monumental, beyond the scope of anything she has ever held secret before. After a moment of hesitation and deliberation, she decides it's better to be frank. "Ludo has asked me to assist in removing the scourge of the Ascended from our world. They are a dangerous, volatile threat, and I will not see them harm our people any further."
Nephele's question made the woman's face scrunch. She didn't answer, vocally, the look on her face was enough to say her answer. Nephele is also right; she was needed here, not there. And Naavi hummed quietly, nodding slowly. "Just make it home, okay? I'm not quite ready to see you die, just yet." She stated, her laughter gone, her features somber.
When Nephele explained the task, she nodded slowly. "I see. So... a one-person war on the Ascended? That's a bit..." She raised her hands as if to indicate how big of a request that was for one person. "But... if anyone could do it, it's you. And Ludo wouldn't have tasked you with it if it thought you couldn't do what was asked." She decided.
She doesn't go on to voice her wonders, of if the Ascended are really the bad ones--or if it is their fake god that they insist on following. The one Ascended she had met had done nothing but dissuade her from her opinion; the girl had seemed proud to be Ascended and... that went against her belief that perhaps these people were misled, and trapped under the thumb of a false god.
