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!
For reasons Lily hasn’t yet been able to untangle, she has resisted true weapons training. However as the LongNight grows closer and closer and the seedy underbelly rumors of Torchline grow larger and larger, Lily starts to think that it might be better if she learns a little self-defense, maybe of the fist-to-fist and foot-to-face kind. Who, though, would be best to teach her a little duck-and-dodging? A little leg sweeping? Something that might not necessarily draw blood?
An idea finally comes to her and she sets out, a little fidgety and worried that she won’t be good at it. It’s a silly notion, of course, because everyone has to learn in the beginning. And if she can dance well, then she can probably move well.
“Hello?” the pretty redhead calls into the room, not looking for Sunjata, specifically, despite this being his boxing ring. Anyone with some knowledge would do.
The boxing ring is one of Harper's favored places in Torchline. His grueling regime hasn't faltered in the least since arriving here, even with no demigods, aliens, or world class trained human enemies to fight. Caido in comparison is despairingly normal - aside from the full-fledged Gods of course. His training his already finished, but there's enough turmoil whirling in his mind that there's no drive to leave just yet. Instead he stays at the punching bag, hands wrapped as he falls into the mindless rhythm of strikes. Sweat drips down his skin, soaked shirt long abandoned, but his breathing remains measured and his concentration never falters. He'd already had to apologize to Sunjata for breaking the last sandbag when he'd first come back from Ludo and had taken his grief out on it. Sweeping the floor and replacing the bag had been punishment enough to not let his restraint falter again.
The voice that calls out makes him pause, a palm reaching out to stop the swing of the bag as he peeks around it towards the sound. A shock of red hair is enough to confirm the familiarity of the voice, and Harper abandons the bag to go jogging out towards the entrance to greet her, a little embarrassed by his lack of clothing but not enough to keep from saying hello. "Lily! What brings you here?" Hand rising to smooth back his errant curls, Harper smiles genially at the only other soul in the ring.
oh poor atlas, the world's a beast of a burden and you've been holding on a very long time
“Harper?” she replies, surprised for a moment to find him here, even though she knew he was definitely in Torchline now and was absolutely hoping to see him again during LongNight. Sure enough, it was a Harper - a sweaty, glistening (holy fuck does he look good without his shirt on), mop-topped, clearly very fit, Harper. And though she’s wearing clothing she can easily move in and her hair is pulled away from her face and wrapped into what is hopefully a tight bun, Lily is suddenly very aware that is… nowhere near that athletic.
The entertainer is made of softer curves and a fondness for baked goods. She is more generously endowed (which was the hardest part, actually, keeping those ladies down), has a solid hourglass figure. Ass, tits, and hips: something to hold on to, something to lay on, something to safely birth a child. Everything you could want in an 18th century woman who was thoroughly unaffected by fashion icons and social media.
“Hi,” she says brightly, dropping her small rucksack of ‘things she might need.’ She’s a bit unsure whether to hug him in this state and may end up doing some sort of really awkward dance when he gets closer, but eventually she does answer the question. “I wanted to learn some basic fighting things. To keep myself safe. Just in case.” She has to think for a moment about what others have called it, because if you’re not in the army, ‘self defense’ is still a novel idea, especially for women.
“Defense?” She asks, wrinkling her nose up in uncertainty.
"That's me," he replies cheerily, swiping a towel to try and dry himself at least a little to retain some semblance of decorum. Draping it over the back of his neck he gives a winsome smile, welcoming Lily further into the gym with a gesture of his hand. She doesn't seem to hesitate after that, dumping something to the ground that he doesn't pay attention to, attention taken by her odd little dance that inspires a warm laugh from the depths of his chest. "You can hug me if you don't mind the sweat, but that's your call." Eyes dancing with mirth, he allows Lily to make the decision herself. No use assuming why she's here, it may not necessarily be for training.
Luckily he's proven wrong, and interest drags his brows higher as his eyes rove over her form with new intent. Cataloguing her figure with a trainer's eye this time, determining her assets and downfalls from a physical standpoint. "Yeah, defense is the right word. I've trained quite a few students, I could give you a hand if you'd like?" They're both already here, what's the harm in offering?
oh poor atlas, the world's a beast of a burden and you've been holding on a very long time
Hug him she does, briefly, arms wrapping around a torso and shoulders slick with sweat - no different than an embrace during sex, but still, somehow, just as intimate. And they’re both still mostly clothed.
“Yes,” she says with a vigorous nod. “I’d like that. Thank you.” There doesn’t seem to be a question as to when, so the redhead assumes that now is an appropriate time - after all, they’re both here (they are so rarely in the same place, it seems). Lily can see that he is barefoot, so she slips her own shoes off, keeping her loose pants. After a moment of thought, she also slips her shirt off, opting to go with a sports bra type of garment. The real reason is that he can see her arms and core better now, he can correct as need be.
She slips under the ropes and into the ring, looking around and observing the flattened floor and the boundaries. Okay. Waiting for instruction, she turns to Harper (wherever he is) with an eager expression. “Okay. What first?”
He returns the hug gamely, squeezing her tight for a moment before refocusing on her agreement. It brings a smile to his face, as taking on any new student always has, and he gestures her over towards the ring. She slides under the ropes with no problems, taking it all in, and he is not long after her having grabbed thicker hand wraps and discarding the thinner ones by his clothes. Her bared skin is given a brief glance, perhaps lingering a bit longer than he'd prefer to keep things professional, before he's moving to stand opposite of her, limbs loose and body ready to move.
"Alright, first things first if you're facing someone head on, you're going to want your arms up at center mass. Not by your face." He demonstrates the proper way to hold them up, waiting until she mimics and adjusting her as needed before continuing. "Never tuck your thumb into your fist. You want the blow to land here -" taking her hands he runs his fingers over the flatter edge of her main knuckles, "- so that it won't damage your fingers. Keep your knees slightly bent, and do shorter jabs, don't overextend or you'll unbalance yourself." Harper demonstrates a punch slowly, showing her the proper way to twist into the blow before he holds up his palms. "Alright, go ahead and punch my palms. Don't worry about hurting me, the wraps are more than enough."
oh poor atlas, the world's a beast of a burden and you've been holding on a very long time
It isn’t long before he’s all business and Lily can certainly appreciate that; there is a time and place to admire sweaty bodies and there’s a time and place to learn.
Looking closely at his stance, she isn’t sure what center mass means, but she can certainly mimic the way someone stands. She is, after all, a former dancer and she can think of fighting as a type of dancing, in a away. Her arms a little lackluster at first, so she is pliable as Harper moves them into the correct position and she double checks to make sure her thumbs are on the outside of her fists. Check. Okay. Again, she examines her fists and discovers that she seems to have particularly boney knuckles - hitting things there doesn’t seem like the best idea, but then again neither does any other part of her slender, delicate hands.
Hands that need to be able to play instruments, hands that need to be able to pluck the harp and stroke skin and - and - and defend herself.
Tuning back in to the instructions, she’s missed the latter part, but nods anyway and mimics his demonstration punches, hips and all. “Okay…” she says with a little half-grin, trying to place herself in the stance he’d initially shown her and bringing her fists up, throwing little jabs into his hands. The first one’s aim is off and goes a little wide until she breathes and focuses and tries several more, hoping to hit his palms.
