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!
In the scant few days after the sun's arrival, Evie has been busy. What to others may be seen as wandering is truly Evie taking stock of what has - rather unexpectedly - become her land in a way that has far more weight than she's used to. As a Natural it has always been hers, but now...well, now people depend on her. Nobody had spoken up against her sudden crowning, and now she's left wondering where to start.
Staring down at the rubble and the gaping hole that leads to the Underground, having trailed through the Ruins of what had once been homes and shops, Evie knows she has a lot of work to do. A lot she wants to do, things she's dreamed of since she was a little girl. All the same, she feels lost and directionless. Trying to piece rubble into something coherent, to repair a fractured council that she has adopted more than created. It's a new season, a new beginning, and yet she feels as if she's already ten steps behind.
reckless at heart but never unkind
in a perfect world we could've been fine
There were a multitude of things to do – and still the man was listless, dragged down into the murky, webbed melancholy, drifting languidly from place to place. At one point, out of habit and routine, he’d marched to the barracks to survey the damage, if any, caused by the monsters’ onslaughts – only to cease, desist. He wasn’t the General any longer; a council dissolved the moment Rexanna perished, and Evie took hold, and a familiar ache loomed then and there all the more. Another thing lost, ranks he’d cherished, opportunities he’d enjoyed. LongNight had a way of taking multitudes of things, pressing and crushing and pulverizing, and then retreating when the sun came up, leaving the rest of the world to recover from its mire and ruin. He hadn’t figured out how yet.
The piercing slate of his gaze took one last look at the door, stifling a sigh, when he glanced upon a note pinned there, his name addressed. Taking it, jaw clenched for the consternation and trepidation of something else altogether – another threat looming, another disaster plunging – only to tilt his head when it was a summons from Evie, for the Underground.
So he maneuvered in that direction, the uncertainty presiding steadfast in his mind, and he placed that foremost in his skull instead of memories collected like little fragments there too – Emmett’s death, found in the endless pathways of the labyrinth, Rexanna’s pride, sharing furtive secrets, exchanging daggers and knives.
Eventually, maybe everything would turn into ghosts.
He found her near the entrance, familiar crimson hair apparent through the cluster of ruins and rubble. “Evie,” was a low rumble, an announcement of his presence – wishing there were better circumstances involved now, a volley of throwing knives, a reel of practice and skill.
If there is something she can always count on, it's that Deimos will always be there. Whether that continues to be in his previous role as General, as the master of the Militia, or merely as a friend, it's a fact that stands true. When she hears her name in his low, gravelly voice, she turns away from the shadowed entrance of the Underground and gives a weak smile. Moving closer, she hesitates for a moment before reaching to try and squeeze his hand. "Deimos. Thank you for coming, I know...I know it's been hard. And I'm so, so sorry." She hadn't known Rexanna on a personal level all that well, but she knows how it feels to lose someone that close, and her heart aches for him in sympathy.
Withdrawing, she steels herself with a deep breath, not wanting to get too off track. It had taken hours of deliberation before she'd even sent off the letter; she needs to get the council up and running, but intruding upon his mourning period feels wrong. "If it weren't for timing...I'm sorry to have to bring you here. I'm doing my best to pick up where Rexanna left off, to not devalue all she's done and the trust she placed in those on the council." She is trying to honor those choices, the votes. Those who had been close to the previous Queen even before the council was made. "I can't do this alone. And I know you can decline for any number of reasons, but...but if you can give me a chance, I need as much help as I can get. Whether that means you're my General, or advisor, I wanted to ask you first." To promote the one she wants the most first, to allow him first right of denial.
reckless at heart but never unkind
in a perfect world we could've been fine
Her words slipped over him and he couldn’t unclench his jaw, steeled and self-barricaded, the garrisoned walls lacquered over him, re-forged in his anguish. The beast bowed his head and nodded, becoming a glacier, a stone, a monolith in the wake of ruins – trying desperately not to become the latter again, clustered and coiled amongst the rubble and debris. His grief wasn’t something easily fettered or dropped along the way, no pebbles or rocks assorted from his journey here, and while he was content and proud of Evie for her rise to power, the Penumbra’s reign still etched and scorched down into his bones, and then her death charred them thereafter.
For some reason, he hadn’t expected the rest of her syllables and phrases; had presumed his post would be left vacant until another, more deserving, figure was found. His disastrous wake in plans had killed the previous monarch, and so his eyes widened, suitably stunned for a moment, before clambering back down into their nonchalance. Uncertainty vexed and toiled – for himself, for his actions, for what dire amounts lay burdened ahead. He didn’t know Evie’s course either, where and how she wanted to define her capabilities, her abilities, her ideas and notions; she’d be free to dissolve the militia and his role entirely.
Then, there were the upcoming notions, the brewing, foreboding angles heightening. They’d been slowly maneuvering for a while, since the blight, but tensions were bound to break and fetter, cast off for pure antagonism, despite wayward strikes and mistaken claws. “It depends on if you believe I would fit into your ideals.” Rexanna and Deimos had an understanding built from previous lives – capable of reading one another and imploring on each other’s behalf, strengthened by their familiarity – and Evie was just starting, fledgling wings striving to take hold. “You know something is coming.” Should be able to read it, to hone it, to see it with her Natural sway; the Sword had simply from experience, the toying, the batting, the tension, the gnashing of teeth before the real events took hold. Whether it was war, battle, skirmishes, a rebellion, a revolution, he, and his allies, comrades, would likely be in the thick of it.
He’d defend. He’d protect. He’d guard. But only if that fit into her schemes, goals, and aspirations. The monolith’s gaze pierced back towards hers. “I will not back down.” A promise, a truth, a conviction, hopefully better conjured with plans not so easily rendered disastrous; no fortune there at all. “Is that what you want?” Is that what she needed?
07-11-2020, 07:00 AM (This post was last modified: 07-11-2020, 07:01 AM by Evie.)
Evie
His stoic silence does not dissuade her impassioned remarks. It's his manner, his make, and she knows he needs time to reflect and consider what she's asking. It's no less than Evie would want from him. What she's asking is no small thing, after all, and she'd be leery of any immediate response. Instead she does what she can - lays it all upon the metaphorical table, allowing him to peruse not only her request but her as a person. Submitting herself to his tempered gaze, far more adept at leading than she will ever be. Seeking to measure herself up against those he has known and felled in the past, wondering if she will make the mark. If Evie is even capable of becoming, with time, a leader he would want to follow.
When he does answer, she in turn gives him the same dues, the respect he deserves when he poses his own inquiries. It's more than just asking if she fits into his ideals - if he agrees, he will be a pivotal part of their government. Does he fit with her as well? Can they be a team long term, politically? "I do. Something big." Being born here, it's like having her fingers to the pulse of the entire Grounds, and she hasn't missed the stutters and starts of impending chaos. But when she meets his eyes, her own are flinty with years of honed resolve. Of starving in a magical bubble, of striving and scraping and bleeding into barren dirt with nothing but her will and might to get her by. She may be inexperienced, that's true. But Evie has never been lacking in stubbornness, and she has faced every death, every sacrifice, every loss that Caido has thrown at her with chin held high. Today is not the day that changes.
"If I expected you'd be the type to back down, I wouldn't be here asking for you to stand at my side." Naturals know that weakness gets burned out in Caido. There is no room for it, not if you want to survive. Lifting her hand, she presents it, never looking away from his eyes even as she privately hopes that he will take it. Seal them together as the first two of this new government. "I may be new to this, but I'll do whatever needs to be done to keep my people safe. You? You're the one I know I can rely on to help make that a reality." He had trained her, honed her battle skills. Though it will not be his official title, the time will come when she will consider him a trusted advisor in this new role as well. "Will you be my General? So we may face this together, and protect our kin?"
reckless at heart but never unkind
in a perfect world we could've been fine
It’d be a lie if he said some portion of this didn’t fill him with dread; an undulating apprehension starting in his soul, working its way down to his bones, to his marrow, and through his veins. Experience after experience had taught him exactly what he needed to be for this role: brawn, tactician, schemer, instructor, soldier, and a diligent, fortified, hardened cretin. Perhaps he was no longer suited though – based on the latest blunder and mistake, of trying so desperately to protect those willing to stay behind, that he’d inadvertently allowed one of his own to be mauled and destroyed. The beast had always been aware he couldn’t save everyone, but the ones lost, the ones perished, stuck with him for eternities, oblivions, and lives interwoven. How much was enough to say he was worthless? How much was enough to override any prowess he held? When did one glance upon him and deem him ineffectual, useless, and inept?
He waited for it – every damned day. For others to realize he wasn’t enough to amount to anything, for them to connect the patterns, the pursuits, the faults, the flaws; and leave him to his own defects.
Still, Evie persisted, and he listened – to the notions of something big, steadying his gaze into hers with a sharp inhale, of chins held high and defiant to the world. How long would it take, what measures would be concocted, until the sedition was tired, exhausted, and worn?
Then his eyes went to her offered hand, and a sigh flickered through the Sword, just barely, a minuscule fire buried in his chest. Was it a mistake – to strive and try again? To make up for the haphazard plans that had destroyed the previous monarch? With finality, he reached forward, smothering the consternation, hoping for once he’d be enough for something other than failure in fortitude, hand grasping with hers. “Yes.”
Evie isn't unaware of his reticence, the reasoning behind it. She doesn't blame him for what happened during LongNight, but knowing the man himself she's sure he doesn't feel the same way. Is he willing to try again? To throw himself into decisions, discussions, aware now of how badly it could all go wrong? She knows she's asking a lot of him, but there is nobody else she can rely on so wholly. Who has already proven himself time and time again, who she can count on to help build the Grounds into a functioning society with a government that will take care of its citizens.
When he grasps her hand, relief flows through her, though it's only barely perceptible in the relaxing of her shoulders. Here begins the efforts, here is the first step taken. So much still lays ahead, but Evie can only ask of herself to do this one moment at a time. Nothing grows overnight, certainly not the network of roots and supports that she dreams of for her people. "Thank you, Deimos. I'm planning a meeting of those I'd like to elect, is there anything in particular you think we should cover in our first meeting? We need to be as prepared as possible." It's clear that she won't be voting people in. Not yet, not so freshly after Rexanna's death, the already dwindling numbers of their people. They can say what they like about Evie's choice in that, but all that matters to her is protecting the Grounds right now.
reckless at heart but never unkind
in a perfect world we could've been fine
The Sword and General again; rarely ever ceasing in his soldier, warrior figure, true to form with blades on his hips and harpooning measures in his grasp. But there were days where he’d crave nothing more than a segment, a second, of repose, of a sanctum without strife, melancholy, or woe, where the regrets left for minute periods of time, and he’d recall what it was to like to walk without the burdens placed upon his brawn. It was lost to him, to all of them now, as they began the next march towards alternating horizons, towards brewing, brooding tempests, towards oncoming shadows and storms they couldn’t predict, barely fathom. He swallowed down the length of frustration, of disappointment in himself, eyes catching on the rubble, the ruin, the pictures of a world once not so withered and gone. “Restoration and defenses of the Grounds.” How to best deal with potential repercussions, because this wouldn’t be the first incident; tensions would escalate, fear would heighten, and he was apprehensive about what else they could lose in the interim.
“And the potential of next LongNight.” Another year awaiting, but they came swiftly, in between every other damned, doomed motion. “Amalia told me the Ascended could have fought the monsters this past year.” But obviously hadn’t; and he let the implications, the information fall there, where Evie could contemplate their actions.
It hurts to have to ask him to move on so soon, but though she's no longer the praying type, she hopes that there will be at least the briefest of respites for him to come to terms with what has happened, and what now lays in his future. Unlikely perhaps with Caido's inclinations, but if that is to be their fate then hopefully they will both have enough time to at least come to grips with their new roles, in order to properly defend against what may lie ahead.
Her goldenfire head nods in agreement, having already drafted a few internal ideas regarding such fortifications and establishments. LongNight, too, is not something she can ignore, though she pauses when Deimos speaks of it. Something is weighted in his tone, inescapable, and her blue eyes come up slowly to lock with his. Seeming to know that what came next would change everything. There's no real way to brace, but at least she only reveals herself with a swift exhale as the news is delivered. "And they...chose not to." Her lips feel numb as she speaks what immediately comes to mind. Her thoughts flit to Sam, the betrayal of his silence feeling insurmountable in that moment. Why hadn't he come to her? Surely they could have added their numbers to the cause, if that was what had stayed their hands? Evie has no love for The Voice, and surely there would have been opportunity aplenty for her to twist her devilish hands and make things worse, but surely they should have tried?
A hand comes to push her hair back, barely refraining from staggering away from him as her breast seems to open up into a cavernous downfall of grief and anger. "Then we will take the choice from their hands. No more of my people will die, and certainly not because of The Voice or the Ascended deciding to play God all over again." Her anger is inflammatory, undeniable, and it trembles like earthquakes in her mountainous voice. When she sees Sam next...
Gods, she doesn't even want to envision it.
reckless at heart but never unkind
in a perfect world we could've been fine
He was bone-tired; layered and lacquered in the weight of grief, anguish, and mental exhaustion. Physically present but his membrane wired, wound, and warped into too many angles, parameters, and particulars, he only nodded at her presumption. The results were clear as day, and though he had no insight as to what was discussed, how they decided, or where, why, how it never came to be, the ending was still the same. The monsters reigned, more lives were lost. A certain notion curled and coiled in his skull, despite the weariness, because he still couldn’t fathom how they’d accepted this, year after year after year. That it was fine for demons and fiends to wreak havoc in the dead of winter, to claw their way through the world with every intent towards slaughter – how it was widely known, and barely anything done about it. Naturals had lived with it, grown up on the stories, on the ruminations, on the sounds of claws digging into wood, of voices pretending to be their loved ones, and still thought naught of it.
Just don’t go outside.Be quiet.You don’t have to stay. Let the world maneuver around and around, spiral from the Voice’s machinations, like a mistake without consequences, permitted to remain, hunt, maim, and murder.
No more. Hadn’t they seen and experienced enough?
Evie’s proclamation was something to sink into, consider the multitude of it. See who’d be willing, in nearly a year’s time. Who would still be alive to try. What weapons they could possess, what defenses they could muster. How many they could get out, unwilling to see everyone churned and turned into mere remains. “We have time.” Perhaps, given everything else meant to be churning through the void, the Sword was momentarily apprehensive they’ll be preoccupied with too many other doldrums, conflicts, and rising tensions to have an answer for this one – until it was too late. “Best assemble the rest of your council,” he advised, eyes sliding away from his sister-in-law, and onto the rubble, ruin, around them. More words, more voices, then just his alone – a beast prone to digging into the earth and anointing desecration. “Then we can decide how to move forward.”
Exhaustion is something they can both relate to, but his musings are far too on the nose. Naturals have had no choice but to dust off, to keep moving. Evie is no exception. No matter how the news may rock her, how she may doubt herself in this role, she must simply keep moving forward. At least now she is not alone on this narrow, rocky path. "Are they hidden away after LongNight? Is there no way we could ambush them?" Desperate for more information that he may not be able to supply. A way to do more than sit on her hands and wait. Useless and impotent. It would be torture to bear another cycle of seasons before she could enact her revenge.
But he's right, and all she can do is nod a little distantly, mind already turning to those she has considered and pondered over in excess before meeting with him. Amalia she is privately convinced will turn her down, but the others...
"Aisha. She's a formidable fighter, I've seen her at the barracks often. Would you be willing to speak with her about the idea, as someone who knows her better? And to extend the offer of the meeting time." Yet another thing she regrets placing on his shoulders, but she also doesn't want to step on toes. War and armaments are Deimos' realm, and he deserves to uplift those beneath his station on a personal level. "The rest...the rest I will try to collect myself. We have so few remaining, we will have to do our best with what we've got." As the Grounds always have. Deserted for more 'interesting' lands, people rushing away from the damage of the barrier without a thought for those who had lived and died within it, for the history fading away like dust beneath their boots. But Evie is here to remember, and she's certainly not going to leave easily.
reckless at heart but never unkind
in a perfect world we could've been fine
Were the demons freed along stretches of summer sun, or coasting along spring air, they might’ve had far more of an opportunity to break them apart. But in a way, it made sense they’d only come out when the darkness fell for a lengthy time, no longer exposed to the heat, to the potential for their own ruination. Where did they lurk and go in between? Within the ground, burrowed under soil, like some animals, until it was time to rise? Had they found some celebrated sanction, like the Underground, lingering and loitering in the folds of darkness? Did they find pathways in the Labyrinth no one else had discovered? The potential explanations and possibilities were there, but experience, opportunities, in finding them outside the designated stature hadn’t been. His features had centered solely back on these machinations, a furrowed brow concealing the spiral of musings and consignments to Machiavellian pursuits, age-old and primordial too, the scheming forever tethered to his existence. He’d lived amongst too many trials and tribulations to not fold into the haze of calculating. “From what I have understood, they only appear during LongNight.” It could be an inquiry for the heralds and deities, or even the Voice herself; and perhaps he’d ask several other Naturals around, dig more into the foundations.
He’d often played the waiting game, to build up strengths and fortifications, defenses and walls, but if there were better moments to signify a successful outcome, he’d prefer it over the time where fiends thrived.
The beast raised his eyes from the ground he’d been staring at, folding his arms over his chest. The Sword managed to muster the slightest, lightest of smirks at the proclamation of Aisha. “Yes.” She was a favorite of his anyway, for her blistering edges, for her strength, fortitude, might, and willingness to learn, instead of miring herself down in failures or lackluster attempts. There was something to be said for those eager to go the extra mile or minute, and she deserved the offer.
The Sword didn’t miss the implication of few, slim pickings when it came to council roles. He couldn’t quite place fault with them – the world opening up, scattering inhabitants from the ruined, rubbled adornments, and towards the swell of the ocean, or the indifferent summits. Responsibilities and family kept him here. Some didn’t have those, and sauntered before the wakening earth with relish, biting into what it offered. What did the Grounds have left?
He didn’t ask the question, letting it simmer and stoke along his spine. Instead, he offered, and left it at that. “Let me know if there is anything else.” The rest could be saved for council meetings.
The affirmation is like a knife to the heart. Pinning her down to the earth where she struggles like a butterfly, useless and showy and capable of nothing more. The chance has been lost. Justice for her people must wait an entire cycle of seasons before she can even attempt to protect them from harm once and for all. Deimos is one of the few she would ever let see her reaction, as her hand comes up to conceal her eyes, a childhood habit of blocking out the entire world to try and make sense of the one within. Desperately attempting to come to grips with this singular reply that has shattered her plans to redeem herself, to bring justice for Millicent and all the others who lost their lives.
"Then we have time to plan. That is the only thing we can cling to." That she can cling to. The only thing that will keep her sane in the months between. For surely this will haunt her, like a dog with a bone, chasing at her heels even as other matters are tackled. But she won't keep him here, not when this blow has removed all capability of planning and any sense of composure she may have had. When his deep voice rumbles through her ears, she gives a jerky nod. "Yes...thank you, Deimos. I will." Her blue eyes are grateful as she says it, but she makes no move to leave. Content to stand staring into the depths of the hole, contemplating all that has been said, until the world feels solid enough beneath her feet once more to allow her to move on.
- FIN
reckless at heart but never unkind
in a perfect world we could've been fine
