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!
07-11-2020, 12:56 AM (This post was last modified: 07-11-2020, 12:57 AM by Oliver.)
OLIVER
Careful steps crunched down grass as Oliver made his way into the field. It was about an hour before sunrise- the perfect time to begin training. It was still dark, allowing him the time to practice in such a condition, but also would provide a great wake-up routine that he should hopefully adopt into his life.
Once in what he deemed to be a perfect spot, Oliver set down his backpack. Within it was a canteen of water, two apples, and a list of things needed to be done today.
Partially shifting his eyes, Oliver now had the eyes of his fox shift, giving him excellent nightvision. That's when he started it off, stretching and not giving a care in the world. Surely nobody would judge him, right? Hell, would anyone else be out here at this hour? The chances were pretty damn slim, but Oliver didn't seem to care all that much, far more interested in getting himself warmed up before he really got into the fun stuff.
She walked across the outskirts of the fields, amongst its ghosts and blessings, the darker tendrils of the morning pressing over her skin; no need to hide behind veils, shrouds, or hoods, not when the twilight still prospered. The stroll was meant to be a distraction, her basket filled from gathering a variety of crops, not like theirs, decayed and withered, back at the farm. She’d make a mental note to come back later, to return the favor, to ensure some new seeds were planted for the following harvest seasons. Notions of these thoughts gave her ample time to move, maneuver, and then think of other notions, likely to be spread out in the distance by footfalls and misdeeds, a clench and click to her jaw, to her teeth, as she bit down on parameters of possibilities.
Her own version of night vision – simply being Ascended – assisted as she wandered along edges and perimeters. A rustle of noise in the distance caught her attention, as well as the semblance of another creature nearby. Out of habit, her eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, but didn’t recognize the individual. Didn’t quite care to either, based on whatever maneuvers they were putting on.
So she continued on her way, destination intended for the farmhouse and future plans.
It was when Oliver finished stretching that he caught sight of someone in the distance.
His brows furrowing, Oliver watched them for a second before attempting to send a message through the attuned bond. Hello? Of course, there would be no response seeing as the girl was an Ascended. After silence and not even an inclination that the figure had heard him, Oliver switched to calling out to the mysterious person.
In an attempt to seem less intimidating, Oliver tried to keep his voice light- or as light as one can while calling out. "Hello? Are you lost?" It wasn't exactly often people came out here for a stroll- then again, that didn't explain why he was out here. To aid in his ability to hear her, Oliver shifted his ears as well to match the fox, helping him to hear a response much better (and also look pretty comical as well).
The voice calling out towards her caused a slight huff; her disinterest not enough to waylay any attempts at discussion, conversation, or insight into the very large-eared individual. All he received in return was a short burst of laughter from her throat, reeling, conceited and arrogant. “Lost? Here? No.” Must’ve been some naïve Outlander, believing everyone strolling through had stumbled and bumbled their way through the Grounds. No, Mabel had traversed exactly where she intended, and could’ve done so with her eyes completely closed, shut, the pathways of the Fields memorized, materialized, since she was old enough to walk.
Her eyes flickered over to him, studying, examining, from a distance – the ridiculous ears looking all the more animal-like, and certainly not fitting for his cranium. Must’ve been an Attuned then, partially shifted and appearing numb and dumb in the middle of the plains. If her presumptions were correct, there was no way she’d be helping or assisting him, already tired of their little seething plans from LongNight.
Hm.
She lifted her basket higher along her arm, pausing to enact a proper, authoritative stance, beneath the etchings of moonlight. If she appeared eerie, enigmatic, consumed with traces of wolfish demeanor, then the effect held its weight. “Are you?” Less satire now, more curiosity, compelling over the darkening void.
There is a slight tilt of his head and Oliver nods, happy to hear that she wasn't lost. The tone in her voice hinted that there was something underlying. Maybe she was a natural? He didn't recognize her and he assumed as such. Honestly, he figured she was either an Outlander entirely new to this land or a Natural from a different land who had chosen to visit the Hollowed Ground on this night. Either way, he was making some major assumptions.
Her question was simple and Oliver found himself shrugging. "No, I'm not lost. I'm out here to train... I've found that I need to learn how to work in different areas and situations." Really, he hadn't trained enough at this time of day and anything could happen at any point. "You're free to join me? If you'd be interested." It was a simple offer, a friendly one in his eyes. Might as well extend the offer rather than scoff her off immediately. Maybe it'd even improve on the impression he had already made.
There were a few moments where Mabel wanted to openly sneer, raise her hackles, show her fangs, display her prowess to the foolish-looking creature nearby. He didn’t seem to consider the weight of her words, the touch of danger hidden beneath them, the layers upon layers of spite driven into her newly-enriched ichor. She nearly forgot her own words hastened to Wessex, about wars, about how they weren’t ready, about vengeful notions, about starting small, gathering themselves before doing anything monumental, or outrageously stupid.
Her eyes narrowed to treacherous slits, venom coiled in her chest, a vexing contortion riddling through her spine. “Training? What are you training in?” Asked innocently, no bite to the malice and menace rankling along teeth and tongue, and she wished she was stronger, mightier, for fear to rankle off of foretold adversaries as she advanced.
Eventually, she supposed.
To be fair, the Ascended had never orchestrated any prowess into fighting, either with weapons or fists; her time had been utilized for the family’s farm, and while there were muscles built from days ploughing, seeding, weeding, and carrying wood, it hadn’t been implemented for demolition. Perhaps now was the time.
Quiet was one way to describe the girl. So many people here seemed to be like that: far more likely to say very few words and only ask very specific questions. This was far preferable to the joking type of person who chose to poke at everything and try too hard to make jokes. Gods were those people grating.
Watching her with a raised eyebrow, Oliver found the words leaving his mouth easily. "I'm trying to work on my magic, specifically at night. I haven't practiced nearly enough in the dark." Just to demonstrate, Oliver lifted up a small rock using his telekinesis. His hand plucked it from the air and he found his thumb running along it. "I am willing to work on hand-to-hand if that's what you'd prefer." Assuming she was Ascended and therefore couldn't exactly practice magic along with him.
I JUST WANT MY EXISTENCE TO BE MORE THAN TREMBLING
Enchantments; to hone at night. She wouldn’t understand the intricacies or delicacies of such a situation, having never wielded any enchantments in her lifetime – perhaps, eventually, she’d be able to comprehend the matters. When fangs slipped over flesh and skin, when they raked and contorted into blood. But for now, she was caught in the inability for much of anything. The youth did watch as the stranger lifted a stone, picking it up without hands, without any ministration save for the capabilities he must’ve had lodged within his ichor.
The girl shrugged, crouching down to drop her basket to the ground. Meanwhile, fingers clasped over a larger stone behind the artifact, and she slipped it into her sleeve, tucking it along palms as if it wasn’t there at all. “I don’t have magic.” Mabel rose again, advancing, coming within yards of Oliver. “Hand-to-hand would probably be best.” No Attuned fixtures, no Accepted means; just her canines and ambition. “How do we begin?”
Maybe the girl didn't realize it, but Oliver knew how Ascendeds worked. So yes, he did know that magic wasn't exactly available to them in the same way it was for him. They could only do magic in short bursts and once it's done: the magic disappears and they need to drink again. Blah blah, normal ascended shit.
She moved on to hand-to-hand... and picked up a rock. Shaking his head, Oliver let out a huff of laughter. "Hand-to-hand it is... but you really don't need a rock. I was just being a small bit of a show off, sorry if I confused you." The apology was thrown in at the end to hopefully mask over the fact that he was an absolute fucking show off.
"Go ahead and make your move, I'll let you go first." Rock or no rock, Oliver was absolutely ready to fight and based on the fact that he didn't recognize her: She was new and therefore, hopefully, incapable of fighting. A lovely boost to his ego that would also maybe create a new relationship and help her in the end. Perfect.
I JUST WANT MY EXISTENCE TO BE MORE THAN TREMBLING
She withheld a laugh, a brief snort flowing through her. What an arrogant little prick.
Oh well, it would make the next movement that much more satisfying, that much more redeeming – and despite her ignorance, she’d strive for vengeance, for some stroke of payback of all those left in the wake of Old Gods and their tricks. She didn’t even care that he’d seen the rock, that her duplicity was blown, that her fingers clasping the stone had been seen. Would it be more satisfying, for him to view the blow coming?
She shrugged her shoulders, cool and indifferent, the snide ramparts raging through her fluid, her frame. Her words were cold, unfeeling, an unreachable denizen of glacial ferocity. “I think I prefer this.” Then, the youth launched towards him, raising the arm, the hand holding the stone, intending to careen it right across his cranium, his skull. Pain for pain, ramifications for ramifications.
While his intentions weren't malicious, he absolutely could've behaved far better. Boosting his own confidence at the expense of others was far from kind nor respectful and he'd learn to hush up when she quickly tried to make an attack on him.
Luckily, Oliver was able to reach up and block her own attack using his arm. Unfortunately due to how he moved, he did manage to get hit in the wrist by the rock. Wincing, he muttered out. "Shit" Because fuck did that surprisingly hurt.
Moving on past this, he'd try to make an attempt to use a combination of his own foot and the rock to accomplish his next goal. Whilst yanking at her right ankle with his foot, he'd then move to attack her right hip with his rock, slamming into it to hopefully disturb her sense of balance. Normally he'd use his magic to aid in this, but he already promised that he would try to play fair, despite the quick attack from the Ascended.
It was a sudden rage, filling and overflowing – unkempt and deranged, segmenting through fluid and bones. Triumph at minimal hits, at besting things for such a pathetic moment – a minor inconvenience for all the strife these Old God believers had caused.
More. She needed more.
But then the stranger attacked back, and she suddenly found herself on the ground, whipped out of position and balance. A number of curses flung through her mind, but no pain. No pain at all. A huff of laughter, wild and vivid, untamed and decrepit, flowed through her lungs. From here, she could grab another rock though.
Another stone. Another force of nature. Another claw to bind, tear, rip.
Mabel grabbed hold of a larger piece of rubble, and from her position on the ground, attempted to sit up and swing it directly into one of his kneecaps.
There was something about the girl that appeared- it hadn't been visible before (or maybe Oliver really was that unaware). If he was smart he might've noticed it in time, but right now he could feel it. The laugh reverberated from his bones and he readied himself for the worst.
His heart pounding in his ears, Oliver had barely enough time to react when she grabbed a new rock and went straight for him again. Maybe he had enough time to react, maybe she wasn't a skilled fighter, or maybe luck was really just not in her favor at this moment, but things went awry so quickly.
Quickly leaping back, Oliver managed to miss the strike on his legs. An animalistic growl left his mouth. She was playing dirty and while he absolutely wasn't a fan, he wasn't ready to stop this. Oliver knew he needed to stand his ground and he wasn't about to call it quits, not so soon.
Oliver worked towards combining some of his magic. He'd try and use his earth magic to hopefully wrap some roots around her ankles if possible. Meanwhile, he'd use his illusions to create a fake fire in front of him, hoping to spook her and give himself some space. Then finally, he'd use something he absolutely had no idea how to use. He'd call out to the birds near him, requesting their aid. How he found out about this was an absolute accident and the story is too lengthy and unfitting for the time being. What matters is that he hopefully succeeds in stopping her.
Nothing, nothing, nothing. Nothing happened at all. A leap back, and it was like she’d never touched him. Never tried. Never gave it any effort.
You’ve got to be better than this coiled within, and she knew, she knew she had to be, but evidently this Old God asshat was faster, possibly stronger; but she rolled, shifted out of the way of his earthen roots, feeling them touching her ankles, her wrists.
And fire.
And birds.
Overkill, much?
The youth snorted and dashed, lunged, for a long branch nestled nearby. If there were any birds, she’d try to hit them. It should’ve been able to go through the flames (and despite the fear nestled inside her, if the damned bough ended up catching on fire too, she’d just hurl the thing back at the fool and take off before the field erupted).
All she wanted to do was swing for his head, for his torso, for anything she could reach and maul, pulverize into the ground, hit again and again and again until he too was naught more than some bloodied buffoon.
