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!
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be
Both flame and hellhound subdued, resigned, the latter watched the little spark of fire eating away at the garbage, taking hold of the debris. Eventually it would all disappear, postured into smoke, then fumes, then nothing but ash, to be scattered amidst the winds. It seemed all too easy to slip into those ethers and vestiges – naught at all – and he had to remember the fight, the struggle, the relish of perseverance over the shambles, disarray, and disasters. It’d simply become harder, far more difficult, with each ongoing trial, with multitudes of devastation beating, beating, beating them down.
Small victories here then, burning trash on a beach.
He nodded at the panther’s gratitude, and a subtle shrug through canine shoulders at the next statement. Besides an irritating beginning, the stranger had ceased their annoying, exasperating measures; the monolith likening them to something like a gnat. A snort managed to rumble forth on the other notions – thus far, in his experience, this form, nor any other, had truly managed to fend off the world. Someone always manages to find me. And while he sat and pondered and stared into cinders, his curiosity sizzled amongst the chords. Are you involved with Sunjata? Based on the familiar feline structure – though he could be overestimating. There were bound to be more panther contortions to pinpoint fangs into.
DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Being found isn’t always such a bad thing. It’s not wise to argue, in the position he’s in, with the weakness he’s shown, but he can wave this away as not really arguing. It’s simply his opinion, presented with a feline stretch, paws digging trenches into the sand in front of him and behind. There worse things to contend with, don’t you think? He wants to poke straight to the heart of the matter, to ask plainly why are you trying so hard to hide? but that’s not a question he sees going over well, not considering the little he’s learned of the man in this time.
There’s a moment of silence, a handful of calculations taking place behind the single blue and the dark fur, before Nate responds, his words careful. I suppose it depends on what you mean by ‘involved’. And on why the question was being asked in the first place. Once again, Nate was struck by the fact that he had no idea who it was hiding behind the skin of the smouldering dog. I take it you know him?
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be
In Helovia, he didn’t want to be found; hidden and tucked away, a part of the brutalizing shadows, left alone to his savagery and desolation. Unattainable, unreachable, and content in his isolation, drawing lines and swords, daggers and upheavals, and still they strayed into the darker edges, permitted him to be their machine. Depends was all he could muster; because here, here where he loved and cherished and devoted himself to something other than scraps of land and high-rising summits, moments still hurt. They still clustered. They still tore. Sometimes he wondered if they maimed far worse now because he cared, because time and incidents took people away from him.
And he couldn’t do anything, anything at all.
He’d prefer battling onslaughts of adversaries any day, than losing what precious beings he had left.
His eyes narrowed at the small flames, and in other circumstances he’d watched them grow again, ignite, reach new heights of prowess and potential – a touch of power where he felt diminished and useless. I recognized the shift, he reeled first to the panther, by way of explanation. Perhaps it belonged to some other Attuned, and he’d been mistaken in that thread of thought. Yes. He knew him, and the string of dramatics that followed – Sunjata could’ve been someone he’d trusted, had been in the beginning, before he broke Hotaru’s heart, before Adam and Peter died in Halo’s caves.
Quick calculations coiled through his mind, piercing eyes sliding back over to obvious wounds on the stranger. Are you Nate?
DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Depends. It's an answer Nate can respect, in the same way that it's not an answer at all, but rather an end, a stonewalling for any further contesting, any more discussion. There's still curiosity, still burning questions, but none that the ascended can find a way to bring up without potentially inviting the strangers ire. Pissing off something, someone who can seemingly control fire is fairly low on the list of things he wants to do.
A tail curls around the lounging body of the panther, each motion carefully controlled, Nate tucking all the bits of himself into a snug loaf. The burning garbage crackles, the only sound, apart from the drumming of the waves, that echoes between them, the attuned bond maintaining the silence. That makes sense. Not being an attuned himself, he has no idea how often shifts overlap between people, how often they do not. It's a reasonable enough explanation for the guess, Nate letting some suspicion bleed out of his mind, replaced by curiosity instead.
Before he can confirm though, another question drifts towards him, prompting a feline grin. He'd gotten used to one sided recognition in an old life, and he still had enough of that person to not worry when his name comes up. I am Nate. Though, you have me at a disadvantage now, because I don't have any idea who you are. It's a not so subtle request for the other's name, accompanied by a tilted head.
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be
The Reaper and the Sword had been notoriously effective at ending conversations due to discomfort, apathy, or anything else nettled amidst the ruminations. Delving any further into walls, into fortifications, into why he hid away from the world was far too deep in the monolith’s fathoms, and certainly not reserved for strangers. The panther seemed to have taken the hint anyway, and the beast was content to add a few more portions and pieces of debris to the fire, listening to the hastening crackle as most of it was quickly, inevitably, devoured by the flames.
Confirmation of the individual though cast an inward smirk; bemused for a moment. Of the impending marriage of three, he was the one the General knew the least about. A devious angle would’ve been to warn the man ahead of time, to proffer the same extension he’d given to Sunjata, about platitudes towards Hotaru – but maybe he wouldn’t have to. Perhaps this Nate character was far more dependable and less idiotic than the Flood.
One could hope, anyway – and Deimos didn’t do that very often.
The noted disadvantage coiled another snicker, wicked, devious machinations curling through. It’d been purposeful, sculpted in design, from years upon years of never truly presenting any revelation about himself. Nothing noteworthy. Nothing vulnerable. Nothing anyone could snag, snare, or press upon him as weakness. But the more actions he seared into the soil and land, the more of a reputation had been gained, and he could only stay so furtive, so secretive, for long.
Though it was dangerously tempting, to grant a false name, to shrug it off, to placate no one. But, as far as he knew, this Ascended hadn’t earned his ire (whether or not it held true on the other end would be determined). So he permitted the syllables to pierce through, a careful arch to his canine brow. Deimos.
DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
There is a lot of meaning attached to the name he receives, stories and warnings and praises all rattling around in his head as Nate once again stares at the hound. If anything, the name only fills him with more restless energy, the tip of his tail flicking through the sand. I've heard a lot about you. He ventures, once he's actually put some thought into his words, meaning to tread far more carefully now. Maybe he'd have been better off not knowing, letting this first impression stand on its own merit, instead of being twisted by attempts to make it shine brighter.
It opens up extra options, a thread of connection between them, despite the fact that they are strangers. Nate wonders if it's in bad taste to bring up the wedding, to ask if he's heard, been invited. Wonders where his own pin is placed with the other man, if he falls closer towards Sunjata, and the menace he's earned himself, or if he had the chance to actually prove himself. It's good to have something to attach to the name now. The words come after a long pause, a touch of humour brightening them. Even the dog is better than the blank he'd known before, except for maybe vague memories of that huge fucking guy from long ago attended meetings in the Grounds.
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be
The Sword could only imagine what the first phrase signified. In other worlds, dimensions, the known parameters of his title and name had either sent them spinning in the other direction, balking, avoiding, or raising hackles in disdain. Sometimes his own vehement vigilance inspired abhorrence and contempt, and sometimes nothing at all. He snorted instead, half-tempted to add more fuel to the fire for the comment, and instead moved slightly away, grabbing hold of another wandering piece of rubbish in his teeth. He figured most of Nate’s information came from Sunjata, and probably none of it grand – shrugging it off, a nonchalant disposition rendered all the more. His actions were his merit, his deliberations his distinction; they’d tell a story far better than anyone else’s credits, ideals, or forewarnings.
He ambled back to the fire, depositing the newfound debris, capable of keeping Nate at a distance with the flames, and still contorting the facets of his own enigma. Instead of digging into whatever had been told or phrased about him, Deimos went in an entirely different direction, wondering if he’d have to instill more ominous declarations, or if Nate was far more of an honorable sort than the Flood. How did you meet Hotaru? The whole affair and event was baffling and bewildering to him, but he hadn’t judged the parameters, so much as the consequences surrounding them.
DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
09-04-2020, 02:52 AM (This post was last modified: 09-04-2020, 02:53 AM by Nate.)
– NATE –
This conversation had swung in a direction Nate couldn’t control, in a direction he wasn’t really sure was wise to continue in. Silence stretches out as his mind stretches, trying to decide whether it was better to be honest, or to extricate himself from the situation, slinking away and avoiding the discomfort. Something about the thought of turning away didn’t sit right with him though. If he had any chance at affecting his own reputation, at shaping the other mans opinion of him, this was it.
We... spent a night together actually. She picked me up in a bar. There’s a cough of laughter accompanying the words, as Nate lifts himself up, standing on four feet and shaking sand off of his shape. She’s not like anyone I’ve ever known before. It’s close enough to genuine emotion that he feels awkward, finally, and falls silent.
A long moment stretches out before he takes a step back, meaning to return to errands he’d set out to do earlier. I’ll get out of your way now. It’s the last thing he says before four legs become two again, and he lifts a hand in farewell. Hopefully, the other man would appreciate the lack of pomp.
