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!
She and Poe were wanderers at heart. After all... that was how she had come upon Poe wandering to see what the world beyond the walls had held. A part of her longed to stay in Torchline forever; the skies, the view, the warmth. But she knew she couldn't have everything.
It was a pretty, warm day, and she wore a light dress that she had just obtained, her furs stashed in the bag she had across her shoulder. She basked in the sunlight and had been in Torchline for most of the day if the various jars of carefully uprooted plants were anything to go by. She'd never be able to convince the plants to grow in Halo, realistically, but that would not stop her from trying.
After all, once upon a time, she'd managed to make a plant from another world flourish in a pot on her bedroom window. Probably the best gift she had ever received, that odd plant. "What do you think, Poe?" The bird purred his answer, and she felt him shift in her hair. What had started out as a bun was now a tangled mess, topped with pink feathers.
"We'll figure something out for you back home, just like we'll figure out how to get plants to grow," she stated, confidently. It seemed impossible, to grow plants in such a cold region but... That only made Delphine want to figure it out more. An impossible puzzle was the best kind, after all.
Her footsteps were slow, a leisurely pace as her gaze wandered over the area, fixing on the lighthouse. She'd not spent enough time here, to really appreciate the view. As she walked closer to the lighthouse, the pink bird dislodged himself from her hair and took to the air.
And Delphine began to set up the easel and canvas she'd stashed in her bag. She dropped her bag gently on the ground, and began to carefully choose her spot; the best position to get the best view. Her shoes were left with her bag, as she moved the easel and canvas further from where she had started.
Satisfied, she moved to claim her paints, each jar placed carefully in the order she thought she might use them, brushes resting in the cloth that she'd used to wrap around them so that they wouldn't wind up all over her bag.
"Stop showing off," she called to the pink bird, who was most certainly flaunting the fact he could fly and she could not. Eventually, the bird joined her, nesting back into her hair to watch her paint.
07-25-2020, 01:15 AM (This post was last modified: 07-25-2020, 01:21 AM by .Matéo.)
Matéo
Matéo had since finished his business on the boat for today. Having rolled his shirt up past his elbows to avoid soaking the fabric of one of his few shirts while hauling his dinghy in and tying it up to the dock closest by his abode. It hadn't been a particularly lucrative day and without product to sell, he found himself with the rest of his evening free before the sun had set on the manicured shores of Torchline, a rare occurrence for one in his occupation.
With time to kill and nothing on his agenda, he found himself making his way towards the lighthouse that overlooked the sea that surrounded their homes. It was a calming place to spend some time with oneself away from the hustle and bustle of Haulani; though it seemed that being alone up here was out of the cards for the day.
"Are you expecting your bird to talk back?" Matéo asks the girl as he comes up the hill to reach a stopping point by the side of the cliff. The view from the lighthouse is breathtaking enough, he's surprised there aren't more artists taking advantage of the quiet day.
When you're sparkling madly in the moonlight don't you understand that I need you still
Delphine turned to find the owner of the voice, her lips wide with a smile. The first sense a stranger might get about her was that she was naive. "Why wouldn't he talk back?" She inquired, as she reached up to poke Poe with the handle of her paintbrush.
He squawked, fluffing his feathers as he made his companion's hair into the best nest that he could. He was lucky she didn't cut her hair. Of course, his squawking proved nothing.
"Don't you speak to your animals?" She inquired, honestly. The stranger might take note of her bag, of paints and brushes and plants and herbs strewn around her little area, but she doesn't seem concerned about being stolen from.
The answer to her question is easy enough, but he takes his time in parting his lips to do so, instead focused on the very insistent- and loud -bird creating a home in her hair. Or, attempting to at least. How she would ever get the tangles out was beyond him with the cursory knowledge of hair and beauty his late wife had imparted on him when she had taken the time to care about such things.
"I can't say I do. It helps that I don't have any." He offers a shrug alongside his words as he keeps his distance from where she has set up her easel but doesn't miss the array of items she has splayed around the area. "Is your bird an art critic or just noisy?" Taking the flask on his hip and taking the cork out with a fluid movement, he takes a sip before offering it out to her.
When you're sparkling madly in the moonlight don't you understand that I need you still
07-26-2020, 02:15 PM (This post was last modified: 07-26-2020, 02:15 PM by Delphine.)
DELPHINE
When the stranger addressed the bird, a bright pink head peered out of tangled knots of golden blonde, and shrieked: "Cree-tick! Cree-tick!" as loudly as he could.
When the flask is offered to her, she grinned wryly. "Water or alcohol?" She doesn't reach to take it, until he elaborates. Not because she's afraid of his germs or of him, but because she made a promise to a very important man not to drink. And as a recovering drug addict, that promise was important to her.
"You like to paint?" She inquired, reaching for a piece of charcoal to sketch the lighthouse first. "Or just enjoying the sights?"
The bird in question answered for her and Matéo can't help the way his lips turn up just slightly at the corner as he takes in the bright pink plumage, not so discreetly hidden within honey gold tresses. Fair enough, assumedly he wouldn't care much for art either if he was a bird.
"The only good drink- whiskey." He continues to hold it out for her but continues with a small shrug. "If it's not your cup of tea, I won't force it on you, but may recommend some better taste." His teasing is lighthearted and while his features seem stuck in almost a permanent scowl despite himself earlier, his eyes are devoid of any ill intent.
"Not an artist myself, but I can appreciate a good piece when I see one." Matéo ventures a few steps closer, an eye initially on the bird to make sure he wasn't overstepping bounds before peering at her canvas. "And this one seems to be shaping up to be just that. I live just down the ways but can't say I've seen you pass this way before."
When you're sparkling madly in the moonlight don't you understand that I need you still
07-27-2020, 02:39 AM (This post was last modified: 07-27-2020, 02:40 AM by Delphine.)
DELPHINE
Delphine waved a hand, "I like a good swig of whiskey but, ah, recovering." She doesn't explain from what, and returned her gaze to the painting in front of her.
"Oh? I'm a friend of the man in that house," she pointed without looking towards Remi's home, before she reached to run the pad of her thumb across a stray bit of paint, smudging the canvas. Studying it in silence for a moment, she reached to tousle the bird in her hair, "Bit more yellow for the sky, Poe?" The bird didn't respond, but she reached for the yellow.
Her focus has left the stranger entirely, until she realized: once again, she had not introduced herself. Honestly, how rude. Turning to offer a yellow-paint covered hand out, she flashed a wide smile. "Delphine Mountrose," it doesn't occur to her that the man might be dangerous, and Poe doesn't react because she has no real opinion of the stranger.
That's just how it went. Noah would probably be furious.
Matéo pulls the flask back with a shrug, taking a sip in her stead. He's been in Torchline long enough, seen enough of those that come and go with their own problems, to know not to pry when not invited to. And the girl with a strange bird certainly hadn't.
He looks to where she points but has to admit that his time spent being a recluse hasn't allowed him much time to mingle with the newcomers to Torchline, including whoever lived there. It looked like a nice home though, and Matéo decided to keep his small hut to himself in comparison. "Ah, can't say I know them. I rarely leave my daily routine though, so unless he buys fish at the market..." He shrugs in lieu of more explanation.
Matéo doesn't mind the silence as he watches her paint, looking between her canvas and the view as she continues. It's not uncomfortable and he has to admit it's not everyday he gets the honor of seeing an artist at work. When she turns to introduce herself though, he starts for a moment before reaching out to return the gesture.
"Matéo Alvarez. How long have you been painting? Your color choice is near perfect." While he may not have an artistic bone in his body, he knows the sunsets here by heart, and her rendition of it would leave him in awe if seeing it for the first time.
When you're sparkling madly in the moonlight don't you understand that I need you still
Delphine listened, tipping her head. "Oh. I think he's called governor, now? 'unno," she mused, regarding Remi. "I always knew he'd do good with his life, though." She declared, with a friendly grin.
When Matéo introduced himself, the blonde woman beamed, as if he'd just given her a present on her birthday. And then to boot, he's complimenting her painting, and her cheeks rush red. "Oh, uhm. Most of my life, I guess." She's turned back to the canvas, one hand holding a brush, making strokes, the other petting the bird that's in her hair.
"I learned to paint from my mother, when I was a girl." She explained, claiming another brush in the hand that had been petting the bird, dipping it into another color. "Did you say you were a fisherman?" She inquired, as she painted with both hands, deft movements, gentle movements, each stroke quick with purpose.
One last stroke of color, and she's twisted around to eye the fisherman, hazel eyes bright. Paint-covered fingers raise to brush hair from her face, leaving paint in her wake, "Can you describe some of the fish you catch?" She's reaching into a bag for a sketchbook, now.
Huh. Well, it wasn't too surprising that the position of leadership had changed hands without his knowledge. Keeping his head down and out of the politics surrounding Torchline seemed to be what he did best despite living there his whole life.
Watching her process is nothing short of mesmerizing, incorporating her other hand into the process and Matéo almost loses himself in thought, wondering what he's doing with his life while this girl can paint with two hands simultaneously. "Do you paint a lot of your travels? I've never been out of Torchline and if you even had a sketch... I'm curious what the rest of Caido is like." He doesn't want to overstep his boundaries but Delphine is so enthusiastic about her work, he can't help but ask, the sense of longing for somewhere he's never been urging him on.
Slipping his flask back into his back pocket and his hands into the front pockets of his pants, he leans back on his heels with a nod. "I wouldn't say they compare to the view you have now but, alright. I catch a lot of mahi-mahi. They're maybe just ..." He holds out a hand as if to measure against her, settling just under her chin. "I think that's the biggest I've caught. They're flat-faced, almost like they ran into the wall, but their colors are somethin' else, really. Their upper half is a bright green while their belly is yellow." They were his favorite to catch due to the ease of transportation compared to swordfish or even the wahoo.
When you're sparkling madly in the moonlight don't you understand that I need you still
Delphine furrowed her brow, as he asked if she sketched her travels, and the sketchbook in her hand was dropped, so that she could reach for another. As she flipped through the pages, he'd catch sight of a variety of drawings of two children, and eventually she found a place to start.
"This was one of the first things I sketched when I took my daughters' to Halo," she explained, she'd done a quick sketch of the Palace, snow everywhere.
He'd see a sketch of the same girls at the port in Torchline, but she skipped over her Torchline drawings for now. {snow}"This is Snowcloak, from my house," she explained with an easy smile.
"Oh! These are of the Hollowed Grounds. I lived there the longest," she'd eventually hold the sketchbook out to him, just in time for him to measure the length of the fish against her chin.
Searching again for her sketchbook, she commited his words to memory, and set to work with a quick outline, leaving him to her other sketches. "There's more in my bag, if you'd like to see those, too. I'm a healer... so a lot of those are plant sketches with information."
If Matéo hadn't been busy trying to measure out the approximate length of a mahi-mahi then perhaps he would have been able to catch the first discarded sketchbook, but instead, his hands are quite full with the next sketchbook she had pulled out. The mention of her daughters takes him by surprise just because of her presumed youth but he doesn't comment on that, instead taking his time to flip through the pages of the sketchbook she had handed to him.
"How old are your girls? They must've loved the snow in Halo if it's as beautiful as you've drawn it." He admits gruffly, glancing up at her and relieved to see that the first sketchbook was being picked up now and not left on the ground like the majority of her supplies. His attention largely caught by her work, he takes his time flipping through the pages.
While she may have skipped past her works of Torchline, he lingers on familiar sights. He had seen her at work on the view here but there was something about the way another perceived the sights he took for granted every day. "Where do you consider home?"
When you're sparkling madly in the moonlight don't you understand that I need you still
Delphine didn't flinch anymore, when the girls' were brought up. She was still upset that Ludo couldn't help her bring them back, but she knew they were safe. "They would have been... six." She smiled brightly, "They... did not really enjoy Halo, when we went. But I think that if circumstances were different, they would've learned to love the snow." She admitted, speaking as if it were casual conversation.
Just a season ago, no a season and a half ago, she'd had her beautiful girls' in her arms and she'd hated them. Funny how life worked. Or in this case, death. "Their names were Acantha and Bryony."
When he asked where she considered home to be, she leaned away from the man, studying the sky. "Well... do you mean home, before Caido? Or do you mean home before Halo? Or..." It's almost as if, for a second, she's forgotten the question.
"I'm from a place called Northaven, and most of my time in Caido, my girls and I lived in the Hollowed Grounds..." He'd find quite a few drawings of the girls' in a cave, fashioned into a home. They never looked very happy in the cave drawings. "Now I live in Halo." She declared, with a hum.
"You should come visit, sometime." She decided. Yep, invite an absolute stranger to visit you, Delphine, that's definitely smart.
Matéo immediately notices her use of the past tense and although she seems fine for answering the question, he can't help the scowl directed at himself for asking a question with such a sensitive answer. "Beautiful names." Is all he can think to say of first, letting her talk through it before even considering saying something more.
The offer takes him by surprise but he can't deny lingering on the drawings of Halo that she has in her sketchbook. The snow was unlike anything he was familiar with in Torchline, except perhaps ash from Apopo they sold by the ports.
He hums for a moment in answer before nodding, his attention taken once more by her drawings. "I'd like that if you don't mind. I've never seen snow myself."
When you're sparkling madly in the moonlight don't you understand that I need you still
