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!
It's been a day since she crash-landed on Ronin and Remi's doorstep, her life in shambles, her future uncertain. In that time she's managed to do very little other than sleep a lot and wander the coastline, trying hard to clear her mind and struggling at every turn.
At least she can walk barefoot here, the sand comfortable between her toes. Her shoes are left somewhere far behind, to be found at another point. Ahead of her Jyoti croons and dances, buoyant in the sea breeze, casting starlight in the dusk. It's an idyllic and despite everything that has happened in the past week she can feel herself relaxing, tension easing from her shoulders as she looks out on the waves.
now they're standing in the door singin' "that's my shit, that's my shit"
There are few things that manage to distract the young smuggler in terms of ‘weirdness’. A floating whale, though? Certainly on that list to investigate. The storms are letting up but the waves remain choppy, dark, threatening. A thing Milo’s used to, unsure if this strange woman he’s never seen before is familiar with the end of monsoon season and what it brings.
So naturally, the boy draws closer.
It isn’t until he’s a few steps away from Amalia that he chimes out toward her. “’Scuse me, miss!” A wave given and a wide grin. “Is that a floating whale?” He juts his chin toward Jyoti, red hair clinging to his face as if he’d just been through a downpour of rain, even the clothes he wears cling to his skin.
that's what everybody wants an' some more singing "you may be the death of me"
The sound of a warm voice shouldn't surprise her as much as it does, yet Amalia visibly jumps when he speaks up, having missed him entirely in her inspection of the rough sea. "Oh, I... yes?" she stammers, turning dark eyes on the young man, her cheeks flushed from surprise and the salty air.
The wind whips strands of her hair loose as she collects herself, heart resuming something like a normal rate. "She's a starwhale. They live in the sky, not the sea." As though to better demonstrate Jyoti changes course, circling around to investigate the newcomer with a burst of starlight and a curious coo.
now they're standing in the door singin' "that's my shit, that's my shit"
“Didn’t meanta spook ya.” He offers as he comes closer, having seen her jump when his voice rang out. He hopes that the grin and the wave settle some of her nerves, coming to stand a fair amount of distance away and let his honeyed gaze focus on her face when she acknowledges him. The wind picks up, picking her hair up and ruffling his semi wet hair as well, though he’s distracted by the star whale that approaches.
A hand slips up to try and run his calloused fingers along Jyoti’s skin as his attention shifts back to Amalia, scanning over her soft yet hardened features. “Really? I can’t say I’ve seen one before.” He half mumbles at the end, head tilting as he considers it and glances back to the star whale. “Can’t say I’ve seen you before either.” The grin shifts to something a bit more playful, a raise of a red brow toward her.
that's what everybody wants an' some more singing "you may be the death of me"
Always ready for scritches Jyoti happily submits, rolling over to expose her belly for the young man to pet. Amalia watches with a raised brow, smiling wryly despite herself at the calf's easiness to please. "They fly inland, I think. Jyo was near the Greatwood when she fell," the Shield explains, reaching back to untie her ponytail, the wind immediately tearing at her hair.
She's wrestling her locks into a plait and doesn't notice his flirtatious grin - not that she would have, regardless. "I'm... only here temporarily," she explains, hoping that it's true. "Staying with friends. Are you... do you live here?" Glancing up at last Amalia tilts her head curiously, eager to deflect the conversation away from herself.
now they're standing in the door singin' "that's my shit, that's my shit"
As the star whale rolls over for the belly rubs, Milo’s attention is torn between both Jyoti and Amalia, amusement lingering along his face as he indeed gives Jyoti what she seeks. There’s a nod given to the information, tucking it away for later while he considers what the star whale is to this woman. Is she just… A pet? Or something more? Like Zeph’s chameleon?
He mulls it over, letting his gaze linger on the way she fixes her hair, but too oblivious to notice that there’s anxiety lingering in her words. “A shame.” He hums now that he’s focused on her more fully. “Aye, I do live here. Name’s Milo. I work on the docks.” He let’s Jyoti go to shift and turn to where they might be able to spy the docks from where they’re at. “Y’came at the right time. Storm season’s almost done. Longheat’s probably the prettiest Torchline gets.” He flashes her another playful grin at that, moving to make room for her should she wish to walk along the beach more. A few Hels circle around above them before one flies into the water to grab a fish to eat.
that's what everybody wants an' some more singing "you may be the death of me"
"Amalia," the Shield offers her name in return, finishing her messy braid and letting her arms drop back to her sides. Following his gaze to the maze of docks, Amalia hums in thought. "Does that... involve ships? I've always wondered what it would be like to sail on one..." Wonderful and terrifying, the girl supposes. Now that she lacks her aquatic skins the ocean holds more risk than opportunity, but still she finds herself fascinated by the thought.
Torchline in LongHeat does sound pleasant, though last year had been anything but. The sound of the Hels crying above brings Amalia's gaze upwards; she watches as the birds circle and dive, though one of them seems to be struggling to stay aloft, its right wing twisted at an unusual angle. "Do you see that?" Amalia asks, pointing at the bird. "I think it's hurt..."
now they're standing in the door singin' "that's my shit, that's my shit"
“’Course. The docks are where the ships come in.” He flashes her his best winning smile, filing her name away for later. “Sailin’ is fine an’ all. Gets a bit borin’ after a bit with nothin’ to do but look at the water.” He offers with a huff of laughter, a shake of his head.
But he follows her gaze out to the Hels, spying the one that seems to be hurt. Red brows furrow, a small nod given to her that he sees it too. “Musta been hurt in the storm?” He suggests, perfectly content to let it remain hurt, likely to become a cloud wyrm’s meal. But something about the way Amalia’s intrigue is given, makes Milo think otherwise. “We can help it if ya want?” He asks, boldly reaching out to grab her hand and tug her along down the beach toward the Hels, using his other hand to summon his own hel, something to guide the bird to the beach as a support system.
that's what everybody wants an' some more singing "you may be the death of me"
She's too distracted by the Hel to prevent him from grabbing her hand, though the sensation of a palm wrapped around hers does take her by surprise. There's only a moment to blink briefly at it before he's tugging her along, a summoned Hel appearing in the air before them, its mind strangely blank.
Amalia ignores it, shivering against the unnaturalness of it in her thoughts before focusing on the injured bird. "It'll be okay," she calls out through the beast speaker bond, releasing Milo to extend her free hands toward the creature. "Come- let me take a look at you."
now they're standing in the door singin' "that's my shit, that's my shit"
He tugs her along easily, until their hands part and Milo’s still guiding his summoned Hel to the injured one, luring it closer and closer until it hears Amalia’s words reach its mind. Milo can tell there’s a shift, a difference to it that makes it where his summoned Hel flies off in a random direction – red brows furrowing in a small amount of confusion at it, but dismissing it regardless as the injured Hel flits to Amalia’s arms.
“Nev’r seen that before.” He comments quietly, letting his hands drop to his sides, watching the Hel extend its wing out, cawing a pitiful squawking sound. They really should’ve left it for a cloud wyrm or a predator of sorts – but with the way it seemed to choose Amalia, he bites down on his tongue, so he doesn’t air his worries. “Lemme know what I can do.” He’s at a loss.
that's what everybody wants an' some more singing "you may be the death of me"
The hel settles comfortably into her arms despite its size, sending to her mind a smattering of images and emotions: a storm, a tree, pain, fear, hope. "It's okay," Amalia murmurs soothingly, running her fingers gingerly down the injured wing. As she does a breeze picks up, wrapping affectionately around the trio, warm and soothing as it knits together delicate, broken bone.
She glances at Milo when she's done, blinking as though she's forgotten that he's there. "I think she'll be okay now," Amalia replies with a smile, raising her arm for the hel to balance upon as it tests out its repaired limb. "You were right- she got caught in a storm and throw into a tree."
now they're standing in the door singin' "that's my shit, that's my shit"
It’s a curious thing, to watch as this wild animal is cradled in Amalia’s arms. It’s another curious thing to feel the wind as it picks up, an invisible blanket of healing that has the Hel perching up easily on her arm, testing out its limb that had just a few moments prior bent at odd angles. And if Milo knew anything of modern media, he might question whether Amalia was a princess of sorts.
He doesn’t, what a shame.
Instead, a grin crosses his face, bending over a bit to get a better look at the Hel. “Y’know, if she wants ta sit on yer shoulder, y’might be able to walk on the water.” A red brow raises as his attention flickers back to Amalia’s face, his own shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. “Did ya heal ‘er with magic?”
that's what everybody wants an' some more singing "you may be the death of me"
09-04-2020, 03:51 PM (This post was last modified: 09-04-2020, 06:27 PM by Amalia.)
Amalia
the shield of safrin
Amalia has no need of a hel to walk on water, but of course she doesn't tell the boy this. Nor does she agree to his proposal, her expression somewhat unsettled as she looks out on the sea and considers stepping on its surface. It would be so easy to slip down, down, down, to descend to the unknown and lose her breath. Without Remi here to save her, would she simply drown, free of her burdens in promise to Mort?
Abruptly the girl shakes her head, dislodging the healed hel. "I... magic. Yeah. A gift." Distractedly she watches the bird ascend and join its friends. Healed, happy, whole. Will she ever be those things?
"I... should go. It was nice to meet you, Milo." Still distracted by her thoughts, Amalia flashes the boy an apologetic smile. She turns with a sudden, fluid motion, back towards the safety of the bluffs, a shiver coursing down her spine.
