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!
08-19-2020, 04:15 PM (This post was last modified: 08-27-2020, 05:19 PM by Wessex.)
WESSEX
the wraith
she tied you to her kitchen chair she broke your throne and she cut your hair
It was done. Tanau no longer suffers, or so it seemed. Kiada had been devoured by the magma. Their lives move on. Whether or not it was worth it has yet to be seen, but the cogs are ticking, the if-thens and the wild possibilities that only the audacious (if slow-moving) Wraith seems capable of dreaming up.
The demigod stands before the Eirachi’s shrine in the Underground, taking a good long time to look at the icey atlar she’d created (with some help). Ice, fire - those were obvious, but what would the Flowerbirth and Leafchange Gods be like? Surely they, too, exist? It’s something she’ll likely avoid asking, for there are other tasks on her docket for this year and it seems like it’s time to turn her eye back to her creator.
But first - acknowledgement.
“It’s done,” she says, gazing into the ice. “Your brother no longer suffers like before.”
”And you took your sweet time about it.” It would be wrong to say that the Eirachi does not sound grateful, or pleased with the outcome, but might it have taken precedent over other tasks? Who knows? It is done now, and there is little else to do but to give what was promised.
She appears before the icy altar, enrobed in frost, hands spread in satisfaction. ”Come, then, sweet thing,” she invites, fixing Wessex with pale eyes, her sharp teeth bared in a smile. ”A deal is a deal. My kin no longer suffers, and you receive what we agreed.”
she tied you to her kitchen chair she broke your throne and she cut your hair
The Wraith’s world is not the same as Eirachi’s and it is likely that the goddess will neither understand why she waited, nor will she care. Already so much responsibility lays on her shoulders (do this, do that, lead) it was only the promise of something to aid the Ascended that got it done at all. So Wessex shrugs and refrains from retorting, for there is little else to do but receive what has been promised and hold it until it can be of use.
Approaching silently, she returns the fanged smile, inwardly a tad hesitant (the thought that this might not be all she’d hoped it would be) but outwardly grateful and gracious. When access is offered, she bites down and drinks deeply, perched on the precipice of anticipated pleasure and a boundless curiosity. Who else will be able say they’ve held the power of a goddess in their veins like this?
Whilst most would bend and croon with the pleasure of an Ascended bite, a goddess is a different creature entirely. The Eirachi’s veins are too cold for ecstasy to touch, though her cool fingers to wind through the back of the Wraith’s hair, clasping the back of her neck. Wessex does not feel the cold, normally - but this is an exception, and it will feel as though she is freezing, within and without, as she draws deeply on the power of Deepfrost.
And it’s without end, seemingly - as much as she wishes to draw, still there will be more to give, until she is spinning with it, reeling with it. ”There you have it. You need only will it, and my power will be at your fingertips. Wield it well - it is as fickle as my season.”
Wessex has drunk from the Eirachi and holds her power in reserve. This will last until the next time Wessex drinks from someone (from this post onwards, because I know it’s taken me a while) or until it is used. Please contact Honey when you have decided to use it!
she tied you to her kitchen chair she broke your throne and she cut your hair
This is no small gift, and Wessex knows it, but the Wraith doesn’t know what to expect? The rejuvenation of her Goddess? The flood of - of ice and freezing cold that she hasn’t felt in years. The kind that would have killed her if she mortal. The woman jerks and moans into the offering, though whether it’s a sound of pleasure or pain (or both? Yes, Wessex has found the joy in mixing the two), only the demigod can know.
Deepfrost floods her veins and she draws heavily, miraculously avoiding brainfreeze, until she is sated. Pulling away with a gasp, eyes wide, she steadies herself on all fours before rising. “Fuck, that’s cold.” How long it will stay with her, or when it will be needed is something for fate to decide, but Wessex has a smile on her face and ideas in her head as she bows to the Eirachi. “Your power is fearful. I look forward to using it.”
Unless the Eirachi has anything else to say or use her for, the Wraith will exit into the maze of the Underground.
