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!
After being cooped up on the Ark during monsoon season and coming back to Haulani to find the devastation wrought by the monsoons on the mainland Saiden had decided to get away for a bit. So he'd grabbed a cutlass, some food, and a flask and set off. His steps took him along the coast and beyond.
All the way out to the Rainbow Road. He meandered along the geysers for a little while dodging out of their way when one erupted too close. Eventually he found a spot that was clear. Taking out the flask he sipped the rum from it. Staring out at the horizon, he smiled.
Then he unsheathed his cutlass. Spinning his wrist and the sword he spread his feet a bit. Holding the flask in his other hand he started moving in a basic block and strike pattern.
She’d already been around her shipmates for a long enough time, along on the seas, whistling in the sails, and grumbling along the decks. But the sight of Saiden with a sword, a cutlass, was enough to render her curious, an eager participant in all things marked in armaments and weaponry.
With a leap and a bound she recognized the Rainbow Road, cast her gilded eyes upon the blended hues with a fond eye, and then unfurled her own little sword. Not quite as grand, not quite as monumental, but favored and beloved by her.
“Can I practice with you?” She called and hollered, maneuvering along to the side to watch, witness, for a moment, the slow channels of a cheeky smile beginning to form.
Turning his head, Saiden grinned and nodded at Melita. "I'm always happy to have a dance partner." Taking a sip from his flask he spun and faced her completely. Giving another swivel of his wrist he rotated his blade as he continued to warm up a bit.
Cocking his head to one side, he studied her weapon and her stance. "So," he drawled. "What'd you think of your first proper season aboard the Ark? Was it everything ye dreamed of?"
And then he struck, laughing as he did. His blade swept across his body, from her right to her left in a simple, but brutal slash. However, he was careful to use the flat of the cutlass, so all she'd get if it connected was a nasty bruise.
Her dancing abilities were as wild and chaotic as the rest of her life, and the bright beam of her smile amplified the feral effect. Swords drawn, she watched and waited, remembered all the finite details of training with Sunjata, on extending her own passions across the decks, on practicing and skirmishing in her free time, when the sea hadn’t beckoned and called. The stance was a routine thing, strong, sturdy, and grounded, but only so she had something to pulse and pierce off of.
The inquiry, likely meant to distract, only made the youth shrug. “I’m not sure,” and she ducked, dodged, curled out of his way like a cat, rising and falling along the pathway. “Is it always like that?” Filled with ghost whales and ridiculousness? Danger at every waking moment? Ordinarily she’d hasten to it – but one thing after another after another had eaten away at some portions.
Or maybe it’d been homesickness too – wondering what everyone else was doing while she helped fight off monoliths.
She came towards him, hands gripping hard on the handle, thrusting towards his left hip, intending to embody a clean cut, her own ends flattened too – not intending to actually slash or tear him to ribbons.
Melita was way faster than Saiden. And, as he discovered when he attempted to parry, way stronger too. Her blade slapped his aside and slammed into his hip, causing him to hiss in pain. Still, he grinned at her.
Stepping back as best he could, he attempted slam the flat of his blade into her right shoulder. Mostly, though, he was hoping his height and reach could keep her off him, since he was pretty sure she would beat him in short order if he let her get close.
"It depends." He laughed. "Sometimes it's treasure troves and calm seas, sometimes it's ghost whales and monsoons. That's the beauty and the terror and the splendor of the Ocean."
Melita could’ve had a host of advantages – her figure was nimble, quick, slight in comparison, capable of moving quickly, efficiently, out of range of lanky limbs or potent strikes. But she’d also trained for power, for utilizing the earth as she pushed off, for extending her abilities through sheer will, grit, mettle, and forged determination. It lived and breathed in her, amongst and amidst every step – only permitting the slightest of grins as her blade caught him.
She ducked away from his strike at her shoulder, maneuvering swiftly forwards, raising her blade so the hilt might pummel directly into his stomach. A light laugh echoed on her pursuit, uncertain if it was covering up the frailties of her notions, of wanting the taste of adventure and realizing the barbarity of it. “Have you seen all of those things before? Or is different every time?” What else happens out there? coiled along her nerves, brazen curiosity never quite extinguished.
Saiden's strike missed. Growling in annoyance, he did his best to try and dance out of the way of Melita's riposte. However, he wasn't quick or nimble enough.
So her hilt slammed directly into his gut. His breath left him in a whoosh. Gasping for air, he slashed wildly from her left to her right, more trying to drive her back than actually do damage.
He didn't really have the breath to spare to answer but he did his best. "Different hnnnn every hnnnn time," he wheezed out, gasping between each word. Then, he reached out with his magic to the nearest geyser. Targeting the water inside it, he made it erupt towards them, hoping to distract her or at least buy him a few precious seconds to recover.
The youth didn’t have anything against Saiden. He hadn’t committed any wrongdoing upon those she considered family. He hadn’t caused her ire to spike for some inexplicable reason. But there was still the slightest curl of satisfaction as he gasped for air after her strike; the feral grin emerging along her lips.
She backed away from the wild slashing, a warning sign, and thought to prepare for her next onslaught – when the water burst from him, spraying, cascading down around, upon her, a healthy dousing that streaked into laughter. “You could’ve said you needed a break.” No adversaries, no monsters, no mayhem here. She waited for a moment or two, tapping her foot along the ground – pondering over his answer. “Have you ever found treasure?” Or had it all been a ruse?
When it appeared he’d had enough time in mending, the honeybee burst forward again, a rush of movement and motion, aiming for a hilted strike along his lower leg. For variety.
When Melita backed off Saiden gave her a nod. His lips twitched at her words. "Where's the hnnn fun in that," he managed to get out. Placing one hand on his side he sucked in deep gulps of air.
However, he hadn't fully recovered by the time she struck again. His eyes widened as her hilt came for him a second time. Knowing he wouldn't be able to dodge out of the way or block her, he took a different approach.
Lifting his other foot, he lashed out. His goal was to slam his boot into her knee, or any part of her leg he could hit. Then her own blow connect and he lost feeling in that leg. Collapsing to his knees he held up his free hand to ask for a break.
She snorted, but understood the need to push on, the chance to prove, to implement, to wield instead of being dragged below the surface. But this was practice, and not ingrained in reality – the moves might’ve been, but not the surrounding circumstances.
This time though, even as she struck, his approach held faster. His boot rendered with her calf, and with no way to defend herself, the youth went down, plopping along the grass and ground with a surprised expression rounding along her features. Ordinarily, she would’ve been cross with the entire thing – irritated, annoyed that she’d been felled so easily. However, this one just seemed foolish, and she laughed in spite of it all. Ensuring her sword was still in her grasp, she rolled over, and then back up – and seeing he signaled for a break this time, she set about checking the mark on her leg, certain it’d eventually be a gigantic bruise. “Just let me know when you’re ready.” Then they could start again.
Thankfully Melita saw Saiden's signal. However, seeing as he'd actually managed to take her down, perhaps she needed it as well. Still wheezing slightly, he laughed. "You really want to keep going?" Shaking his head, he shrugged. "Well alright then. Give me a sec." He used his cutlass to lever himself to his feet, planting the blade on the ground.
Taking out his flask he took a sip from it. Then he gestured at her leg. "You alright?" Leaning forward, he held out the flask for her if she wanted a drink while he peered at her injured limb.
Regardless of whether she drank, he'd make sure the flask was safely tucked away again. Then he'd salute her lazily with his cutlass. Stepping back into a defensive stance, he'd nod. "Ready when you are."
“Just a few more rounds,” came the sneaky, voracious grin, the notion of taking, taking, taking in all its avarice. For experience, for demolition, until the void finally caught up to her. But there was no persecution to be found in her stance, and she watched, waited, inspecting her leg, presuming the bright, bruising hues would soon be upon her – marked and etched in her glory. “I’m okay. I’ve had far worse.” The smile remained, but nothing else stated; naught about the scar puckered and distorted down the length of her spine, that webbed outwards in lightning strikes, vivid reminders of when she wasn’t enough.
She took the offered flask though, sipping down several swallows, before handing it back to him. “Thank you.” The youth inhaled, a deep, long breath, pressing weight down on her injured limb, deciding it could bear a couple more woven barbarities.
At his signal then, she launched again, not as fast, not as swift, but certainly as wild – aiming for her hilt to be thrust into his left shoulder.
Chuckling, Saiden shook his head. "If my body can take it, sure. But after that we're going to eat and drink and celebrate surviving another season on the high seas, yeah?" He grinned at Melita.
Nodding as she declared herself fit he checked his own injuries. There was nothing too serious. "I sense a story behind that." Taking back the flask, he gave her a once over, but didn't ask her to elaborate about her other wounds.
Her hilt slammed into his shoulder hard enough to rattle his whole arm. Gritting his teeth, he pivoted his left side away from her. As he did, he attempted to stomp on her lift foot.
09-07-2020, 09:42 AM (This post was last modified: 09-07-2020, 09:42 AM by Melita.)
MELITA
“I wouldn’t destroy you.” A merciless smile wrapped around her lips and might’ve said otherwise, laughing at the notion of celebrating survival. Perhaps that should’ve been done every season throughout Caido; glimpses of memories, of faces, gone by the wayside, and the ones remaining behind recalled why their blood pumped through their veins, why they still existed. "Deal."
An arch to her brow followed, the grin turning into a deviant smirk. “Oh, I have many stories.” And wasn’t about to tell him any, not when there was battle to be had and a skirmish sought, eyes watching as he went for another blow. A pivot, a twist, a turn, and all her other practices with Wessex, with Sunjata, came swimming, swarming back. She launched off to the side, and he had nothing to stomp upon but the ground.
Which meant she could try and knock her hilt into his back; a little flame pressing into chaos.
