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!
Laughing at Melita's words, Saiden grinned. "Maybe I like a little bit of destruction." Whistling, he winked at her.
"I'll bet you do," he drawled. Arching an eyebrow, he gave her a once over. "I've got a few tales myself. Perhaps we could trade war stories some time? After all, we should know our fellow crew members, aye? He chuckled.
The stomp completely missed. For his trouble, her weapon slammed into his back. Grunting out in pain, he used the momentum from her strike and from his own pivot to complete the turn. At the end of it, his cutlass flashed, still using the flat side. He attempted to slam it into her side with all the force he could muster.
She snorted, but said nothing more on the subjects of destruction – she liked it too, the unraveling and unfurling of chaos, had grown up on its vestiges and ethers, on the patterns of reprisal and vengeance that came after. It was in her veins and battered up against her soul – and she wasn’t certain if she’d ever truly be rid of the caustic, bedlam endeavors. “Sure. We can trade stories.” Because curiosity honed and harpooned in her entity too, never out of sight or out of mind.
Except now the youth needed to maintain focus, bending and swaying to cutlass wielding and sword cataclysms – missing the swiftness of his pivot, not expecting it due to all the other strikes. Sure enough, he struck along her left side, a piercing, bruising force that made her gasp for a second, then extend into laughter as she strived to position her hilt directly into his knee.
Grinning at Melita, Saiden nodded. "Looking forward to it." There was something decidedly wolfish about his smile.
His blow connected better than he thought it would. Unfortunately, he'd poured so much force and effort into the strike that he left himself completely open to a counter. So her hilt slammed directly into his knee.
Grunting in pain, he found his leg unable to support his weight. Dropping down on that side, his already injured knee slammed into the rocky ground. Still, he gritted his teeth against the pain. Not able to recover in time, he simply punched forward with his own hilt, trying to hit her on the left side where he'd already scored a blow.
A glint of satisfaction curled through her own wolfish grin as he grunted in pain, dropping down onto the ground – she was by no means a paragon of virtue and innocence, striving to dance away from the incoming backlash. She hadn’t been looking to deal out heavy blows or malicious upheavals – only to practice, to prove herself, to gain aptitude against someone else who seemingly knew how to wield a cutlass.
But she didn’t get far enough – his hilt rankling where bruises had already begun to form, from some strength, force, and precision not previously rendered. A gasp, a wheeze, flooded through her lungs as she stumbled off, out of reach, hands grasping at her side. “Okay. I’m good now,” came along a laugh, but her sword was clearly holding her up through the onslaught of torment and pain, the spots in her eyes.
As his blade connected, Saiden's smile took on a savage edge. When Melita declared herself finished he wheezed out a response from lungs that were still pretty unhappy with him. "Yeah you are." He nodded at her.
Then he shifted until he was sitting on the ground. Taking out his flask again, he took a long pull from it. Holding it out to her, he gave her a once over. "Where'd you learn to fight like that?" Leaning forward, he chuckled. "I'll admit I'm not the best swordsman, but even I know that was pretty impressive." Moving into a cross-legged position, he reached out for his pack, dragging it closer.
She sat down too, another impish smile adorned on her lips as he proclaimed her as good, pride embedded and immersed in the thick of its mischief. The fatigue wore in then, and she lifted the hem of her shirt to inspect burgeoning bruises, frowning only slightly at the deepening hues, before placing the ends back down; sighing, stretching, until the kinks seemed to work out. She could see to them later; after she’d run into the rest of the family, seen what hell manifested in those familiar walls.
Melita took his offered flask again though, content to remain still for a moment, the restless eaves gone and replaced with a dull ache. She didn’t expect the compliment again, raising her brows, taking a long swallow off the container, and passing it back. “Many people have taught me.” The list grew ever longer – and she took something from all of the encounters, applied it to her benefits, to her stances, to her forms, to her impulsivity, until it became more than just a want and an ambition; but a stoked fire, keen and overwhelming. “And I practice a lot.” Because she wanted to be better, the best, so no one would ever touch her, or someone she loved again. “Where did you learn?”
When Melita raised her shirt, Saiden eye's lingered on the bruises forming there. Hissing in sympathy, he started pulling the food out of his pack. Starting with the bread, he broke off half and held it out to her. "I dunno about you, but I worked up quite the appetite just now."
Nodding at her words, he grinned. "It definitely shows. Jack made a good choice adding you to the crew." His grin turned into a smirk at her question. He took a bite, chewed, and swallowed before responding. "On a boat." Laughing, he winked at her. "But I think what you were asking is more accurately who taught me. And it was my family." His easy smile faltered for a moment and he looked at the ground.
The youth wasn’t one to ignore offered food, and extended a grateful smile as the bread was handed to her. “Thank you.” She broke off a chunk, contemplating something in the distance, when Saiden’s next words surprised her; arching a brow as her eyes swung back to him. “I’m not sure he feels the same way.” A shrug, because she didn’t know; he’d said nothing in the wake of summoning Ludo to repair the ship and snag at their supplies – and she’d done everything she could beforehand.
There was something in Saiden’s other response that meant she likely should’ve ceased prying, but curiosity and impulse got the better of her. “Oh. Did they sail too?” Had he always lived on a ship, a boat, and that was why he made his living on the Ark? It seemed to make sense – routine and familiar, to glide into your family’s wake. Melita had simply done the opposite.
As Melita took the bread, Saiden smiled. "You're welcome." Reaching into the pack, he pulled out a blanket. Settling it between the two of them, he took meat, cheese, some sliced peppers, and an orange. He peeled the orange and split it in half, leaving the other half for her.
Laughing at her comment he took out his belt knife and sliced some of the meat and cheese. Adding it and a few peppers to the bread, he started munching on it. "He hasn't kicked ye off yet. That means yer alright." He shrugged and took the flask back, drinking from it before setting it on the blanket as well.
Sighing he nodded. "Aye they did. We grew up all together on me father's boat, the Siren's Call." Smiling, though his eyes were distant, he turned to stare out to the horizon.
Melita eyed the array of food, and so did Fangorn. Not remotely shy about it, some vines reached out to snag a piece of meat, grumbling and growling contently as he swallowed and consumed it quickly. The youth shook her head and grabbed hold of the gourd, placing him in her lap while she bit into a slice of pepper. “Maybe he just hasn’t found the right moment.” She snorted lightly, and then her gaze carried over to the rainbow hues, blends of kaleidoscope effects, reminding her of another world she’d been forced to leave behind (an array of glass; surely kindled and christened by the gods, and they’d never known how or why). Perhaps Jack wasn’t the type of individual to bide his time on something of that nature – and she could likely argue that she’d been a necessity out in those waves. But it would remain to be seen, and she had other things to contemplate anyway.
Not taking the hint, and grabbing hold of some cheese, the wilderness bolstered audacity, and she continued her inquiries. “Did the Siren’s Call operate like the Ark?” Was that how he’d become involved?
Shrugging, Saiden bit down on his open faced sandwich. "Or maybe he thinks you're worth keeping around." Grinning, he waved his free hand around in the air. "Trust me, if Jack didn't want you on the Ark you wouldn't be on the Ark."
Then his eyes narrowed slightly. "Of course if you're really worried you could leave first. Or strike first." He cocked his head to one side and watched Melita's features.
Sighing, he shifted so he was facing the water instead of the woman next to him. "Yes and no." He took a long pull from the flask. "Da was a shit father, but a good captain. Ran a tight ship. My siblings and I were all groomed for our roles from an early age. And I loved it." He smiled as an ocean breeze ruffled his hair.
She nibbled and thought, still with a shrug embedded, balanced in her shoulders, the uncertainty curling through her form. Perhaps she was worth keeping around. Perhaps she wasn’t. Time would tell, on adventures, on the seas, or anything else laden in between. She did manage to quirk, arch her brow at his bizarre indication and assumption thereafter though. “What do you mean?” Strike first?
She took another few bites, contemplating the insinuations layered within words she hadn’t quite fathomed or understood; more of pasts then presents. She knew about shit fathers – at least his had been around. Hers had abandoned, not even bothering to claim them as his own. “So you still enjoy it?” Or had he journeyed to the Ark simply out of habit, and everything he had ever known?
09-10-2020, 05:38 PM (This post was last modified: 09-13-2020, 07:40 PM by Saiden.)
Chuckling, Saiden grinned. "I'm not saying mutiny or anything like that." Shrugging, he took a bite. "But if you're worried about him getting rid of you, then make yourself invaluable." His grin turned into a smirk. "Surely there's something he wants that you can acquire. Or something he doesn't want that you can get rid of."
Opening his mouth to answer he hesitated. Closed it and glanced over at Melita. Looking back at the horizon he sighed. It took him a while to actually respond to her, and when he did he spoke in a whisper. "I love the Ocean and everything in and on it."
