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!
you think i'm happy because i'm smiling,
but it's the easiest thing to do
Juniper had deliberated somewhat over what to wear to Halo -- she knew it was a cold region, but in the middle of LongHeat? She didn't want to be overdressed. So she dressed for a Greatwoods LeafChange, late in the year when the snows had just started ...
The cold still shocked her when she stepped through the portal, driving the breath from her lungs in an icy cloud. The contrast with where she'd just been was immense. Her garments would keep her warm enough, she thought, but she sought to hurry indoors anyway, heading to the nearest public building.
Lucky Juniper: she realized after she'd walked in that she'd found a bar. That should do nicely for learning a bit about Halo and its people. Now she just had to find someone to talk to ... Hesitating near the door, she looked across the room for anyone who seemed approachable.
if you looked a little closer,
you'd find my eyes aren't smiling too.
Unfortunately for the newcomer, Deimos had probably never appeared approachable.
He’d made it a point to explore the region of what he was due to call home; a different aspect in some ways, and familiar all at the same time. Rushes of nostalgia would pinpoint, segment, for loops and cycles, so much that he thought he was hallucinating again, waiting to see ghosts of the past rise up from snow, ice, and rime, from weather-beaten or foot-laden paths. When they didn’t, there were stark reminders that Halo was not the Aurora Basin, and that he couldn’t, wouldn’t, be able to recall sanctions failing to exist – the summits and peaks he knew were in ash, in darkness, in cloaks and veils of lifetimes rendered abolished and perished; even when they pummeled within slumber.
He’d yet to be a frequent visitor of the bar, surprisingly, given the series of his life circumstances, but the sickness had meant he avoided quite a few things. Curiosity and intrigue hastened him into the warmer domicile, not looking to drink himself into a stupor (yet), perusing the quarters as a matter of study, examination, and meticulous action. Which was how he noted and noticed the Fae nearby – looking quite out of place – and he could only narrow his eyes in speculation as to why she was here.
Since the last one he’d met.
So the Sword offered her a nod, before tending to the refreshments, grabbing hold of a beer from the bartender, before finding himself a place in the corner.
you think i'm happy because i'm smiling,
but it's the easiest thing to do
Juniper's first thought on seeing Deimos was that she hadn't known people -- even outsiders -- could get that tall. Then he nodded to her, and she decided to take that as an invitation. Certainly no one else seemed as interested in speaking to her, though she'd gotten plenty of stares.
She went to the bar first to get her own drink, then headed over to the tall man's corner.
"Hello," she said. "Do you mind if I join you?"
More than half of her expected him to reject her; part of her almost thought that would be a relief. Starting up conversations with complete strangers was ... well, it was what she'd signed up for, with this job, but that didn't mean she was good at it, or found it easy to do.
if you looked a little closer,
you'd find my eyes aren't smiling too.
Corners seemed apt for brooding, or being left to his own devices, sitting and settling down into the sanction, then snagging at a series of papers retrieved from his satchel. A piece of charcoal followed thereafter, and he spread the series of notes out along the surface of his chosen table, intending to draw out several other notations, when the diminutive Fae found a voice, expressing it towards him.
The monolith immediately drew up a series of walls over himself and his features; a reticent blade resting in its scabbard, spine rigid, figure unbending, unyielding, every designation that of a honed weapon – no matter how often it’d been felled or discarded lately. Suspicion contorted its way through his mind, notions of moments spent in the rain with Nephele, with the Fae who plotted Ascended destruction, to a name he’d given away to Sunjata, to a series of circumstances he’d removed himself from. His experiences in the Greatwood had varied in the passing years and seasons, but he hadn’t known the race to venture this far, into the cold, into the brutality beyond their own roots and trees.
Did he mind if she joined him? Perhaps. The intuitions had given way to curiosity, intrigue, and further speculations though, and his machinations were contorting, vicious, vehement things; a hankering for plotting and circumstances when weeks prior they’d merely been muddled in delusions and afflictions. “Go ahead.”
He moved his papers back, the subtle designs and thoughts inclined and away, one brow carefully, meticulously, arched in her direction. “What brings you to Halo?”
you think i'm happy because i'm smiling,
but it's the easiest thing to do
Blissfully ignorant of Deimos' thoughts, his history, Juniper sat down and smiled, a bit ruefully. "I'm exploring. Trying to get to know the other lands, and their people. It's not a typical Fae habit, I know, but ... maybe that will change."
That wasn't a lie, of course, but Juniper counted it somewhat unlikely, however much she would love it if the average Fae would step outside the Greatwood and initiate contact with the outsiders. Privately, she had her doubts as to whether any of them would even listen to her if she brought them the results of her outreach -- whatever insights or alliances or arrangements that yielded. Even Alina hadn't been so receptive ...
Juniper pushed aside worries about her own people; right now, she had a conversation to navigate. "Not to state the obvious, but it's very cold here. I couldn't imagine being here in DeepFrost."
if you looked a little closer,
you'd find my eyes aren't smiling too.
Deimos wouldn’t have lived for as long as he had – over multiple occasions, worlds, and kingdoms – without the predilection towards skepticism. He didn’t exist in juvenile, naïve parameters, and hadn’t since he was a child. In between footfalls of warlords, marches into crusades, and his own planned scruples, he’d met a multitude of cunning individuals, who knew exactly how to undermine, how to manipulate, how to play the game to their liking, moving, maneuvering their pawns, their pieces. The Sword contorted into machinations and calculations, distorted in altering frameworks, in efficient angles, a mind at work, spinning behind the impassive, stoic features – because he’d known enough Fae to herald this one’s notions were divergent, dissimilar. Which only led to question after question reeling in his speculations: what were they up to? Was this further plotting, like Nephele’s had been, intending disaster for the Ascended? Or were they trying a new approach, dispatched from their woods, venturing, venturing, venturing, until they came back with their desired answers?
He paused, took a swig of his beer, allowed the silence to fill in the space, before placing it down along the table once more. “I have not known many Fae to do the same. What brought this on?” Curiosity? Rebellion? Maybe she was a revolutionary amongst their people. Maybe the Greatwoods’ stances had altered (but he had his doubts).
The inclinations towards Halo – its surroundings, the cold seemed to be a deterrent, a distraction, and he’d permit it to slide into that direction, for now – eyes riveting back towards the bar, and the people taking residence within it. “I have yet to experience Deepfrost here.” But that would come with time. He’d lived through mountains in the winter before – had chiseled his way into chilling ichor, become a part of the backdrop, of the scenery, in the worn, rime edges, until no one knew which was beast and which was the summit. The Reaper had preferred it that way. “Perhaps they survive through magic. Or merely staying indoors.” An arch to his brow resumed, regained its stature, as he took another swallow, and upon finishing the drink, following suit on patterns, on introductions that hadn’t fully taken place, he tilted his head a fraction. “I am Deimos.”
you think i'm happy because i'm smiling,
but it's the easiest thing to do
Juniper hesitated, took a drink to cover her hesitation, and felt her eyebrows shot up at the taste of the Halovian liquor, quite different from the Fae wine she usually preferred. Oh, that would certainly keep you warm, wouldn't it? She managed, with some effort, not to cough. "Isolation has not helped my people weather recent storms, so we've chosen to try something new. Or at least I have."
After all, she still wasn't sure how many Fae would listen to her, if she tried to bring them some great deal with the outsiders, some alliance that they had to keep. Alina hadn't seemed to want one, and Nephele, who had originally suggested it -- Juniper hadn't heard from Nephele for some time, and not for lack of trying.
"You're new here?" Something about that surprised Juniper; he simply seemed so comfortable in the environment. An Outlander, perhaps, but he didn't have the lost air that Juniper associated with them -- not that she'd met many. "Staying indoors would certainly help. I'm Juniper."
if you looked a little closer,
you'd find my eyes aren't smiling too.
He made no comment at her reaction towards the liquor, hiding any amusement behind the guarded tangents and unmoving features. Intrigue got the better part of him anyway, distracting, coiling their sections and sanctions back over his mind as the Fae mentioned a change in their approach, in the way they, she, were trying something new. Which storms were these? The ongoing struggle between the Ascended and Fae, or another tempestuous era already forthcoming, looming, foreboding around the edges? There always appeared to be something on the horizon, and most of the figments were bleak, treacherous, or blatantly enigmatic. He wouldn’t nettle too far into that range, for now, picking out an alternative route. “How has the Greatwood fared recently?” He hadn’t frequented it as of late; no draw towards the Fiat Lux of old, and before had been other flaws, tragedies, and scruples keeping him out of the forest.
Plotting and maneuvering kept him busy, entertained, away from the cold or dreaded denizens of his own mind, the plagues on senses, the insistence of trauma, so he took another swallow of the alcohol, let it savor, let it burn in the miniscule silence.
New here, but not to mountains, not to summits, not to peaks, not to high rises that sought naught but power, prestige, supremacy, and dominance. He knew they weren’t one and the same, and sometimes snow was just snow, ice was just ice, but there were moments, glimmers, where everything blended into one figment. Then he could pretend, for a second, that the Aurora Basin was more than a memory. “Yes. I moved from the Hollowed Grounds this season.” Another modicum of information, to see what bit, what lured. A name arrived thereafter, Juniper, and he’d commit the title to tracking legions, to filaments, to unfurling stratagems. “Were you hoping to find something in Halo?” Other than explorations, other than idle curiosity?
you think i'm happy because i'm smiling,
but it's the easiest thing to do
Juniper sighed, eyes downcast, at Deimos' question. "Not well. After what happened to the Mathair -- I've never been very in tune with the rest of my people, but even I can tell that recent events weigh heavily on us. Things are ... quieter than usual. It feels like there's a storm coming."
She stopped, realizing she'd confided in Deimos more than she intended to -- these were thoughts she hadn't even mentioned to Alina or Nephele. Why had she opened up to this stranger? It wasn't as if she had any solid reasoning behind those thoughts, either; it was just a feeling, a heaviness in the pit of her stomach.
"Something, yes," Juniper answered. What was she looking for here? The Warden's help, but more than that: "I want to know more about outsiders. How you live, how you think. Especially about us."
if you looked a little closer,
you'd find my eyes aren't smiling too.
The Fae had always been a furtive race to him – secretive in their wooden labyrinths, in their rituals, traditions, willing to share portions of their home to outsiders, and the rest laden within their locked corridors. A conniving strategy, and one he’d often employed and utilized along Basin roots and routes. One never knew how many lurked there. One never knew how powerful they were. One never knew how capable, precise, or cunning – until moments were brandished and unleashed. The Sword had a healthy respect for them – where they seemed to crave isolation, left for themselves, committed to their stakes and claims, and no other lands.
And then barriers fell and Ascended meandered – wandering further into the fold, and ruining creatures, things, once blessed and revered. He’d been there, a monolith near the Wraith, when Delah had demanded repercussions for the Queen’s antics. He’d listened as it had led to turn-overs, to Rexanna becoming the Penumbra, and other circumstances rendered all over again. “Wessex is Queen in the Grounds again.” Another modicum of potential tempests, threats, and treacheries, given the history. That could’ve been the storm, or the cycle of vengeance he’d seen springing to life in Nephele’s words, statements, and inquiries. Or anything else – with these waves of change barreling into them.
Were the Fae damned and doomed then? Was that why she’d come, seeking out either asylums, leaders, or alliances? He mused and presided, leaning back in the chair, crinkling the papers together into neat folds.
His eyes lingered away from her now, down upon the wooden surface of the table, incapable of surmising everything about how they lived, breathed, thought, or existed. “We live in communities, like you. We try to protect one another. But I am not certain the Fae have been on many of our minds for a while.” The beast paused, and realized that wasn’t quite true – reflecting back to his own experiences. “One of yours, Nephele, did come to see me about the Ascended.” Deimos would let that moment sit in the immersed silence – taking another swallow of his drink.
you think i'm happy because i'm smiling,
but it's the easiest thing to do
Juniper tried not to make a sour face at the mention of the Wraith -- the woman who had led the attack on the Mathair, and one of the few Ascended personally involved who still lived, as Juniper understood it. While she had never met the woman, Juniper was absolutely certain that Wessex would be an obstacle to her, an enemy, whenever their paths finally crossed. (Poor Juniper, with no idea that they already had.) "I know. If you came from the Grounds ... Were you there when she was queen before? What kind of leader is she?"
Juniper smiled at Deimos' answer, his assertion that Fae and outsiders were not so different. It fit with what she believed -- they were all just people, with their different cultures and groups, their different loyalties. Even the Ascended -- Juniper didn't think they were inherently evil; they simply followed their god as Juniper followed hers. And their god had told them to slaughter the Fae, and they had listened. Her smile vanished. "We've been quiet lately, but it's time to step outside the Greatwood."
She leaned closer at the mention of Nephele's name. "I know Nephele. What did she say to you?"
if you looked a little closer,
you'd find my eyes aren't smiling too.
History was a bizarre interim in its weighted scale, a passing of time that seemed so short and frail in the circumspect of things, but then not; as if they’d carried its heavy burdens for so damned long. There’d been multitudes of flames, ambitions, and aspirations cut short, and then legions of other moments that still held and bore tenuous, or tethered lines. The Ascended, their choices, and where others stood with them, remained a constant barrage – patterns, sketches, and frameworks could only provide so much for the instances before the Outlanders arrived, when the barrier fell, and everything thereafter. He tucked away a sigh, the reserve in his lungs, binding along his chest at the inquiry. “I was the General.” Many times over now; a weapon and defensive scabbard for the Grounds and their handful of leaders – though he’d always favor Rexanna’s reign. “She was fair, and far superior to Zariah.” Though that didn’t take much, considering the multitude of harsh denizens the Merciless had proclaimed. The piercing slate of his eyes segmented back to the Fae though, face decidedly resolute in its impassivity. “But I believe the Ascended will always be taken into consideration first and foremost, with her leading.” What Wessex would seek to do with them could be anyone’s guess – perhaps it would be shackled and chained to the Voice, to vengeance, or nothing at all. But he wouldn’t bet on the latter. The Wraith had been prone to action.
What would that mean for the Fae and the Greatwood? Would she come to finish what she’d started? Would they be capable of fighting back? Or would they all gather themselves along the potential, and wait for the storm to pass?
A Fae moving outside the glens and copses meant something was bound to be in motion.
In regards to Nephele, there’d been many words granted and laden upon him – and he searched through the memories, renewing over pieces, snippets, of their conversation upon the shores. “She said you needed allies.” The reticence over his face loosened with a familiar arch to his brow, curiosity bending and mending its way through.
you think i'm happy because i'm smiling,
but it's the easiest thing to do
Juniper's eyes widened, surprised to hear of his previous position. She almost cursed herself for not recognizing Deimos' name, but then, until recently she'd had no interest in events outside the Greatwood, no reason to track them. Trying to control her expression, she said, "You worked with her? Were you ... there, when the Ascended attacked the Greatwood?"
It wasn't an accusation -- yet. But the possibility that Deimos, as Wessex's General, might have been involved in killing her people and her goddess had occurred to Juniper. No, it had only been the Ascended, right? Otherwise the Fae would be seeking revenge on the Grounds as a whole, not just the Ascended.
Oh, hell, what if Deimos was Ascended and Juniper just hadn't realized it? That would be one way to put her foot in her mouth. What had she told him so far? Nothing harmful, nothing she wouldn't have become common knowledge. Right. She wasn't stupid; she wasn't going to blurt their plans -- incipient as those were -- to the enemy. (Oh, Juniper, but you already did.)
"We do need allies," Juniper replied. "Nephele was the one who made me see that."
if you looked a little closer,
you'd find my eyes aren't smiling too.
There were eternal lines and edges, boundaries and fringes, in the roles they’d played. The information granted, delivered, by his blunt, honest rumbles seemed to ricochet in particular – and he could fathom the surprise, detect the barest amount of suspicion. He could understand it too; what and where had he served in the crossfire? The Sword had stood resolutely neutral when the meeting had taken place, summoned by Wessex likely to be some sort of guard, and listening to how the Mathair had been desecrated, mauled, and their own Fae warriors killed in action, had only inspired that sort of vengeful essence in his blood. It’d been there all along, ever since he was young and training, ever since he’d heard of his father slain, of lands lost, of things seemingly out of his grasp. He muffled a laugh though, for it wasn’t funny – just intriguing, amusing in its own little way, how far off of those paths they’d all wandered. “No.” A breath, memories collecting, parsed through on claws and ramparts, on ways in which the earth had shifted, then turned back again. “I was there when Delah announced no one from the Grounds could enter the Greatwood, unless Wessex abdicated.” A listening ear, a monolith on the sidelines, watching and waiting; a preferred tactic when he had naught else to give or grant, save for his ignorance. “The Wraith allowed her people to decide if she would remain as Queen.”
And they had.
Except now it flared back up again, cycles upon cycles – and he tilted his head, a shrug through his shoulders. He wasn’t amidst the Grounds any longer, but the rank on his shoulders was similar. A soldier through and through, and maybe that was all he was good for, in the end, providing force and vehemence amongst a world already full of it. Defenses, offenses, to try and hold back the demons from realms and the unknown.
Allies then, an agreed thing; his brow arching once more, notions drifting to kingdoms ultimately shattered, but still crystal clear in his mind. Sometimes he felt like he’d never quite left. “Alliances often want something in return.” The insinuation then – what did the Greatwood offer?
