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!
Alina snorted at the stranger's explanation. "How am I strange and volatile? Need I remind you that you attacked me first?" Not impressed, the huntress just shook her head, grounding the butt of her spear into the ground.
"I never said I never desired a drink." Her lips curled in equal parts disdain and amusement. "I just said I never desired a drink with you."
Shrugging as the other woman declared she needed a drink, the Fae paced to the opposite wall from Iris. Alina didn't lean against it though, just turned to face the stranger. "Tell me what race you are." The huntress fell silent, regarding the other woman.
Iris rolled her head back and sighed as, once more, the Fae complained. “Again?”, she asked with hints of dry amusement. “No need.” Apologizing would have been more mature. It might have even eased the tension between them. However, Iris was less inclined to do that after being dangled in the air like a piece of cadaver meat. ”Besides, it was bound to happen sooner or later. Everything about you,” Iris gestured with the hilt of her blade at no particular feature of the Fae’s, ”says disoriented stranger. You were lucky to have run into me. What would you have done if someone else had gotten to you first? Mauled some street urchins?”
Iris pushed herself off the wall and flipped the blade in the air, catching it by the hilt, testing her reflexes after the disorientating beating she had received. She deposited it in the sheath on her hip and took a single step towards the other woman. ”As for the drink, it’s your loss, clearly,” a smirk lined the statement as she eyed the small woman up and down.
The Fae’s question was a strange one, and Iris considered her answer – not out of a need to keep it secret, but because of the way it was posed, as if there was a right answer. “Accepted,” she admitted, finally, observing how this fact would read on the Fae’s expression.
Alina pressed her lips together as the other woman spoke. When the stranger had the audacity to try and pretend that attacking the Fae had been a good thing the huntress actually growled. "Yes." Yes, she would've defended herself against any attacker, no matter how young or old, large or small. Her people were warriors and she honored that legacy above all else.
Staring back at Iris, Alina's lips curled. "I doubt it." When the stranger revealed that she was an Accepted, the huntress hummed in her throat. Nodding, she lifted herself off the ground. "Good to know." She made sure her weapon was undamaged, checking the blood on the point as well.
Iris’ lip curled at the small woman’s clipped reply. The more time she spent in her presence, the less she found to like about her. Aside from her beautiful face, everything about the warrior was cold and unrelenting. “Charming,” Iris commented flatly, wishing good luck to all of Torchline’s miscreants. She had met many who had let harsh reality strip their morality of all nuance and justification. The respect she felt for the Fae’s strength was eclipsed by this blatant, simplistic brutality.
She probably had no one to share a drink with anyways, Iris thought. After all, what could one joke about with a murderous rock masquerading as a woman? As she inspected the essence of Iris she had managed to snag with her spear, the girl herself watched and sighed. She was lucky to have avoided greater injury, she supposed.
Raising her eyebrows at the other woman's criticism, Alina actually laughed. It was a cold and hard and bitter sound though. "It keeps me alive and my people safe. I don't see any point in being charming." She tapped a finger along the haft of her spear.
When the stranger asked why the Fae wanted to know the other woman's race the huntress shrugged. "Butterfly is a nickname because of my wings, right?" Her lips curled in a smile, though it was for her, not the stranger. "How can I give you a race-appropriate nickname if I don't know what race you are?" The huntress narrowed her eyes at her recent opponent.
Iris nodded in response, considering the woman’s many scars. At least her motivations were clear, although lacking nuance. Iris imagined she could have made an excellent henchman to some crime lord or other, had her circumstances been slightly different. ”That’s what the street urchins must be thinking, as well.” She moved to cross her arms but stopped halfway, feeling the sting of the long, shallow cut running down her right arm. She wondered if all Fae were so single-minded.
Iris found herself amused as the Fae adopted the nickname that only minutes ago seemed to elicit nothing but aggression. Fingers caught one end of her long sleeve, ripped in half, while her left hand grabbed the other. She managed to loop them around one another, bringing her arm up and tightening the knot with her teeth. That should stop blood from trickling down her arm, although it would do nothing to stop the bleeding. Curiosity made the corner of her lips perk up. ”Well then, what did you come up with?”
Alina frowned. Brow furrowed, she remained silent for a long moment. Then, in a grudging and reluctant tone she asked, "What do street urchins have to do with it?" She looked up and down the alleyway, but it held no answers or clarifications for her.
Snorting at the stranger's curiosity, the huntress' lips curled upwards. Then she actually grinned, although baring her teeth might've been a more accurate description. "Basic." She raised her eyebrows and met the other woman's stare. Curious to see how the stranger might react, the Fae shifted slightly, ready to take off if the word managed to offend Iris so much that she attacked again.
Iris’ eyes narrowed as she watched the confusion in the Fae’s eyes. Did she truly not see the similarities? She decided to be as blunt as possible when asked for clarification. ”You fight for the survival of yourself and your people. They fight for the survival of themselves and their people. The difference is, you can up and fly away on those pretty wings of yours. They’re starving children stuck in the slums.”
Was it possible that the Fae was so frightened that she perceived every threat as deadly? Perhaps.
There was quite a shift in the woman’s mood as she geared up to reveal Iris’ new nickname. From the smile, Iris guessed it would be something morbid, so when the woman spoke, she laughed. ”Aww,” she cooed, “I see you’re finally warming up to me.” Iris decided the Fae appeared far too satisfied for such a low jab, however. ”I’d have thought of something better, though.”
Shrugging at the woman's explanation, Alina pursed her lips. Her finger tapped against her weapon as she considered the stranger's response. "Why do you let children starve in the slums? Don't you care for the least among you?" The question came out in a growl. Glaring, the huntress fixed her gaze on the other woman, as if to pin Iris to the wall.
However, when the other woman tried to make nice, the Fae snorted. "What would you have gone with then?" She raised her eyebrows, wondering what nickname Iris would choose for herself. No doubt something fierce and flattering, since the other woman seemed determined to make something good out of this encounter.
It was Iris’ turn to stare in confusion. The woman’s tone fluctuated towards hostility so often she was beginning to think the initial throw of the bottle was the result of healthy intuition. The Fae was like a growl in the dark. Attack was one of two sensible options. And drink never made Iris prone to running.
A headache began to push against the top of her head. ”I, myself, would do a lot of things differently.” If the decision was in her hands... She persisted, putting aside distracting thoughts in an attempt to make sense of the strange accusation. ”You think all of Torchlight got together and just decided… ‘Fuck the children, they can starve’?”
She didn’t know much about the Fae or their way of life. She’d always assumed it must be similar to the other realms. Each system a little bit different and each plagued by the same sicknesses – poverty, corruption, injustice of every breed.
Iris was sticky with blood and sweat and her thirst grew the more she thought about it. Her patience, also, ran dry. ”I see you came here blind. I can teach you what you need to know about life in the city... but not in this alley. I will be in the Hanged Man later.” She raised her uninjured hand in place of a goodbye and turned to leave, remembering her intended route. She herself had about four dozen questions on her mind, but there were other appointments she had to keep, and she wasn’t at all appropriately dressed for them. A couple of steps into the alley she turned, ”As for the nickname, I’m not giving you any ideas, Butterfly. Think on it.” Shortly after, she disappeared into the alleyways.
(Fin - ? Thought we'd move on to another board if you like)
Alina shrugged at the other woman's words. It seemed the Fae had touched a nerve. "I think, if you have starving children, then someone should do something about it. And if you haven't, yet, that's on all of you." She had no choice but to speak the truth, but in this particular case she was proud of what she said.
As the stranger once again offered to grab a drink, the huntress scowled. "I'm not interested in breaking bread with someone who attacked me unprovoked." However, she could already hear Juniper's voice, nagging Alina for not forging alliances.
Groaning, she threw up her free hand. "Fine. I suppose I shall meet you in this Hanged Man." she responded with gritted teeth. Taking a cloth out, she wiped off the tip of her spear, before tucking the cloth back into her pocket. Then she turned to continue the path she was on, not thinking on nicknames as instructed, but rather on why, how, and when the world had gotten so fucking complicated.
