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!
hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul
The sun settling down behind some of the higher-rise of the buildings only meant the Celestine’s garden would be all the more significant and enchanting; stars upon stars, layered upon one another in an opulent haze. With no other inquiries towards the creatures temporarily housed within, the Caretaker didn’t continue or persist in her information – wondering now if she’d been babbling on too much, granting details and particulars only she would care about. Then she shrugged off the notion entirely – munching contentedly on the remains of her apple, before saving the core as a treat for the unicorn.
“There’s a good idea,” she murmured, maneuvering the basket once more along her shoulder, no longer labored with food. Dusting off her hands, the last of the crackers and cheese would be tucked within – something else to snack on later.
A keen sense of relief bounded through her shoulders at the other answer, at the response that no one, no demigod or otherwise, would be forced into a role they didn’t want to take, to hold. The potential for a turbulent, tempestuous storm in her heart resided, and it wouldn’t have to be a sore subject between siblings, if she coiled at the predilection to ask. So she left the notions drop entirely, the smile, the grin, rekindled on her features once more. “What would you like to see first?” Presuming he’d be intrigued by the residents of the Celestine – a tilt of her to suggest further invitation into the grounds.
and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all
Finn nods his agreement, his mind wandering to the other things he might make for his office; the place seems all the more inviting suddenly, now that there is a window and light beaming within it. Secret compartments, hidden drawers, places to fold out larger documents or to hang them for perusal - he throws himself into the ideas, lost until they arrive at the Celestine and he's caught, again, by its beauty. He has walked through it before, but with the purpose of exercise and enjoyment, not necessarily to take in any of the sights.
Lena's question finds him smiling softly, and he rests his hands in his pockets. "Perhaps those cloud wyrms you spoke about?" he suggests. "And the dragons, I think. I don't think I have ever seen them interact with one another." As companions, he's only ever seen them draped over their bonded, but given their spirit and their energy, he imagines it must be riotous at best.
hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul
Starlight and beholden sentiments, a world of elegance, repose, and tranquility, immersed and threaded above their heads, coiled and curled amidst the softened gardens. She knew the veins of its paths and the intonation of its sanctity by heart, but it still took her breath away – raising her head to gaze upon the surroundings, the scenery, the dusky hallows with equal fervor and bliss. Silent thank yous, quiet prayers, and then an incline of her head, studying Finn thoughtfully, before a ruffian glow and smile came over her; mischief and light. “Dragons first then. They’ll be hungry.”
She hummed a little as she instinctively turned left, expecting him to follow, down a lit path. In the distance, they’d be able to hear the chirps and squeals of the hatchlings, the general melee of chaos that existed between youth, and wild, untamed things. Placing her basket down before the cage, she hummed under her breath, soothing tones and tunes, a crooning gesture to the three children suddenly before them – each a different hue (crisp ivory, Stygian black, and a pale blue), each a radiant, beautiful, savage being. “Hello, dears.” From within, she unlocked a bin, her hands easily going into the section of meat, not bothered in the slightest by their raw adornments – tiny chunks already sliced, already broken into quarters, safer options for the little ones already purring and snapping at one another, near her feet. The offer was made to Finn too – arching a brow, waiting to see if he’d be game. “Would you like to help feed them?”
and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all
Lena goes and Finn does follow, walking along the pathway indicated and taking a moment to admire the beauty of the gardens. He doesn't think he has often walked with the intention of taking them in; usually, it's to stretch his legs and to tease through a problem in his mind, be it personal or professional. Soon enough, however, he's distracted from (almost literally) smelling the flowers by the sound of keening dragonlings, Finn finding a smile spreading across his face that strips the years away.
He stands by to watch the reptiles cluster and fall over themselves to crowd Lena, obviously knowing what's coming, and his eyebrows raise at her offer. Finn hesitates, briefly, unsure whether or not it would be a problem (for whom and why are irrelevant, and such is the nature of anxiety). But eventually he overcomes himself, nodding and stepping into the enclosure with her to stand by the bin of fresh meat.
"If you wouldn't mind showing me how it's done," he says, glancing down at the young dragons crooning up at them expectantly.
hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul
Their squeals, coos, and infant roars all swept along her feet, and she reached out to stroke and scratch the onyx one nearby, and then the others in turn, while Finn seemed to make up his mind. She wouldn’t have been bothered either way, knowing and understanding that comfort levels varied greatly, but was pleasantly surprised when the man accepted it. A rich, genuine smile wove along her features, and she crouched down, nearly eye-level with the dragonlings, expecting him to follow suit. “Hand out, palm flat.” She demonstrated, turning her limb over, where it was calloused and marked with a thousand other nicks, cuts, scars, scratches, and bruises, the hazards of working with potentially wild animals. Then she placed a few pieces of meat along her skin, lowering the hand so the hatchling before her could snag. “Gentle,” she reminded the Stygian youth, who tilted its head, but paid heed, grabbing at the meat gingerly, before backing away to savor it, and the ivory and blue ones marched dutifully, biting and nipping at one another for their turn.
When Finn was ready, she’d do the same for him, intentionally placing the diced proportions into his hand, so that he could try. Lena remained exactly where she was, surveying the scene, paying close attention to the motions and maneuvers of the future powerful and potent beasts. “The black one will be ready to leave soon. It came in with some bad burns. I think it was picked on by siblings.” Survival of the fittest – sometimes signs of weakness were all it took to render them within the Celestine’s confines. “The blue one came down with a wretched cold, but seems to be doing much better.” And then she sighed, pausing, tilting her head. “And our little ivory friend here has yet to show me she’d like to fly. Injury to a wing, but I’m certain its healed.” Just time and rehabilitation then.
and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all
Taking his hands from his pockets, Finn does indeed crouch down next to Lena, forearms resting on his knees so he can admire the little dragons as they come snapping and bounding up for their meal. "I'm surprised you haven't lost a finger," he remarks, holding out his hand as instructed and waiting for her to place the meat onto his palm. As the blue and ivory dragons bicker over who's next, it's the ivory that eventually headbutts her way forward.
She snaffles up the meat directly from his palm, barely remembering to stop at his fingers, and it's with a laugh that's half nervous, half entertained that Finn finally draws his hand back. "Well, she certainly has an appetite," he remarks, raising an eyebrow at the slime left on his hands from the raw meat. "I'm sure she will be soaring around before we know it." He straightens back up, watching them carefully. "Is it hard, to let them go?"
hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul
“Mm, not yet,” but she laughed at the notion of it all, turning towards where more meat was stored, and repeating the process, until their portions and rations were all finished, done, and gone, and the youths then clambered around one another. It was a chaotic scene, leathery wings flaring out, rampaging limbs flying in different directions, a wild semblance exalted in the freedom of childhood and no other notions besides vast space and carefree ease. They chased, played, and rolled over one another, and she had to snort as some attempted their miniscule flight, hovering several inches in taunts and dares over the ground. She shook her head and put the lid back over the container, ensuring it was locked and sealed tight for the next upcoming meal.
But Lena would stay and stand there, if Finn wished to see, watch, further bedlam, her head tilted vaguely at his inquiry, pondering the platitudes, over how she’d responded to Sera when her sibling adorned a similar question. “It used to be. I would’ve kept them all.” A smile lingered, but didn’t reach her eyes. “But they’re not pets or companions. They’re wild, and meant to be free. As long as I remember they’re here for a limited time, until they get well, then it’s not as difficult.” A sigh followed, but not for long, not intending to dampen any spirits. “Frey permitted me to have this role, and I won’t let them down. If they have faith in me, then I can have faith in myself.”
Maybe it was naïve. Maybe it was how she’d been raised. Maybe it was a justification in her heart, and that was all she required. “Cloud wyrms?” Came on a grin again, poised aloft and ready when he was.
and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all
It brings him a strange amount of comfort, to watch these little dragonlings fight and clamber over each other, playing the day away with full bellies. Finn realises he could watch them all day without tiring of it, his hands moving to rest back in his pockets, and he glances up only when Lena speaks about them. Nodding, he can understand the discipline it must take to stop getting attached, and he imagines the woman has learned that lesson well in her time.
"And for what it is worth, I think all the creatures you care for must have a great deal of faith in you as well," he says; the tiny dragons, at least, definitely seem to trust her and rely upon her. Finn is just watching the black reptile scramble away from the other two when she mentions cloud wyrms, Finn reluctantly tearing his gaze away and nodding. "Please," he says with a smile, nodding for her to lead the way.
hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul
His words were touching, and she smiled, a wider grin this time, glancing at the ground sheepishly. “Thank you. I hope I serve them well.” Then, once enclosures were locked and shut tight, one could only imagine the havoc three hatchlings could get into, she motioned towards the left, following over pathways of stones and stars. This trail had been repeated every day, either by skipping along mellifluous grace, or a tired stride, her pace dulling after hours, but steadfast assurance and faith often bolstered her onward.
The cloud wyrms buzzed happy, contented tunes upon their approach, and she advanced with a tender heart and soft hands, reaching for the bandages in her basket. Lena would replace this one and the rhampires before the sun truly set, and then set about with the rest of her tasks in feeding, watering, and checking in.
The gate was opened, permitting Finn to step within as he’d done with the dragons – but these relatives were a far warmer presence, and even though injured, still full of vibrant life, immediately circling and surrounding. Some fingers lingered to catch and pet, scratch and soothe, while they chimed and echoed in their distinct platitudes – one certainly searching the man’s pockets for anything valuable. “I did warn you,” she mentioned with a light laugh, before reaching for one of the more wounded creatures, unrolling one of the bandages to make way for another.
and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all
With a lingering look towards the dragonlings, Finn follows after Lena to another unfamiliar part of the Celestine. It's as he walks that he realises just how large and sprawling the gardens truly are; how long has he strolled these paths without seeing the same thing twice? These are the thoughts that dominate his mind as they meander towards the cloud wyrm enclosure and so distracted is Finn that it's only when he's surrounded by the little creatures that he realises just what's happening.
"Oh!" he says suddenly, chuckling at the tiny wyrm trying to rifle through his pockets, Finn lifting his arm to let it have a good old rummage. It won't find anything of value, unfortunately; only a few bits of paper, written notes and reminders for later. "You did warn me," he agrees with a smirk. "What happened to them for them to end up here?"
hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul
Not to be waylaid, outdone, or bothered by the lack of fortune and shiny things in Finn’s pockets, one of the clustered made a snag for some paper, for some notes, for anything it could get its mouth around. Permitted its merriment and delight, there were a few gurgles of utter excitement and thrill, as Lena shook her head, stifling another round of laughter. But her smile was warm and bright again, even as she stripped off the bandages.
“Healing well, I see,” was a soft murmur as she inspected, and allowed Finn an opportunity to look at the wounds, if he chose to lean over while she unfurled the clean roll, applying ointment into the sanction. “I’m assuming they were attacked by a predator.” Claw marks were etched in rapid, sharp, keen blades along the one in her boundaries, and once the man had been capable of glancing over the semblances, she began to wrap it once more. “A group of them could be an easy meal for something large.” Her glance grew only a little wary, sometimes tired of the inevitable alterations in food chains – especially ones such as these, as a few of them began to breathe small, puffy clouds, watching as they billowed around the enclosure.
and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all
"Healing well and with a penchant for paper," Finn agrees, straightening up as the cloud wyrm emerges with a few notes; it's just scrap, nothing important, and so he surrenders the treasure to the little thing as it returns to wiggle and roil around its counterparts. Once he's able to put his hands back in his pockets without having to worry that they'll squash a wyrm or two, the Spyglass approaches Lena to watch her at work.
It's strange to see wounds on creatures so small, delicate punctures that could have been made by a housecat, or indeed something much more sinister. "Well," he says, "these must certainly be tenacious little ones. It hasn't dampened their mischief, any." He smiles. "I'm sure they'll be..." He drifts off, peering up at the clouds that bloom through the air. "...That's very impressive."
hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul
Utterly delighted by the scraps of paper, a pair decide to taunt and flaunt their wares to the others, and most of them gathered together in a tight circle of amusement and mischief, the clouds building and brimming around in their devilry. “Yes, well on their way to recovery,” Lena offered over the fumes, shaking her head again as they immersed themselves into a gathering of billowing adornments. Finishing up with bandaging the one in her hands, tightening the knot on the end, she gave it a hearty pat, and snuck it a few treats from her pockets. Sent back on its way, she surveyed the mass of wyrms, arms crossing over her chest, the smile unburdened, just as effervescent as the creatures she glanced upon.
“All right, time to snag more of them.” She rolled up her sleeves, bandages brimming from her pockets once more, and she handed a roll to him as well. “You’re welcome to try.” Then the caretaker mused forward, a laugh brimming over her mouth, before presiding in the midst of their buoyant cloud cocoon, offering gentle scratches to any of them not occupied by the paper, utilizing the distraction to the greater good.
and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all
Finn feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders, one that he's not sure he even knew was there, but it's with a very light heart that he accepts the roll of bandages. Leaning down amongst the wyrms and their mischief, wafting clouds away from his face, Finn leans down to tickle at one of the little creatures, and he smirks up at Lena. "I'll do my best," he says, glancing back down to see the wyrm wiggle around his hand; he lifts it up, wondering just how he's supposed to keep it still without squashing it.
Luckily for Finn, the little thing has done this before, and it stills to let him change the bandages. "What do you use for treats? More meat?" he asks, tilting his head back at the groundskeeper. "Whatever it is, it must be pretty good for them to be so well behaved."
