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!
Baskets melded, grabbed, lifted, and carried, inevitably to maneuver one after the other on a string of munitions and movements, he glanced over his shoulder at the suggestion. “If you want.” The Sword wasn’t one to stare efficiency in the face and avoid it, but he also wasn’t going to permit Sunjata to do all the heavy lifting, massive shift or not. After the initial motion towards the wagon, he continued, a consistent use of muscles and brawn.
With the predilections, machinations, and everything else tucked away, back within his mind for further planning, plotting, likely amidst the council or some other fabrications, he was only brought back into other musings by the inquiry. And perhaps it was a rightful one, considering events within the sanction of the summits; but then again, nearly all of the lands had some kind of disastrous implements and instruments around them. They’d happened to stumble into one quickly, swiftly, and stupidly, and it’d left a mark. One they couldn’t quite erase, a lesson learned, chiseled, and scraped down within survivors of stupidity. “I like it. The people are tough and determined. I have never minded the cold.” Not when he’d been a refugee of the mountains in another life, biding their time along caverns and snowfall, stalking, presiding, and scavenging for a way towards something else. And while Halo certainly wasn’t the Basin, it had its merits.
Nor was it the Grounds, which now only felt like ruins.
A pause tore through him, though it was swift and sudden, brows furrowing while he carried the next interval of fish over. “When I am strong enough, I am considering attempting to retrieve Adam and Peter.”
under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed
i am on a journey to discover what it's like to be free of all my demons
He doesn’t mind. It’s a feeling that’s sent down the bond toward Deimos as he uses another nearby rock to lift himself out of the water, to shake the sea from his wings and his back so that he might be able to take to the skies again. He reaches over with his tail, grabbing a basket of fish and brings it over so he might grip it with a hand, before he takes off to drop it on the beach, before returning for another – passing Deimos doing the same in the process.
He’s glad that Deimos likes Halo – the place far too cold for him, full of too many terrible memories. But he wouldn’t begrudge Deimos for finding a place to fit in, after all, Sunjata had found it with Torchline. Even if Morgan was icy and cold (and in Sunjata’s opinion, a bit of a killjoy), at least there were others there that fit in and found it to be like home.
The Flood only falters when Deimos makes the sudden comment – his gaze slipping back toward Deimos as he moves to grab another basket of fish to put on the shore nearby the wagon. Half of him wants to ask if it’s worth it, if they couldn’t be saved but instead simply found in the ice to have a proper burial, and he instead ponders on it a moment longer knowing that Sunjata and Deimos don’t think the same.
So he clenches his maw a bit, nodding once more as he gathers another basket. For a proper burial? He asks instead.
SUNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
An arched brow and silence to follow the movements of the dragon, shaking his head out of some poor amusement, before returning to the wagon with his own basket. Halfway laden already, the beast snagged at those Sunjata had dropped off, ensuring they had a proper arrangement for the upcoming trip to the portal, and nothing would be lost along the way. Otherwise the quiet left him to the work, to the action of muscles pulling and joining, in applying strength comfortably, in permitting and allowing the basis of his endurance to find itself again, constantly recovering from the ensuring days of afflictions and lunacy. And he never wanted to find himself so weak, so pathetic, so inept, so useless again.
So that it rounded back to his previous comment was no surprise; a stifling, stiffening contortion amongst the unyielding individuals – each with their own munitions, thoughts, and ideals. The Flood didn’t mock him for his ideas, and the Sword already had misgivings of his own on the whole forefront. A number of plans, with a number of things that could go awry, and he had no intention of leading anyone into another slaughter. “Yes,” he answered first; a sigh sauntering through his lungs, filtered and flickered out into the sea air. “It does not feel right to leave them in there.” As draconic treasure – like trophies. “Unless you have a better idea.” Because while not entirely like-minded, the General could at least listen.
under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed
i am on a journey to discover what it's like to be free of all my demons
With the baskets already on the beach, the dragon settles along the sands – claws digging in, steel eyes focused intently on Deimos’ form as he adds more of the baskets to the wagon. He sinks into the sand a bit more, wings shaking off the remnants of the water before spreading out to dry beneath the Leafchange sun, pondering the implications of what Deimos says, trying to think of an answer.
In short, he can’t think of a better idea, but he also knows that he hopes he never sees another white dragon again in his life. No. I don’t. He answers honestly, perhaps a bit sadly. If he didn’t have so much to focus on – with Nate, with the terrible things that were shifting in the air around them that had him on edge almost all seconds of the day, well… He might have been able to think of something. But he doesn’t and he can’t. I’d suggest perhaps the idea of a trade. Something… Gods, it’s terrible to say. Something more appealing to the dragon than Peter and Adam. That might give them a chance, something better for the dragon to hoard.
If nothing else, Sunjata knows intimately now just how much that thought is ingrained into this shift, into himself. What’s his is his, and the world could burn around him for all he cared. And he would tear the world apart to get it back if it were taken.
SUNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Piling and composing, grabbing hold of some fish that had managed to spill out into the sand, his thoughts rambled and wandered, listening to the decibels of the dragon, to one of the few who’d sustained life on their ridiculous, stupefying quest. Perhaps some part of it was Deimos’ guilt; for having survived when Peter and Adam didn’t, even though that’s how he’d lived, operated, and manifested for the better part of two lifetimes. Go to war, stand upright, walk off the battlefield where some of his brethren never would again. Bury them in the softened, bloodied soil, rinse and repeat, get up again the next day with their souls on his back and keep plunging onward. Challenge another for their emboldened audacity to even dare pressing their wake into his land, for threatening those he’d sworn to protect. Spread sedition and vengeance. Unearth the world, charge ahead where others couldn’t – defy, defy, defy.
But the Flood’s idea coiled against his mind, and it hadn’t been something he considered. It was another method, another mode, but the implications of what would go in place, if such a mythical beast wouldn’t find their own corpses suitable and justifiable, was another uncertainty. His brows furrowed in thought again, and though the inquiry was on his tongue, it wasn't dipped or tipped in venom, in poison, in refusal. “What else would a dragon want? More treasure?” He could only remember the iced over remnants of the cave, the cannibals’ ill fates, the frozen walls, everything trapped behind the niche of vitriol and vehemence. “I had thought to acquire them like I had done Coffee, and hopefully not disturb the creature at all.” Quiet, subversive, plotted out – but he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, uncertain if all of it was just a game he was doomed to lose.
under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed
i am on a journey to discover what it's like to be free of all my demons
He taps into that part of himself that craves nothing more than to hoard and never see each piece disappear from it in order to answer Deimos’ question. But it’s loaded, and at the end of the day the only pieces of treasure Sunjata has are the ones that have forced their ways in. Nate. Melita. Haai. Those were his treasures, and to think of what he might want to trade them isn’t even an option. At least to the white dragon, Adam and Peter had been an addition, not something treasured at first. Left to remain as quiet pillars in their frozen tombs with one another.
He thinks on how Deimos had captured coffee and he’s not entirely sure that would work. Perhaps if the Sword were quiet enough, but given the length of time between then and now, would the white dragon notice that two of its possessions were gone? He clacks his maw in thought, nostrils closing off with a sigh. More or equal to. Something worth it. He rumbles to Deimos, slit steel eyes remaining on the man. I’m not sure if you’ll be so lucky to catch it sleeping again. But… Perhaps a distraction, if that were the case.
SUNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
The Sword had known greed and avarice. Perhaps not as a dragon, but as a man, human and mortal and ravenous in his disposition. Not for power, but for might, for strength, for endurance, for perseverance, to hold the line, to force his way through, anything and everything that dared destroy what he cherished. A guard, a pillar, a monolith against the void, against the world, and he’d never been enough. As much as he’d tried, endeavored, and attempted to keep those beloved within his grasp, to not let them yield into the hollowed reaches, to not let them flicker and bleed away into shells and vessels he couldn’t reach, it’d happened anyway. Precious filaments, treasures had been in his heart, in his soul, and he had very few left. They were gone, and he was here, and the world without them was all the more tragic and overwhelming.
He’d rise again or fall apart, and some days it was hard to puzzle through which would occur.
Something worth it caused him to snort as he lifted another basket, as his jaw clenched, as more plans seemed to fall to disarray and the unknown. “I am not certain I will be fortunate at all.” With anything. “But I can cause a distraction.” Damage, demolition, destruction; that he’d always known well. A shrug to his shoulders, a shake of his head, and it was all he had remaining in him. “I will give it more thought. Deepfrost comes first.” With its own set of trials and tribulations.
under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed
i am on a journey to discover what it's like to be free of all my demons
Sunjata continues to allow the sun to warm and dry off his wings, remaining low in the sand to watch Deimos lift the baskets into the wagon, waiting in idle thought as he considers what the best course of action could be for something like this. In short, there isn’t one – and it sounds like a plan that was doomed to go wrong from the start. But the Flood doesn’t dare voice any of those thoughts, doesn’t let them flicker down the attuned bond, don’t let them get anywhere near it. Instead, he focuses on the follow up comment.
I’m sure you can. Sunjata rumbles, all the faith in the world that Deimos would be able to make a distraction should one be necessary. But then the Sword shrugs and Sunjata pads a bit closer, sitting in the sand and lifting a basket with a clawed hand to set in the wagon. How will it be in Halo this year, do you think? Last year had been tumultuous. Sunjata had been nowhere near, but news of what had occurred spurred through the lands. He’d heard. He wonders what might happen this year, if anything at all.
SUNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
The Sword didn’t seek further apprehension or trepidation into the plans; tossed into the air, and then left to saunter, to simmer, to linger over their own accord; future intervals to peruse. Likely during the winter ahead, in some restless acrimony he’d churn and coil himself within, unfurling at the strands if not permitted into some sort of action and routine. With all the baskets lifted, courtesy of claws and hands, he began securing the ties, ensuring they wouldn’t fall on the wagon’s sandy march towards portals, and then across icy roads and snow.
At the inquiry, his eyes skimmed over the top of the fish, where fins no longer moved, where scales glinted in the sun. “Cold.” One glance towards the dragon, and a matching snicker, ensued he’d meant it to be a facetious comment, and his head ducked down again, calloused fingers working the rope into capable knots. “We have a quest from Frey to ensure the Citadel is protected. We should be able to finish that before Deepfrost.” Barring that, there was the trail towards the portal to consider; various other factions and actions required of them – and he was a bit out of sorts, so used to occupying his time with gathering snow moss, instilling warnings about LongNight monsters, and then heeding the call of terror. “Hopefully there will not be any cultist attacks or political upheavals this year.” A snort hastened, leaning under the wagon to grab at dangling strands. “And Torchline?”
under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed
i am on a journey to discover what it's like to be free of all my demons
There’s a surprised laughter that emits from the dragon with Deimos’ snicker, the joke met with a deep nod from the Flood. He’s sure it’ll be cold. It’s another reason why he wants to avoid it at all costs. But he sits alongside the wagon, letting Deimos work to knot the rope. A slow nod is given in understanding – Frey’s help something that both has understanding and a bit of Sunjata shying away from the thought. It’s why he’d chosen to go to Safrin, after all, even if it hadn’t been the best choice.
Sounds good. He rumbles a bit offhandedly, in response to the Citadel protection they have planned. Hopefully not. He adds, giving his attention a bit more fully to Deimos with a sensation that could be construed as a half smirk of amusement. Torchline’s been well. We’ve got a quest from Safrin to help protect us in Flowerbirth. He murmurs with a small shrug of dark scaled shoulders. Hopefully it’s just the usual partying with no lava octopi this time. If only they could be so fortunate.
SUNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Another rope knotted together, old soldier predilections tethering the lines together, instilling the notion that all their hard work wouldn’t come to nothing, listening as he seemed to inspire rounds of amusement. His gestures of joy or exultation had been few and far between lately, so he allowed it to pass through the senses with more vibrancy, before it pooled and cooled away, thoughts immersing elsewhere.
A quest from Safrin for protection during Flowerbirth sounded noteworthy, worlds and lands undertaking what they could, with what they had. Perhaps it was miniscule and nothing in comparison to deeds and conducts of war, but they were also striving to uphold some acts of fortifications, some ramparts, some decrees that these worlds wouldn’t be so helpless, so immersed into the drawn blades, into the hapless void, if everything came to fruition. A brow threatened to twitch upward at the semblance of lava octopi; not bothering to hazard a guess because quite frankly the notion of some fiery beast didn’t really surprise him anymore. “Sounds tough.” Another snicker, at the indication and semblance of partying. “At least you do not have the LongNight monsters.”
under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed
i am on a journey to discover what it's like to be free of all my demons
He still bore the scars of that fiery octopus, had yet to fix the tattoo it had torn out. But as with most things, the scars on his body told a story, some of them the man in front of him had even added in. But he pushes all those thoughts to the side as he focuses on using clawed hands to make sure the weight is even and not too heavy on one side for the wagon to pull it. But his gaze flicks back to the Sword at the next snicker, some sort of ease coming over the Flood despite all else.
Thank the gods for that. He rumbles with his own bit of an amused huff. If I never have to see another Grounds Longnight again, it will be too soon. He jests back, a draconic wink sent Deimos’ way before the dragon settles in the sand on his haunches again, wings tight around his body.
SUNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
A note of appreciation and gratitude, likely rare from the Sword to the Flood, rumbled through the attuned nature of bonds and conjectures, as he fastened and tied the last knot to the back of the wagon. He might’ve snickered again, had his own folly in mentioning LongNight not curled back over his spine, nettling, rattling, upon the torturous onslaught he always seemed to immerse his presence within. Living for his ghosts, and not himself. “I asked Ludo if I could take Kiada’s quest during LongNight.” Readily volunteered his heart, his body, his soul, his mind; because at some point he wondered if it was the last thing he could’ve done for her, because he didn’t think the monsters could torture him any more than he’d already bombarded upon his own entity. What was there left to torment him with? He’d already lost them all.
“But it was not feasible.” And so the Harpy would be left without Ru’in, and he would have naught to entangle his vehemence into, save for whatever else lurked and lingered within the future. A single, heavy sigh unfurled, and then coasted away on the wind. “Thank you again for helping.” He tugged on the handle of the wagon, testing its merits, its strength, and when naught fell off, apart, or gestured free, he began to pull it towards the portal.
under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed
i am on a journey to discover what it's like to be free of all my demons
There’s a low hum of understanding sent Deimos’ way in terms of taking on quests. He recalls Hotaru mentioning that she wished she could take it upon herself too what felt like ages ago. But the fact that it wasn’t feasible was a sad thing, something that Sunjata isn’t sure what to say in return to. It’s not like he and Deimos were great friends, after all, he couldn’t choose banter to make it easier with a topic so heavy.
I’m sorry. He offers instead, shuffling his wings a bit as Deimos tests the wagon. And when it seems suitable and the thank you is met, the dragon offers a nod of ‘you’re welcome’ while the dragon steps back from the wagon to give the Sword some space. And he waits, watching Deimos depart before he spreads his wings to take to the sky again, waiting long enough that the winds caused from his wingbeats wouldn’t effect the contents of the wagon. And he departs.
SUNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
