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!
Free will was something he’d always strived for, melded into his bones, faith for his own efforts, machinations, and mechanics lodged into his soul – so he offered a broad smile at her response. He wouldn’t be able to deny Safrin’s abilities had pulled and pooled the shifts into his soul – but maybe the incantations, the magic, the enchantments unfurled and unleashed in his veins were of similar ilk – found and contorted by him and him alone. Perhaps it was some other faction altogether, a contribution of strength, mettle, and might. Or it was something else altogether, and he’d yet to figure, puzzle it through; accepting the eldritch tides for what they were. “Gained by your own tenacity,” he rumbled and snorted through, hastening another turn of the birds, rotating casually, listening, listening, listening all the while.
At the nudge his brow arched, but he couldn’t make them cook any faster. The notion of her being here to stay, with more friends gathered rather than fading, dying off, lightened the crackling fissures of his heart, but he’d never tell her that. Instead, the monolith smirked, another shrug undulating through his shoulders. “We likely need to hunt other things. There is some game along the Tundra.” Especially so they didn’t keep marring the ningo population.
she grabbed a razor for me and she did it, just like that
Aisha gave a quite literally cheshire grin at his response, tail flicking against his ankle as she purred, Exactly. Who knew how likely it really was that the gods were nothing involved with her shift, but did it really affect her? She could go on believing she'd become the flying fox of her own free will, of personal growth. Sometimes she even liked to imagine herself as one of the demi gods of her world, the powerful few gifted with more than one shift. It was the things like this, concerning herself alone, that she gave room for imagination.
She huffed at his comment on other game, 'likely need to hunt other game'. Party pooper, she teased, resting her head on outstretched forelegs. What else is there that you had in mind?
when she want something she don't wanna pay for it
At the very least, Aisha’s spirit hadn’t been dampened down by this world. She’d somehow managed to maintain its audacious temperament and emboldened gall – a thing to be admired, if she could keep hanging onto it. The tiger ears resting atop his head swiveled and turned, the smallest of smiles emerging, resting, along the corners of his mouth. Growing quieter, he continued to rotate the spit, inspecting, checking in his hushed scrutiny, while she huffed – the beast rolled his eyes in the direction of the fire, head shifted to alleviate her sight.
Ignoring her next response, because it was even too immature for him to justify a reply other than some muffled snort, his gaze flickered back to hers, contemplating the inquiry. “Supposedly ursur, luxere…” and here he paused. “I do not intend to hunt the latter,” pointedly getting his message across with a furrowed brow. “Some wild deer and other things. Noah offered to take me, but we should investigate before Deepfrost.” There the conniving edges of his grin returned – pondering the walks of the earth they’d spiral across.
It was true that Caido hadn't broken her, but it had chipped, gnawed on stubborn bones. Regardless, she refused to let anyone know when she was distressed, perhaps it was innate, or instilled throughout her childhood, but Aisha feared humiliation more than pain. Nobody would know if she was hurt, nobody would know that she wasn't glowing bright. She was everything she presented, everything Deimos and the people she'd met enjoyed and loved, but she was also something darker at times.
In this moment however, she didn't need to be overly confident, sarcastic and friendly, her joy was genuine and it was so easy to simply chat and plan alongside her friend. Ursurs, that's right, he'd mentioned those earlier. She'd seen luxere before, multiple times, and was in full agreement that they shouldn't be hunted. The leopard rumbled, pulling herself to her feet as she replied, I'd enjoy an adventure. She stretched her long muscled legs and gave a sharp fanged yawn before finally switching form, back to the blonde maned woman.
"They look ready to me," she decided with a grin, clapping Deimos on the back playfully. Only good things today, the best of moments.
fear has the sharpest teeth, it eats and eats and eats
They all had those moments where the world weathered, burned, scorched, and carved apart their limbs, their bones, their souls – but it was how they recovered, how they reigned, how they grew that would impact the rest of the void. To persevere? To sink? He’d done both so many times that it was habitual to either simmer on the brink of disaster, to walk the fine-line and edges of overbearing, all-consuming, hollowed ramparts, or to live, breathe in, take another step, then one more, until it couldn’t tear him apart. Each and every world had hurt him too many times to truly hide it; clear in his eyes, in his stance, in the way the earth shuddered over his shoulders. But he was still here, he was still alive, he was still present, and that had to account for something. Learning, all over again, what it meant to overcome the demolition and destruction surrounding his livelihood.
Renewal. Resurgence. Resurrection. Another chapter in the saga of the Sword.
And he had friends there for it, where he could laugh and not fall apart and relax into moments where the echoes of defeat weren’t so loud. And he’d do the same for them, over and over and over again.
His lips curved back into a smile at the mention of adventures; welcoming, to wander into the Tundra and see what they could find along the way. The beast grumbled under her pat, but took the ningos off the spit, once more imparting the potential of better days – as fleeting as they might’ve been – and passing her portion over. There they could dine and be ridiculous, meandering back into wakes and walks of normalcy.
