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!
They come in hoards, droves, and gangs. They come on silent legs, with feet that can taste the world around them and bodily fluids that can decompose flesh.
They come for—him, her, they, it—Mildew.
The voiceless throng of things that scuttle, slither, and dart through the air nears the hut. Hidden in the cockles of the Feverland's heart, rarely seen by anyone these days, they look for the Swamp Witch. On an afternoon like any other, the air thick with decay and humidity, they come bearing a message for their mistress.
Endless glass bottles stacked on shelves and cabinets lit up with the days sun rising, the dirt on the glass easier to see but the colours still beautiful, Mildew's shack becoming a kaleidoscope of lights and shades as the day went on. She sat in the doorway, the wicker entrance propped open with a rock and her feet resting in the cool mud beneath the stairs, hands working at weaving together strands of grass into intricate, arcane shapes.
Smart brown eyes darting up as she sensed an incoming presence, Mildew held out her arm towards the air for the messengers, a smile on her face as her hand extended to allow them to rest and give their words. "Hello there, Darlings." She greeted, with the easy casual confidence of someone entirely within her element. "What is it you have come to say?"
Centipedes weave themselves into her hair as beetles with jewel-toned bodies crawl up her calves. Spiders trail up her wood-coloured legs, their legs like feather-light fingertips caressing her skin.
the storms have passed They sing in unison, their voices a fevered pitch that rise and fall like nails on a chalkboard. they will come to the swamp. They add, suddenly fluttering wings and snaping pinchers to communicate their disapproval.
Mildew grinned at the crowd of insects and creatures that scurried up her form, raising her arms and legs to admire them all, careful to move slowly and gently so she wouldn't hurt any of her small friends. Maybe their unified voice would be unsettling to some but it delighted her, Mildew nodding along with what they had to say with understanding. "Ah, I see...took long enough, didn't it?"
She'd have a lot to do.
"Don't you worry - I'll take care of it all. Now go and find yourselves some nice logs to sit in; looks like it'll be a hot day." Mildew instructed, reaching out her fingertips towards the ground to give the messengers a bridge to travel down and away; she would have to start right away, and as much as she wanted to spend time with the nature that had always been her home, sometimes business called.
The bugs hum a unison note. For all present, the storms have been raging the entirety of their lives. Only some of the larger creatures that lingered deep within the mud and the mire could remember a time before them.
she is a'hungry. she will feast on us, and when she regains her strength, she will feast on them
All at once those which can take flight, do. The air signs with wings and the vibration of legs as creatures of all shape and size depart from Mildew. Some slither and others scamper, but all disappear into the mud as she has dictated. That does not mean that they are gone though, as Mildew well knows, they will always be with her.
