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!
He'd heard about this giggling tree at the center of Haulani that just sort of appeared, but hadn't really cared to see it. It was probably just some more stupid propaganda, a little 'blessing' from Frey reminding everyone that the gods can be sweet too. Whatever, Rigby didn't really give a fuck what their overlords did. They'd done enough, or perhaps too little, and this tree was just another waste of time.
So for other reasons he found himself in the middle of town today, surrounded by the usual bustle of the city. He'd snagged a banana off of someone's stand a couple blocks ago and peeled the skin off, popping it bit by bit into his mouth. He had just finished it and thrown the peel haphazardly behind him when something snagged on his shirt. He turned sharply to the side, expecting to be busted for whatever petty crime he'd committed, but instead found himself caught by a bristly tree branch.
Trees from Torchline didn't really look like this, with needles instead of leaves and up shooting branches. "Ugh," he screwed up his nose at the sappy scent, pulling his black sleeve away from the tree. Stubbornly it refused, holding on and keeping him stuck.
Haulani is absolutely unlike anywhere else Peter has ever been before. Bright and hot, sure, though the sun is more of an enemy than the heat is now, but also lush and lively. People live here, instead of simply surviving, instead of scraping out an existence.
Though a side effect of that is that the city is fair but louder than anything he's useful, and an unfair bit more overwhelming. Pet had meant to explore, to learn the ins and outs of the city, but he’d very quickly been forced to take refuge, wrapped up away from the sun in his many layers, and crouched near one of the canals, where he’s less likely to be in the way.
The firling doesn’t even register as something out of place, not with how out of place he himself is. But it does catch someone else, the grumble of discontent loud enough to make Pet lean over, catching a glimpse of the boy caught in the needles, a single huff of laughter leaving him as he leans out more, the very picture of some kind of strange voyeur.
Rigby struggled with the needles on the fir, brows narrowed and angry. The tree was about as stubborn as he was, fucking sentient being that it was, and when finally he ripped his sleeve away the thing kept a piece of it. Great, awesome even, it's not like he had a closet full of things to choose from. He scowled at the ridiculous flora, a high pitched giggle causing him to roll his eyes.
But it wasn't just the tree that was amused, someone lurked nearby, the huff drawing Rigby's attention. He didn't like to be noticed, especially not for something as dumb as this. Bristling like a cornered cat, he turned his gaze sharply to the man nearby, all but staring daggers through him. Indignant eye contact, Rigby rolled back his shoulders before letting them hunch again, his rustled shirt falling back into place, large and baggy over him.
The glare is returned by a flat stare, the slight grin on Pet’s face slipping into a distant blankness. He’s not used to be caught watching, though this instance is entirely his own fault. Not a word is said as the boy puffs up, though he’s already larger than the ascended by a more than generous measure, Pet having to look up (and up and up) to even see his face.
It should end there, except the boy doesn’t look away. So Peter doesn’t look away. Not even as he reaches out, gentle, patient fingers coaxing the scrap of fabric away from the greedy needles. He rubs it between his fingers, missing the sensation for a moment before he offers it out. ”I think you dropped this.” He says softly, his monotone matching the blank stare.
Rigby watched the amused look on the other man's face fade away in response to his glare. It's almost nice to be bigger for once, but almost was the keyword. He'd much rather be hidden away in the shadows than on display in this way. The gaze of the shorter man is persistent, jadedly stubborn. And so is Rigby's, they stood in silence and at a stand still until the other reached towards the firling and coaxed the fabric from it's nettles.
Rigby's glare twitched at his lips, irritation at the man, at the stupid tree, at the whole day it seemed. "Keep it," he droned in his deep raspy tone, reaching up and scratching a spot at the back of his head. In a moment of pure scorn his mouth betrayed his ego, and rather than turning and walking away he grumbled, "guess the tree has favorites."
It’s entirely unclear whether it’s naïveté or simply a lack of care that has Peter staying so focused in the face of such obvious hostility, but even as Rigby’s face threatens to twist he doesn’t waver. He will keep the scrap, tuck it away into his pocket like some strange prize.
”Maybe...” He begins, mostly under his breath, but still bolder than he’d ever dared to be. There’s a moment of consideration before he continues, a pale, unblinking gaze looking the other man up (and up and up) and down, wondering what kind of danger he really posed. Not enough for Pet to hold his tongue, apparently. ”Maybe it likes nicer people.” He suggests, head tilting ever so slightly.
This dude was testy, that was for sure. They both were, but Rigby was getting bored of this. He was done with getting stalked by cold little men, attacked by happy trees, he just wanted to be a under his own rain cloud, somewhere else. He watched through sullen eyes as the man looked him up and down, then gave a long sigh.
"That's definitely it," he replied, before turning on his heels and slipping back into the crowd, away from the firling and the curious stranger.
