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!
The Voice had harvested the souls of the dead and returned them into the bodies of the living. Nevermind how, only know it was done.
A summons went out to the members of the Order: Gideon, Amaris, Dorian, Finn, Falke, October, Seraphina, Luciana. Summons were also sent to Ronin and Amalia that they might be kept within the proverbial loop. (Hopefully, it would not tighten and strangle them).
Within the meeting room the long and grand table stood as it always had. The chairs, ornate and silent, were tucked in. The table gleamed, but the fireplace was empty of flame, the curtains were tossed open letting in flat and greasy light. And Cian? Cian paced at the far end of the room.
survival of the richest, the city's ours until the fall
The ability to bring her sister to an Order meeting, must mean that it’s important. More than just important but something altering, something potentially dangerous, and honestly? It doesn’t take much to get the Caretaker to join her, a few comments of something big and something requiring immediate attention is sure enough to peak the Caretakers attention. So they arrive, hand in hand, to the meeting. She spies Cian pacing the end of the room, offering him a nod of greeting, .
But of course, it’s a meeting for all of them, and she moves to take her seat quickly, a space next to her where she imagines Lena will sit, her gaze drifting from the Eye toward the empty fireplace, and finally toward her sister as she removes the jacket from over her blouse, settling in. She’s not sure if this is going to be a long meeting or a short one, but given the environment she finds them in? Something tells her it’s not good either way.
they're monaco and hamptons bound, but we don't feel like outsiders at all
Make no mistake, Lena wasn’t a member of the Order. Not privy to their discussions, musings, mullings, plots, or schemes, more often than not the youth spent her days hustling through the market square and tending to the inhabitants of the Celestine. Her contentment with this lifestyle didn’t override the obvious bouts of curiosity that flared here and there, a sharper, inquiring eye, a head tilted to the whispers, or her sibling’s involvement with such matters. The fact that Sera was now taking her to a meeting sent the Caretaker’s heart racing – though it wasn’t in excitement.
Nerves? Apprehension? Trepidation? The overall, looming aspect of this portion of the Tower, the intimidating, lengthy table? Cian at the helm? Without her sister, she would’ve stood frozen somewhere, likely in the background, completely uncertain amidst the hustle and bustle of coming forms, both familiar and unknown.
But instead, she sat beside her, taking hold of the seat and pulling it outwards, not removing any coat from her figure. Instead, she placed her hands neatly in her lap, striving to control the sudden bout of tension rankling through her. A weak smile was granted to Sera, not quite meeting her eyes, before her gaze patrolled the rest of the scene, much like many of her animals and creatures, struggling to understand the layout and the reasons behind the meeting.
The brightest colours fill my head A million dreams are keeping me awake
The Blade arrived, motions that of a predator, of an individual who spent all of her time training for something terrible to happen, and to survive it. The dragon that accompanied her flew high, moving with a few simple flaps to land on the mantle of the fireplace, his bondmate moving to sit in the chair nearest to him, as if craving the even the memory of flames burning near her.
Honey-gold pools scouted the room all the while, assessing, calculating, guessing at what this could mean – what disaster had struck, what were they required to do now?
A low, soft note, that could easily be mistaken for a growl, rumbled from her bondmate’s throat, though it echoed across their soulbond as a balm, a soothing and calming note that had the Blade soon lifting her focus to the Eye directly, awaiting the inevitable explanation for their urgent summons to this most grand of meeting rooms.
A million dreams is all it's gonna take A million dreams for the world we're gonna make
It was par for the course that most of the women arrive first.
You slide in as quietly as you can, flashing a small smile to Seraphina as you do. Dressed in scrubs as you normally are, you look out of place compared to your peers. Really, you've no reason to be here other than to hear things first hand. No doubt Finn or Falke would have filled you in otherwise. But a summons from the Eye was not the sort of thing to be ignored. And so despite the pile of paperwork and patients downstairs, here you are.
Sitting as unobtrusively as possible in one of the chairs, you neatly fold your hands together, trying to get a sense from the others in the room what the purpose of this unexpected meeting is.
we cannot become what we want to be by remaining what we are
The summons come to her as she sits in the library, studying. Swiftly as she can the girl makes her way down the dizzying maze of hallways, slipping into the room as quietly as she can behind a tall woman she dimly recognizes as though from a dream. Amalia would have been just as happy never stepping into this office again; now she tries to swallow her anxiety, looking to where Cian sits. Barefoot and steady, Amalia approaches the table, sliding a piece of paper over to the Eye.
I spoke to Vi. The metal the Voice pulled from Tanau is a piece of the Core.
She doesn't know if he already knows this, but she wants to prove she is trying Message relayed Amalia retreats, seeking a seat towards the back of the room and silently praying Finn or Ronin will join her. She feels woefully isolated, and yet strangely proud, back straight and eyes alert as Jyoti settles in her lap. For the first time since coming here Amalia feels like part of something, truly- one among peers, among a movement, full of purpose and ready to belong.
The summons reaches Ronin halfway around a circuit of the training grounds, causing him to peel off and continue his run along the cobblestones to the Tower. With sweat beading on his brow and the Deepfrost cold rolling off him, he steps into the meeting room and ruffles his hand back through his dark hair. Dressed in naught but sweatpants and a grey t-shirt, the Star looks stunningly out of place.
Still, he offers a quiet nod to those he knows (at this point, it's most of them), and sidles into a seat beside Amalia. If he gets too close to the table where they are all talking, he might say something out of place. He might even throw a punch or two. It's better this way, to listen from afar, to get his orders in full view of the door, that he might escape right away.
Finn arrives with papers under his arm and a pencil between his teeth. There's ink on his hands and his glasses have been pushed up to perch in his nest of curls. The Spyglass never looks well these days, between his fractured concentration and the circles beneath his eyes, but his mind is sharper than ever. He moves into a seat beside October quite on autopilot, setting the papers down and instantly beginning to write a note in the margins of the nearest page.
Once that's done, he reaches as if to take off his glasses, before realising they aren't there. A moment of brief panic follows before Finn finally locates them, tucking them away in his inside pocket and flashing a quick smile of greeting to Tobi. Then his stormy eyes settle on Cian, pacing like a caged animal at the head of the table.
If anyone expected Falke to not be last, they have sorely misjudged the Fixer. He’s not late, mind - just slower than the others. It’s one of the few times Ophelia isn’t with him, the little brown monkey had put up a fight but after a battle of the wills, she finally relented and stayed in the Fixer’s quarters. Falke expects some sort of displeased ‘present’ when he returns, but this room is no place for occasionally undisciplined companions such as Fee.
Anyway, back to Falke. He’s better, but still not quite himself; others aren’t likely to notice his forgetfulness, requests to repeat or re-explain something. Gods only know how many half-drunk cups of tea have been left cold about his office and quarters, only to be puzzled about later and tossed into the sink.
There’s a polite, attentive mask on beneath his beard as he takes a seat on the other side of Tobi - the first time he’s seen most of the Order since his unfortunate accident and the subsequent rescue. And like the others, he turns his dark eyes expectantly to Cian.
"She's done something unprecedented this time." Cian doesn't turn as they file in, some sitting, some remaining standing. There is a shocking amount of tension in the Eye's shoulders, and those who have been around Cian for any lenght of time, will likely notice the way he doesn't try to mask his anger.
The Eye's reaction is nearly as unprecedented as the thing he's about to say.
Turning, his eyes pale and cold not unlike DeepFrost mornings that promise to freeze your lungs should you dare to take a breath, the Eye looks at the book he's holding, before snapping it shut and placing it on the mantle. Finn will recognize this book.
'The veil between life and death is thinnest during the Festival of Lights...it is why so many pray to Ludo during that time." Cian says this with the expectation everyone knows exactly what he's talking about. "But this year, it was not only the herald who plucked souls from one side and brought them back over. The Voice has managed to take the souls of no less than eight who had previously died." He doesn't reach for the book, having already memorized the names. "Mabel Occidendum, Edrei Launceleyn, Isla Lockwood, Kiada Njovu-Reyes, Adam Pikely, Peter Pikely, Ezra, and Maea Valair. All returned. And now all ascended."
Cian's jaw feathers as his gaze drifts around the room.
"I'm at a loss for what we ought to do. I would hear suggestions, if you have them."
Falke’s jaw almost drops to the table, he feels like he should ask Cian to repeat himself again - but the Eye doesn’t misspeak. He is always deliberate, even when he appears to be ever-so-casual. He inhales sharply, emotions rising over his usually practical nature, storm-dark eyes flitting around the table, looking for the one person with ties to the Gods.
Except Gideon isn’t there, which provokes a frown.
“How?” he asks, finally. “Were they all people before? How could she reach into Mort’s realm?” Shouldn’t there be a kind of… godly safeguard for that kind of thing? Of course the Priest isn’t here to shine any light on his question, and Falke is in no position to suggest anything outside of Stormbreak, given the last time he left.
Their names mean little to him. Other than being someone’s loved ones, they are unknown. But that - that is an implication, isn’t it? “Seems like she’s trying to buy goodwill. First the cure for the Climb illness, now returning the dead to their loved one's arms. How can we counteract that?” It's as much a general question as a rhetorical one, as Falke tries to comb back through his knowledge of the events of the last war.
He knows - of course he knows. His conversation with Remi has prepared him for such a revelation, and so the Star's reaction to the news is one of quiet contemplation, of stony silence. Ronin is here to receive orders and to watch the reactions of those within these walls, though there is a thread that runs through him that's entirely celestial-bound. It's this loyalty to Safrin that drives him to speak, in the end.
"Would that the Priest were here," he says, inadvertently agreeing with Falke without realising. "It would be prudent, don't you think, to commune with Ludo or Mort to ask more?" He glances fleetingly to Amalia - between them, Stormbreak's bond to Safrin and Vi could not be stronger. But to the other realms of gods? Not so much.
"I wonder if there is a way to discern what kind of people were brought back. If there are all kinds of vocations, it could merely be a question of numbers. But if the Voice exclusively offered this to warriors?" He shrugs. It's war - they all know it.
survival of the richest, the city's ours until the fall
There’s a chill in the air as Cian speaks, one that has Seraphina on edge as her eyes never stray from the Eye. She can feel her stomach drop as the words fall from his lips, blinks of surprise in her silence that are the only things that show she’s trying to digest it. Still, she can’t help the crease to her brow, the frown that deepens along her face, her gaze flickering to Falke as he speaks.
She tries to think of the names, none of them bringing a face to mind. “Do we know whether she’s granted them boons? Or are they all weak from returning?” This question is aimed at Cian before her gaze flickers to Ronin. “Warriors or builders, perhaps?” She piggybacks off of the Dark Star’s thoughts before her attention flickers back to Cian. “What can we do?”
they're monaco and hamptons bound, but we don't feel like outsiders at all
Finn, for all of his sins and his flaws, knows Cian well. He knows the Eye well enough to know how dangerous this display of emotion is, and thus when he speaks his stormy eyes are still absorbed in the papers beneath his fingers. Even so, his voice carries in a soft rumble throughout the room.
"We have demigods stationed close to the Hollowed Grounds - one of them might be able to press for a confrontation to disrupt any plans in progress," he says, knowing better than to ask yet more questions, less Cian's temper bubble over entirely. "There are Attuned, as well, who might be able to get into the Grounds in their animal shifts, to find out information that we do not have."
