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 fire can't touch me for I have burned too many times
The Sword had always been a keen observer – though the notions had been saved for war, for machinations, for examining an adversary rampaging towards him. But he utilized them now to scrutinize Elide’s reactions: what she’d orchestrate next, how she’d calculate her next move. The General and temporary Warden could see the wheels turning, chiseling, contemplating – and perhaps the next time she experienced this it’d be more muscle memory, more honed, on the battlefield of the Grounds, and not a surefire way to see her demise up close and personal.
The eventual reaction made him laugh – he couldn’t help the short burst of a chuckle from his lungs as the target was rendered completely destroyed. Decapitated was the word for it, as the punctured remnants ceased to move entirely (because he’d started laughing), bashed in, flattened, and then broken apart by its “neck”, the innards of fluff exposed and riddled across the stone. The echoes of her bombardments had been cast far and wide, and several onlookers shifted to glance at the decimated target. “Well done,” he noted, finally advancing from where he’d been standing, striving to muffle another bout of amusement.
One by one, he began to remove the arrows from the quite dead effigy, handing them over as they were taken out. “You never give up,” he nodded. “Even when they continue coming at you.”
the sea can't harm me for I have been drowning all my life
Her attempt doesn't go unrewarded. For a moment, she's stunned by its 'death'. As if she hadn't expected it to work. All she can do is stare at the... thing. It's no longer a monster from her nightmares and imaginations but a pile of broken, inanimate parts. Her jaw clenches in revelation. She can't look at these monsters as anything more than prey. Dangerous, difficult prey. They have their weaknesses and she has hers. But isn't that always true in the hunt?
A great risk taken in the hope of a far greater reward.
The rumblings of laughter from Deimos snap her into motion once more, however, pulling her out of her stupor. His heavy footfalls spur her into motion, where she pulls herself up from the ground onto lithe feet. No triumphant smile rests on her face, no mimicry of his laughter. Though perhaps there's a greater sense of self-assurance.
"I do apologize about your... friend, here," she says with a flicker of humor in her tone. Her gaze dips down towards the pieces of his puppet.
She lifts her chin, her grip on the crossbow adjusting, and simply takes the quills as he returns them. "Deimos, I know you're an Outlander," she tilts her head towards his face, examining his expression, "What is the worst adversary you have ever faced, in all this time?" Though the question doesn't quite broach the issue she's trying to so, more specifically, she adds, "When you thought it might be the end... was there anything you regretted?"
sewn together, my humanity and my immortality together, they hang, trading places like sun and moon
the fire can't touch me for I have burned too many times
“No need,” he extended with an arch of his brow, gaze falling back to the target. It once had far better days, and had been on its way out. That it could manage and muster one last ditch effort for someone who required the bolstering of skill and practical knowledge, was more beneficial than being tossed out into the debris and refuse. He continued passing her the arrows, until it was emptied – completely, utterly desecrated, pieces shambling back to the stone floor.
And while he bent and tore, crouched down beside its remains, the statement, the inquiry, floated towards him. The basis of it could’ve been circumvented in a variety of ways, but he took considerable time, effort, and notions of memories. There were hordes upon hordes of adversaries – from Mirage’s Qian, to those who’d picked and scraped at the Basin simply because they could, antagonizing and instigating – and the considerations ceased entirely when a particular individual stoked against the fibers of his efforts. There was even a target somewhere in the midst, dedicated to her damned existence, so that he had an opportunity to beat and pummel it once more. “In another world, my kingdom had an enemy that was ruthless, conniving, and unrelenting.”
His eyes narrowed, rising up from the perils of the ruined target, contemplating setting it all ablaze, allowing the wind to take the ashes and scatter them elsewhere. “I never figured out why she continually came after us. At first it was irritating,” and then he shrugged, striving to remove the semblances of Confutatis from his shoulders. “And then she tried to steal the children.” Amongst other things, items, figments, people; a threat that he’d had to stop.
Though he hadn’t been near death, the battle hadn’t been easy. She’d been cunning, merciless, and incredulous, attempting to prove something to the Reaper, to the Lord of the Basin, to the man who guarded his mountains with cold, harsh precision. His gaze went back to her, jaw clenching, wondering at all the other hazards. At nearly dying in the Spire. At nearly dying in the cave. At not being able to save Adam and Peter. At a door that killed his best friend. “Only that I had not done enough.”
That Confutatis hadn’t died, but only disappeared eventually, not fallen beneath his blade. That a dragon had mauled friends instantly, that there’d been no chance, no opportunity, to drag them out of the void. The lines of lives blurred in between, but the notions remained the same. “But if I had perished defending my brethren, then it would have been worth it.” Sacrificial – so that those he loved could carry on.
the sea can't harm me for I have been drowning all my life
Elide can imagine there will always be worse things out there. Whether 'out there' encompasses all of the universe and its multitudes, or simply Caido. But her imagination is nothing compared to concrete history, even if it doesn't pertain to her own world. She doesn't take Deimos for a liar or someone who would overdramatically portray a situation. So when he goes into a bit of his past, a time before Caido, Elide listens carefully.
A powerful figure that is ruthless and conniving, ever-present, stealing children. Yes, that would be far worse than creatures of the night who only come out of hiding for a short time. Try as they might, the monsters are nothing more than what they are. Soon, they may very well not even be that.
Her eyes, which have wandered in their attempts to piece his story into something she can envision, shift back towards him. "Will anything ever feel like it's truly enough?" Elide murmurs, her voice so quiet that it's almost a whisper. "Isn't that the problem with humanity? That nothing is ever good enough for us? No matter what we do, or what we have, or what we are, we always want more, to be more..."
Philosophy isn't something she has any special interest in. That being said, she's spent too much time pondering over it anyway. As humans do.
"Sacrifice may be one of the only exceptions to that rule," she sighs, the next admittance one that rattles her to say, "Part of me thinks we've made the wrong choice. Whether that's killing the monsters or the timing of it, I don't know... It feels like it's over before it's even begun." But she steadies, not to be lost to such dooming thoughts, and lifts her chin. "Tell me, how did you defeat this relentless enemy of yours?"
sewn together, my humanity and my immortality together, they hang, trading places like sun and moon
the fire can't touch me for I have burned too many times
The remains sliding into his hands, and then carried over in a pile towards the snow, where he could safely ignite them, gave him a moment to process the nuances behind her inquiry. “Probably not.” He’d certainly never felt like he’d done enough for anyone or anything – for his friends, for his loved ones, for his family, for all those who ceased to exist any longer. He’d always wanted to be stronger. To be more powerful. To be a shield, a sanctuary, a blade, for those in his life, who dared and tried to root themselves into his soul. “So we never stop trying,” came with a shrug to his shoulders, as he returned to collect more of the pieces. The smaller filaments followed with a short, swift execution of his air enchantments, until they all lingered together, outside in the elements.
When he did cease, that was when the all-consuming anguish began to wash over, and drown.
Like the day he’d laid down in the snow, sick, confused, heartbroken, and extinguished - and waited to die.
He could hear the other orchestrations – the power of choice – of killing the monsters, of the timing, and the other flares and misgivings behind it. Only last year had he listened to Samuel say they’d had the option before, and hadn’t taken it. Before Rexanna had died. Before hordes more. Before they’d had newly resurrected Ascended, back from the dead to billow and perish for another cause. The choice hadn’t been Elide’s or Kiada’s anyway; some other time, some other place, where it’d all been sorted and decided. But the topic felt like they were discussing an inevitable death and demise, and he hated it.
What it would mean all over again.
His eyes narrowed as he invoked the fire incantations, watched them spread over the target’s corpse, far away from either of them. Controlled and precise, slicing into a void, eating and swallowing down what was left. “But you still have to make an effort.” Even if it wasn’t her fight – because she was pulled along into it. But one could override those misfortunes.
Otherwise, what were they all doing here anyway?
The slate of the Sword’s gaze stayed on the fire, on the cinders and smoke and fumes, while memories ticked and clicked away, an unrelenting force behind his stare. “She was defeated, and disappeared.” Traces and inklings of her would rear their heads every once in a while; offspring carrying on. But her attempts at obtaining anyone from his kingdom had been marred. If only things were that simple here.
the sea can't harm me for I have been drowning all my life
02-12-2021, 12:20 PM (This post was last modified: 02-12-2021, 12:21 PM by Elide.)
Elide
Elide smiles softly, nodding. "It is both a blessing and a curse," she somberly reflects back to him. There's something admirable in it. The tenacity and will of the human race plays a large role in why it's still around. Not just that, but also in how far it's come - how far it has yet to go. Seeing it present itself to such a palpable degree, here and now; it's an honor to be part of it. To share in some vision of a better future, even if it's a fractured place.
The dark truth of the matter is that sacrifices have already been made. It's high time to make good on them, to make them matter.
The target bursts up into flames and Elide's gaze shifts towards it. The wood snaps, giving in to the pressure of the heat. The crossbow is returned to its place, along with all of its quills. Now they can watch as the effigy, the monster, fades into the night. As it should.
She clasps her hands behind her back and lifts her shoulders. "Of course, and I will," the words are earnest. She has no other intention, no plans of giving up or sabotage for her own self-preservation. Others? She can't say for sure but she counts on them all the same. She has to. "But not for me. For everyone else. For all the people that have perished, that have fallen into the dark. We have to make certain that the lives lost were not lost in vain. So long as we're successful, then we were not wrong, and the world will become a better, safer place. I will not rest until then, not even if I am dead." She offers him a wry smile at that, turning to look at him.
sewn together, my humanity and my immortality together, they hang, trading places like sun and moon
the fire can't touch me for I have burned too many times
The last of its remains coiled back into cinders and broken filaments; bursting, then fading into nothingness. The ash was spread along the wind, churned over and back into the void, across intricacies of snow and ice. Not to be remembered at all – for it’d been inanimate and nothing, truly. Just a physical representation of what she might see, between the covers of darkness and invisible claws, reaching, reaching, reaching, for those still amongst and amidst the living.
He inclined his head at her words, as everything else settled into dust, for now, for the moment. She could make an effort for herself too – but if the world called upon her bravery and stalwart bounds, then so be it. His memories would easily go forth into those lost – Rexanna, first and foremost, and all the other ones nestled in between, like Cera, who’d known too little too late, or the other hordes who’d hadn’t understood what LongNight conveyed until they were vanquished and gone. “A worthy goal,” he amended, permitted half a smile.
He wondered what would count for success. The level of Pyrrhic victory meant to settle into livelihoods.
“You cannot rest until you hunt your dragons anyway,” and the Sword shrugged, muffling a light laugh, before maneuvering once more, and placing more artifacts back where they belonged.
the sea can't harm me for I have been drowning all my life
Elide may not have known all of those people to the same depth and degree as Deimos - or many of the others - but she can understand it just the same. It must be similar to the loss she felt over her brother, that powerless feeling of needing to have done more. It could have been prevented, if only she'd done enough. Nothing ever would be enough, no, but Deimos is right; that's why they never stop trying.
At his comment about hunting her dragons, Elide's smile becomes more humorous. "Yes, dragons..." she echoes thoughtfully, "First I must conquer the sword and the monsters. Then, maybe I can see about a dragon."
Speaking of swords, Elide glances over her shoulder towards where several weapons are placed on a rack. "I already have a crossbow but, would it be alright if I took a sword? I may need something for closer quarters - for those monsters that manage to slip through the cracks." She doesn't suppose he'll tell her no but, she's partly asking to let him know that she's taking him up on his offer. Pulling a scrutinizing face, she asks, "Or is there something else you would recommend against them?"
sewn together, my humanity and my immortality together, they hang, trading places like sun and moon
the fire can't touch me for I have burned too many times
Figments, goals, and aspirations to keep them aloft, grounded, circumventing towards the other side. For strength, for precision, for might; and they couldn’t conquer any of those assembled plans if they were dead.
While he tended to the rest of the scattered armaments and effigies, categorizing which ones needed repairs once more, he caught her staring over the variety of weapons. The Sword had his own preferences – but each armament was justifiable in its own weight, merit, and prowess. Some were for speed, like a rapier’s quick, slash, some were for power, like a warhammer, and some were rendered and regarded in between. At her inquiry, he glanced over his shoulder, a firm nod following without hesitation. “Take what you need.” Though, the notion of them slipping through the cracks made him narrow his eyes – recalling the warnings within the Monster Hunter’s Guild before they’d set the shelter ablaze.
Finishing up, brushing his hands together, he pulled back his long mane of hair, pondering over the rest of the aforementioned weaponry at their disposal. There’d be more available further into the barracks, where he kept up a steady supply. “We can go look in the armory.” And he maneuvered through the long hallway, expecting her to follow towards one of his favored rooms – comfortable and expansive, shelves of organized shields, metal, and serrated edges of viable, worthy contortions. Once they’d crossed into the area, he maneuvered to the side, allowing her to explore the region – settled into its remnants, having long since memorized where each went. “Some are fast. Some are cunning. Some might require more power behind your efforts than others.”
Deimos’ eyes went to a hatchet, or an ax nearby, pondering how many Elide would be willing to carry on her belt.
the sea can't harm me for I have been drowning all my life
Elide nods gratefully, turning to follow in Deimos' wake as he leads the way towards the armory. She opens her mouth to say that she's appreciative, to say 'thank you', but thinks better of it. It would only do so much, and couldn't possibly convey the severity of the situation - or how his help and training was likely going to play a part in keeping her alive. No, no words would truly suffice for that, and saying it bluntly would likely strike a chord that needn't be struck.
So she follows him silently, expectantly, hopefully. As he moves to let her survey the weapons available at her disposal, she's almost overwhelmed. A plethora of weapons gathers around them and, were she less clear-headed, she might get lost in all of the possibilities of grandeur.
However, she remains focused. A sword, initially, is what she's asked for. So the swords are what she examines. It's after a few moments that she spies his gaze directed towards an axe. Curious, she moves to pick it up, to try it on for size. It feels very wieldy, far lighter than a longsword, but still a dangerous weapon. Definitely good for close quarters.
She nods slowly, considerably. "I think this will do," she looks over her shoulder at him, "don't you?" At that, she retrieves the sheath that would pair with it.
sewn together, my humanity and my immortality together, they hang, trading places like sun and moon
the fire can't touch me for I have burned too many times
That had always been his preferred role – General – never Warden, temporary or not – to convey, ensure, and protect. He wanted the guards under his watch to be capable of defending their home, wise, enduring, strong in their convictions, and in their formidability. It was a purpose in everyday life, and when he wasn’t called to action elsewhere, from the stirrings of some other threat, some other world-ending condemnation, some other nuance of monster fathoms and upheavals; his favorite haunt was here. Within the barracks, providing ways for others to survive.
He watched, silent and hushed as always, surveying her choices. She must’ve been gaining his measures and machinations too, for no sooner did she head over to the ax displays, picking one up, feeling the weight of its brutality. What it lacked in a full scale platitude of lengthy, serrated edges, like a sword, the ax had a cutting barbarity to its brutality – quick, effective, in hacking away larger portions of an enemy. “It should be suitable,” Deimos nodded and countered in return, the half-smile still there.
Hopefully all these efforts would benefit, in the long run, in the short intervals, in the time and place where they’d all be surrounded, pervaded, by figments of the past and present. And with avid uncertainty, because he didn’t know when she’d be called to those haunting decibels, the Sword tilted his head. “Good luck, and be safe.”
Stay committed to one’s goals. Persevere. Endure. Live. Rinse and repeat.
the sea can't harm me for I have been drowning all my life
02-13-2021, 01:45 PM (This post was last modified: 02-13-2021, 01:46 PM by Elide.)
Elide
Elide's grip on the axe conforms with more ease at Deimos' half-smiling approval. She offers the smallest upward curve of the edges of her own lips, admiring her selection. A sword has its uses, its place, but something about the axe seems more forgiving.
The axe may be better able to be used as a tool or to deal a crushing, traumatic blow - not to mention, easier to wield. Brutality will take her to far greater lengths and be more appreciated than the keen respect and practiced skill required of any kind of sword.
No, she's confident in her choice. It's the right weapon.
Deimos' next words carry a sentiment that she doesn't know to expect from him. At first, it might appear as if she doesn't hear him, smiling slightly down at the well-made, wieldy battle axe. It's only after securing it to her belt that Elide lifts her gaze and attentions more fully up to Deimos.
"Thank you," she says finally. Whether it's enough, whether it's all enough, only time will tell.
fin!<3 ty
sewn together, my humanity and my immortality together, they hang, trading places like sun and moon
