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!
engage with the pain as a motive, today of all days, see
It is the dead of night when Nate slips from his bed, when he slips from his home, when he slips out under the stars and silently curses every single one of them. There’s a dark hood pulled over his head, every bit of him covered up, except flashing eyes and a wagging tongue, for all the good it could really do. Every step he takes closer to the lighthouse feels like another nail in his coffin, a funeral drum he has to follow.
If only not showing up would be better than showing up.
Even if he comes metaphorically empty handed, Nate knows better than to come truly empty handed. He has with him a fine comb, silvery and in the shape of a crescent moon, wrapped up in a silky blue cloth, silver thread picking out stars across it. He also has with him the star shaped trinket he’d been given, a handful of excuses, mulled on for the last few days.
Only when he reaches the top of the accursed lighthouse does Nate hesitate, his voice cracking when he tries to call out. ”Safrin. I’m... I’m back.” His shoulders slump, and his gaze is resolutely trained on the floor, just in case.
sweet dreams till sunbeams find you, sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
She is a thing of absolute beauty. Where the Voice is almost sterile in her perfection, a thing to marvel but never touch, Safrin is vivacious. She screams of life and heat and reality in a way that the Voice's electric pulses can only approximate.
So Safrin thinks, anyway.
"Indeed you are." Her voice is a drawl from a darkened corner of the shrine, suddenly illuminated by her presence. Her cosmic gaze fixes upon Nate with all the intensity of an imploding star, her gravity beckoning him near.
"Since we last spoke...not once did you meet with the Voice. Not once did you do anything more than listen in while plans were drawn about a fight that we've all been waiting for since last year." Fighting the LongNight monsters? That was old news.
"But perhaps I've missed something?" The sweetly placed smile on Safrin's lips, perfect but cold, very much suggested she didn't think she had. "What is it you think you've done to earn my favour that I should help you the way you want?"
but in your dreams whatever they be, dream a little dream of me
engage with the pain as a motive, today of all days, see
Safrin’s very light makes him stiffen, uncomfortable, even as he needs the silent call to lean in closer, to shift a step or two nearer to destruction, before he reigns himself in.
He is a cornered animal, but he still knows better than to snap at the hand threatening him. Nate’s not suicidal, after all. He takes a moment to work his jaw, teeth clenching and relaxing as he tries to find the words. ”I don’t control when the Voice answers me.” His voice is forced into a facsimile of calm; defiant, terrified eyes creeping upwards to look upon Safrin and wince. ”And I don’t dictate our plans.”
The very edge of a sneer threatens to cross his face, his eyes dropping again, tearing away from the smile. ”You gave me a time limit, I came back within it.” It’s all he can say for himself. At least he did not need to be chased after. ”But... nothing. I have nothing, I expect nothing.” As if to prove his point, he offers the comb and the listening trinket out to her, hoping that this will be it. A deal fizzled away into nothing more than a bad experience.
sweet dreams till sunbeams find you, sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
"You don't seem to be of use then, do you?" Safrin snipes back with a cheerful smile. "I gave you a time limit because you wanted a way to keep your dear lover safe. You didn't like my idea of leaving his life, but apparently you also didn't feel the need to really apply yourself to this task." The sneer that hides itself on Nate's face, not quite present but tight in the muscles of his jaw, is replicated on Safrin's.
Slipping forward, ignoring completely the items offered to her, Safrin reaches out with unmatched speed so that her fingertips tangle in Nate's hair. "You played a dangerous game, and you lost, blue-eyes. But don't worry. You'll not go away empty handed."
Raising her wrist and offering it to Nate, Safrin raises a brow. "Your consolation prize." Her words are level and cold, her smile breathtaking and deadly.
but in your dreams whatever they be, dream a little dream of me
engage with the pain as a motive, today of all days, see
Even if he wanted to, even if there wanything eh he could say to defend himself, Nate doesn’t get the chance. Suddenly Safrin is right there, a hand tangling in his hair that has his teeth baring as he tries to pull away out of instinct. This is a threat, all of it is. Safrin is a threat.
With no chance of winning this little struggle, Nate forces himself to still, to listen to the words, the offer. And he forces himself to look up at her, first at her face, beautiful and terrible and far too much, and then at the offered wrist. A calculation rushes through his kind, can he afford to take this risk, can he affford to offend her, can he afford to not drink from a Goddess?
It’s with only the slightest tremble, with the barest hesitation that he leans in and sinks his teeth into Safrin, trying to steel himself for whatever it will bring.
sweet dreams till sunbeams find you, sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
Nate will feel no swell of heat in his belly, no rush of pleasurable toxins streaming through his inorganic veins. Instead, he will be consumed by the gravity-well of Safrin's fury and indomitable sense of entitlement. Like stars cast from the blackest and densest parts of space, the ascended will feel himself ripple and tear. The gods cannot undo what the Voice has done, but they can corrupt it.
To blight a creature who has already been ruined is not common in this world. Safrin's pettiness and vengeance however will happily stoop to this level.
Meteors tear and shatter what the Voice has lovingly made until the perfection of Nate's bio-mechanical system is corroded and made less efficient.
"I bet the Voice will take notice of you now..." Safrin whispers from the cold and darkness that has descended around her shrine. When Nate opens his eyes, he'll find that he's quite alone and forever changed.
Nate has been cursed and turned into a hybrid!
His first magic is a custom magic:
Our Little Secret | Anytime Nate says something negative about Safrin, or casts her in a bad light, he will start to burn. The more negative, the more intense the fire.
but in your dreams whatever they be, dream a little dream of me
engage with the pain as a motive, today of all days, see
The Goddess’ blood, ichor, whatever it may be, feels nothing like what he expects. Feels like everything he expected. Some noise rumbles deep in his throat, a muffled protest or panic, but he can’t stop it, even as some part deep inside of him it changed, an oily, burning smear on an otherwise perfect machine.
Cruel whispers echo in his ears as a chill that even he can notice surrounds him, Safrin’s disappearance somehow just as stark and impossible to ignore as her presence had been. He doesnt dare open an eye until he’s lifted a hand to his face, fingers shifting up to push through his hair.
Something is wrong, some sickly twist swirling in his core, worse than the guilt and worry ever worse. More tangible, somehow. He sits at the top of the lighthouse for a long time, until the threat of the sun peeks over the horizon, a single word leaving him the entire time.
