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!
Griffin, yes, or some other moniker of the same beast. She nodded, reaching out and shifting her glass over to him, silently asking for a refill. Water or something richer, she didn't care. Just stay hydrated through the sickness, keep her blood pumping and thawed.
Aisha didn't ask for more stories now, she'd read her fill of horror during these past few bedridden days. If there was one thing that illness was good for, it was thinking, and accomplishing little; but Aisha had tried her best to at least make some move towards something. A new interest, a new goal, a new challenge. For now the tales of vengeance and companions would be enough anecdotal indulgence, she had queries of other kinds.
"I actually was thinking about trying to start up something like it. With my own creative differences," she scratched at Zuriel's cheek, "but I thought it might be a good idea." The ascended can't have all the responsibility you know.
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
On the silent gesture, he arched a brow and snorted, taking her glass and leaving his own on the table. Opting for water, since she clearly wasn’t in the right temperament for alcohol, he conjured the incantations while tilting his head, listening to her discuss the Monster Hunter’s Guild. “And what would be different?” An inquiry as he searched for some reasonable snacks, slicing up portions of bread, taking out some dried jerky (likely ningo), before setting everything on the table once more, sliding the resin towards her.
Knowing Aisha, my own creative differences could entail any range of parallels, and curiosity, doses of scholarly inquiry, flickered in his mind (a common occurrence when it wasn’t occupied by the weight of some other calculations and machinations). Halo didn’t have much in the way of guilds or organizations as Torchline or the Hollowed Grounds, though he wondered if this had to do with climate, the people, or the atmosphere as a whole. More activity, more possibilities, sounded as though it would be of some good in these chilling reaches. “Halo could use some guilds.” If he knew of anyone else, besides he and Glas, he might’ve ventured towards concocting another branch of the Artisan’s.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
03-01-2021, 05:56 PM (This post was last modified: 03-01-2021, 06:03 PM by Aisha.)
AISHA
good lava, we all know you wanna
Her glass was refilled just as requested, water it was. At least this way it would seem natural, she wouldn't expect a warm drink and instead find it chilling. She pulled back her glass, swished it about, then took another cool sip.
Her creative differences, a smirk tugged at her lips, "Just the little things, like decorating and framework and all that. The foundation is probably the same, a group of people who want to fight monsters, to protect or get revenge or just to learn or whatever. I'm thinking I start raising the idea come Flowerbirth to see if anyone would be interested." I'm sure Elide would be, if she comes back alive.
She nodded to his comment about Halo and it's lack of organizations. All the more reason then, "Agreed. Not that everything is grey like it is in the grounds, but I'm getting tired of white pretty damn quickly," she snorted, letting out a soft sigh that rustled a curl by her cheek. "I would want to build something central, somewhere people feel welcome to ask for help, and to be a part of a family." A family that she could build and lead, something separate from the soldiers she was already forming bonds with here.
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
Another few bites of the jerky kept him occupied, mulling over parameters and possibilities, nodding at her smirk, at the details in her plan. The structure and underpinning would be the same, for there were those eternally suited to hunting and haunting the infidels of the world. Considering the amount of gatherers and trappers within Halo, perhaps this branch would be successful in terms of multitudes of people. He wasn’t certain what the population and membership had been before it all burned, but she might be able to gain some practical amount – especially if Elide and her vengeful airs against dragons returned from the mess in the Grounds. “Could put something out on the notice board.” Maybe someone like Noah, a frequent hunter, might be intrigued enough.
A light smirk followed the quip about endless white, or the murky doldrums of the Hollowed area itself. When he’d been immersed in it, he hadn’t thought of those neutral, barebones collective – they’d been constantly striving or attempting to do something within its sanctions and sanctuary. Now that they were beyond those walls, and currently assisting in another section, the discernments were from the outside looking in.
And he’d never begrudge the mountains, no matter if they were Aurora summits or not. “A monster hunting family.” He laughed, good-natured, a rumble in the parlor. Found kin and brethren – whether in arms, like this threshold, or amongst the similar-minded stalkers of demons. “Let me know if you want assistance with building.” Depending on what she found for infrastructures and the ilk.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
Aisha nodded, clearing her throat of the sickness that mottled her voice, turning it raspy. The food he produced was welcome, having some flavor to occupy herself with helped ignore the taste of flu. So she snatched up a few slices of jerky and tucked into them at a steady pace, careful not to run out too quickly. "I will, something convincing and colorful, yeah," a little jest here and there helped her surly mood. This whole conversation had helped, just the company of friends.
Monster hunting family, yes Deimos, that was exactly right. "Of course I'll need your help with building. You've seen me do targets, could you imagine the damage I'd do to a house?" and it was the light teasing that really made her feel herself again, confident in where she stood, or in this case sat.
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
He snorted at the insinuation of loud and colorful, in attempts to win over the Halo public and crowd. Maybe it would work – and the energy, the flames, Aisha brought forth would be enough to intrigue and polish interest, ensure a rise in factions and organizations, a hustling, bustling community with more to offer and prevail upon. The mountains were quiet, and the people were survivors, but there was more to see, more to do, than tuck themselves away, bridge into isolation.
A thought for himself too, perhaps.
The monolith broke apart pieces of bread and left them on the plate, save for one he snagged, tilting his head vaguely as he chewed. Another light snort insinuated at the self-deprecation. “I presume you will not be drunk during this task.” He wouldn’t be tipsy either – forged and strong, instead of inattentive, unfocused, and stupidly bemused. It’d been an amusing time, despite the trials or tribulations the mess had tarnished and contorted – worth it, even if he’d still been finding paint in portions of his beard hours later. “What sort of building are you looking for?”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
03-02-2021, 01:01 AM (This post was last modified: 03-02-2021, 12:25 PM by Aisha.)
AISHA
good lava, we all know you wanna
No, she wouldn't be drunk during this task. She was serious about this after all, her efforts would not be washed away by a bottle of rum and unsteady hands. Aisha never set out to half ass anything, and she believed this idea could work. She wanted it to work, talking about it only solidified her intent. "No, I won't," she agreed, not to sell herself too short by pointing out the the first round of target making she'd been sober.
What sort of building did she hope for? She'd mulled this over while writing out some ideas, but no planning could really be done until she'd found a vacant place to work with. "I'll probably have to work with whatever I can get here in the citadel," she started, furrowing her brow as she munched on more jerky. "I think it would be good to set it near a place people already pass by. We wouldn't have anything to hide, and it's not like we'll be doing much hunting in the city."
"Well just need somewhere we can meet up, somewhere that can store any items we might need. And somewhere cozy, I like to imagine myself feeling the heat again someday and when I do I'd like to be able to have a fireplace like this to discuss around," those were the hopes, the picture in her mind was clear.
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
His eyes went to her paper, the writing and notes dictated alongside, head tilted in a fraction that was both predator-born and insatiably inquiring. Analytical to a fault, a creature of scholarly intentions and musing calculations, he grabbed his own document, snatching a piece of bread as he worked, sketching out a large fireplace, a massive hearth much like theirs (comfortable, a place of gathering, even in here it was meant for war plans, defenses, and sieges). Vacancies in the Citadel meant some limitations, and he shrugged his shoulders as he continued with the details of her planned, formulated outlines. “There could be some across from the council hall?” A place of business, politics, diplomacy, and other matters, and not so intimidating as the icy palace nearby. People strolled by often, either to launch their complaints, needs, or wants. “Or maybe near the market.” Where their eyes slipped from kiosk to kiosk, from stall to stall, yearning for wares, and crossing similar paths.
At the mention of cozy, the beast merely smiled, slipping in a few large armchairs before the flames, cabinets full of goods, storage facilities where they could keep books, and notes. “What about a library?” A place of documentation, collected and stored further into the main parlor and room. If he could recall, while doing repairs for the old one, there’d been nooks and crannies piled with trophies laden, portraits hanging, detailing those they’d hunted, regaled, or missed. Wanted posters, with marks and dates chiseled, with missions entailed and meant to enthrall. Deimos added them into the scene, merely as ornamental illustration, as ideas she might enjoy, before sliding it back over to her.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
Aisha's mess of papers wouldn't read much to anyone else, scribbles likely only she could understand. But she shifted the page of notes about the guild hall towards him, a nonsensical ball of words that'd come to mind. He was grabbing his own blank parchment next, sketching something across it. A fireplace, he must've seen the word she'd circled in her own notes, an absolute must for any building she chose to settle.
She smiled as his sketches produced ideas, a more vivid depiction of what she wanted. Stone walls they could line with color, with trophies and triumphs, somewhere they could both fortify with an arsenal of monster hunting resources, and return to for some relaxation and companionship. She nodded to his suggestions, engaged and intent. This excited her, this was promising, "Ooh, or an inn."
She eagerly drew the paper from him, lifting it to see his work. Her curls bobbed with her as she mulled it over, then decided to add it to her collection of plots and ambitions. "I like what you're thinking Deimos," she said playfully, taking a quick bite of jerky and gathering her clutter. "There'll have to be a notice board, where people can post bounties or ask for help."
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
He mulled over the potentials of an inn; with normally larger lobbies, and multitude of rooms that might grant her wish. Walls could always be knocked out if she wished for something more massive, or something didn’t suit her design, and he outlined several other fronts, but didn’t bother with a blueprint. If she was ordaining and orchestrating it from scratch, that’d be more in the realms of possibility. Instead, she’d be working with whatever she could find, and accommodate from within.
Once the paper was taken, he leaned back again, a muttered rumble and snort ensued. “Hm. We could always alter things from inside too.” It would just take more time, more precision, more strength, which the beast had in spades. A chance to unfurl some power, some dominion, some might, some multitudes, when he wasn’t occupied with the barracks, or another faction of duties. “Weapons as well?” For whatever worked best on certain fauna?
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
Aisha nodded to his suggestions, having put the papers aside for now to discuss the intricacies that could not be drawn. At least by her, Deimos had proven his own ability for sketching. Her thoughts would suffice for any further pictures, the inn taking form in her mind. Alterations of course, would be necessary. Luckily she had friends, the Shields, general aid. And if many were interested it shouldn't be too difficult to find the proper artisans for the task.
Weapons, yes, "Of course, there will have to be a whole room for those. Once we know what we're up against we shouldn't have to go looking for the supplies to fight it," that would only waste time, and usually when it came to horrors and venomous beasts, time was of the essence.
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
Deimos left his marks in weaponry and armaments these days, it seemed, shaking his head and laughing, jotting his notes down beside hers in his neat, refined script. “So an armory room as well?” A vague smile lifted from the corner of his mouth, and then he proceeded to write a few more indications – maybe crossbows, maybe more long range notions, depending on what these skilled hunters were pursuing, stalking, and insisting upon rendering hostile or nothing at all. When he was finished, he slid the paper back to her, to put in amongst her other collections, adornments, thoughts, and notions. “You have quite a list now.”
Then he leaned back once more, partaking in the snacks and drinks, considering, contemplating. But if any of them were emboldened enough to complete these tasks, drive their motivations into the world, it was Aisha. Even with the curse over her form, there were still the pieces and portions of upheaval, sedition, and obstinance, and the Sword was glad to see that underneath the beckoning claws of cold, she was still the same. Still there. Still Aisha. “When are you going to get started?”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
03-03-2021, 05:02 PM (This post was last modified: 03-03-2021, 05:03 PM by Aisha.)
AISHA
good lava, we all know you wanna
Yeah, maybe it was a lot, but Aisha didn't plan on half-assing this. She wanted to build something that would last, something that would work and provide. And if it was an armory they needed, she'd make sure they had it. Deimos added that idea to the list, another paper for her stack. Absently her hand drifted back to Zuriel, reaching up to stroke by her ear.
Even in the chill, the cold, Aisha retained some tenacity. Ambitious, provocative, fervent. Hopefully the flame of her form would return to her, to match the heat she bore in other ventures. But for now she could only brood in the embers, plotting her return to action. "Season change, once the portals are open I'm going to get the word out about the guild," she decided, pausing at a dour thought. "I'll stay to help rebuild the grounds too, I'm sure they'll need it."
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
On the rise of Flowerbirth, on the ease in which they could finally slide into the next season. Amongst and amidst the pitfalls, the potential devastation, Deimos found himself longing for it. The change. The ability to leave the walls threatening to close in. But he could dread it too, all in one bountiful swing of emotions, because it signified some of their own may not return.
And he wasn’t certain he could deal with Kiada’s death again.
Even the notion of visiting, rebuilding the Grounds bristled against him, and he stopped eating, placing the snack down. The age-old apprehension buried and burrowed stirred once more, and he eased a few long, lingering breaths, aiming to stifle the wayward bounds. Zuriel, head tilted for the proper ear scratches, glanced his way, and his eyes lingered down on the table, subdued. “More than likely.” In what way, in what capacity, would be left to be determined.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
