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!
03-02-2021, 04:40 AM (This post was last modified: 03-03-2021, 12:13 AM by Maeve.)
I don't trust nobody
With the end of Longnight and the arrival of Flowerbirth, the port was bustling. To outsiders it might seem like the Torchliners were simply carrying on the way that they always do. Moving and writhing under the sun while they worked and drank their cares away. That wasn't true. To those who knew and stopped long enough to look closely, they could tell that something was in the air. The impending promise of rain. Rain so fierce and strong it would wash them all away if they didn't prepare properly. Which is what Maeve was trying to do now.
Their delivery of boards for the windows was dropped off this morning and she's at a loss. Normally they have people to help put these up, but with all the commotion at the Governor's house they are a bit short handed. Maeve stands on the front porch of the Halenani, hands on her hips and lip between her teeth. A stack of boards to her left and a small collection of tools to her right. There was no way she could do this on her own and the other girls were all busy preparing things inside.
After the housefire, after the mob, after allowing her lungs to recover, Melita simply set out along the world once more. She thought about scouring the town for Nate, because she found it odd that he hadn’t returned yet (and had no inclination of putting other potentials in her mind), but instead, alternated in light skips, in a haphazard pace, in a swing of arms and limbs and bare feet. Fangorn, blessed and bounding, followed at her heels, as they traced the outlines of the world, of the canals, of the ramparts, eyeing the void.
With LongNight come and gone, with bonfires dimmed, with parties less enthused under the lingering darkness, there was preparation for monsoons. While she’d likely be sailing during that time, on board the Ark with her fellow smugglers, the honeybee had every intention of assisting before the wind curled at her cheeks, before the waves took hold once more.
Melita never frequented the Halenani. It wasn’t a preferred haunt. But she rampaged by, then noticed the porch, the stranger, the stack of boards, the obvious need for other hands and assistance. The youth hemmed and hawed very briefly, giving way to impulse and movement again, calling with a wave, her other hand on her staff. “Do you need help?”
The voice caught her attention and she spun quickly, instantly regretting the attention. Her body still ached from the whole ordeal she went through. Things really were not the best for her right now. Maeve let out a breath of relief when the words sunk in. Help? Yes. She absolutely needed help. The girl nodded, pushing a hand through her hair, "Help would be incredibly... Helpful. I'm having a bit of a time here." Maeve admitted, wincing as she glanced down at the boards stacked up beside her.
She looked back over to the girl, not recognizing her personally, but having heard of her. The girl who ran into the burning house. Yes, that was it. Maeve offered a wane smile, motioning with her head for her to come up, "How good are you with tools?"
She approached, gingerly, perhaps, considering her affiliation with the Halenani itself was nonexistent (and Phoebe as the proprietor was another figment settled in the back of her mind – stems and shoots of drama), but her gilded gaze went to the boards.
For Melita was more than a girl who ran into burning buildings to save pets; spitfire herself, armed to the teeth with weaponry she knew how to use, knew how to implement, knew how to wield. A hurricane, a storm, at ease with the mercurial, tempestuous eaves, a complement of disaster, ruin, and sometimes fortune.
She didn’t know Maeve either, but persisted in a greeting nonetheless. Young and spry and bounding again, she nodded from the top of the porch stairs. “I’m Melita.” Fangorn grumbled something alongside her heels, but she was already distracted by the prospect of using tools again (her excitement at swinging a hammer, or being even allowed to use a saw, sent her mind skimming and scheming). “Fairly decent. What do you need done?” Monsoon preparation could be upheld in various factions and ways.
Maeve let out a breath of relief, thankful she wasn't going to have to do this alone after all. "Maeve... It's nice to meet you." She replied easily, extending a hand to her to shake before motioning to the boards. "Mostly need help boarding up the front windows. Which is not a one person job as you can clearly see." The windows in question are fairly large things. The boards needing to be held by at least two people so they could be nailed into place. It was definitely going to be some work.
"So.. I think if we both kind of hold it then one of us can nail it in." Maeve wrinkled her nose in thought. "I don't normally do this part. Phoebe usually has people lined up, but with everything going on..." She doesn't have to finish the thought. They both know what she's talking about.
Melita gave kudos to herself for not snarling at the mention of Phoebe’s name. Instead, she tucked the growl, the furrowing of her brows, away, away, away, for once not showing her range of mercurial emotions. Instead, it was only the jubilance of potential melee with a hammer, instantly grabbing one of the tools (the smirk, however, was not hidden – beating the shit out of something was a regular pastime for the spitfire). “Sure.” The youth had no qualms with holding the board and putting everything in place, and had managed to garner enough strength to apply herself readily to the task.
Before long, she’d grabbed one of the boards, intending to line it up with the nearest window, waiting for Maeve to come take hold of it as well, for adequate balance. Fangorn wisely stood out of the way, not tangling himself in and amongst ankles.
Maeve gave a quick nod, moving out of the way once Melita bounded onto the porch, following the other girl's lead. It seemed better that way. Her eyes did shift down to the curious little creature following along with the fiery red head and she wanted to ask about it, but wasn't sure if that was considered rude or not. "I, uhm, like your friend." Maeve offered a tad awkwardly, grabbing onto the board as they got it lined up against the window.
She held the board into place with one hand before grabbing the small tin of nails and setting it on the window's edge so Melita could grab them easily as she needed them. Hopefully between the two of them they would get it done quickly. "I don't think I've seen one of them before... What is it?"
Humming along, indifferent to any confusion surrounding Fangorn (because it was fairly common, a ritual, a routine, when meeting newcomers or those who’d never been outside Torchline), she took the opportunity to wield the hammer with several mighty blows. The grin that followed was one of reckless endeavors, her eyes widening slightly, before narrowing in a dangerous eave.
But when she shifted her gaze back to Maeve, it had receded a little. “Fangorn. He’s my companion.” Her hands met with another board, following on previous movements and motions, allowing, permitting, them to become muscle memory. “A vampire gourd. They come out in Leafchange within the Hollowed Grounds.” In response, the little beast motioned forward, staring with his eerie, enigmatic glance, before placing his vines in assistance in holding the boards upright.
She watched as Melita deftly handled the hammer, banging the nails into the wood with such ease it was clear the girl had done it before. Each sequential bang made her wince despite her best efforts. "Fanghorn... That's an interesting name." She had never heard of a vampire gourd, but he was admittedly pretty cute. Except when he stared. Which was kind of weird, but Maeve didn't say so. "I've only been to the Grounds once myself," Maeve provided, not sure that the girl even cared, but feeling the need to fill the silence with words is pressing.
Instead of trying to keep up conversation, she let it lull, focusing on the task at hand. With the help of Melita and Fanghorn they were able to get through the majority of the work. Soon there was only one board left to nail into place. "Thanks for all the help again... Definitely wouldn't have been able to do this without the extra hands."
The Hollowed Grounds had been where she started, but not where she would end. Portals and pulls, chased away by demons and denizens, until finally there were other opportunities, beyond slabs of ruins and columns of despair. “Did you like it?” She wondered aloud, the rhythm of the hammer methodical, the blast of motion and potential vehemence a hum to her veins. Fangorn seemed to preen and glow at the compliment, though it was likely difficult to tell, given the state of his current efforts with the boards.
With only a singular piece of wood left, the honeybee youth smiled, thoroughly amused. “You’re welcome!” A chirp, and then another thump and bang of her hammer, content to bludgeon for lifetimes. Distractions, distractions, distractions, from the multitudes of grief and sorrow and dramatics - simple, and not nearly as muddling or confusing as the rest of the world.
Did she like it? She liked it more than the tar pits and the swamp she had been in before. The girl found she couldn't offer too much of an opinion on it. Her stay had been brief. Only passing through long enough to make it to the portal home. To say if she liked it or not was near impossible, but instead of saying nothing at all she went for something neutral. "It was alright. I didn't see too much of the place. Just passed through to get back home."
It wasn't a lie either. The first one she hasn't told in a while. The little truths she lets herself have keep her sane. Tiny admissions to keep away the guilt of all the lies she feeds people. Lies that feel necessary to protect herself. Part of her wondered if they really were necessary. They had to be, right?
Maeve shook the thoughts away and finally released the final board as Melita finished nailing it into place. "All done, I think. Hopefully that'll hold through the impending weather."
Perhaps a fair judgement; but Melita could’ve waxed poetical on some of the reaches. Like the Bone Bridge, with its eerie, enigmatic mist, or the Oasis, with its blessings of water and glowing stones, or anything else notched in between that didn’t portray how much it had suffered. She could only imagine what it looked like after LongNight, and hadn’t dared to ask anyone who participated. So she shrugged, following up on finishing touches.
The youth then dusted her hands, content with her contribution. She returned the hammer, somewhat reluctantly (as if leaving behind a good, old friend), and then polished a neat little smile. “Excellent. Good luck!”
And with that, she turned, Fangorn following in her tracks, heading towards the direction she’d been traipsing within.
