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!
Why the fuck is he here again? It's hot and humid and his clothes are clinging to his skin in an entirely uncomfortable way. Oh yeah. Because he's a greedy son of a bitch and he wants all the shiny things. He grits his teeth as he pushes through the brush until he reaches an opening, pausing to examine a long scratch on his arm. How the fuck.. Oh well. He'll patch it up when he gets home.
He's got a rope tied to his hip and a burlap sack on his back. He's mostly after exotic animals he can trade to people coming into the port but fancy plants and herbs will do just well. He's not sure if he'll actually find anything but it's worth it to get out of the city. Or he keeps trying to tell himself that. Honestly? He wishes he was just under some pretty thing but hey.. The uh.. jungle is pretty.. cool? Yeah. That's.. it.
they should have checked the ashes of the women they burned alive
Last time Melita had frequented the Oerwould, she hadn’t gotten very far. Peter had been a distraction, an attentive, amusing one, but her movements hadn’t sprung towards luminescent leaves and overgrown forests, save for a few ferns, and some intriguing fauna. She bounded into the warren like a moth to a flame, the staff in her hands, humming a tune to match the bird calls amidst the warm, smoldering air.
She was half inclined to climb some of the trees, to reach the top of the canopies, to become immersed in the shade and shelter – but another time, perhaps. There was some other stranger nearby, but she didn’t pay them much mind at all, and instead, began to race along, launching, stepping upon stumps, over vines, with exuberance and rash, impulsive, brazen light. She called to Fangorn on a little howl, and the vampire gourd slipped and jumped along the brambles, before passing by the other individual entirely; a piece of the wilderness herself. “Hello!” She waved, and then continued, persisting, pursuing, nothing and everything all at once.
because it takes a single wild ember to bring a whole wildfire to life
He's crouched down, trying to figure out exactly where to go when suddenly there's someone else. He lets out a little fuck to himself as he's startled. He's never seen a whatever that is and he's not sure how he feels about it. It's.. cute maybe? And with the woman. That's new. He's seen other shit from afar but not a.. sentient gourd? Thing?
Is it bad he kind of wants to eat it? He's curious. But like.. Clearly it's her pet or something so. Probably not a good idea. He watches her bound along the trees like she's just always been here. Maybe she has. He doesn't really recognize her and he thinks he would. That fiery hair would be hard to forget.
"Hello? I think."
One day he'll learn how to be good at human interaction.
they should have checked the ashes of the women they burned alive
Her steps were light, airy, ethereal, tidal waves of movement and motion, never still, never grasped, never tethered and lined. Fangorn did his best to become something of a suitable nature, grumbling and rumbling along the fern and fungus floor as best he could. They were glowing things, in some semblance, awakened on the luminescent eaves, on the brief, wavering conversation between strangers. She turned, head over her shoulder, gilded gaze back upon the man, but she had no inclination of who, of what, he was. Perhaps another from some other land. Perhaps someone she’d simply never met.
“What are you doing out here?” She called in return, the mischief emboldened on her rogue, ruffian features; a child, a youth, of the savage elements – ready to ignite, pretending she had a reason to be savoring this world too. The darkness did nothing to fade her from the traces of those seditious foundations.
because it takes a single wild ember to bring a whole wildfire to life
She seems so very different from her little companion. His eyes flick between the two, unsure of which to watch. He settles for looking at the woman, head tilted slightly to one side as she regards him. "Looking for something to trade hopefully. The ships will be coming into port any day now. Like to have something on hand." He pats the sack on his back before crouching down to look at Fangorn.
"And you? And your friend?" He holds out his hand to it, curious if it will bite him or something. He's always had a soft spot for animals and children, not that he'd ever tell anyone that. Although he isn't quite sure this is an animal. Still, he should introduce himself.
"Name's Locke by the way." He doesn't ask for her name in return but the question hangs in the air.
they should have checked the ashes of the women they burned alive
Ships and trades; something she knew, with a glimmer of a smirk settling across her lips. They’d be sailing too, out before the monsoons, the charm upon her person, hopefully keeping the ghost whales at bay long enough for the Ark to embark, settle, and outstrip their speed. She didn’t ask what he traded for, what he wanted, what he looked over, taking a brief pause on the top of a stump. One foot outstretched, as if she was poised to leap and launch mid-thought, and then glanced, turning towards him again. “That’s a good idea. I’m part of the Ark crew.”
Then she did jump, leaping unceremoniously onto the next stump, humming under her breath all the while, kicking a tangled vine out of her path. “I’m Melita. This is Fangorn,” and the blessed gourd was once again bumbling after her, trying to stay caught up as she maneuvered. "Exploring.” With a bright, cat that got the canary grin, before ascertaining further into the thicket.
because it takes a single wild ember to bring a whole wildfire to life
Another person with the Ark? Interesting. That's two now that he's met. Surely he'll meet more, or not. They're probably leaving soon. Fine by him, gives him time to get that case of booze he promised Aurelia. Well, if she can beat him in a fight. He watches as she moves along the stumps, pushing himself back up so he's standing.
"Nice to meet you two. Should probably let you get back to exploring. Unless you want company. Heard it's not exactly safe out here." Locke doesn't know what self-preservation is. Well, he does but greed is a hell of a drug. Plus, he thinks he sees a flower or something that might be worthwhile. If not, well it's pretty at least.
they should have checked the ashes of the women they burned alive
A Cheshire grin unfolded over her mouth; ruffian, rogue, spitfire tendencies, meant to be sharpened, dangerous intricacies. There was amusement, diversions, and deviations settled within too, alongside the seditious arms and alms she always carried – lifting her head to survey the surroundings once more, before sliding her attention in his direction. “Up to you.” Melita had never been deterred by danger. Not when she lived and breathed it within many occasions, from childhood until now – where she was brimming with weapons, impulsivity, and emboldened years.
And she so desperately didn’t want to think of what waited back home – in between the strife and the agony.
The smile was meant to be an enticement and a lure anyway, and she shrugged her shoulders, giving him several moments to piece together his thoughts and actions. Then she laughed, loosening sylph and fey gestures, before rampaging further into the thickets.
because it takes a single wild ember to bring a whole wildfire to life
His mouth twitches at her non-answer. He should get used to this by now. You would think, after all of these years. But no. It's fine. He shrugs back, watching her for a moment before she turns away. Well, he's got nothing else to do really so he follows after her. She moves through all of this a lot better than he does. He's more used to cities, crowds of people, being jostled and pushed. He scrapes against another tree and curses lightly as it rips at the skin of his arm. He really needs to learn to wear sleeves. But he keeps pace with her well enough he thinks.
they should have checked the ashes of the women they burned alive
“Nope!” Came a bright cheery answer, and then on second thought, pondered the length of the jungles, the vines. “Well, not this part of it, at least.” But the confidence, and self-assurance remained, woven without preamble or misgivings. A survivor, a fighter, weapons at her hilt, world at her feet, and strangers nearby who seemed content for whatever journey they were about to take.
A flash of brightly colored hues dashed along the corner of her eye, and Fangorn grumbled, waving his own set of vines around. “Did you see that?” Asking Locke, of course, for the gourd could only answer in rumbling, nonsensical answers; her head tilting. “Looked almost purple. And maybe some red.” A beak? Feathers? She inclined towards the canopy, where she thought she’d seen it fly, gaze heading up, up, and up, until her head was tilted back, gazing openly at the boughs.
because it takes a single wild ember to bring a whole wildfire to life
Her answer earns a laugh from him and he can't help but grin. She's sweet and he can't tell how he feels about it. Maybe vaguely like he needs to take care of her? He has a feeling she can take care of herself though. She's quite agile after all. He can't imagine she wouldn't happily kick someone in the face if she needed to. The thought makes him chuckle as well.
Oh. Wait. He turns in the direction she does, tilting his head as he tries to pick whatever it was out among the trees. "A bird of some kind maybe? Shall we go after it? See if we can make a new friend?" Or lunch. Same thing really. He grips the little net he has, running a thumb over the rough rope.
"I think.. I could climb this tree." Frankly it's a bad idea but Locke loves bad ideas.
they should have checked the ashes of the women they burned alive
The idea seemed silly, impetuous, ridiculous, and altogether probably very stupid. Which was why Melita adhered to it quickly, efficiently, every fiber in her being indulgent in the notion of a chase. “Maybe.” And perhaps it was something to hunt, befriend, or just glance upon, as they so often did when spying upon creatures new and foreign to them. Whether or not it was inherently dangerous wasn’t anything that bothered the honeybee youth either.
Her eyes went to his net, pondering. He was far larger than she, and likely would make far more noise – ensuring their curiosity wouldn’t be sated, and the bird would take flight well before they could find anything more. “I can climb,” she offered instead. She’d done it for a long, long time – either from hiding, from surviving, or restlessly toying in and amongst canopies, boughs, and eaves.
The youth’s weapons stayed with her, but Fangorn would be forced to remain at the bottom of the tree – a little growl forming at the base of his being. She arched a brow and said nothing more, before beginning to clamber up as stealthily as possible. “I can try and make it come towards you, if you want?” She thought after a moment, head tossed over her shoulder, the whisper low and Cheshire all at once.
because it takes a single wild ember to bring a whole wildfire to life
He almost frowns because he's not the one climbing but she's smaller and probably going to make less noise. It's probably better. Plus, what can he do with a net if he's up in the air? It'd be easier to use both hands. He just gives her a nod before watching her scramble up the tree. He looks down at the little growling gourd creature and makes a kind of face at it. Poor thing.
Locke turns his focus to Melita, watching her climb and holding the net. There's a touch of.. something in his chest he can't explain. He has a feeling he's leaving with flowers instead of an animal though. He always chickens out at the last minute.
they should have checked the ashes of the women they burned alive
Without any further discussion, beyond the nod, Melita hastened her way up the tree. Barefoot and tough, the bark did little to trouble her, hands grasping at branches, committed to swinging upwards, brawn in her shoulders and arms lending to the breadth of her dexterity. And while she hadn’t been born to it, not like the sand, the salt, or the sea, the youth had always found ample time to rummage her way through canopies of other lands.
Her focus was maintained on bright hues and illustrious colors – nestling in the crook of the bough above. The bird was an intriguing-looking creature, and if she knew more about what vivid hues meant (danger, poison, do not touch vibes, etc.) she might have taken a pause. Or perhaps not – given her reputation for rushing headlong into treacheries anyway.
Instead, she wrapped one arm around the trunk, and then made a howl, a rush of movements and hand gestures towards the animal, intending to hasten it towards Locke’s direction. It scrambled and rushed in a startled, fleeting descent – scattering this way and that. “Incoming!” Was a brief announcement, and then she glanced downward to see if the proceedings and foolishness bore any weight.
because it takes a single wild ember to bring a whole wildfire to life
