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!
gladly feast on all those who would dare to try and subdue us
Normally, the lass would be found in the Nest for her training. Certainly it's rarer to find her outside of its stone walls. Training is Anju's lifeblood, honing her various skills a daily necessity for the sharp-minded woman instead of a planned drudgery. However even young as she considers herself to be, Anju is experienced enough to know that no amount of sparring and attacking dummies can prepare someone for real scenarios. As such, today has found her and her sister-soul on the Road.
The fog is thick and oppressive, the spring sunlight no match for the haze that conceals so much of the ground. Anju moves across the road slowly, Riya circling low and close, embers sparking off her teeth as her molten eyes watch Anju's feet. The first skill is detection and stealth. Avoiding the mines before triggering them is the intention of course, training her eyes for any minor anomalies and traps in the road, but if one is set off -
A rumble is the only warning, trembling through the intentionally thin leathers of her slippered shoes to vibrate against her soles. Anju springs backwards, careful to only backtrack to safely navigated territory as the hand bursts through the topmost level, grasping and reaching for a limb to terrorize. There is no calling of Riya's name, no command or pull on their bond. The two have grown together since close to birth, and the dragon swoops down with flames bright in her maw, melting the mine down to nothing before it can retreat in one blast of her power. Anju grins, using the scorchmark as a marker as she continues forward, Riya moving back to her predatory circling. Their passage is well-marked by the random lighting up of flames in the fog and the rumble of mines, accelerating in frequency as Anju's confidence grows.
Amalia had been flying above when she saw the first explosion of fire blinking in the fog. Her first though had been that of fear - the war is come - and then concern, for what if it was an innocent trapped within the mines? So she'd descended to find out more, faster than humanly possible, her heart racing in her chest until the appearance of a dragon and a dark-haired woman leads her to understand her mistake, and make another instead.
"Amaris?" It is hard to make out the woman's features from within the fog, but for a moment Amalia's hear speeds up, hopeful that this is indeed the oneo she's sought. Her long-lost cousin has been an errant figure since the Archangel's arrival in Stormbreak, and as much as she'd like to connect with the Dragoon, she has begun to doubt it will ever be. So she clings to this hope, unlikely as it is, not daring to step closer lest the illusion be dashed.
become more committed to your dreams than you are to your comfort zone
gladly feast on all those who would dare to try and subdue us
Normally, Riya is Anju's eyes in the sky. Considering that even the happy-go-lucky dragon dials intensely in alongside her sister during training, they are both delayed in their reaction times to the arrival of another. No mines go off, so clearly whoever it is has light feet or impeccable senses, but the voice that calls through the fog and the dark, humanoid shape imply that someone has made it to their area. All without setting anything off. Curiosity firmly hooked despite the unknown name - one Anju, at least, would have brushed off without answering to - the sisters pause and turn their heads in eerie synchrony towards the figure.
"We are not Amaris," she replies succinctly, the plural as natural to her as breathing. Riya swans away into the air, draconic trills of greeting slipping through her teeth. Anju gives a long-suffering sigh and follows, utilizing what she has been learning to safely traverse the distance. The woman is...familiar, in a way that frankly most people are to Anju. So long as she has laid eyes on them, that's all that counts for her level of recognition. Wiping her brow of residual sweat, she watches as Riya flies looping circles around the blonde before diving low to perch between the two women, ivory head reaching high to beg for physical affection. "You did not set off the mines," Anju notes, a hint of interest in her flat tone, dark brows rising. Clearly something is bothering the woman, but Anju is not invested enough to care, nor socially awkward enough to ask.
It isn't Amaris. Of course not - that's obvious even before the woman strides closer, her companion settling onto the ground between them, as big a dragon as Amalia has ever seen. Disappointment rises like a tide in her breast and then ebbs out just as quickly, leaving quiet curiosity. "You looked like her, from far away. She's a Dragoon."
The wings at her back shift and fold, and she wastes no time in heeding the dragon's call for affection, her fingers reaching out to trace over scales and find just the right place to scratch. It helps that she can sense the emotions and thoughts of the companion through the Attuned bond, her own silent greeting warm and effusive despite her quiet demeanor.
Looking back up at the tall woman, Amalia tilts her head. "I asked them not to," she answers easily, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. Her almond eyes trace over the woman, to her companion, and back. "I thought they only attacked Abandoned, anyway."
become more committed to your dreams than you are to your comfort zone
gladly feast on all those who would dare to try and subdue us
Ah, a physical resemblance then. Anju gives a brief nod of understanding. It's an easy mistake to make, she knows of Amaris in passing and they could certainly be confused in the fog. Anju does not mind either way, though she certainly doesn't recognize this woman. Certainly thinks she would, striking and immutable as the stranger is. Magnetic, though in the sense of attracting the eye; well, Riya certainly finds her physically magnetic it seems, crooning happily as she is so swiftly awarded the attention she desires. There is a sense of curiosity that the woman might sense from the dragon, pure-hearted and trusting in a way that is in no way reflected in her companion, who moves closer with purposeful steps that don't match the slightly pinched look on her face.
The concept of 'asking' them not to has Anju's head tilting and regarding the woman in a manner not unlike an inquisitive cat. "Yes, but they can be purposefully triggered as any mine can. We simply enjoy training with them." Here Riya interjects with a trill of agreement, trying not to buffet Amalia with her wings as she circles close, clearly eyeing the woman's narrow shoulders. Anju squints her eyes at her soul sister, a warning tapping across their bond that Riya gleefully ignores. "Do not," she snaps crisply when it appears the large serpent seems intent on at least attempting to drape herself around the stranger's shoulders like some sort of pun on the term 'boa'. Riya snorts a tongue of flame at her petulantly, but at least has the decency to hover instead of breaking the newcomer's neck.
"She is Riya, and a pain. Do not let her bully you." Introductions are the polite thing to do, right? "I am Anju. Do you seek a Dragoon in particular, or simply Amaris?" Worded in the clearly awkward implication that Anju cannot conceive of more personal reasons for the woman to be disappointed in finding the wrong soldier on the bridge.
Wholly unperturbed by the prospect of a dragon being draped across her back, Amalia continues to extend warm welcome to Riya, youthful delight at the large lizard's attention bubbling gleefully through the Attuned bond. It makes it difficult to focus on the Dragoon's serious demeanor and words, but the demigoddess does school her face when the curt instruction cuts through the mist.
Her wings and weight shift with her attention, a crooked half-smile softening her angled face at the idea that Riya might be causing problems for the girl. "She wasn't," Amalia is quick to defend the dragon, extending a hand to once again scratch beneath her chin. As for what she's looking for? The demigoddess frowns slightly, laurel leaves curling from behind her ears. "I was trying to get a feel for the defenses." She jerks her chin to where the aftermath of a hand mine's explosion has left the ground singed dark. "I wanted to see how they worked. If they could send messages, maybe, instead of just attacking."
become more committed to your dreams than you are to your comfort zone
gladly feast on all those who would dare to try and subdue us
Smugness reverberates across their bond when Amalia does not shoo her away, and were Anju a weaker woman - or perhaps if she had not bonded to Riya so young - she would have rolled her eyes. There is no need however, not when Riya can surely feel her exasperation clearly.
In contrast, Anju does not know what to do with herself, standing awkwardly with her hands flat at her sides. She is not a particularly social person. It is not much better when it is clear Amalia is every bit Vi's chosen, full of life and grace that Anju cannot hope to match. She is not dismayed by this, not the type to be self-demeaning, but there is definitely a churn to her stomach over her own contrasting ineptitude in conversation.
Riya finally plops herself on Amalia's shoulders, awkwardly buffeting her wings to avoid scratching the demigoddess with talons or scales, sending blonde hair askew. Accepting the scratching fingers with a curled neck and eyes closing, and then nipping playfully at the leaves that grow from behind the woman's ears. Anju watches her sister, but her focus is on Amalia's words. "I do not think they are that advanced," she muses with a thoughtful frown. "What type of messages? Defensive ones to alert different areas of the city, or written correspondence to other lands?" Always the problem solver, Anju cannot resists further inquiry.
