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!
The skies above the Dragon's Nest are heavy with a rain that wants to fall, but so far it has only managed a light drizzle. But training waits for no man, and regardless of the weather, Ronin is out and about. He isn't alone, though, and whilst he might be soaked through, his linen shirt clinging to his skin and his boots barely keeping the water off his feet, Sugar is thoroughly enjoying herself.
He runs the track around the training grounds, issuing commands to his dragon that are little more than sharp whistles and pulses of telepathic direction, trying to keep his attention simultaneously on his own work, and the targets Sugar is intending to hit. She's doing well so far - a lot of the targets have been struck by ice and frost, the pale reptile swooping low, wings tucked in to keep close to her bonded and listen for the next order.
It's true that Ronin and his companion share an affectionately begrudging relationship at times, but when it comes to working in tandem, they've got it down.
here I am again, bad news from a bad friend they call me an omen - only here to torment
Despite being the visual equivalent of a drowned rat, there is no expression of discontent on Anju’s face as she strides confidently across the watery grounds. Though she must look positively depressed in comparison to her soul-sister who is currently rampaging through puddles like an over-eager dog, tail whipping about and claws stamping in every available pocket of water. Mud clings to Riya’s pale scales, but it doesn’t seem to daunt her. They both know this is an acceptable expenditure of energy prior to their training.
Only it seems they are not the only ones who remain undaunted by the rain, persistent in their training pursuits. Riya’s sharper eyes catch the aerial beast first, drawing Anju’s attention by how she rockets off the ground to go streaking after the other dragon. Only a sharp, reprimanding pull on their bond slows her enough to not interrupt what Anju clearly perceives as practice maneuvers. Not that it fully stops the dragon, who trills a greeting through the drizzle, excitement clear in the smoke that furls around her maw as she glided in loose circles overtop the dummies.
Jogging to catch up to her nuisance of a companion, Anju turns her attention instead to her own species - the man who is using the track. He is unfamiliar to her, causing a squint of the eyes as she examines him. Admittedly Anju is far too apathetic to keep track of new recruits, but even she is not foolish enough to discard the memory of their faces. “You seem new,” she calls bluntly as she approaches. Tilting her head, dark hair slicked to her cheeks, to better observe him. “Care for partners?” Why waste time on trivialities? Words are far more difficult to understand exert than muscles after all.
It's the trill that draws their attention first, Sugar pulling up from her flight to bank around and try to find the source of the noise. And with her distraction, Ronin slows his steps too and turns to face the woman approaching with her companion (even if he can't see that much so far). The Star wouldn't consider himself new, per say, but then compared to other Dragoons he supposes he definitely isn't seasoned. And does he care for a partner? Why not?
"Ronin," he greets, similarly wasting little time when it comes to introductions and their reasons for being out here. "I wouldn't mind someone to practice with. That's Sugar, up there." He holds out his hand for the newcomer, and his dragon swoops down to land about his shoulders. A pale white, all elegant scales and with a tail like a ribbon, Sugar is no larger than a small housecat. If only her personality was as small.
here I am again, bad news from a bad friend they call me an omen - only here to torment
Now that we know Anju isn't dead -
"Ronin," her lips shape the name, attempting to commit it to memory alongside his face. Sugar at least is a far easier name, mahogany eyes flitting to the dragon and marveling at her svelte frame. "We are Anju and Riya," she responds, gesturing first to herself then her soul-sister, who displays her contrasting hugeness in the way she lands with a heavy noise of scales on stone and preens up at Sugar in complete disregard for their human counterparts. Anju shakes Ronin's hand firmly, sword-calloused hand quick and fleeting as it returns to her side.
"What would you prefer? Swords, fists? Combined aerials with our dragons?" Concise and to the point as always, though Anju often comes off more awkward and socially stunted than rude in her forthrightness.
"Good to meet you both," Ronin nods, rain dripping from his chin. He smiles between Sugar and Riya - both dragons seem to have decided that their human counterparts don't exist, and he sends his own companion a mental pulse to tell her to go ahead and take a break. "It doesn't look as though these two are in the mood to train. Shall we let them go and try swords? It's been a long time since I used one." Still, his palm is as calloused as her own as they shake hands.
"I've been using an axe for the past couple of years, and fist-fighting," he explains, Sugar unfurling once more from his shoulders to try and tempt Riya away to play do serious dragon stuff. Ronin, in the meantime, heads over to the training weapons and selects a blunt sword for himself.
here I am again, bad news from a bad friend they call me an omen - only here to torment
Anju is far too socially awkward - and honest - to say she’s pleased to meet the man, but her chin dips in an otherwise feigned reciprocation of the notion. The itch under her skin begs for less chatter and more bloody knuckles, but punching a demigod in the face mid sentence is a little too religiously blasphemous even for Anju.
“Yes,” she answers concisely, but the guileless nature of her eyes clearly communicates that no offense is intended with her brevity. Riya meanwhile requires no tempting at all, much larger frame like a gold-tinged comet of excitement on Sugar’s gleaming trail. Anju in turn follows Ronin to the rack, examining the selection despite being confident she will not exchange her personal sword. “Axes are versatile weapons suited for similarly inclined wielders.” As close to a compliment as the woman can get. She is not immune to the subdued worship they all feel in this land for the demigods. “Throwing knives are my preferred alternative myself.”
Unsheathing her sword as Ronin selects his weapon, Anju twirls it lightly, familiarizing herself anew with the balance of its weight. Her stance widens and she waits poised but patient for him to ready himself opposite.
"I appreciate that," Ronin says crookedly, and the twinkle in his eye suggests that he'll take it as a compliment whether or not it was fully intended that way. "And throwing knives, you say? I bet you're a riot at the bar." It's a hilarious clash of all social meets all social awkwardness, but Ronin has carried many a conversation in his time, and he heads out to the arena in the rain with his selected sword in hand.
Anju is already in stance, and its with a brief bow and a nod of his head that he weighs his own weapon in his hand and steps accordingly. "We go until first blood?" he assumes, eyeing her weapon and realising it is absolutely not the same as the practice sword he wields. Should be fun.
And so without further ado, he dances in with a sweeping thrust that he hopes to use to thwack her on the arm.
here I am again, bad news from a bad friend they call me an omen - only here to torment
In some distant way she recognizes his crooked grin is charming, perhaps even handsome, but she is far too relieved that he is taking control of the conversation to focus on traits that are superficial in comparison to that blessed kindness. One she will return with the full devotion of her attention in trying to main him with her sword. Friendship!
“Perhaps you can find out after this,” she offers, trying to summon some form of social literacy even as she tries not to jiggle her leg while she waits for him to join her. Unlike Ronin her training hadn’t started before their encounter, and she has far too much to burn. “First blood,” she parrots back to signal her understanding, scarcely blinking.
He is limber for his size, she can respect that. Both hands pivot to preserve her energy with the least expenditure, bracing the flat of her blade against her bicep to intercept his strike. It’s a solid blow all the same, and the grin it inspires is far more carefree and electrified. Pushing with both her body and blade against his to try and shove it away, she follows the motion to swing her sword horizontally towards his midsection with no further hesitation.
He's quick, but so is she. She's also got a lot more in the tank than he does, and is apparently ready and raring to go. "Sounds like a good idea. I might need it, after this," he remarks about the bar - but then he's stepping forward to strike, and finds himself braced against her blade. Ronin's smile matches her own (hers might be a touch wilder, in fact), and as she shoves him he finds himself struggling to find his grip in the soft ground.
The horizontal strike misses him by a whisper, Ronin having to all but roll to the side to avoid it. He comes up streaked with mud, rain already soaking him afresh as the downpour intensifies. But that only adds to the fun, right? "Good riposte," he mutters, lifting the sword again and lunging forward, this time in a piercing strike towards her shoulder.
