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!
I will stand by you forever; you can take my breath away
How wonderful it is to walk around incognito, no prying eyes, no hints of recognition - just sweet, sweet anonymity, even with Loki fluttering around in the general vicinity. Today, Wessex wears the skin of a day-laboring Torcher, someone strong and tanned to a rich bronze, with hauntingly grey eyes and a long, long head of hair tied back into a taut bun, doubly captured with a colorful scarf. She’s put scars on this body - the scars she used to have before the Voice made her flesh back into something more perfect and bright.
She can’t change her walk, though - not yet. Some things take practice and if the Wraith is to embrace something akin to spying, she must devote the kind of study to it that she would devote to learning a new weapon - and if she can do them simultaneously? All the better.
Down at the port where she blends in as a dockhand or crew member, Wessex slips off to an empty wharf and takes out her discus. It doesn’t return to her yet, so she’ll have to be careful. Taking herself out to the edge, the disguised Ascended tries to find the right balance of the disc and then turns sideways, lining up with what she thinks is a good target - a Hel in the middle of the pier. It seems utterly disinterested in anything beyond the fish its picking at, so she thinks she might be able to take it by surprise.
Flicking her wrist, she sends the disc flying and it goes… way off target. Laughably so.
With a ridiculous limp, there wasn't much thieving to be done. Rigby hated relying on others, in all that he'd learned over the years as a kid on the streets, to need someone else to survive is a weakness. Right now, one of his decidedly least favorite people was the person he counted on, who had shot him and then taken him in. In a way, she'd tortured him far more this way than if she'd left him there to rot.
But he'd slipped out from the temporary haven anyway, leg bandaged beneath his clothes, limping down to Kaiholo and settling against a barrel. He'd grown accustomed to most of the dock workers, the busy piers were frequent 'business' zones for him. So when someone he'd never seen before arrived, walking strange and carrying some kind of disc, his attention was drawn there, to the man who's gruffness did not quite suit his energy.
He watched with sunken brown eyes as the disc went horribly awry, and he snorted out a laugh, glancing over to the man who'd thrown it with a smirk.
I will stand by you forever; you can take my breath away
The man is actually a woman but the fact that the kid isn’t able to tell (not that she knows that he can’t tell, but y’know) would probably delight the Wraith to no end. All the better if she can be sexless and indeterminable.
She’d not seen him before, or maybe she had and immediately written him off on account of his limp. No danger, that one, until he snorts and Wessex’s attention snaps over to him. The disc clatters to the dock, the Hel squawks rather indignantly, as if to laugh at her too and - nothing happens. Fake-sighing, she goes to retrieve it, barking what she hopes is a gruffly dismissive, “Fuck off” to her audience of one.
The guy before him gave a rather expected response, the one that Rigby was used to, comfortable with. A good 'fuck off' here or there was good for the immune system, so he heard, and he was partial to the phrase himself. It was only more amusing when directed his way, and of course he did the opposite, instead he stayed put and stared their way.
He waited a few moments, then spoke, "Your aim sucks," his tone was blunt, bored, and accompanied with a low grumble. He reached into his pocket to pull out a cigarette, stuffing it between his lips and striking a match.
I will stand by you forever; you can take my breath away
What the kid says is technically the truth, but Wessex hates criticism for criticism’s sake. It’s so… unnecessary. Snorting at the comment, she picks up the disc and tosses it up in the air with one hand, catching it neatly, as if to prove she has some skill with the new object.
“Let’s see you do better,” comes the casual challenge with a raised brow. Pointing with the disc out to where she’d previously stood, the invitation for him to show her up is there for a taking. Unless, of course, he’s all bark and no bite. The disguised Queen would have to say that she’s familiar with that kind of man (the most unhelpful, watch-the-world-burn kind of man) and would be disappointed but unsurprised if this street rat were one of them, if only because she craves something new.
Ooh, a little redemption? Rigby watched the other toss the disc and catch it, sharing no expression on how he felt about it. He didn't want to give any satisfaction, and he certainly wouldn't subject himself to a challenge. He is all bark, a little bite here and there maybe but definitely never any punch or otherwise umph. He is the watch the burn type, the one who would settle into the background if it meant living on through the flames.
The disc was offered but Rigby just gave a slow blink in response, a puff of smoke. He leaned further into the wall, "I can't," he replied with a shrug. Happy to dole out criticism, but he never claimed to be any better. He wasn't, he would rather save himself the effort.
I will stand by you forever; you can take my breath away
When it appears as if the criticizer isn’t going to do anything other than give up, Wessex rolls her eyes. Lack of trying has always irked her - from her siblings to random street rats, it’s the quickest way to push her buttons.
But not this time. This time, she merely shrugs and gives him just as much effort in return. No reason for her to try, no reason to exert herself, she’s just a dock worker and as that kind of person, she won’t give a fuck.Turning to go back the way she came, Wessex continues to toss the disc up into the air and then catch it again, making no effort to look back at the boy.
04-15-2021, 12:07 PM (This post was last modified: 04-15-2021, 12:40 PM by Rigby.)
i'm really not so with you anymore
Just like that Rigby is left alone against the wall again, the dock worker had no more time to waste on him. Which was entirely valid, probably a good choice. He made it his job to piss off anyone who tried to interact with him, no matter how small. So far it'd gotten him a limp, but also somehow a place all to himself for monsoon season, so he couldn't be doing that bad.
He watched them go, dark eyes following the disc as the figure tossed it up and down. Eventually he lost interest and turned to look at someone else through the haze of a cigarette.
