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 conversation was quickly becoming more interesting than the snow sculpture. At least her own; what was a castle compared to a lost vale of some far off world? Elemental gods and distant lands teased her imagination, rendering hands immobile; Seren had never been good at doing two things at once.
"What was he like? Tanau." Of character she had her guesses, but it was a bit of a gamble to take Safrin's word for some things. While not lies, her Mother's views could be quite firm, in ways that Seren's were not.
Sobering somewhat as Deimos reminisced on his lost home, the young woman's gaze softened at his response. "It does matter how you feel," she objected kindly. "If one keeps looking behind they will be blinded to what is right before them. If you still wanted to go back, it would mean that you could never truly accept Caido as your home. And I think that would be a sad thing."
Tucking dark hair behind an ear, she lifted the gaze to the Palace ahead. Absently absorbing the details, plotting what to model next... until a question cut through and made her wince. "It... was not a planned visit," she mumbled, poking at a tower in her sculpture. It was lopsided and a little crooked. "I, eh... got into an accident. Slipped on some rocks in the Wilds and fell into the river. A man from here, Noah? He fished me out. Brought me here, as I couldn't communicate where I came from." Though grateful for the rescue, Seren couldn't say she was thrilled about the whole affair. The way she had reached Halo came with its own problems, being who she was and all.
It's written in the stars above Exactly who we are is just enough
✰ Starlight (Passive) | Starfilled night billow around her like a veil as she moves. It is more noticeable in daytime and when she make sudden movements.
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
The question was expected, given the angles and dominions of curiosity seemingly instilled in both of them – characteristics the world needed, if anything was ever going to be salvaged or solved. But while Seren remained immobile, faceted and riveted, the General’s head remained low and bowed, stare concentrating on the silliness of small, furtive tents and a widening lake – ensuring it didn’t freeze at his touch. “Seemed gentle. Kind.” Not often what some considered and correlated with summer and Longheat’s potential for fire, for flames, for demolition. No temper flared, only some air of potential apprehension, nervousness from one who appeared lost. Perhaps that was a given, since there’d been such devastation when he’d been unfurled and untethered.
He did raise his cranium, however, at the lines coming from the youth thereafter. Something about it sounded eerily familiar – probably because her mother had attempted to drive him into similar corners with sagacity and advice, until it finally sunk into his stubborn burrs and ribs. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, the modicum of thoughts contorting, coiling, in the back of his mind. Deimos had been a creature eternally stuck in the past. Sometimes because it harpooned back to histories, to lives unleashed, to things he didn’t want or crave any longer, or to notions that could work here. So some airs didn’t repeat, even if they were across very different worlds and voids. “I think I will always miss portions of it.” And that he couldn’t erase, not from the withered proportions of all his brambles and thorns. “But I have accepted Caido as my home.” A weak smile followed, turning downward, trying to soften the blows back on his own spirit.
He missed her wince, only arching a brow thereafter, not realizing he’d potentially stepped on something else altogether. Accidents, trials, and tribulations were plenty within any region, but perhaps she’d been fortunate enough at all that Noah had stumbled upon her. There could’ve been a host of other results, damaging and destructive, fumbling from her incident. “Noah is a good man. You could have been found by someone far worse,” and he laughed a little, shrugging his shoulders. Belial inched closer, brushing against his knees. “Where do you come from?”
"Hmm, I see." Looking like she had hoped for a more detailed description, Seren nevertheless let the subject drop. In the end, the only true way of understanding would be to experience it for herself, after all. It was why she was here.
Lingering patiently in the quiet that followed her little monologue, hands were busied with snow and ice. No craftswoman was she, for all the artistic flair of her castle, but she was stubborn and refused to put less effort into it than Deimos did in his piece. Rather than compromise the precarious structure further, Seren began to make little tiny snow-golems and arranged a siege scene around the Palace. They were soon followed by a group of brave defenders by the main gate - indistinct of feature, like all true heroes.
When the General's answer came, the starchild looked pleased; with the honesty, perhaps, or the simple delight of having a home to share. "I understand the feeling," she confided in return. "I stayed with Mother among her stars for so long... I keep feeling as though a part of me is still there, you know? Like I could walk Caido for the rest of my life and never be truly whole." Yet she was. Home, and whole, and exactly who she was supposed to be at this moment. "I guess that's one way to answer your question," she added with a laugh. "From the stars. But more practically, I grew up in Torchline. And right now, I'm supposed to be in Stormbreak."
And then, because she was easily distracted and more interested than she really wanted to admit, she asked, "Do you know him well? Noah, that is."
It's written in the stars above Exactly who we are is just enough
✰ Starlight (Passive) | Starfilled night billow around her like a veil as she moves. It is more noticeable in daytime and when she make sudden movements.
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
Inquisitive and observant by nature, he manage to watch several other figures manifest near her creation – stormfronts of knights and guards, muffling a laugh once more. But then he was distracted by the other monologue, where his suspicions of her origin were confirmed (who else would place their child among the stars?), listening quietly, silently, permitting the sweeping indulgences of a youth who had spent a long while within the sky. Deimos couldn’t quite relate; mortal through and through, born beside the sea and staying there until a call to arms resonated and reverberated, and then doing so again when he’d wandered into Helovia. Until he perished. Until he rose again.
Knowing Safrin, Seren would be able to return to those constellations and galaxies when the time was right. But Outlanders, like himself, wouldn’t be permitted the same. Some homes were destroyed. Some were altered. And in some cases; it didn’t matter. The Voice had tethered them here.
But with more foundational purposes came Torchline, then Stormbreak. And a more calculating air took over his mind, never far from the roots, structure, or sculpting of his being, nodding at her predilections. “What is Stormbreak like?” And why she wasn’t there likely had its own story.
The subject altering to Noah once more had his brow arching, head tilting to justify a response, while more snow flickered into his hand, roughening an outline of twin monoliths for the entrance of the Basin’s borders. “Relatively. We work on the council together. He is quiet, loyal to Halo, and the people. Seems willing to help in whatever situation.” Had assisted him when the Sword was combatting the sickness and had absolutely no idea who he was at any given moment. The General considered Noah a friend; which was probably why the anglings of a smirk began to emerge along the corners of his mouth. “Why do you ask?”
Gradually, the cold of the snow was sinking into the bones of clever fingers, so that no amount of pauses to breathe on them felt enough to warm them. Seren wished she had better tools to work with, even if that meant putting excess energy into a sculpture that ultimately wouldn't last. Come the next snowstorm, both the castle and its neighboring valley would become buried.
"Peaceful," she replied, sitting back on her heels. "The city lies on high cliffs overlooking the ocean. People there are happy and life is ordered. They can be a little stuck up, sometimes, and unreasonable when it comes to magic, but I like it all the same." It was not home in the way that Torchline was, but then again Seren had not spent as much time there. Perhaps in time her sentiments would change.
Tucking her hands away in the coat sleeves, she listened with interest to the description of the Halovian. Pink touched her cheeks upon noticing Deimos' smile, and the young woman looked away a little too quickly. Gaze searching rooftops and sky for distractions before settling on the lost vale of Aurora Basin. "Just curious," she mumbled, trying and failing to sound indifferent. "He did save my life... I don't really know how to thank him properly." And there was that hazy recollection of being hauled out of a cold river. Of warm hands and even warmer breath breathed into her lungs, chasing the shadows away.
The blush deepened, and she sought desperately for something else to talk about. Only, nothing really came to mind.
It's written in the stars above Exactly who we are is just enough
✰ Starlight (Passive) | Starfilled night billow around her like a veil as she moves. It is more noticeable in daytime and when she make sudden movements.
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
The Sword, nor the Reaper, had never known any land to be peaceful. Perhaps that said more on his way of life than realms overall - but it was often only a manner of time until something occurred, happened, pulling, pushing, the world into some frenzy of mayhem, chaos, or semblances loitering in between. So he nodded politely, understanding semblances of cliffs (for he’d once lived within a mist quite similar; with the battering waves rolling against the Edge’s ridges), order, and an unreasonable accord with magic. There was no sneering, no jeering, no rolling of his eyes – he’d heard the gestures all before, and still didn’t care. There was no shame for who and what he was, and the incantations he could unfurl.
He rounded the edges of the twin monoliths, hands placing them exactly where they would have guarded the gates and borders, and then began to line the boundaries with manifested pine, encouraging bristles and needles to sculpt and shape themselves within the snow. Deimos did notice the way she looked away, hiding under the telltale scrutiny. He might’ve laughed again, but had no intention of encouraging the entanglements – considering the likely age differences and experiences in his mind – keeping his head down thereafter, quiet and contemplative.
If it was a transactional recourse, that he could fathom and understand. How many times had he done the same, for those who’d saved and mended? “I presume you tried thanking him first?” A mild tease, and his eyes still didn’t glance upward, piercing stare concentrating hard on one particular sanction of his Basin vestiges. “He may not want anything at all.” No expectation on the notion; an everyday experience for the councilman. “But hunters typically need to sharpen their tools. You might be able to find a whetstone in the market.” Simple, easy, practical.
It might say even more about the girl, that she would look upon training soldiers and steady preparations and call the ordered determination peaceful. No one was crying, yet, and the daily rythm had yet to be disrupted; thus all was well. With no further questions asked, and no reason to keep explaining it was easy for Seren to let herself be distracted into talk of other things. Hunters and gifts, and common courtesies.
The way her mouth formed into a silent 'oh' at the mention of simply saying thank you, that little detail had slipped her mind completely. "Ah, I... should probably start there, now that you mention it," she agreed, the words tumbling out in such a rush that one might be forgiven for thinking she was embarrassed. "A whetstone? Really? It sounds so... plain. Is that the kind of gifts men like?" It could be a useful piece of information, truth be told. Considering the number of males in her life that would inevitably celebrate birthdays at one point or another.
It's written in the stars above Exactly who we are is just enough
✰ Starlight (Passive) | Starfilled night billow around her like a veil as she moves. It is more noticeable in daytime and when she make sudden movements.
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
Another twitch of his lips indicated he was striving not to laugh outright, hiding the insinuations with another bowing of his head, or scratching Belial behind his ears as the peryton walked around to inspect a world he’d never been a part of. Zuriel stood guard, dutifully unimpressed with the entire multitude, but Deimos reserved a fair bit of judgment until the next inquiry echoed through.
This time he couldn’t mute the snort that bombarded through his throat and chest. “Depends on the person.” Perhaps he had a standard of gifts given and granted, but he rendered them to the entity, to the soul, rather than encompassing them all by gender or some other neutrality. Maybe this was Seren’s youth proclaiming some form of confusion – uncertain, presumptuous, lumping people together rather than separating them from wholes and units. His voice followed through, not mocking as he placed another section of the valley, elongating territories and terrain, but quiet, composed. “We are all individuals.” Only then did he tilt his cranium again, eyes surveying her with a piercing disposition, one brow arching, meant to be an insinuation, a stark reminder, for his next line. “And since this is a thank you gift, it could do nicely. If you are worried about it being plain, you can always paint it.”
A shrug wandered through his shoulders again, waiting for some kind of rampant rebuttal. If she didn’t like the whetstone notions, she could always find something else in the markets. “Or if anything was damaged when he rescued you. You could replace it.”
The remark was well needed, indeed. It had Seren look up from the snow-sculpture and grant Deimos her full attention. Pale eyes seemed to take him in all over again, as if realizing things that had been overlooked before. The expressive mouth turned rueful, her smile a touch lopsided, and in the end Seren nodded.
"You are right," she admitted, apparently finding nothing to argue against. "You know him best. Hm... perhaps I will wait with gifts until after I've spoken to him myself. I'm sure something suitable can be found after that." Her gratitude would not likely expire soon, and the bravery and kindness of her rescuer could be rewarded at any time. There was no need to rush.
"Thank you, for being so kind to me," she added, speaking directly to Deimos. "You are very patient to answer questions like this. I can't say how much I appreciate it." In no way did the general of a region have to play in the snow with an outlander. It was not part of his job description, and it would have been so easy to find reasons for moving on. But here they were, chatting along like old friends, and it warmed her heart to realize it.
Threatening now to ruin the good mood, a slightly more serious expression grew on her face. "Deimos, another person I met here said that Halo would strive to be neutral in the upvoming conflict of the gods. Do you agree with that?" Was it true and an official stance of the government, or merely the opinions of a single individual?
It's written in the stars above Exactly who we are is just enough
✰ Starlight (Passive) | Starfilled night billow around her like a veil as she moves. It is more noticeable in daytime and when she make sudden movements.
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
The Sword wouldn’t give himself any form of credit in knowing Noah best; the hunter was vastly similar to himself in the ways of quiet, muted thoughts – and he could only recall formations of kindness from the man’s actions, and few, parsed words. But at the very least, she appeared to give it some rationale thought, rather than going all in – a suitable pause, and he nodded, acknowledging her attempts. “That would probably be best.” And then she could see if the councilman even wanted a gift.
His head bowed back down, tracing over formations of what were meant to be streaks of color embedded along the tops of the summits; as if coated in the aurora hues, when she thanked him. The piercing slate of his eyes rounded back up, the soft smile there again. Patience and composure had long since formed the backbone of his existence – how he lived and breathed, how he survived and sculpted, how he chipped away and renewed all over again. Whether it was in the midst of battle, or simply in moments like these, gathering proportions of strangers with all their other nuances and experiences. “You are welcome,” and he nodded once more, solidifying the aspect.
But then he didn’t expect the next question, and the measures of his smile dissipated into something else. Brows furrowed, the geniality forming back into a more reticent gaze, contemplating how best to answer the inquiry. Morgan had made her opinion known when they’d last encountered Remi. He didn’t blame her. It was safer, to remain neutral. But he figured it wasn’t likely to last, given aspects of the world, of the heralds, of the deities. “I stand with the Old Gods, though I have nothing against the Ascended.” Simply the Voice. An opinion formed by the progress and notions of assembled souls – and the goddess who held reign over them. “We will have to see how Halo, or any other lands, become involved when the time comes.”
That smile transformed the man, from a large and somewhat intimidating force to something very human, and very likeable. Seren readily returned the smile, and mourned its passing when her change of topic brought them towards a more serious mood. And as before, the answer she received appeared honest, and readily given. It kept surprising her, that her questions were not met with more resistence.
"I understand," she mused, gaze turning thoughtful. "Does it ever worry you that Halo is so isolated? If something were to happen to The Voice's portal... the people here would be completely cut off." A slight frown tugged her eyebrows downward, into a brooding expression worthy of a Taliesin. These people might be dragged into the war in such a way, whether they wanted to or not. Recalling what maps and lessons she had received, Seren knew the Climb and Ouerwood provided formidable obstacles to any trade caravans that might want to reach Torchline, or Stormbreak.
It's written in the stars above Exactly who we are is just enough
✰ Starlight (Passive) | Starfilled night billow around her like a veil as she moves. It is more noticeable in daytime and when she make sudden movements.
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
And here was where Seren earned the Sword’s reticence. He’d relinquish bits and pieces of himself, per her mother’s instructions, to be more open, to be more free, but he wouldn’t subject Halo to the same degree or accord. Not for a land under his protection, his multitudes, his power. What she seemed ignorant of was that a proportion of its precision rested in that isolation, that desolation – not many yearned to come. Or that it had been cut off and survived before the barrier fell. Or that Deepfrost still froze over proportions of the Fangs, effectively leaving them with naught but their own wiles and means in the winter landscape anyway,
That Halo stood, tough and strong and stalwart, well before the Voice had finagled her way in.
His eyes narrowed briefly, and he said none of this, suddenly wondering if information was damned and due to be shared with Stormbreak. A sharpening, an unyielding proportion came over his form, and the smile was entirely gone, replaced with a drawn, stoic line, as his eyes went downward once more, studying, perusing, the Aurora Basin laid out before him. The former land he’d reigned upon had never heralded intruders, save for wolves, due to its damning strength. Halo had already begun striving to orchestrate and create its own means of produce; so it wouldn’t have to constantly force some manner of trade, but what about another way of traversing? Of not using the portal?
How were they to cut through? “Are you suggesting an alternative means?” He finally lent into the wake, chiseling and sculpting the words out.
The silence dragged out, but the starchild didn't mind. Taking it for contemplation rather than suspicion, she was more caught up in her own worries. When Deimos responded to her question with one of his own, Seren shrugged with a rueful smile. "Maybe... I don't know. I was mostly wishing there was a skyport here, I think. Then I wouldn't even have to contemplate using the portal to get home. Now... That's the fastest way."
The smile turned into a grimace. Reaching out for a handful of snow, she squeezed it into a ball and lobbed it loosely towards her little battle scene. Snow soldiers were mercilessly bowled over, friend and foe alike, until the orb stopped against the sculpted wall. Blocking the only entrance point into the Palace.
"I don't suppose you know of another way to get to Torchline, except walking across the Climb?" Her glance at the general was quick, open and honest but not optimistic.
It's written in the stars above Exactly who we are is just enough
✰ Starlight (Passive) | Starfilled night billow around her like a veil as she moves. It is more noticeable in daytime and when she make sudden movements.
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
For once, Deimos had no answer – and for a man prone to machinations, scheming, ruses, and a whole host of deep contemplations, he could only arch a brow – and then flick his gaze briefly up towards the clouds. “What is a skyport?” The Sword could process the means of the word simply by analytical tactics – but having not been to Torchline since telling Sunjata exactly what he thought of the fool, he’d missed any work going on in between the ocean venue and the Stormbreak counterpart. Especially since it’d been monsoon season.
The brow lilted further when she seemed intent on wrecking her own sculpture. The General had put far too much work into his, and let it sit, settling into the frozen veneer, permitting the rest of the void to be a backdrop. As far as any other means of gaining access to Torchline, rather than clambering down mountainsides (he was about to very sarcastically tell her to find an Ursur to parade around on, and then kept it to himself), he merely shook his head. “Not that I am aware of.” And the Climb would be an arduous task.
