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!
Life is hard that's why no one survives I'm much older than I thought I'd be
It’s late, it’s drizzling, and Nate is in a fantastic mood.
No, really.
There’s an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips as he drags black stones down to a particularly secluded part of the beach, humming some song while he works. Sure, a part of him is loathe to not be in bed with Sunjata, but this is the last step to fixing the portal in Torchline.
Nate stands with his hands on his hips, looking over the pile of obsidian he’s organized, his head cocking. It’s probably not a good idea to be so close to the ocean, but the ascended is pretty sure it won’t hurt him. Pretty sure. A hand lifts to light his smoke, figuring he might as well enjoy himself before he gets to work.
Feel like a fool, yeah, like a dancing fool, yeah Footloose and fancy free
Rigby thought that being on Hale Ka'aila at just the right time meant he could be alone. He was a bit dumb for that, it was never the right time really. He sat with one knee up and one leg outstretched before him, head tilted back against a coral chunk behind. He would be the one to make the trip out to the mystical sandbar and it's glassy cathedral and then decide to face away from it, wouldn't he.
A cigarette was lit and burned softly, the smoke curled out from his lips as he looked down and toyed with the small bottle at his neck, the tonic that'd appeared at the end of deepfrost, a gift from who knew what. He didn't know what it would do, but he'd kept it on, having earned a warm feeling from it and it's contents. Every now and then he pondered what it could be, then stashed it back in a pocket or into his shirt.
He almost uncorked it for a whiff, but noise beyond caught his attention. With a squinty look he turned, palms in the sand as he shifted his body to see beyond the coral. Nate, the ascended, hybrid, demigod? Whatever he was, moving rocks like some weird loser. If the man was going to ruin his quiet like he'd done so often before, Rigby would be a pain in his ass, as always. Aren't you glad you met him Nate?
The tall lanky boy stood and slunk around to the other side of the coral structure, where Nate could see him as he leaned against it. He chewed on the cigarette, "What are you doing?" he asked, though his tone was uninterested.
like a bullet through a flock of doves to rage this war against your faith in me
Life is hard that's why no one survives I'm much older than I thought I'd be
Nates head cocks with an avian tilt as he looks at his pile, exhaling smoke through his nose while he considers the pile he’s made and ignores the sound of footsteps. Cockiness like this has bit him in the ass before, but all things considered there are very few things left in the world that he fears, and those he is wary of will get him no matter how focused he is.
As it turns out, there’s no need for worry. Maybe a preemptive sigh, but Nate’s in a good enough mood to not resign the evening to irritation immediately.
”Oh. Hey kid.” Smoke wraps around the greeting, Nate for once seemingly nonplussed by Rigby’s presence. Whether it’s his mood or distraction isn’t obvious, but it’s a change nonetheless. ”I’m about to electrocute some rocks.” His gaze lifts up towards the other, brows pinching. ”Think you might be in the splash zone.” He warns.
Instead of saying anything more, Nate steps forwards and rearranges some of the stones, shifting them in a more upright pile than the stack they’d been in. There’s still a pinch in his face like he’s not quite happy with it, like it still needs to be stated at and considered.
Feel like a fool, yeah, like a dancing fool, yeah Footloose and fancy free
The lack of irritation that Rigby's presence earned was... disappointing. Since when was Nate easygoing? He exhaled a sigh; bored, less than thrilled. The explanation did earn a turn of his head, a narrowing of his dark brows. The fuck was he gonna electrocute rocks for? "What?" he asked, with more curiosity than before, and of course, a sharp smirk.
Despite the warning, Rigby didn't move. Shifted his feet, sunk further into his lean against the structure for emphasis, but didn't make to get out of the way. The boy stayed stubbornly in place. He snorted as Nate shifted the pile, smoke huffing out and around him, "How you gonna electrocute it?"
like a bullet through a flock of doves to rage this war against your faith in me
05-09-2021, 07:21 AM (This post was last modified: 05-12-2021, 08:54 PM by Nate.)
NATE
Life is hard that's why no one survives I'm much older than I thought I'd be
”Its god shit.” Nate reaches out with holographic arms this time, keeping back to arrange the rocks carefully. ”You wouldn’t care.” A grin flashes across his features when he finally gets it right, the pile stacked in a neat arrow shape, pointed towards him.
Reaching up to pull the smoke out from between his lips, Nate gestures towards Rigby, over his newly perfected pile. ”I’m uh, gonna use magic I stole from my ex.” He explains all too casually, his free hand rising dramatically. An afterthought has some other tendril of magic reaching out towards Rigby, a static charge to absorb at least a part of any damage he might sustain. If he gets hurt it’d be Nate’s fault anyway.
He has one shot with this lightning, and it’s not exactly an element Nate has a lot of experience with. So he maybe puts a little more power into the whole thing than is necessarily required, the bolt of electricity that arcs off his fingers too bright to look at, and striking the rocks with a deafening crack. Remains of the very smallest piece of obsidian begin to rain down between them, just as Nate starts to laugh.
Feel like a fool, yeah, like a dancing fool, yeah Footloose and fancy free
God shit, yeah. Rigby could tell, the two extra arms that materialized pulled a groan from the boy. Magic people were always showing off, at some point it had to be embarrassing. "At least you get me," he replied snarkily because no, he didn't care. He'd watch and be interested in the colors and lights and carnage, but he had no plans to help any of the gods, even Nate's. The Voice was no friend or patron of his despite his disdain for the others.
"Which one," Rigby retorted, though it was no more a question than he was a loving or caring person. He did back away from the bright tendril that snaked towards him. Before he could really back off, there was a massive crack and a bright light, all Rigby could really do was shield his eyes and accidentally drop his cigarette into the sand. It lay there steaming before it was snuffed out entirely by his boot.
"Nice warning shithe-" he didn't get to finish that thought, a black rock thunked against his head and sent him to the ground. He landed hard on his ass, hands flew up to his head where he expected the pain to be throbbing and a bit of blood to have pooled, but there wasn't much pain or blood at all. Regardless of the fact that he was less hurt than he should be, he growled, "Fuck."
like a bullet through a flock of doves to rage this war against your faith in me
Life is hard that's why no one survives I'm much older than I thought I'd be
Nates first reaction to seeing Rigby knocked on his ass is loud, immediate laughter, enough to double him over. ”Fuck, you took that right in the face.” The words gasp out of him as much as they can, his own hand lifting automatically to rub at his forehead, the spot of fluid there surprising him.
”Learn to dodge shit, dumbass.” He hisses, straightening and closing some of the distance between himself and the other. ”Y’okay?” A hand thrusts out abruptly, Nate not making a big deal of the offer. Not getting fussed doesn’t mean not giving a fuck. And it’s technically his fault Rigby had gotten hit anyway.
Turning to look over his shoulder, Nate grins at the lightly crackling arrangement of obsidian that remains, the sand around it fused. That had to be enough.
Feel like a fool, yeah, like a dancing fool, yeah Footloose and fancy free
The sharp laughter drew the boy's attention up, snapping his gaze to Nate with a scowl. Of course if they were in the opposite position, Rigby would be laughing too, but since things were the way they were, there wasn't a peep of humor from him. The thief groaned, scrambling to his hands and knees and ignoring the offered hand. He wasn't hurt bad enough to accept help from the smug bastard, fuck that.
He patted down his clothes, scratched at the pinching spot on his forehead. His eyes fell back upon the sparkling pile of debris. It popped and sizzled, a cloud crunch startled him just enough to have him wince. "What's that supposed to do?" he asked, giving a terse gesture to the steaming obsidian.
like a bullet through a flock of doves to rage this war against your faith in me
Life is hard that's why no one survives I'm much older than I thought I'd be
Nate hums and pinches his face, considering the merits of just not telling Rigby what exactly the obsidian is for but... well, at this point he'd bled for it, and that's enough for him. "Supposed t'be the base of a new shrine. Some fucker wrecked the old Ascended one." Nate doesn't seem phased by the rejection of his hand, simply pulls it back and pushes it through his hair, stepping away to lean over his obsidian. "Think this'll be fine." Once again, his gaze lifts to Rigby, brow's rising.
"If I give you a pack of smokes, how much help am I gonna get?" It had been enough of a chore to drag everything out here the first time, a third pair of hands could be useful, especially considering he's down some of the smaller pieces.
Feel like a fool, yeah, like a dancing fool, yeah Footloose and fancy free
