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!
it's an all or nothin' play, though, ashes settle when i say so
He preens a fraction under her compliment, huffing a soft laugh as he launches it back at her. “No, not quite. That’s a name you guys picked up. We had leaders, sure, can’t remember what they were called. Big name families, though.” Each one with a specific role, where the children often took the mantle of the family business to keep it going for generations – perhaps that’s why his family had learned to deal with him wanting to be a soldier, why his Ascension hadn’t surprised them much in the way of it, if they had already planned he’d die in war and not continue the family name. That’s beside the point, though, and his mind is getting too far ahead of where the conversation lies. “Makes sense, though. Survival of the fittest and all that.” He casts a quick glance to the rubble of his home, knowing how old his parents had been at the time and given that he was the last, well, it wasn’t that surprising it had fallen, too. But she catches the disc and he flashes her a wide grin for that accomplishment, too.
She launches it back at him, lower this time, and Varus finds himself shifting his stance in the dirt, dropping to a knee and using the metal arm to sort of block the discus in a sense so that it wouldn’t have such a hard impact for him to catch it. And when he rises, he immediately throws it back, seeing that focused glint in her eyes. “Of course it’s a learning curve. You don’t have anyone to teach you how. Mistakes are going to be made and you’re certainly not going to fuckin' please everyone.” He cuts her a playful grin with that. As for helping? His gaze glimmers a bit more curiously. “Whatcha need help with, Queenie?” He asks, that playful grin remaining in place.
“So they keep tellin’ me,” Wessex shoots back, knowing that the core of the problem is her inability to deal with certain people and things anymore. And the sooner she can get out of the leadership position, the better.
Moving a bit to the left to catch the disc, Wessex pauses and gives it a glance. “We need to finish this quest the Voice gave us and it’s a bit tricky, but I think I’ve got an idea. We need to see an Order member’s compass or ring in action so She can do some sort of protection thing for the Grounds. Keep ‘em out of the Grounds, make it a safer place for Ascended, no one can spy on us, that sort of thing.” Making a face, she lets Cal know exactly how she feels about the next part.
“We’ve had one successful sighting. But no one seems to be in any hurry to help. And we only know of one Order member. So I’m going to try and lure Ronin somewhere, but I need another pair or two of eyes on him and the area.” Three or four would be ideal, but they’d have to be Grounders Ronin doesn’t know - or doesn’t recognize under Halovian furs.
it's an all or nothin' play, though, ashes settle when i say so
She grabs the disc as he throws it back and when she pauses he focuses on her a bit more interested, more curious as to how he can help her – his sensors telling him that he’s likely extended himself past where he’d originally planned on but still is relatively content with where this ends so he can better pay attention. He stretches out the metal arm while she speaks, a brow raising her direction. “Ooh, I like that.” He murmurs idly. He’d never been a fan of the Order, not since he’d heard about the way they started building themselves up specifically to target the Ascended in the first place.
But that’s beside the point. It was to better his home and keep them out and if Varus is always game for one thing, it’s protecting his home and fighting for the right thing. “Oh, yeah, I can do that.” He asks tilting his head as he considers it, taking a step closer as he squares his shoulders a bit more so that they can talk like regular people might. “Just let me know when and where and I’ll be there, Wessex.” He says with an easier smile, one that’s toothy and excited and hungry for this sort of revenge against the Order.
Maybe it’s the easy nickname or the kindred spirit that she recognizes in him, but comfortable sort of lull washes over her. As if they’d weighed and measured each other and found the other not only acceptable, but likeable. It’s both a surprise and not to the Wraith, because she knows how to talk to Cal, how to interact with him, can trust that like when throwing the disc, he will either catch it or try his damnedest to do so.
It’s a comfort she needs. “Great, thank you,” she responds brightly. “I’ll let you know when and where.”
And then, as an afterthought, as she’s pocketing the disc, Wessex looks up at him with an odd expression. “Cal, what’s your last name?”
it's an all or nothin' play, though, ashes settle when i say so
“You’re welcome.” He offers her chipperly, flashing a crooked and fanged grin her way. The brightness of her response is only doubled tenfold by Varus’ own content with the way the day has turned out – turning his rough evening into something pleasant, even if the ghosts of his past sit in ruins around the two of them. He nods to her, for the when and where, and as he goes to pick up the rest of his things, to place the knives back into their spaces along his person, her question is one that has that grin remaining.
What’s his last name? Well, that’s when things get a fun. “Callahan.” He comments with that same, crooked, playful grin. “Get it?” He flashes her a playful wink before he’s finishing up putting the knives in their space with a soft chuckle, moving back over to stand near Wessex, wondering why exactly she’d asked for his last name.
Ah, clearly she’s asking the wrong question, which she couldn’t possibly have known before now. Yep, he got her. Making a face because yeah, she gets it, Wessex makes an amused sound. “Alright, then what’s your first name?”
These old-timers are odd. Aamu with no last name and someone who goes by their last name and has a face she already recognizes. Then there was 108, who’d forgotten their name and just knew the year they were made. How else have things changed, she wonders to herself, still half-living in the world he’d painted for her.
“And how would you feel about working as a team for training?” She begins to wander back towards the way she'd come, taking her time to weave between the ruins and climb up and over others.
it's an all or nothin' play, though, ashes settle when i say so
She makes a face and an amused sound, which airs a huff of a chuckle from Varus, who waits for the inevitable question of what his first name is. And he considers telling her – he has, of course, but at this point in the game it’s easier the less people know about him. And right now? It’s just one person that knows his first name. Why it’s held a secret to him is entirely due to habit and the fact that in the previous war all anyone needed were his last name, so to hear his first name? It’s essentially a shut off – a shock, one that is valuable for him if needed in the war. And he intends to keep it secret from most people as long as he can.
Isla knows, because as a field medic she’d likely be one of those that needed to shut him down to patch him up.
“Nobody’s called me by my first name in years.” He comments a bit offhandedly, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s a bit of a shut down for me to hear it, so… Let’s get to know each other a bit more, Queenie, and then I’ll letcha in on the little secret.” It’s an apologetic smile given to her, but he follows her once he’s gathered his blades, traipsing between the ruins and weaving along with her. “A training team sounds good, though. Got any plans for that?”
Well that… wasn’t what she expected, and she doesn’t bother to hide it.
“Oh. Of course, yeah that’s fair,” Wessex concedes. Trust has to be earned. Being Queen doesn’t mean she gets automatic privileges like that, and she wasn’t about to try and order him to tell her his secret. Even if the refusal does (irrationally) sting a bit.
This offer, though, is probably one he won’t be able to refuse and Wessex quickly shrugs off any disappointment, eagerly launching into her pitch. “The Voice is always saying how we’re stronger together, but we’re sorely lacking in that department. I want to get our fighters - whoever they are - together and start training us how to work together. Which upgrades compliment each other, who has what, who’s a good team - that kind of thing.”
It’s difficult to contain the energy she has around this idea, feeling more and more lately that that’s what she’s called to do for the Ascended, not necessarily ‘lead’ in the typical fashion. “The first challenge, unfortunately, is determining who’s willing to fight.”
it's an all or nothin' play, though, ashes settle when i say so
It isn’t what she expects, but she takes it well enough for Varus who simply offers a small apologetic smile as he gathers his things and moves to walk with Wessex back out of the Ruins, away from his previous home that sat in pieces.
She launches into her pitch, though, and Varus nods along with her – humming in consideration. “That sounds good. Really good.” He compliments, pursing his lips a few seconds after, reaching up with his metal hand to rub at his jaw as if in consideration. “Split it up like the first war. Get the soldiers and the medics, separate out the soldiers based off their abilities.” His head tilts this way and that.
“People are going to have to make their choice sooner rather than later. I know nobody wants the war. I sure as fuck didn’t get a second from the last war into this one.” He huffs a sigh. “But it’s coming and we need to be prepared. So yeah, I’m going to fight. No sense in being unprepared and hoping.” He works his jaw for a second before he looks back at Wessex.
“Do you want me to do some digging and see who’s all willing?”
“That’s really been fucking bane of my existence these days. Of course no one wants a godsdamn war, but not wanting it won’t stop it from coming! All it does is put us behind on preparations, it -” A low exhaled growl of frustration, the Wraith’s hands clench and unclench in a surprising eruption of frustration.
“It’s like no one realizes that the fight for our lives starts now. Every move is important and we’re just wasting it -” she seems to become louder and more animated as she goes on, almost as if the floodgates have been opened and she’s the only one who can stop the waters. “ - by being in denial. And so - so not united.” Rexanna and Clem’s death worked briefly, but by the time LongNight rolled around again, they weren’t nearly as gung-ho about taking on the Monsters as they had been the year prior.
Whose death would it take to unite them? What kind of tragedy is due to them this year?
it's an all or nothin' play, though, ashes settle when i say so
She can erupt however much she likes and Varus is more than content to listen, to offer his ear and bob his head in agreement and understanding. He even reaches up with his metal hand to pat her on the shoulder, flashing her a knowing smile – however small it might be – before he hums his quiet agreements to everything she says. “They’re not gonna know until it starts to happen. Right now it feels so far away. Hard to find the motivation when you don’t know when it’s gonna hit.” He supplies instead, shrugging his shoulders.
“People’ll keep putting it off until it’s too late. So we’re going to have to make them, huh?” Make them face the cold hard truths of it all.
War is coming. They must be prepared.
“Anything else you got on your chest you wanna let out?” He asks her, completely willing to let her spin and burn just to relieve some of the pressure. Not that it’s a problem for him – he’s carried the same gripe all along.
All of a sudden aware that she’s gotten a little whiny and hard on her siblings, Wessex does her best to simmer down. If she had blood, she might have a faint blush, but as she doesn’t there’s little more than a momentary exaggerated frown.
“Only if you want to hear a rant about how gullible Outlanders are. Otherwise I’m okay for now. Thanks for offering.” The frown turns into a tight-lipped half-grin and the Queen earnestly refocuses on where they’re going. There will be plenty of time to talk shop later - maybe when she has more space in her head and weight off her shoulders.
