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!
06-14-2021, 01:58 PM (This post was last modified: 06-14-2021, 02:34 PM by Maeve.)
Maeve
There are things that one doesn't think about during a tragedy. Things that aren't missed until much later on when it hits you out of no where that it's missing in the first place. It has almost been a season and a half since she lost the Halenani and all of her possessions. Maeve has slowly been gathering things, building up her collection of herbs, books, and the like. One thing that she hasn't thought too much of is her shells. So many shells collected to line the shelves of her room, interspersed between plants, books, and pretty little trinkets from clients. Each one unique and special in her eyes.
Which is why she's here now, walking along the coast with a basket on her arm, a sunhat shielding her from the bright rays of the Longheat sun. Aidon coasts above her, scanning the sands and shore for any shinies for Maeve to collect, flashing images to her sporadically when he spots one. Her toes sink into heated sand, waves lapping at her feet to chase away the heat as she walks, stopping occasionally to crouch as she examines a shell. The breeze whips at her hair, sending curls every which way as she turns it over in her hands before finally depositing it into her basket.
the only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm along with you
Sorrows built up in ways that one couldn’t fathom. Grief was never quite linear; found in pieces and pockets of memories, of realities, of decibels that rang louder and louder until they demanded to be heard. Melita carried some, but didn’t know what to do with the ones largely unknown: the man who’d been broken apart in their efforts to demolish and hunt, and then how to work in her guilt.
So instead, she clambered along the shoreline and didn’t go home. Didn’t cry into her pillow. Didn’t stay awake in the pitch black of night and wonder about how another’s story had come to a brutal end. Didn’t wonder about these miserable journeys. The honeybee shoved them all down into her throat and down into her chest and decided to ignore wherever they landed; embracing the waves today, with the bag over her shoulder, with Fangorn at her side, with everything else traipsing around her in the same speed; as if nothing was amiss.
Life moved on. And sometimes she didn’t think that was right. Why didn’t it ever stay still, just for one moment, so they could recover?
Refusing to pout or sneer, she wandered further – not noticing Maeve’s appearance, or the dragon’s. Instead, her eyes were to the ground, bare feet pressed into the sand, hands grabbing for anything of note, of worth, palm already checking out a handful of stones and pebbles that had bounded off of tides and currents.
Fangorn, with his recent upheaval with Umbra, noticed the companion right away, and grumbled something either in greeting, warning, or simple acknowledgement.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
It was funny how grief worked. A feeling that you never fully acknowledged. Always popping up when you least expect it, crippling you in ways you aren't ready to handle, never knowing when it will fade. Their grief was different. Melita going through the loss of a stranger and Maeve the loss of a home. They were nothing alike and yet tied together by their grief.
Maeve is too caught up in her own hunt to notice the approach of another, both of the girls lost in their own little world, only their companions actually paying attention to their surroundings. Aidon sees Fangorn, hearing his grumble, but paying it no mind as he swoops down to investigate. Way too curious to stay away. He's never seen a creature like this before. The interest that travels down the bond has Maeve's eyes drawing up and up until landing on the red headed honeybee, recognition shining in her seaglass gaze, a hesitant smile curling on her lips. The dragon, now the size of a small dog, lands in front of the creature and his claws tip tap in the sand excitedly. "Melita? I haven't seen you since before the monsoons."
She calls out, straightening up as she takes a few steps forward, the shell still in her palm. The cool surface of the shell warming in her hand, fingers wrapped tightly around it, feeling the way its curves press into his skin. Maeve runs her thumb over the sharp tip, pressing the pad of it there before finally placing it in her basket, "Are you shell hunting too?"
the only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm along with you
Melita jumped at the presence of the dragon - another one, as if they were all appearing out of nowhere lately. Her eyes instantly went to Fangorn, wondering if once more she’d have to protect him from the bigger beast, thoughts wandering straight to her staff positioned and held on her back – when Maeve called out.
“Is this one yours?” She answered, pointing towards the leather-winged creature, a gentle wave exuding thereafter while the Madame strolled up the beach. She crouched down thereafter, waiting, pondering, stare flickering back and forth between newcomers, hand flexing over an ivory shell laden in the sand; broken, serrated edges contorted and misshapen from the strength and dominion of the current. “Oh, we sailed to King’s End before they came.” She didn’t press about the Halenani – strolling by indicated not enough work had been done, and it’d likely have to be repaired once more. The apology sat on the edge of her teeth, but then another inquiry came.
She lifted her palm so Maeve could see her latest find – not the greatest, but she enjoyed the paleness. “I am. Are you looking for anything in particular?”
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
06-14-2021, 11:48 PM (This post was last modified: 06-14-2021, 11:48 PM by Maeve.)
Maeve
The dragon in question doesn't show a single sign of aggression. Instead it lowered itself down, rump in the air and tail wagging back and forth like an overly excited puppy dog, trilling and warbling at Fangorn to get his attention. Maeve could feel the playful anticipation and curiosity rolling along the bond, Aidon so painfully interested in Melita's companion that he couldn't pull himself away from the spot he was wiggling in.
"He is. He's not learned his manners yet. Still fairly young." Maeve responded easily, an apologetic smile on her lips that just reached her eyes, gaze following the honeybee girl as she crouched to scoop a shell from the sand. Running fingers over it much like Maeve had done her own find and it was the first time she thought that she might have something in common with the youth. "I knew the Ark was leaving before the storms. You guys always do." She murmured thoughtfully, knowing full well that they never lingered for them. It would be disastrous if they did. No question was raised to ask how she fared and for that she was grateful. Not wanting to reflect further on the damage from the storm. Not when she was already doing what she could to repair it, rebuild, and start all over.
Maeve nodded, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth, "A black conch. I had a few in my collection, but-" She cut herself off, giving Melita a look that said it all, "They're my favorite."
the only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm along with you
Blessings, perhaps; since the poor gourd had been under their scrutiny lately. At least this one, manners aside, didn’t immediately launch and try to fling Fangorn off into the sands. By way of invitation, since the dragon hadn’t suddenly assaulted him, the pumpkin unleashed some of his vines, trailing them outward in an entanglement of amiability, like that of a handshake, waving them around in subtle, feral greetings. “What do you call him?” Melita piped up while she watched, still a little apt to guard her beloved bonded.
Her attention went briefly to Maeve thereafter, narrowed eyes flickering in between human and companion, fingers catching over the serrated shell for a moment. “A black conch,” she murmured in echo. Perhaps that made sense.
She ducked down once more, uncertain what else to say or do, and placed the artifact in her bag, amongst and amidst the other treasures in her hold. The crouch kept her near Fangorn, so that she might lunge if she had to, and occupied her hands with the sand tilling between digits, digging thoughtfully, humming a little under her breath. “I like any of them – the more color, the better.”
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Easily amused by the display Fangorn was giving Aidon in return, Maeve huffed out a soft laugh, unable to help the smile that spread across her lips. It was the first real one of the day, lighting up her eyes as she tore her attention away to look at Melita instead, "Aidon. It is supposed to mean unseen one, but he hasn't gotten that bit down yet." She explained wryly, wrinkling her nose as Aidon strained forward, pressing the tip of his snout against one of the extended vines and bobbing his head almost like a bird. He was a weird little thing. Adorable and loving and oh so playful, but weird.
"I like the pink ones and the creams and all of them really, but that one as my favorite. Perhaps because it was so different." She shrugged her shoulders, adjusting the grip of her basket as she shifted on her feet, toes digging into the warm sand.
The dragon's attention was suddenly pulled to Melita as she crouched, much closer than she had been before, he bounded over to circle her and finally stopping at her side. Orange eyes narrowed in consideration as she dug through the sand before doing the same thing himself, mimicking the honeybee excitedly, trying his best to help. He did find a shell and with delicate care, he picked it up in his maw, trying to offer it to this new friend. "Would you like to look together? I know it's a bit childish, but perhaps it's what we both need?"
the only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm along with you
Well, this interaction had already gone leaps and bounds better than Umbra’s initial sieges, so the youth breathed a little easier, waited when there was no impending storm. Aidon, to his credit, even if he could be seen from yards away, was gentle and kind, acknowledging Fangorn as well. The vampire gourd grumbled and keened, something that sounded encouraging, then turned to leap and bound, making little impressions in the sands. Perhaps the dragon was meant to follow? Or play? Melita arched a brow, but made no move to interfere; there’d been no need.
Once she let go of her protective guard, the youth could turn her attention back to Maeve. Intriguing, really, to yearn for something in a world of color, to grab hold of darker filaments, like voids and evening skies, rather than go for something more eye-catching. The honeybee considered it in her mind, and then shrugged her shoulders, taking the explanation for what it was worth. Like hollows. Like vessels.
Aidon’s approach, quickly at her side, was another surprise – and her eyes widened briefly, before watching him dig, mimicking her movements and motions. At the offering, the lithe smuggler’s features softened, grateful, in the beam of her smile. “May I see what you found?” Her palm turned over, was held open, curious and inquisitive. Only thereafter did she alter her tones to Maeve. “Sure.” For Melita loved childish things – no matter the time, the day, or the hour.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Aidon was torn between what he was to do. On one hand, chasing after the vampire gourd in what seemed to be some kind of play was incredibly tempting for the dragon, but there was Melita digging in the sand too. Both of which had the dragon itching for action. Maeve watched curiously as Aidon looked back and forth between the two before deciding to help Melita with her shell searching first. He dug and dug and dug, sifting through sand with claws and snout, finding a banded tulip buried in the depths of the sand. With a patience Maeve wasn't expecting, the dragon waited for Melita to ask for the shell, placing it gently in her hand as he blinked at her in anticipation.
"He likes you." She told her softly, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth as Aidon sent flashed images of Melita's hair along their bond and then his own wings, seeming caught on the color. It clicked and she laughed, "Your hair. It matches his wings." The acknowledgement has Aidon flaring out his wings for Melita to see, showing off the orange, white, and red patterns that seem to mimic butterfly wings. "Go see if Fangorn wants to look for shells too." Maeve encouraged the dragon, letting him bound off after her own companion before kneeling next to Melita, digging through the sand herself.
"How was your trip? See anything exciting?" She asked, finding a shell with a purple sheen and offering it to the youth, hoping she might like that one too. Since she was a fan of colors and all that.
the only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm along with you
To the honeybee’s surprise, the dragon accepted her inquiry, and within a moment the shell was in her hand – vibrant and beautiful, curled at the top, amber and sienna tones mixed in. It would’ve blended perfectly into the sand, never to be seen again until the waves lapped away the edges, in time, in space, in torrents and gales. With admiration slipping down over her features, no more frowns, no more drowned, guilty expressions, the girl’s empowering smile lit up towards the companion. “Thank you. You’re very kind.” Maeve’s words reached her a moment later, and she followed with a laugh – encouraged affections by the pieces of embers in her locks, by the flames embedded into his wings. “We’re both drawn to fire, aren’t we?” Very softly, politely, she reached up to scratch at the dragon’s forehead; if he was willing to oblige.
Thereafter, they could part amicably, as he tore off to follow Fangorn, whose vines weren’t suitable for digging and trenching.
“He’s quite lovely,” she whispered in return to Maeve, as if the bonded wouldn’t be able to hear. She placed the banded tulip aside, to be collected into her bag, while her hands sifted and shifted more portions of earth, while the Madame passed her another for inspection – purple, like the sky at sunset. “King’s End is absolutely beautiful. Fertile fields, meadows upon meadows of wildflowers.” Several little bonnet shells, all ivory, manifested from a proportion, and she left them out for Maeve’s perusal too.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Umbra and Aidon were very different. That much was clear. Each one deciding on a completely different approach with the pair. The praise was appreciated, Aidon trilling in response as he pushed up into her fingers as they scratched at his scaly brow, going so far as to blow a smoke ring towards her at the question. Finally he took off after the vampire gourd that was traipsing further up the beach. Maeve hummed softly, returning the honeybee's bright smile, eyes lighting up with it. "It seems you are kindred spirits in a way." The Madame mused, letting her eyes follow after the two who seemed content on chasing each other, no longer interested in finding shells.
"Thank you... He's rather young. I found him in the woods with Seren. I saved him from a Tumbleweed. Have you ever seen one of those? I hadn't. It was as wide as I am tall." Maeve told her, brow knitting together as she dug through the sand, using both hands to let the powdery white granules to slip between her fingers. A few shells remain left in her palms; cockles, scallop shells, and a few bonnet shells to go with the ones Melita dug up. Maeve placed them on the sand for them to pick and choose from, plucking a few of them delicately between her finger tips, turning them this way and that.
It was a place she hadn't gotten to herself, even when the Wilds slung her across the way, it hadn't been there. "That sounds wonderful. I love flowers... I have a garden here that I tend to, but nothing like that. Did you find anything to bring back?" She asked curiously, selecting a few for herself, placing them into her basket.
the only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm along with you
Her hands reached for the smoke ring, for the rush of fire, warm laughter chiming and singing along with her musings. They parted along – and her smile remained, the effects of disaster no longer clinging quite so heavily, quite so readily. “Maybe,” came along on a shrug, but the grin stayed, while Fangorn and Aidon went traipsing along – the gourd extending his vines again and egging the dragon on some kind of whirlwind chase down the beach.
Hands clinging to granules, sifting and shifting, eyes following the bounty of musings, her head only lifted slightly at the notion of Seren, and tumbleweeds. “I haven’t! Which woods did you go to?” The jungle-laden, with its vines, with its potency, with its humid wakes that still made her want to dance within puddles and mist? Or the Greatwood, contorted and shrouded in mystery, where the Fae once granted her a gift, still residing on her ankle? “I’m sure he was grateful to you.” And bonded, swift and sure.
Her gaze scanned the ornamental divisions of searching and scouring; cockles and scallops, bonnets upon bonnets. She considered, but didn’t go for them just yet, intending to find something different in the adornments. A little more maneuvering, and her fingers hit the edges of a moon’s shell, twisted and turned, and she thought of Safrin; but this wasn’t pale enough to reach the stars.
At the mention of King’s End and gardens, the youth settled, spying over her recent acquisition. “Just some flower crowns.” Pondering, wondering, idle was her mind for a moment. “What kind of garden? Do you have some herbs?”
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
"The Woodlands on the outskirts of the Grounds. I was searching for mushrooms and herbs to bring home. I wanted to bring some back to grow here if possible." It had seem so warm at the time. Even with the skeletal trees with grasping fingers, quick to snag on hair and clothes, holding you in its confines to never escape. Maeve pursed her lips, head tilting to the side in consideration, recalling how scared she had been in the moments before. Seren hadn't meant to scare her, sending her running towards the edge of the woods where she was able to find her new companion, rescuing him from what would have been a fated death. "He was. Hasn't left my side since and I don't much want him to."
Between the two of them, they didn't choose many of the shells that were dug up, longing for something different. Be it brighter and more colorful or in Maeve's case, darker and more stark in contrast to Torchline's shores. The Madame made to stand, intent on moving to another spot on the beach, hopeful to find something more interesting. Kneeling back in the sand, Maeve started shifting through the grains of sand once more, carefully digging into the shoreline. "Flower crowns are still good. Fun." She murmured mostly to herself, lips pursing as her brows draw together in concentration, picking through the shells she's managed to find thus far.
"I grow a lot of flowers, but lavender is my favorite. Then the herbs I use for medicinal purposes and the like. I also grow tea. I make my own blends. An interesting hobby to have, but I like it." Maeve shrugged her shoulders, thinking she might make a blend for the red headed honeybee herself, considering how she might add spice to it to capture her fiery spirit.
the only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm along with you
For all the length of time Melita had spent amidst the Grounds, it was intriguing to hear she’d somehow missed the tumbleweeds. There was a large array of other things placed within the stretch of woodlands that she’d seen: some things hunted, like banshees, and far more innocent figures. Her eyes went towards the companions stretching out along the beach, racing across the heavens and havens, and she shook her head. “Will you have anything to do with the Dragoons in Stormbreak, now that you have him?” Uncertain where it would all boil down to in the end – knowing Seren’s role, and Ronin’s attempted recruitments.
No one had been looking for any smugglers or cannoneers with fire in their blood and vampire gourds at their side; but that had seemed too oddly specific.
They maneuvered, unlike the companions, at a far more diligent pace, scouring more spaces on the sand not occupied by passersby or vacationers. Melita found another spot close to Maeve, and sifted all over again, hands busy, mind never quite idle. “Oh, that does sound nice. My mother was a healer,” and here she smiled, imagining the rows of herbs drying out, gardens upon gardens tended by gentle, obliging fingers. The youth clearly hadn’t adopted the same pursuits. “What kind of blends of tea?” Merely by curiosity, tones muffled and quiet while concentration bore down in her furrowed brow, lifting out a lovely little junonia.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
