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!
there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory
Babysitting forgotten, pacifism forgotten, Ronin is all for it when Amalia finally turns to his way of thinking, not that it seems to stop the onslaught of gourds. The Huntsman's frustration is all for the way the little orange fuckers are ruining his husband's shop, but the sight of blood on Amalia is enough to kick it up a notch again. "Oh absolutely not," he half growls, a fierce glow already stirring at his core.
"Cover your eyes, Amalia--" Ronin's warning comes a split second before the supernova blasts out of him, incinerating all of the gourds within a 60ft radius and simultaneously sending a powerful wave of healing throughout the Archangel. And when the light dies down, it finds the two demigods awash in warm pumpkin juice and guts and seeds, and there's a lot of cleaning to do.
we cannot become what we want to be by remaining what we are
The chaos that reigns is absolute, and it's only going to get worse. Amalia barely has time to duck her head and shut her eyes when a burst of light washes over her, pressing against her eyelids and searing through her wounds like the disinfectants her mother used to use. It hurts, but it heals, and when it fades Amalia's neck is bloody but unwounded, the skin knit together as though the gash were never there.
She springs to the window and pulls it shut, stopping the last of the swarm from getting in. "Thanks." For a moment Amalia leaves it at that, her forehead pressed against the shutters, eyes closed as she catches her breath. Slowly she turns back to survey the carnage, wincing as she registers just how much pumpkin viscera currently covers the alchemy shop.
It isn't pretty, folks.
"I don't suppose one of your tattoos is a magic mop?"
there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory
"Any time." Ronin wipes at his forehead and cheeks to get rid of the pumpkin guts, straightening up as Amalia goes to shut the window and keep out the murderous little beasts before he turns back to face the carnage of the shop interior. Huffing out a laugh, he shakes his head and rubs at the back of his neck. "I wish," he mutters, picking his way across the shop towards the back room where he can get an old fashioned mop and bucket.
"Thanks for your help," he says. "I don't mind getting started here if you want to catch your breath. Or make some tea - I'll happily mop up while you do that. You're better at it than I am anyway." Is his charm working Amalia? Is it? Say it is.
we cannot become what we want to be by remaining what we are
A disaster zone: that's what the shop looks like, full of seeds and viscera and the corpses of their foes, as though a truly monumental battle has been done and not the absolute desolation of a set of wayward gourds. Amalia makes her way to a sink as Ronin goes for mop, washing her hands and wiping the blood off her neck as best she can.
She's ready to help with the cleanup, buuuut... "Tea it is," Amalia agrees with a chuckle, raising an eyebrow at her predictable friend. "And maybe I can whip us up some lunch while you clean. Something with pumpkin, perhaps?"
