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!
we're all stories unfinished and we die to find some fitting words to write
Nate used his abilities to get further and trip her up, it’s only fair that Wessex can use hers to some advantage; after all, what’s the point of having upgrades if you don’t use them? It would be like asking an Attuned not to fly if they could, or asking an Abandoned not to use their magic.
Honestly, sometimes it feels like she’s damned if she uses her abilities and speed and damned if she doesn’t.
His Fuck, however, pulls her up short and makes her look over her shoulder to see what might have caused her cursing-inclined brother to well, curse. “You okay?” she calls back, unable to see him from the hill or two ahead.
I coulda been anyone from anywhere, but I chose to be me, from right here
Once again, his sensors very helpfully tell him ouch, in a way that Nate likes to personify as distantly mocking. This time though, they don’t quiet after a moment, just linger in the back of his mind as if it’s going to stop him from pushing himself to his feet. And wobbling.
Wessex’s voice echos from somewhere in front of him, his glare snapping up from where it’s locked on his feet and softening. “Fuckin’ peachy!” Nate calls back, sounding very much the opposite of peachy. He takes another testing step forward, hissing at himself as his leg trembles under the strain.
At least he’s got ways to compensate, an extra long arm pressing against the ground to act as a makeshift crutch, enough to let him hobble up to the crest of the next hill. “We’re not close, are we?” He calls out to Wessex, from clear on his face, even at this distance.
we're all stories unfinished and we die to find some fitting words to write
Rolling her eyes a bit at what sounds like drama in his voice, Wessex nevertheless holds her position on her hill until Nate’s face rises like a ghost from the dark depths of the mounds - and then his hobbling body follows. She frowns. That isn’t supposed to happen. “Uh - no, not quite.” she calls back, before turning and jogging down the hill back to him.
‘Close’ is relevant. Close for her, yes. Maybe not close enough for him and whatever injury he’s sustained.
“What happened?” she asks, still looking concerned. Obviously something happened, and Wessex reaches out to do - what? Comfort? Analyze? Teleport? She’s not the medical professional here, she just knows she has ways to fix it.
I coulda been anyone from anywhere, but I chose to be me, from right here
No, not quite. Cool, wonderful. It’s not a pain he can feel, but it’s still one that affects him? That’s slowing his body to a crawl, and if that isn’t the stupidest thing Nate’s ever had to deal with than he doesn’t know what it. Wessex hogs close enough, some prt of Nate wanting to crawl away and never be seen again, while the rest of him simply tries to stand tall.
“I tripped.” He doesn’t say again, or obviously, though both hide just around the corner of his tone. Without seeming to think about it, Nate reaches out, letting his arm fade away so he can lean on Wessex instead. “S’uh,” he rests his weight on his leg experimentally, considering the feeling. “S’not broken. Think I just sprained it.”
Nates head swivels towards Wessex, stopping just as suddenly as it started. He grins slowly, like he has to remember how to do it without showing all of his teeth. “Just gotta walk it off, huh?”
we're all stories unfinished and we die to find some fitting words to write
A sprain, huh? So they can still do things like that. She shakes her head, inappropriately amused. “Yeah sure, you could,” she agrees, then has a jolting realization. He knows all this already, he’s a fucking doctor of sorts.
And she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t… needing an odd bit of release. Just a teensy one. What’s a favor amongst siblings?
Adopted siblings, if you want to get real specific about it.
“Or -” she posits, showing her teeth where Nate does not. “I have upgraded healing magic. Could fix you right up.” Her tone leaves room for him to decide her motivation: helpful older sister or inconspicuous deviant? She presents a forearm to him, with an oh-so-carefully neutral expression.
I coulda been anyone from anywhere, but I chose to be me, from right here
It's not an offer Nate expects, clearly. Surprise robs the words from his mouth, the expression from his face, leaving him to simply blink curiously as the offered forearm, and then up to Wessex's face. "Could fix me right up." He echoes after a moment, wetting his lips. There is not a thought spared to intentions, the doctor too intent on his own wants to really care.
He lifts her wrist to his lips, and bites, not remembering the potency of this particular combination, though his mental circumstances had been similar when he bit Neron. For the moment, he can control himself. Manages to do nothing more than tighten his grip slightly, hunching over Wessex just a little. She’s stronger than he is, Nate’s not worried about her being unable to move if it’s too much.
we're all stories unfinished and we die to find some fitting words to write
She nods to confirm, though the consent was implied when she made the offer.
Brother-to-brother. What about demigod-to-demigod? Can he feel the array of magics at his disposal, the power of their Mother in her veins?
Maybe it’s something he’ll want more of - maybe it’ll help get him on the right track.
Painless, his fangs sink into her pale skin and as the tingling heralds of pleasure begin to build, her eyes close, a stifled groan swallowed as it rises. Her other fist clenches but she doesn’t make any move to pull away, because even as he takes her fluid, she heals herself. It’s no burden for her to do this, but some things - an errant hiss that ends up in a whimper - are too much for even the steel-toed bitch herself to contain.
And why would she want to stop it, anyway? It's the best she's felt since Varus took a sip, half a year ago.
I coulda been anyone from anywhere, but I chose to be me, from right here
He’s already been deafened to the alarm in his head by the pleasure burning new veins through him. It’s like a thick cotton fluff settles in his limbs, intensifying as he activates stolen power and knits together the pieces of himself that are cracking.
The klaxon caterwauling fades completely, as the healing finally starts to creep towards his head, reorganizing things shaken loose by his falls, by the compounding traumas of seasons. Reminding Nate why he’d crept out into the night in the first place. With a gasp, he jerks back, cutting off the flow of electric pleasure so suddenly he doubles over. A hand lifts to wipe at his mouth, Nate staring at the fluid left behind on his hand.
“I uh... shit.” A breath heaves out of Nate as he straightens, searching for Wessex’s gaze. “Thanks.” He nods, works his jaw, and turns, rather mechanically, back in the direction of the Grounds. “We should uh...” A loose gesture points in front of him, and just like that he’s running again, more focused on arriving to the shrine than he is the game.
It’s not exactly the conversation he’d thought they’d have, but it’s still something, and his chest feels lighter for it.
