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!
"Oh, in that case maybe I should just stay in Halo," Seren teased back, as if her presence might be more reasonable than anything else. It was... only halfway a joke, she realized. It was actually quite tempting to just remain. For all that she called Stormbreak home, the stone city felt less welcoming than most other places she had been to.
"Sah has an oven? He never told me about that. Baking contest it is, we should let him know he'll be hosting it." This sounded like too much fun to leave as a jest. Maybe Seren could even learn a thing or two in the process. Apparently sometimes you needed to eat more than pancakes... though the reasoning why had always escaped her.
She hadn't expected the mention of her mother to put such a dampener on the conversation. Accepting another palmfull of roasted seeds, Seren nibbled at one and frowned softly as she turned attention back to Deimos, away from scorched landscapes and dead pumpkins.
"I see. Halo is in good hands, then. How... are you getting along, otherwise? I know she was upset about what happened in Torchline... have you been able to sort it out?" Perhaps it was a personal thing to ask about, the relation between a man and his goddess. Being who she was, however, Seren couldn't help but be curious.
Battle born they send us Covered in our noble blood
✰ Starlight (Passive) | Starfilled night billow around her like a veil as she moves. It is more noticeable in daytime and when she make sudden movements.
The response, while seemingly light, caused a vague inclination of his head; a mild scrutiny. His eyes narrowed perceptively, and then lifted off of her completely, as if not drawing attention to it, except his words did so with apt precision. “In no rush to go home?” To Stormbreak; a realm he knew practically nothing about except by hearsay – the original world of the Voice, a land he’d never be able to traverse within, due to its inhospitable wake towards Abandoned; holders of the Order, who wanted naught more than to see the Ascended and Voice gone.
He eased a snort over the aspects of Sah. “And it took ages to craft.” Tiring, mentally exhausting, put together on the outskirts of poor preparation and the fatigue of Wardening (an aspect he hoped to never have to experience again). A far more innocent approach, because he was in the mood to taunt, he handed over a few more roasted seeds, then wiped his hands of the pulp remaining in his palm. “Do you know him well?”
Safrin as a subject matter wasn’t even something he could fathom or understand at the moment; for he knew he’d disappointed her again. Just in a different way – because he hadn’t wanted the tethers, the chains, that came with her offer – and he said nothing more about it. “I believe so.” A shrug of his shoulders, casting it aloft and aside; not reflecting too hard on a decision he didn’t make lightly, down to the roots and nettles of his bones. “Other than meeting Aurelia before, and the fire situation aside, I do not know much about Sunjata’s replacements.”
The rise and fall of her shoulders in a shrug was slow and hesitant, not entirely sure herself. "I'm... increasingly unsure what it is I return for," she admitted, more honest than she had been with herself up until now. "I've got dad and Remi there, sure. And I've met enough people, but... there are attitudes and practices there that I don't like. Especially from members of the Order. Being around them make me feel... uneasy." Sick to the core, conflicted and afraid, were closer to the truth, and shadows of those sentiments flickered in her eyes before she looked away, off towards a jagged horizon.
Mentions of Sah and ovens were bright and enjoyable in comparison, a ray of light breaking through dark clouds. Seren's expression softened noticeably. The question about whether she knew the young hunter was very off handed, but managed to draw a slight blush to her cheeks all the same.
"Not well, but we've run into each other a few times now. We are friends, I think... at least I want to be." If only she could stop turning all their encounters into either dangerous adventures or awkward fumblings for words. "We sparred the other day... he's quite good, isn't he?" Enough to have brought her down, not that it said much. But she was interested in hearing Deimos' assessment of Sah's skills anyway - purely out of proffessional curiosity, of course.
When the conversation took a turn, Seren had to pause for a bit before she realized that her question might not have been as clear as she meant it to be. "Oh, no, I was still talking about Mother," she clarified hastily. "I guess... what I'm trying to ask is what you really think about her. Not a lot of people even mention her around me... like they're afraid I might take offense." Another shrug, hasty and light; he didn't have to answer, of course. It was just nosy curiosity.
Battle born they send us Covered in our noble blood
✰ Starlight (Passive) | Starfilled night billow around her like a veil as she moves. It is more noticeable in daytime and when she make sudden movements.
Drawn back to listening, rather than doing anything else in restless convictions, he placed the basket of pumpkin on the ground, peeling away any other stringy bits off his clothing. Through the smoke, fumes, ash, and embers, he could fathom bits and pieces of her reflection: a world hastened in tradition, ordained by rigid conjectures. “Living there does not mean you have to agree with them.” There were likely quite a few citizens who didn’t correspond to the Order’s being, rites, and rules; but the gatekeeping tactics ensured it scarcely mattered. In a way, he could comprehend why they manifested the reaches of everything, and on the other proportions, found it all perplexing. His brow furrowed briefly, glancing outward again, along voids of rolling magma far below. “So do you try to change people’s minds, remain despite the flaws, or leave?” Likely considerations she’d already gone over, but putting them out loud sometimes helped, hastened, the process along.
He did chance a glance back at her at the mention of Sah, and tried to hide his snicker at the responding blush; bemused. Better the Abandoned than her once-sights on Noah; at least in age differentials. Pretending as if this hadn’t scattered and maneuvered along his mind in the most juvenile decrees, his eyes lifted back up to the other markers around the caverns. “He is a good friend to have.” As far as sparring wise, the Sword solidified his thoughts with a nod. “And getting better all the time. We hunt frequently.” Exactly what he should be doing; practicing, wielding, striving, forward and forward, onward and onward.
The inquiry about Safrin, far more direct this time, clattered and collected against his ribcage. Mostly because there were sentiments to like and dislike; the goddess just as flawed as the rest of them – only far more powerful, far more potent, far more greater and grander. “I am grateful for her,” he started. “She did not have to Attune me, but did anyway. So I have tried to do my part in following her guidance, and her wisdom. She has been gracious and kind, but I think I disappoint her frequently anyway.” With who he was. With the guildhouse burning. With refusing the offer of being rebuilt on her stars. Uncertain if any of that made sense at all. "She is the only god I have ever followed." Save for ancient Cinnoru; in another time, in another place. The God of Time hadn't inspired anything in the Reaper except utter distaste. Ludo and Frey were proportions of Old Gods he respected; but the foundation of loyalty had been with Safrin.
"True," she agreed, "but there are things I can't just sit by and watch happen, either. So... I suppose I'm still trying to figure out whether it's the first, or the last of those. I don't think I can be a bystander and still live with myself." It was not in her nature, alas. Halo was a tempting alternative, should her attempts at reformation fall short. She had friends there, budding dreams and ideas on what a life in the harsh land might be like. But first... first she might have to tackle the beast under the bed.
The color on her cheeks deepened when she sensed Deimos' amusement. Was she that transparent? Not that it mattered - she did like Sah, though not even she knew to what extent. Their friendship was much too new for anything else to even be a consideration. "I see. Then maybe I should ask him to train with me more often. I don't want to be left behind." In skills, efforts and accomplishments... or in general.
Growing slightly restless with the standing still, Seren picked at sticky cuffs and tendrils of pumpkin entrails while listening to the Sword's praise for her mother. "Ah, okay. What makes her different, do you think? If no other gods appeal to you... why her?" A genuine curiosity, that; Seren knew what she loved about her, but then she was a child adoring a mother. Hardly one to see the goddess clearly - for good or bad.
Battle born they send us Covered in our noble blood
✰ Starlight (Passive) | Starfilled night billow around her like a veil as she moves. It is more noticeable in daytime and when she make sudden movements.
Blind eyes made for more than misgivings, so he nodded at her response. It’d been why they’d discussed the Voice’s tendencies with others – either unaware or ignorant of the situations – why they’d strived to eliminate the ties, in sovereignty for now, over the wintry land. It’d been why they’d sought out cures and tried to save – even though the world intended to shift them at every turn. “Is there something you can try? And then if it is not feasible, you could depart?” A shrug of his shoulders, a statement made by logical leaps and bounds. Alterations first, rather than initial leaving, and perhaps not filled with so much regret or rancor in the aftermath.
The Sword allowed another small chuckle to leave is chest as discussion of Sah seemed only to deepen the crimson. Thoroughly amused with himself now, he utilized the air to start tangling vines left from the gourds into little pieces of pliant string, wiring them along. “Perhaps you should,” being incredibly unhelpful in his teasing. “It is always beneficial to find others that challenge you.” In many regards.
His brows furrowed at the next inquiry; manifestations and incantations continuing to bind the vines together, until they formed some longer plait; what he might’ve done to Zuriel’s mane or tail to get it out of the way before some upcoming upheaval. “Her willingness to give me, and others, a chance.” Hybrids – granted opportunities to still be in the grace of heralds (and even that notion made his nose wrinkle; because they weren’t any less than any other race – and he’d never been ashamed of what he was). “I went to many shrines and received either mocking, or no answer at all.” Perhaps it could’ve been worse, given the tendency for curses now, but in the heat of those moments, with his head bowed and begging, pleading, for some kind of absolution and naught to be found (again and again and again), the notions had still stung. Another sigh flickered too, and the truth that came after it; hollowed out by things broken apart. “Amalia encouraged me too.”
Growing quite still, the starchild drew in on herself as she looked over her options. Setting aside purely selfish emotion and wishes for a moment, she examined the possible routes that might be available. Conversations, rallying support, persuasion and bargaining - there were many options to choose from, it was true. It would not be easy, but... "There might be," she said slowly, deep in thought still. "The cost might be high... but certainly worth paying. Trying would be better than loosing sleep while doing nothing."
So maybe she would spar with Sah. And hunt, and train, and go on her adventures. Grow and learn, and speak to the people who mattered... and not be hasty.
The reason Deimos offered was simple, in essence. A chance. So small a thing, and yet so very profound. Seren's expression turned wistful, the awkward flush fading under the deep, persistent love she held for her mother. "She is good at that, isn't she," the girl murmured. "Giving chances, and watching over us while we stumble along, trying to be our best selves. I love that about her too."
Raising her arms above the head, Seren arched her back in a long, luxurious stretch and breathed a slow sigh. And another - long and steady inhalations, until the tension began to fade and her head was clear again. Purpose and determination allowed back into her eyes, now that she could glimpse a path towards tangible results.
"Thank you, for listening," she told the General with a warm smile. "You are quite good at this. Perhaps you have missed your calling - ever considered becoming a councellor?" Unless it was a wisdom that came with age - but Seren felt kindly and did not offer that as a possibility. Even if the man was getting up there. "I didn't know you knew Amalia. Are you close?"
Battle born they send us Covered in our noble blood
✰ Starlight (Passive) | Starfilled night billow around her like a veil as she moves. It is more noticeable in daytime and when she make sudden movements.
Try, try, try, the better part of valor: what they all intended to do at every waking moment of the day. Except it all used to be so much simpler. Overthrow a dictator. Hunt after vampire gourds. Explore a broken-down barrier, and the world beyond it. And they had, continuing to do so, with much more on the line. He’d never wondered what it was like to simply cease and desist, to bow his head and let the wake take over; carving little niches for himself, for his comrades, for his friends, for the ones who stayed. “And it might solve your problem,” he rumbled, fixing his eyes on the plaited vines, entirely unaware of what the tribulation was.
As for Safrin and her chances, the Sword could not, parse through the void with a small smile. “Sometimes I fear I stumble more than I succeed. But you are right, she still grants opportunities.” To change, to grow. He snorted at her following insinuation though. “No. That means I would have to listen and follow my own advice.” Then the General arched a brow, indicating with a mocking, self-deprecating instance upon himself, the lightest of smiles touching the corners of his mouth. Another sigh wandered its way through, hastening the swirl of vines upward, permitting them to bend and twist along pockets of air.
Then his entire form grew quite rigid and still at the question. He’d walked straight into that one, with lining out the truth, with partaking in veracity, and the incantations froze mid-air. But Deimos refused to sink, like he’d done so many god damned times before; a quiet murmur leaving and nothing more. “We were married.” The were the biggest indicator that it was no more.
A wry look shot his way at the comment. Not untrue, but rather obnoxiously said - very redundant and self-explanatory - and it was tempting to pick at him for it. Seren snorted and let it lie. He was feeding her treats, after all.
Laughing at his self-deprecations, Seren shrugged lightly. "Fair enough. I appreciate it all the same - even if it ends up with me learning from your mistakes." She poked her tongue at him, then quickly skipped out of reach, in case he decided to throw something else at her.
On the whole, the mood had improved so much that the sudden shift in Deimos' posture and air was akin to a scream ripped into the still air. Seren paused and stilled in turn, afraid that she had said something wrong. The dread turned to certainty when the reply came; quiet and closed off, and so simple that she couldn't find purchase for her curiosity anywhere without digging claws in and tearing gouges into his silence.
They were married. A tragic story of love and loss nearly wrapped into three words.
"I see," the girl softly replied, when other words failed her. "I'm sorry, Deimos. I didn't mean to pry." And she would ask nothing about it, when the rigidity of his shoulders so clearly spoke of pain. Old, new, unforgotten? It didn't matter, she didn't need to know.
Easing herself over into his space, the starchild reached a hand for his shoulder in whatever sympathy and support - and apology - she could convey in so simple a gesture. Would offer hugs too, if he seemed inclined to accept them, though she did not count on it.
Battle born they send us Covered in our noble blood
✰ Starlight (Passive) | Starfilled night billow around her like a veil as she moves. It is more noticeable in daytime and when she make sudden movements.
“Someone should,” he snorted and grumbled in return, but avoided instigating further; having nothing to launch or assail at her save for incantations or the basket of pumpkin.
Besides, there were other rooted figments, inflictions of the past he desperately yearned to lance off and away. He could feel her stillness, the abrupt pause in shifts and movement, and while he hadn’t intended to cut and splice and render everything apart; his frame, his figure, couldn’t help it. He didn’t flinch and he didn’t shy away, but didn’t want anything more. That incised enough pain to last another lifetime; and revisiting it failed to soften or yield him to the billowing blows; keeping his head above the proverbial surface.
The Sword nodded at her apology, and then set forward, easing his way out of her reach; the explanations gone and moving further away with every passing breath. “We can move ahead. See what else is here.” Restless, needing to remove himself from his own mind, hand clutched tightly around the basket handles, reaching down, down, down, trying not to skim backwards into walls and fortifications. “Loren and I found diamonds once.”
His need for space and motion was accepted without comment, and Seren fell in alongside her friend, hands dropped down to sway empty at her sides. Sticky with pumpkin, with questions, with the ever present need to connect with others when they were in pain. Better to walk that off too - it seemed that sometimes being close only caused more discomfort.
It was her turn to be surprised when Deimos spoke up again. Not over the diamonds, but over the name. One she had not heard in a very long time, and startling enough that she stumbled on a rock.
"You know Loren?" the girl asked, eyes wide and brimming with questions as she found her feet again and turned on the Sword. "I never hear anyone talk about him, I was beginning to think he was only a figment of my imagination." But he was not. Couldn't be - unless a ghost could heal wounds and soothe fears, and help shape the makings of a young girl's mind.
Battle born they send us Covered in our noble blood
✰ Starlight (Passive) | Starfilled night billow around her like a veil as she moves. It is more noticeable in daytime and when she make sudden movements.
No more on the subject made his spine less rigid and taut, and the movement through limbs and long strides elasticized, rather than contort and bind him along tethers again. Eventually the motions were free-flowing, recognizant of a monolith clambering downwards from lofty towers of his own making; tilting his head to listen as something else seemed to surprise her. A billowing of more Air unfurled, ensuring their pathway was free of smoke and fumes, permitting them to see the other proportions of obsidian walls.
“Decently.” It was a shame, maybe, that the man was not spoken of. Disappeared off into the midst like so many others; perhaps to collect himself after trials, after tribulations, after unknowingly stepping upon so many blunt feelings. The course of frustration and vexation in the midst of crisis had never run smooth, and the disease-laden days had been ones of high tension and lack of ease. Comfort had only been in the notion of cures. “I do not know where he has gone to. But he was a proficient healer, even if he had a time making difficult decisions.” The hardships from before too – like during Fiat Lux, had taken a toll. Much like so many of them, the fellow had his flaws, virtues assembled somewhere in the midst. “Did you meet him?"
Listening with rapt attention, the girl barely paid attention to where she was going. The landscape around them was lost in the hazy of memory, in images conjured up by Deimos' sparse recounting of the lost healer's attributes.
"Mhm, I did. Twice, when I was still very little." Her tone turned soft - not the same kind of soft that Sah inspired, or her mother, but rather a tone of warm introspection and nostalgia. "The first time I was playing by the lighthouse - at Aumakua - and I stumbled. Scraped my knee... and he showed up right on time, and healed me. It was the first time I ever saw the usual kind of magic up close." An enchanting first encounter, gentle and kind - it had shaped much of her opinions on magic in general. "We chatted for a bit - I think I tried to make him play games with me - but then Sunjata showed up. We were neighbors, so he sometimes kept an eye on me, you know? And for some reason seeing Loren made him very upset. They said something about him hurting my fathers... and I remember being very upset by that, and sent back home without being allowed to say goodbye." The memory was both hazy and clear, remembered vividly as though it was yesterday but distorted, as memories were wont to do.
"The second time... was when Apopo erupted. Father brought me into the city so that we would be safe, and I was sitting on the doorstep, watching the ash fall from the sky. I was so scared... but suddenly Loren was there again. He did tricks with ice magic, and talked to me... and I forgot to be afraid for a while. I wish - I would like to meet him again, someday. And thank him for that."
Small acts of kindness... they outweighed by far the recollection of Remi running after the man in a towering rage, at a nightly festival full of lanterns and light.
Battle born they send us Covered in our noble blood
✰ Starlight (Passive) | Starfilled night billow around her like a veil as she moves. It is more noticeable in daytime and when she make sudden movements.
While they walked, he paid attention to every nook and cranny, memorizing pathways while Seren tended to images of the past. A different Loren; aspects driven in kindness and compassion, rather than any foolishness. The Sword made no mention of the time the healer assisted in blowing up the bar during LongNight, or Fiat Lux’s unfortunate, unwinding haze; a festival that even now carried and buried so many connotations, he couldn’t recall if anyone still bothered holding or attending it. These were better figments regardless – though staggered and strained with punctures and piercings from Remi, from Ronin; and Deimos could only briefly reflect on the history. Maybe it didn’t matter now, with the once-Launcelyn gone from the depths. Hopefully safe and secure.
But with not being able to see, to thank, to conjure all those positions – the Sword frowned briefly, considering. “You could always write them down.” A shrug of his shoulders, eyes angling back towards her while they walked, half-tempted to swing the basket of pumpkin into something. “That way if you do see him again, the thoughts have not been lost.” And then, returning to lighter formations, a short laugh managed to fumble its way through. "Last time I saw him, I broke his nose."
