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!
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
“Would not be the first,” he shrugged and snorted; even in days where he didn’t mean to be an intimidating presence, the notions and semblances still remained. Life as the Reaper had been designed solely for that purpose – the nefarious, the sinister, the towering behemoth who struck down enemies and adversaries without a second thought, who haunted the Aurora Basin from peaks and summits. The Sword was different, but presumably imposing in his own way, merely by structure and height alone. The pumpkin tethered, he collected it firmly in his hand, before plunking it into the basket just as easily as before.
He watched as her bow pinned another nearby, arching a brow, granting a slight smile as he bent down to pick it up, adding it to the others. “How long have you used the bow?” Eternally intrigued by people and their chosen armaments – their range of capabilities and talents, and how they might prosper and extend those attributes.
Belial, not to be outdone by the humans, had neatly culled another small one in his barreling haste, sharp fangs digging into its vines, and beginning to drag it along the floor after he’d finished it off. The Sword drew his stare back to the companion, smothering the sigh walled away in his chest – the little beast would make a good hunter yet, if he ceased to use his victims as toys.
This doesn't surprise her, earning him a huff of laughter as she stepped down from the pew, picking up the pace to trail alongside him instead. "To be fair, you are rather tall. Not only that, but just... big in general. Some even say you're grumpy." The last part is meant to be a tease and she playfully bumped into his side before hopping onto the next pew, sending another arrow flying just as his question is aired.
"My poppa started teaching me when I was five. I got my first real bow at seven. She hummed, thumb running over the carving of her shift that was etched into the wood. A gift from her father her last birthday when she came back Attuned by Frey. Another memory popped into her head, bringing a bright smile to her lips, "I was basically born with one in my hand. Momma says that I used to run around with my poppa's when I was only three. Despite the fact that it was taller than I was." It was second nature to her at this point and Cordelia felt like she was missing a limb to be without it. The only except to that was when she was shifted. Only then did she feel whole if she didn't have her weapon of choice.
Say something, something like you love me Less you want to move away from the noise of this place
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
He arched a brow at her laughter, but understood it in the midst of self-deprecation, an ease into his faults, flaws, and defects; but he couldn’t help his height, and the bulk alongside it came with training, purposeful, meaningful, to protect and shield the masses. But the segment he did choose to respond to corresponded with a snort, mild sarcasm as his eyes followed and traced after a pumpkin. “Grumpy? I always thought it was brooding.” Her playful bump into him didn’t move his mass at all, and he didn’t strike back, though a wayward elbow might have caught her in the shoulder if he hadn’t been careful.
Gaze segmented on the arrow that soon slid into the wayward gourd, and he utilized his Air incantations to pick it up, so it floated amongst the pews and obsidian for a moment, before being ushered into the basket. Then his strides could resume through the weird adornments of the layered, lacquered void – cornering any stray gourds before Belial could get to them.
But her experience in archery seemed to bring back good memories, and he learned more about the stranger, of the person, rather than another passerby in Halo. “They do become a part of us,” he mused; a light smile tracing over his features, recalling blades in his hand at a young age too – wooden bombardments first, well before steel, before they ever knew or understood the meaning of the weaponry.
"Oh, it's both. Grumpy and brooding." The tall and big part were things he couldn't help. She didn't really blame him for it, but she couldn't help teasing him. If only because it was so easy. Too easy. Cordelia didn't jostle him when she bumped into him, but it appeased her anyway to try. If only because she could say she did.
She's distracted momentarily by releasing an arrow into another gourd so he might scoop it up into his makeshift basket. The Attuned slipped from her perch, sidling up next to him with a small smile. "They do. I wouldn't feel whole without my bow. I'm sure you understand that, though." Cordelia said with a small hum, putting her bow back across her shoulder, "Think we've got enough for baking?"
Say something, something like you love me Less you want to move away from the noise of this place
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
“Fine,” he’d take and accept both with another snort, hunting down the last of the bumbling gourds. Safely gathered, his eyes went towards the mass they’d managed to assemble and procure, content with the results. He muffled some form of laughter at her other response, the understanding of armaments passing through without confusion. “Of course.” Deimos wouldn’t be Deimos without the swords on his belt or the magic in his veins; a very part of their natures.
As for the creatures and future baking, the beast could nod with some manner of contentment. “Plenty.” His gaze swept over to his companions, and both took the hint, intending to mark their journey back to Halo with the accompanying ingredients. “Which first?” By way of a cheeky, juvenile grin; pondering over how to make Sah practice utilizing his oven.
