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!
07-21-2021, 05:20 PM (This post was last modified: 07-21-2021, 05:22 PM by Ray.)
RAY
In ancient times cats were worshipped as gods
It was that time of year again. A time for treats, tricks, and scares. The herbalist had somehow found herself in a park surrounded by children. She'd originally gone out to find taste-testers for a new cookie. A pumpkin one of course, because there was a mad surplus. But now the Attuned was being demanded to tell a spooky story for some reason.
Laughing slightly, she nodded. "Alright, alright. Just don't blame me for any nightmares, ok?" Ray tilted her head in thought, trying to think of a child friendly tale as she got a chorus of agreement. Coming up with one, she began.
"There one was a couple that was traveling via carriage while on vacation. On one of their days, it grew dark before they reached the next town. So they had to look for a place to sleep for the night that'd be safe from the forest around them. Searching, they managed to find a small little farmhouse resting on a hill. The husband went up and knocked on the door." Ray knocked on the air, as if hoping for someone to answer.
"And the door creaked open, to reveal an old couple in their PJs. It was very late, but the old couple was kind and let the husband and wife inside. The old lady gave them tea and cookies before letting them go to their guest room to sleep." The herbalist's tone was soothing and calm, lulling the kids into a sense of serenity.
"In the morning, the husband and wife got up early to head out. As thanks, they left a shiny, beautiful gem as a gift for the elderly couple. A thank you for their kindness, left on the kitchen table. And then they headed to the next town. But when they arrived..."She trailed off ominously.
"They booked a room at the inn, where the owner asked where they'd spent the last night. When they told her of the farmhouse, the innkeeper was confused. They said that 'That house on the hill? The farmhouse? That burned down years ago, the family too.' " The husband and wife were shocked. And so the next day they rode up there to see. And do you know what they found?" Ray's voice dropped as if telling a secret.
"They found an old, burned down farmhouse. And in the center, on the table, the burnt table, was the gem that they'd left." She finished the tale, stifling a laugh at the gasps from the children.
she does not know what it's like not to have deep emotions
"You're a good storyteller."
Amalia isn't very good at sneaking these days, what with the halo and wings and flowers and everything else, so she doesn't even try. Still, she finds that she doesn't need to: Ray's storytelling prowess has entirely captivated her audience, and the gaggle of children are spellbound and oblivious as the Angel slides in among them, leaning against a wall. She hadn't intended to linger, but much like the children Amalia found herself engrossed by the tale. By the time it's finished she's completely forgotten why she came in the first place.
Tilting her head to the side with a small, crooked smile, the Angel gives Ray a small wave, an apologetic flush on her cheeks. The children have noticed her by now, and they begin to murmur among themselves, wondering if there will be another story. Their inquiries make Amalia's flush deepen, another glance and a shrug cast to the information broker. "Do you mind?" she questions, not wanting to steal the other woman's spotlight but neither wanting to disappoint the youths. "I can't promise anything nearly as good."
even when she feels nothing she feels it completely
Ray chuckled, giving Amalia a wave. "Hey! Good to see you again. I hope you've been well?" It was a pleasant surprise to see the other woman, the last time being a while ago. But the herbalist was happy nonetheless and gave the Demi-god a cheerful grin as she waved her over. Stories were always better with a large crowd after all. Especially spooky stories.
"No worries, go right ahead. It'll give a chance to think of a new one." As well as a chance to drink some water and rest her voice. That story had been a bit long after all. Ray was curious to hear what Amalia would come up with, and sat eagerly with the children as the Demi-god spoke.
she does not know what it's like not to have deep emotions
Her excitement at participating quickly flutters into anxiety as the expectant faces turn towards her, eager for a story. Never one for public speaking, Amalia quickly regrets her course of action; still, she swallows and licks her lips, searching her brain for something that might serve to entertain the small crowd.
"Okay- this is a story my mother told me, when I was very young." Leaning forward, the Archangel attempts to capture a little bit of the magic that always seemed to accompany her mother's tales. "My Ma was a healer back in the Hollowed Grounds. One night she'd been working until long after the sun went down and had nearly risen again, when she heard a knock at the infirmary door. It was close to LongNight, and she was wary, but she would never turn a patient away. So she went and opened the door up, just a crack, and peered into the night.
"Outside, Ma could make out a dark silhouette but couldn't see their face. 'Please, Doctor Chandrakant,' the figure said, 'My wife is pregnant and she's very ill.' Now, Ma was still concerned, but she couldn't just say no. So she opened the door a little more, letting some light from the clinic out. 'What happened?' she tried to ask, but the figure had already turned away and was gesturing urgently toward the road. 'Please, we have to hurry,' it said, and its desperation pulled at her heart. So she went and grabbed her coat and her bag, then followed out the door.
"The figure was walking quickly, and my Ma had to hurry to keep up. Ahead, the figure turned down a road that she knew led to the cemetery. Ma stopped, frowning. 'This can't be right,' she called to the figure, and held up her lantern, trying to make out its face.
"Except that as the light struck the figure, she realized she could not. Though light chased away most of the shadows, the figure's face remained shrouded in darkness, impossible to make out. As she watched, it took a step back toward her, and the hand it raised was not a hand at all, but a skeleton with ancient flesh falling from its bones. 'Please,' it said, and now its voice was raspy like wind through dead trees, 'Please come... please...'
"But Ma did not. Lantern still raised, she backed away, until the figure was out of sight.
"Ma didn't sleep at all that night. When the sun rose again she left the infirmary, retracing her steps from the night before. There was no sign of the figure on the road... not until she reached the cemetery, that is. There, she was met with a frightening sight: two skeletons, one holding the other, an empty bundle of rags held in its hands."
Thus Amalia's story ends, in a low and sonorous note. Her deep voice lends itself well to storytelling, and she looses herself in the imagery as she speaks. Like one coming out of a trance Amalia blinks, glancing around at her audience as color returns to her cheeks.
Ray gave Amalia an encouraging nod, trying to set her nerves at ease. The Demi-god launched into her own story soon enough, and the Attuned just as intently as the children. She was curious as to what kind of tale that the other woman would tell.
It certainly wasn't the story she'd been expecting, and it tugged at her heart. Being a healer herself, such a tale seemed all the more real. "Oh that poor family." The way Ray interpreted it, the man had sought help once when his wife was ill and with child. But she and the child hadn't made it. And likely out of stress and heartbreak, the man soon followed, as he refused to leave their sides. The children however all gasped and awed at the story, passing conspiracies between themselves.
Having to clear her throat and let out a shaky breath, Ray tried to get a grip on her own emotions. "I guess it's my turn again." She gave a slightly strained smile as she recalled one.
"One night a man was out riding his horse after coming home from a late night meeting. As he was passing along the graveyard, he noticed a young woman crying on the perimeter gate. She was wearing a beautiful dress and a bright white sweater. Worried, he approached the young lady." Ray set the scene.
Deepening her voice, she continued. "'Are you ok mam? Can I help you?' He asked." Ray's voice went into a higher tone. "'No. I just want to go home. Will you take me home on your horse?' The man nodded and pulled her into the saddle. Following her directions he brought her to an old house and waited till she was safely inside."
Ray took a breath before continuing "The next morning however he noticed that her sweater was still on the saddle. So returning to the house, he knocked on the door. An old lady answered and he handed her the sweater. 'I dropped off a young lady here last night. She left her sweater on my saddle.'" Ray's voice deepened once more.
taking on an urgent tone, Ray began to reach the climax. "Much to the man's shock, the old lady clutched the sweater and began to cry. 'Oh Gods. My granddaughter, she died in an accident years ago. She was wearing this sweater that night. Where did you find this?'
The man was frozen and only managed to stutter out, 'The graveyard', before he became too freaked out and ran home." Story finished, Ray sat back for the reactions.
she does not know what it's like not to have deep emotions
Is it a particularly sad story? Perhaps, but then again, Amalia grew up in the Hollowed Grounds, where tragedy was written into the lines of everyday life. Still she feels somewhat chagrined at the somber faces of the children; surely she had been just as stunned, hearing the tale from her mother that day. Is she really so jaded that stories of death are little more than nighttime amusement?
She ponders on this as Ray launches into another story, this one of a ghostly woman and a man on a horse. And the children are just as enraptured as before, jumping at the appropriate moments, making Amalia smile at their easy engagement. The fear is exciting, thrilling, fun, because it isn't what they were born into. How long will that last?
When it's her turn to go again, the Angel knows what story she'll tell. "I can do one more," she promises, glancing from Ray to the expectant faces. "One day, a very busy woman was riding to a meeting when her horse was spooked and she was thrown off its back. The horse ran away and the woman sprained her leg, and she knew that she would need to find somewhere to spend the night, for it was getting late.
"Luckily, just as the sun disappeared over the horizon, the woman saw a distant light. It turned out the light belonged to a farmhouse a mile off the road. Relieved, the woman hobbled through the field and knocked on the door.
"The door was open by an elderly couple, who looked very surprised. They ushered the wounded woman in and set her down to eat. As it was dark, the woman asked if it wouldn't be too great an imposition to stay the night. The couple looked at each other, frowning, and then the husband said: 'You can stay the night, but we have to warn you, our son can be a little... strange. He's harmless, just... don't let him in.' Tired and sore, the woman waved off this warning, assuring them she would sleep through anything. 'Okay,' the couple agreed warily, 'Just remember- don't let him in.'
"The woman had settled into the guest bed and was about to fall asleep when there was a knock at the door. The woman went to open it, then stopped, remembering the warning that the couple had made. 'Um, who is it?' she asked - and from the other side a beautiful voice murmured: 'Do you know what I can do with my luscious lips and fingertips?' The woman was surprised to hear this: 'Do I what?' she asked, confused. She opened the door just a crack, but the man was already gone.
"Well, just the sound of the man's voice left the woman flustered. It took her a while to settle back down, but she was juuuuuust about to fall asleep again... when there was another knock at the door! Jumping up, she ran to it, her hand on the knob. 'Who are you?' she asked this time, her heart pounding in her chest.
"There was a pause, and then:
"'Do you know what I can do with my luscious lips and fingertips?'
"The woman gasped and opened the door, but she was too late. The naked back of a man was disappearing around the corner, and though she tried to follow him, her sprained ankle gave out! Gasping in pain, she fell to the floor, then crawled back to her bed. But this time, she left the door open just a crack.
"Again the woman waited, and again she grew tired. Her eyes had just barely fluttered shut when she heard whispered: 'Do you know what I can do with my luscious lips and fingertips?' The woman's eyes flew open and she looked up to see the most handsome man she'd ever seen in her life. Shocked by just how handsome he was, the woman barely managed to blurt out: 'What?!'
"The man came closer, until his face was very close to hers. Then he smiled, and raised his hand to his lips, and said---
---'Bibble-bibble-bibble!'"
The final word is less word than action, as Amalia brings her own hand up to blubber against her lips as she vocalizes. Not so scary a story in the end, but the world is scary enough as it is, and as the children burst into laughter the Angel feels thoroughly satisfied with her choice of tale.
even when she feels nothing she feels it completely
08-01-2021, 01:09 AM (This post was last modified: 09-02-2021, 06:58 PM by Ray.)
RAY
In ancient times cats were worshipped as gods
Ray listens to Amalia's story curiously, mind working through the possible paths the story could take. Was the son cursed? Possessed? Some kind of weird creature? But the phrase he kept repeating had the Attuned's face twisting into disgust. That was just plain creepy. Weird, but mostly creepy.
But the story's end has Ray chuckling right alongside with the children's laughter. Lips still curved into a smile, she gives the Demi-god a round of applause. "That was great!" Eyeing the setting sun, she rises to her feet and turns to the children. "Alright everyone, off to home with you. Get back home safe and sound before dark, you hear me?"
After shooing the reluctant kids away, the Attuned turns to her friend with a warm grin. "Thanks for helping me out with them. I should get back to work. But we should grab dinner or drinks sometime. Take care, ok?"
With a wave, the herbalist then took her leave, heading to her shop to continue working on orders and prescriptions.
