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!
Isla returns with a bucket of water in no time at all, hurriedly stepping forward to toss it over the firling's remains. They hiss and spit and smoke, but soon enough there is nothing at all left in the darkness but the two Ascended and the ringing silence. "No, it did not look like the firlings I remember," she agrees with a furrowed brow, dropping back to stand beside Wessex.
And she waits. And waits a little more. And still, nothing comes lurking out of the shadows. No firlings or monsters or anything else emerge. "I think we're in the clear," she mumbles, gazing up at Wessex and tilting her head at her cheerfully red nose. "It seems to have done something to you," she remarks. "Shall we head into the infirmary? I can check you out - and take care of that cut - and then we can make a full search of the place?"
“It has?” Wessex asks, furrowing her brow in sudden concern. “I mean, I smell a lot of Wintergreen but that’s it.” She begins to check her visible skin as they head towards the infirmary - not quite alarmed, but definitely bewildered and concerned.
The infirmary itself is somewhat unfamiliar; when it had been Phoebe’s domain, the Ascended had carefully avoided it and its volatile keeper. And as an Ascended, there wasn’t much a traditional healer or doctor could have done for her. The cleanliness of the place makes her weirdly nervous - it wasn’t like the Remedy’s office - it was different. Wessex feels like she doesn’t belong here. Still, she plops her stuff down on a bed and then sits on the edge while rooting through one of her bags for a second, smaller bag, which she presents rather unceremoniously to Isla.
“These are for you. Nate tried to tell me he’d look better in them, but I told him he doesn’t have the neck for it.” There’s the flash of a crooked, amused smile (because no such quip had actually happened) and if Isla opens the drawstring pouch, she will find a pair of very dark blue sapphires circled by a fine, silver wire that dangles from a small earring hook. It isn’t the most elegant work, but there has clearly been some effort put into it.
Then, like it’s nothing, she starts to roll up her sleeve. “Search or check up first, Madame Doctor?”
The Wraith
Code blatantly stolen from the fantastical, wonderful Odd
For Isla the infirmary is like a second home, and she waits for Wessex to take a seat on one of the beds before she moves to sit before her, a small device in her hand that looks close to what modern men would call a pen-light. "I can smell the wintergreen on you," she admits. "And, uh... well. You have quite a rosy nose." Before she can proceed, however, the demigoddess is holding out something for her, and Isla raises her eyebrows as she accepts.
"For me...? Oh... oh, they're lovely. Thank you," she says, both surprised and touched by the gift. "You are right, Nate doesn't have the neck for it. Perhaps I'll have to continue the trend and get him something he can wear instead." Chuckling, she takes a second to appreciate the earrings before replacing them in the pouch.
"Check up first - it should only take a second. If you could look straight ahead, please?"
“Oh” That’s entirely unexpected. Crossing her eyes to focus on her nose, the Wraith can now see that she does indeed have something that resembles a terribly tissue-irritated nose. A soft huh sits in the back of her throat, but at least the alarm is gone. Just a small curse. Nothing too bad. And if it weren’t for the creepy firling, she might find it funny.
Settling into the role of patient, the demigod does what she is told and looks straight ahead, easily unblinking, into the penlight. Without any idea what it will do or what Isla can see, Wessex holds on to her questions about herself. But there were others, more urgent, that bubbled up and wanted to fill the space. “In your letter you mentioned they needed demigod fluid. Do you think - do they know about Azrael?” She isn’t so much worried about herself as she is her youngest sibling.
The Wraith
Code blatantly stolen from the fantastical, wonderful Odd
"Mm, oh," Isla agrees, smiling softly as she flashes her light into Wessex's eyes and away again. It shows her much more than the reaction of her pupils, that much is clear, and it's interesting to be able to almost see how quickly her arm is healing beneath the skin, even if it can't be tracked necessarily with the naked eye. Once she's finished with that examination, she moves to wrap up the injury to the Wraith's forearm, even if she doesn't necessarily need it.
"The good news is that whatever is making your nose glow and you smell so refreshing isn't actually doing you any harm," she says, before matters take a turn towards the more serious. Blinking, she glances up at Wessex and suddenly feels very foolish. "I didn't even consider Azrael," she confesses. "I don't know if they know about him, but we ought to act as if they do, don't you think?"
“Well that’s good.” Despite no mention of how long it might last, the General can at least rest easy that it isn’t doing anything bad to her. Nor is it contagious. And if this is the worst thing that comes out of LongNight? Then she’ll take it, every year if need be.
Wessex follows any and all directions from Isla, allowing her arm to be bandaged with a quiet bemusement. The Remedy is gentle, yet firm, and the Wraith finds it a bit comforting. “See anything interesting?” she asks, unsure just what Isla can see, and how she might differ from others in her examinations. But that’s a long conversation for another time when SEs aren’t due, and Azrael quickly pops into the forefront of her mind.
“I suppose so. Though if you hadn’t considered them, maybe the Greatwood won’t either. I hate having all these conversations with them - feels like I’m ruining their childhood and innocence.” She makes a face, sad and clearly unhappy about the prospect of telling Az they might have yet another thing to watch out for.
And since they’re done with all that, Wessex looks toward a window - they were going to do a search, right?.\ “I’ll do a quick perimeter check.” She’s arguably the quieter and faster of the two of them - and doesn’t need to bother with doors.
The Wraith
Code blatantly stolen from the fantastical, wonderful Odd
"Hm? Oh, plenty." Isla grins. "I have an optical upgrade, and the light is something that our goddess made for me. You ought to come in for a physical one day and I'll tell you everything. It would also make a change from Nate." It's with a soft laugh that she finishes up the bandages, satisfied, and steps back. "Good as new," she murmurs, carefully putting away the gift from the Wraith into one of the cupboards where she can retrieve it later and put it into her office.
"I hope so," she says of Azrael, her voice growing a touch quieter. "But I suppose I would rather them know. Whether we like it or not, their childhood will be cut short by the war. It isn't all your fault." Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, the medic turns back and gives Wessex a nod.
"While you do that, I will check the entrances to make sure no stragglers have arrived," Isla decides. And so together, with the firling problem hopefully solved for the foreseeable future, they get to work.
