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!
I never had a chance to be soft I was always bloody knuckles
Stockpiling for LongNight was different when the notions of her winter stead meant she’d be by herself – save for Fangorn – in the house left behind, drawn into the cliffs of Aumakua. The honeybee had contemplated tradition by way of snow moss or other filaments meant to safeguard them into silence and oblivion, as had been the methods in the Hollowed Grounds, before remembering it’d be the crackles of bonfires and parties down along the sands.
Not damnation. Not doom.
Perhaps it was difficult to shake those old habits when one had faced demons so many times before; but the youth shrugged her shoulders and made her way along the beach. For now, lined amongst the sand, she intended to snag at driftwood – dried out and waiting – for the eventual crackle of the fire, for the combustion of wandering flames and cackling comrades. Fangorn snagged at a few with his vines, grabbing at the smaller filaments and twigs, while Melita began to pluck at the gnarled, twisted bombardments, gathering them across her arms as they proceeded along dunes and dust.
and shards of glass I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
The Nightingale had not fully uprooted herself from the warmth of Torchline's shores. She still visited the Halenani to check on the women it employed, as well as clients here and there around the main town. But in the midst of Deepfrost, its warm embrace was a needed respite. Phoebe had never been a fan of the snow and cold, and after so many seasons spent in the Hollowed Grounds, there were far too many poor memories associated with it to find much to enjoy.
Pim pulled her from her musings though, interest bubbling up in the pink dragon's mind. Glancing over, honeyed eyes saw a familiar form - though from the back it was difficult to pinpoint the fiery haired maid...until she spied the vampire gourd at her side. "Melita?!" she called in surprise, changing course to hurry in her her direction. Was it really her? How many seasons had passed since the demigoddess had seen the other young woman. Perhaps they were not particularly close, but Phoebe at least considered her a friend and someone to trust. But last she had known, the young woman had yet been in Hollowed Grounds!
Branbast stayed napping on his perch, draped over her shoulders. He didn't know this Melita, and thus didn't care, in true catlike fashion.
I never had a chance to be soft I was always bloody knuckles
The waves lulled behind her in a frenzy, and it was calming, peaceful, serene, while they tended to sticks, twigs, and driftwood. But only when her name seemed to call out over the wind did she raise her head from her task, turning, shifting, eyes narrowing as if to spy something, someone, tricking her into misdirection or inattention. Her gaze shifted into widening features, surprised, as brows raised towards her fiery hairline. “Phoebe?” A question too – though the more she stared at the familiar figure, the more she could parse through the truth in her own mind – older and wiser perhaps – but recognizing Pim ensured she’d been accurate.
So a swift smile bloomed as the breeze rolled along the coast, and Fangorn offered some form of grumbled greeting from his stance beside her ankles, the pieces of wood in his vines twisting and turning with the rest of them. Only question after question seemed to spring from the honeybee’s mind, circling and cycling back through the age-old volleys of how many years had been spread between the two of them. “How are you? What brings you back to Torchline?”
and shards of glass I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
The Nightingale could not help but beam as she heard her name reflected in Melita's familiar voice. It seemed so rare these days to run into an old friend, especially one that went back as far as she did. Hurrying down the bank as best she could in the loose sand, Phoebe made her way to greet the honeybee girl, and if allowed pull her into a warm embrace. "It is so good to see you! It's been too long!" she said with a grin. "Are you and Ludo still getting on?" she asked, vaguely recalling that the young woman had had an affinity for the raggedy god.
Pim grumbled a greeting back to Fangorn, plopping down contentedly next to Melita. She was a safe person, no need to be on guard. From his perch, Branbast opened one, large orange eye, taking in first Melita and then glancing down at the vampire gourd. His pupils dilated, second eye opening to gaze upon the other companion with a wide-eyed predatory stare, tail twitching as if the seer cat considered pouncing upon Fangorn.
"I'm...I'm well. Very well." she said with a warm smile. It was not commonplace to be so content in Caido, but at least in that moment she could enjoy the calm. Of course, the storm yet loomed in the distance, mere seasons away, but that was future Phoebe's problem. "Oh, I was visiting the Halenani - babies don't stop being born just because businesses change ownership." she said with a light laugh. Honeyed eyes glanced around, a knowing grin curving her lips. "Did I catch you in the middle of gathering bonfire wood for Longnight?" she asked.
I never had a chance to be soft I was always bloody knuckles
Melita hadn’t expected the Nightingale, nor the hug accompanying her, but she gave a light laugh, returned it in response. “You must be busy,” she hastened with a soft grin; uncertain just how much Frey’s demigod had been committed to in either Torchline or Stormbreak. “Of course,” recalling the food fight at the end of the last season.
Fangorn, a survivor, and wily in his own ramparts, gave the cat a sneer – fangs protruding from his mouth. Pim was known, of course, and received a wave of his vines, before he bumbled and grumbled at Melita’s ankles; a zone of safety.
Phoebe’s visit to the Halenani made sense, and even after all the time passed, it sounded somewhat normal – simplistic, given everything made to churn and turn. The honeybee accepted it, and bent down to return to her procuring of wood, hastening the dried proportions into a neat pile. “You did. I was hoping to get enough for several bonfires.” Celebrations and parties, rather than the angst-filled dread of previous LongNights. “You’re welcome to join me.” It’d be done faster, swifter, with more hands and able forms.
and shards of glass I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
Phoebe smiled a little, shrugging at Melita's comment. "I suppose we all are these days with an impending war." she said. Though the smile curved her lips, her eyes conveyed the hints of dread and sadness at her words. War. It seemed wherever she went it was an inevitability - or was it merely a case of the human condition of never being content and always seeking more? Perhaps both. "How was Ludo last you saw them? It seems the gods are keen on their quests these days." she asked, curious if the raggedy god had asked her to do something to prepare for the war-torn days ahead too.
Branbast's tail twitched, gaze eerily steady as he considered the vampire gourd at the other woman's feet. One moment. Two moments. Perhaps even three past before the cat settled back down, resuming his nap with one eye open. The gourd would be too much effort to chase about and put up too much of a fight for what the cat was willing to exert at the moment.
"And how have you been?" Phoebe asked, curious about her friend's well-being. "Oh, I'd be happy to!" she said, setting to the task right away, gathering up solid pieces of driftwood. Pim helped out too, happy to splash in the seafoam to drag in large chunks of wood that could dry out for use later during the week of LongNight.
I never had a chance to be soft I was always bloody knuckles
Something within Melita clenched and unfurled all in the same breath. She didn’t want to talk about the war. It wasn’t in a sense of denial, so much as the impending doom and gloom, the rise over the horizon, the inevitable swing of something horrific she’d seen so many times before. Why they couldn’t just all live together, peacefully, without the outcries of injustice, the spark of indignation, or the scathing walls of death, was probably a ignorant notion; but gods if she wasn’t sick and tired of wondering if everyone was going to make it out all right. “Ludo seemed fine. Started a food fight at a party.” And here she grinned, because it’d been amusing, and far better than other actions of sedition. Maybe a reminder that it didn’t have to be a parade of endless sorrow and dread.
And that promise she made tucked itself in the back of her mind; saving it for nothing and no one but herself.
“I’ve been okay,” she offered with a light shrug. "Helped fight off a skeleton monster in the desert, and I'm still traveling with the Ark." Nothing quite out of the ordinary. “Not sure if you heard about my uncles moving,” and she said it with such a tone that suggested nothing in particular – save for a big empty house she’d inhabit every couple of seasons, when the Ark wasn’t stretching its wake across the seas. From there, she snagged at another round of driftwood, and then motioned over to the already established pile, dumping the collection in her arms there.
and shards of glass I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
Phoebe couldn't help the slight snort that preceded her giggles. A food fight? Far be it from her to judge the gods, it just didn't seem...godly. It seemed...well... childish. But such tricks and fun were in the very essence of Ludo. "How very Ludo of them." she said with a light laugh, setting down collected logs in one of the piles Melita had begun to collect.
Her eyes widened as Melita so nonchalantly mentioned fighting a skeleton monster. "Well...clearly you survived but...did you win?" she asked, curious now. It seemed an amazing feat to her who only knew the very basics of self defense. "How does one even fight a skeleton? There wouldn't be any flesh or organs to injure, right?" she said, trying to build the scene in her mind's eye.
But then she mentioned her uncle as if she should know who that was. Instead, the midwife tilted her head in confusion. "Who is your uncle? I'm sorry I don't remember..." she said, having found that some details that preceded her change into a demigoddess had gotten fuzzy. Probably had something to do with turning to goop and reforming into a person again.
I never had a chance to be soft I was always bloody knuckles
Melita’s experiences with Ludo had always been in the charitable, mischievous aspects of the god – rags flowing, laughter pervading, trickery and silliness far more profound than any murderous proportions. The only other angle, conformed and bewildered, had been the removal of a memory – but then again, she hadn’t wanted it in the first place. So she smiled and nodded with the notion of it all being very Ludo-esque, dragging another proportion of driftwood from where it’d been stuck in the sand.
Winning against a skeletal being had been more about being out of range and not in Ronin’s blast area – but the honeybee didn’t say that. With the slightest wrinkle to her nose, she wiped her hands after dropping off the light log in the pile. “Ronin did a lot of damage,” by simply being who he was. “And I used my arrows.” And they still lost someone. “There was a merchant who’d wanted it gone – so I suppose we won in a way.” Just not how they’d wanted to – silly and merciless to begin with, and then downhearted in the next motion and movement.
She tried to dive away from that tendency to maroon herself in things that could’ve gone better, releasing a very loud, obnoxious snort at Phoebe’s question. Maybe the notions had never come together, but while she snagged at some sticks dried away in the dunes, the youth gave her answer. “Sunjata and Nate are my uncles.”
and shards of glass I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
Phoebe made an "oh" shape with her mouth though nothing but silence spilled from her lips. Of course Ronin did a lot of damage. That was what he always did in such battles, exploding in a ball of starlight and all. "Well, if you're alive and it isn't I would call that winning." Phoebe said in agreement, nodding with a bright smile. It was a clear victory that way - at least in her mind. But she was a healer, not a combatant. Perhaps it wasn't so simple as that for those who knew better. "I hope the merchant paid you all well for the service you provided."
But the shock of Melita's next words left the midwife stunned - so much so that the driftwood in her hands went tumbling down...right onto her feet. She shouted in pain, falling back onto her bottom in an effort to get her feet tugged out from under the offending logs. Nothing was seriously hurt, thankfully, but still not a pleasant experience. Besides, there were more pressing matters to attend to - like the niece-in-law she hadn't known she had once upon a time. "Sunjata is your uncle?? How? I didn't...he never...you are from the same world??" she stuttered.
I never had a chance to be soft I was always bloody knuckles
Melita gave half a grin, though some of it was lost in the muster of deceased combatants. As for the merchant, she snorted, shrugging. “We were allowed to pick some items from his stock.” Which had been nice and generous, she supposed, though she’d already given her gloves away – sensing they’d been a bit useless and irritating in a way she didn’t want to depict.
The honeybee hadn’t expected the ricochet of wood and logs to go tumbling down, down, down into the sand at the revelations – as she’d always thought everyone knew about her relations and kin – eyes widening as she watched the reaction. “Are you all right?” Though with Phoebe as a healer, she’d likely be fine; but the state of things seemed to be in disarray. Which always occurred when Sunjata was brought up.
But the youth hadn’t meant for it to be slung in this fashion, and she offered her hand out to the Nightingale, to help her rise from the sand. “In a way,” not bothering with all the nuances and details, the strength and stretch of connections. Some of the former had long since been discarded. Portals, twists, turns, and difficult explanations weren’t on the depths of her throat today. That she hadn’t been mentioned didn’t surprise her – not now. Just a more disheartening venture. “Sorry. I didn’t think it would bother you.” Not anymore, not from years of after.
and shards of glass I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
Was she alright? Phoebe glanced at her foot but then nodded. Nothing more than a bruise would form there, if that. Thankfully the sand had absorbed most of the impact, sparing her foot the full force of the log slamming down on it.
Phoebe took Melita's hand, using it as leverage to pull herself up. She listened quietly, remaining silent for a few moments after to collect her own thoughts. It seemed even if she was his niece, they weren't particularly close. That was heartening in a sad sort of way. "No, no I'm bothered I'm just...surprised. It was probably the last thing I was expecting to hear is all." she said gently, not wanting to offend or hurt the red-head's feelings.
I never had a chance to be soft I was always bloody knuckles
With Phoebe returned to a standing position, Melita yielded her strength, and then went back to the dropped logs. Snagging a bundle in her arms, she continued on the same pathways, bare feet placed over the sand, the rest of her mind struggling to surmise what to even say. Perhaps an entire subject change, as she frowned, brows knitting together, not glancing back at Phoebe. “Are you in Torchline long?” Uncertain how the Nightingale might have been traversing – likely the skyport – in between her other duties in Stormbreak.
Then she encountered a particularly nasty, stubborn piece of driftwood, ensnaring, wrapping her fingers around its smoothed bramble and branch sticking out of the dunes, but to no avail. A sneer and a snarl was nearly coaxed across her features, but there was probably a growl there instead, as Fangorn came over to assist.
and shards of glass I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
Phoebe shook her head. "No, I actually have to get back to Stormbreak. I've more clients there. Speaking of..." she said. As she paused, the midwife looked up at the sky to see where in its path it was. And of course, between the work and the chatting, it had gone a bit further than she had expected. "Oh my goodness! It's that time already?" she gasped. There were only so many skyboats that came to and left Torchline in a day after all, and they ran on a rather strict schedule.
"I am so sorry, Melita, but I have to run or I will miss the last flight!" she said, picking up the front of her skirts to help make the sprint to the docks a little easier. "Be safe, and have a good LongNight!" she called before hurrying away.
