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!
The war was coming and Sam was...well, himself. In the last years he'd changed a lot of things in himself; worked and trained and tried to be better and stronger, but he was still painfully aware of how much strength someone like Remi possessed. In comparison, he was like a spring breeze blowing against a stone wall. In the last months he'd been trying to hone his body to be at least some use in a fight.
It didn't come easily. The hastily put together sack-mannequin he'd made stood firm despite his swings of the knife he'd brought with him, Sam trying to apply what he'd learnt with Aisha to the techniques he used but still finding that he felt unsure on his feet. Like if this were a real opponent, he'd be on his back within moments.
At least he had his shield and invisibility, but he couldn't run forever. With a determined 'haahh!' he surged forward to stab the mannequin, the motion at least satisfying as the knife sunk through fabric and hay.
And the laying of hands, and the speaking in tongues
Torchline had been, as always, lovely, but it’s glittering lights and never ending heartbeat were only distractions for so long before they started to press in too much. He’d headed east, travelling through jungle and lingering on the edge of Stormbreak for a few days too long before moving on. He doesn’t mean to be heading towards the Grounds, but... well, it was one of only a handful of places he hadn’t been yet, only Halo and the Draig sitting alongside the Grounds on that list.
And maybe he was feeling a touch spiteful. Family brought it out in him.
Snow is falling by the time he makes it into the Grounds, stepping over the scarred earth and holding his breath a moment, like he’s expecting all of Gideon’s worst fears to come true. They don’t, obviously, and it’s with a giddy kind of excitement Jonah tears off across the Grounds, weaving a dizzying path around snowy fields and sickly copses of trees.
It’s less than what he’d expected, somehow. Not in a bad way, but it would be a lie to say he wasn’t disappointed. The ruins are a touch better than the wasteland, though the snow seems to have driven most people inside. But not everyone. Jonah passes by a less than empty street and pauses, watching the man he’d accidentally snuck up on stab at slapdash targets. He’s not quite able to suppress his chuckle at the fierce battle cry though, knowing he’s giving himself away.
All invading properties, excising all of you out of me
Sam's war-cry failed in it's intended purpose, which was to make him feel strong and confident, but it apparently succeeded in making someone laugh. Frowning, he whipped around, searching the area for the source of the chuckle; it wasn't the first time he'd been spied on in the ruins and Sam wondered just how many people made a habit of sneaking around behind the pillars and walls.
His eyes finally landed on a man he didn't recognise. Quite handsome, about the same age...but new, which meant potentially dangerous. At least he couldn't be from the Order, if he was here.
Quietly taking the knife from the dummy and holding it at his side, he raised his chin just slightly over at the new arrival. "...Hello. I'm um, training, here. I suppose you think it's funny that I'm not very good, which...I'm not, but I'm trying my best." He was surprised to find such defensive words in his mouth right away, but Sam stuck by them, staring challengingly at Jonah.
And the laying of hands, and the speaking in tongues
Yeah, there's no way to hide himself anymore, but it's fine. Jonah wasn't really trying to stay hidden, no matter what that little voice in the back of his head is saying. It's easy to ignore, at least, if only because it sounds like Gideon. "I wasn't laughing because you're not very good." Jonah takes the opportunity to step closer slowly, hands loose at his sides and his eyes roaming over Sam's face, his mouth, with a single-minded intensity. "You're just... not the battlecry type, I don't think." There is a note of apology in his tone, his brows pinching together, then relaxing.
He almost stumbles over a loose piece of rubble and stops his approach, laughing at himself this time. "You know, I uh..." He rubs at his nose and glances to the side, eyes leaving Sam for only a moment, even if his face is still turned away. "I could give you some pointers, if you wanted."
All invading properties, excising all of you out of me
Jonah stepped forwards and while his stance wasn't threatening, hands at his side, Sam found something about the intensity of his gaze to be a little off-putting. He stayed very still, only taking one step back, the last years not easing him into introductions with strangers. "...Well, the energy has to go somewhere when I'm trying to fight. I find it hard to build up any kind of steam at all in the first place." He sighed, already feeling the adrenaline he might have had running away out of his fingertips.
Seeing Jonah stumble made him more human, easier to approach; Sam held out a hand to steady him then drew it back as it was unnecessary. "Oh, um...do you know a lot about fighting? I suppose if you promise not to be too rough, that might be helpful." He didn't want to get beaten half to death, but he had always learnt more from real people than his own imagination and a dummy.
