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!
10-18-2021, 07:12 PM (This post was last modified: 10-18-2021, 07:13 PM by Wessex.)
W E S S E X
The last light is fading from the sky as Wessex enters the Temple and stations herself at the entrance to wait and see who will join herself and Isla (for now, at least) in the Infirmary. Wearing a not-so-unusual slight frown, the elder blonde perches on the arm of an old pew just inside the great door, peering out into Sanctuary. Memories, both good and bad, float like ghosts in front of her - Rex and Clem dying as they seek safety, various LongNights spent huddled and silent in a run-down house stuffed to the brim with snow moss.
None of these things are helpful now, but they come just the same. Haunting and unbidden, a life filled with loss.
A bow an arrow slung on her back, it rests with her chakram on the stone floor, along with a small bag in which she’d squirreled away an impromptu sparkly little thing. And the letter Isla had sent about demigod blood, with a very important question on her mind.
The Wraith
Code blatantly stolen from the fantastical, wonderful Odd
"Happy Longnight, Wessex." Isla's soft voice echoes against the vaulted ceilings; because of course she is already in the Temple, and she has been for some time now. The infirmary never sleeps and, as an Ascended and a medic both, neither does Isla. Stepping out and towards the entrance to where the demigoddess has seated herself, she links her arms behind her back and gazes up and around.
"I never expected to be saying something like that," she remarks of her greeting, offering a small smirk. "I died on my first Longnight here in the Hollowed Grounds, and then last year we were all fighting... But maybe things can start looking up now? I hope so, anyway," she says.
An oxymoron, something that wasn’t possible for Grounders and the Wraith’s entire life, and yet the spill unironically from the Remedy’s mouth. Wessex is quiet for longer than she should be, trying to wrap her head around the phrase. Even now, she can’t believe they may be okay (and unbeknownst to her, they are but their siblings are not). They may escape unscathed.
“Call me dramatic, but I’m not sure I can say that,” Wessex replies, somber but not depressingly so. “But I hope that changes. If, after everything…” ah, yes. There’s the depressing part. If they’re still around after the war, then perhaps -
Well, perhaps.
“I’m just waiting to see if there are any stragglers.” Then they can retreat behind the second pair of doors, and Wessex reaches down for her weapons to indicate that she’ll soon be ready, revealing a half-healed long gash in her forearm. It isn’t quite healing before Isla’s eyes, but if she were to check on it tomorrow, it might be nothing more than a scar.
The Wraith
Code blatantly stolen from the fantastical, wonderful Odd
"Mm, perhaps it is a bit premature of me. But I like to live in hope, if nothing else. Maybe we will be alright," Isla murmurs, smiling a bit to Wessex and shrugging her shoulders, not that she blames the Wraith at all for her suspicion. Nodding at the suggestion of any stragglers, Isla does peer out to the blank, dark canvas beyond the windows, but she doesn't know how many to expect, really.
"Here I was hoping that perhaps we could host a celebration for everyone. Perhaps we can do it in FlowerBirth. I know it isn't the same because the sun will have risen, but it's still something, right...?" She trails off as she notes the gash along the demigoddess's forearm, raising a brow. "Would you like me to take a look at that?" she asks on autopilot.
With a soft hum in the back of her throat, Wessex manages a small smile. “I like that about you.” Some of them should live in optimism. Some of them should be beautiful and bright and a beacon for all that they can be; more than war machines and soldiers, but healers, artists, and genuinely kind, good people. “Parties are always nice. I doubt anyone would say no to an invitation.” And she’d try not to hijack it for updates and war purposes.
“Oh, it’s probably fine…” Her attention remains on the outside as the last sliver of golden light sinks behind the horizon as she brushes off the concern. That’s their signal to retreat. For now. With no one else in sight, Wessex shrugs, shoulders her things, and goes to shut the doors. “I’ve got some pretty good self-healing. But... I've heard you know a lot about us. I'd be curious to learn...” Looking to Isla to lead the way, Wessex follow behind and once they’re through the inner door and it’s shut behind them, she remembers the small bag.
“I’ve got something for you. Or Bastien. But really I think you’d look better with it.”
The Wraith
Code blatantly stolen from the fantastical, wonderful Odd
For now both of the ascended will hear with their keen senses that something has gotten into the Temple.
How? Where? When?
With footfalls that sound sluggish, wooden, and a bit uneven, there is also the sound of scratching, like nails against the wall, or of tree branches being dragged across a window..
"That was my thinking as well," Isla confesses with regard to nobody refusing an invitiation, and honestly, since she'd become an Ascended (including the time where she had been dead) she doesn't remember a time when they had all come together as a group specifically for the purpose of celebrating who and what they were. It might be well overdue. And her cheeks round as Wessex confesses to liking that about her, the medic gesturing for her to go ahead into the clinic so she might look at her arm.
"Well, I've been trying to learn, it's true," she admits, arching an eyebrow to hear that Wessex has something for her. "Oh?" she says softly, before something changes in the Temple. Her eyes snap up, scouring the darkness, and she takes a step back out of the infirmary automatically. "Did you hear that...?" she says, and it's half a whisper back to Wessex.
They almost make it, but then perhaps it's no small boon that the two of them hear it, before some other, you her sibling unknowingly enters into danger.
The tell-tale scratching, the abnormal sound. Wessex sighs and looks back at the Remedy. "Yep. Do you think…?" But even as she says it, she draws her chakram out and readies her eyes, alert and ready to try to strike first as soon as they can identify whatever (or whomever) is making that sound.
Wessex takes a couple steps forward into the Temple, trying to make herself the obvious target instead of Isla.
The Wraith
Code blatantly stolen from the fantastical, wonderful Odd
Spheres of red and gold suddenly lob out of the darkness, shimmering brilliantly as if lit from within. There's a joyful sound that accompanies the colours which only adds a strange and confusing quality to the ominous grating sound of claws on the wall.
Wessex is struck squarely in the chest, and as she is, glitter explodes outward. Her nose grows red and even her ascended senses will be able to detect the bright and obnoxious scent of wintergreen that now lingers on her.
In the darkness, two pairs of red eyes peer out from behind a fringe of needle-sharp green. The scent of pine is overwhelming.
Until the end of LN, Wessex has a red nose and reeks of wintergreen.
"Gods, I hope not..." Following in Wessex's wake, Isla shakes out her hands and lets blades tip her fingers, ready and willing to slice and dice any who might play target with her general. Only when someone does just that, it's entirely unexpected, and Isla furrows her brows and darts back from the Wraith instinctively. "What on earth was..." Before her eyes Wessex's nose grows red, and even with her dull senses, on the inhale Isla can smell the fresh piney scent.
"That doesn't seem like a Longnight... monster..." Glaring into the darkness, she spies a pair of foreboding red eyes. "Come out here and face us!" she demands, all bared fangs and claws.
It’s nothing like what Wessex expects and when two gold and red balls hurtle her way, she’s too surprised to even try to dodge them. “The fuck? -” she yells, batting at the glitter cloud that seems to explode from the ball (hey, at least she can’t choke on it), from her, and the new, overwhelming smell. Unable to see the change in her nose, she can only wrinkle it in annoyance at the wintergreen.
“No fucking clue,” she grumbles in agreement with the Overseer. And as Isla bristles against whatever lurks in the darkness, Wessex spots the pair of eyes too and tries to target whatever it is (certainly not Ascended) with her lasers.
The Wraith
Code blatantly stolen from the fantastical, wonderful Odd
As Wessex's lasers illuminate the firling, there is a brief moment where its crooked smile and ornamental hideousness can be seen clearly, before fire engulfs it.
Crackling pine and the snapping of sap makes it sound as though mini-explosions are taking place within the temple, and even as the firling screams, the chiming of bells makes the entire ordeal seem almost cheerful.
Of all things Isla expects to see, what appears to be a grotesque firling is not one of them. And honestly, the way it lights up from Wessex's lasers, she'd almost have preferred a Longnight monster. Almost.
"Is that one of those little trees from last year?" she asks, her voice higher with her surprise, and she skitters back away from the fire instinctively. The last thing they need in the Temple is a fire breaking out, especially when they are supposedly inviting a lot of the other Ascended to join them.
"Gods, the noise," Isla hisses, darting back into the Infirmary so she can fetch some water. (If it hasn't smouldered to nothing by then).
In the moment before the little tree ignites, she feels a bit of regret. But the creature itself doesn’t radiate the kind of happiness the firling last year had. It doesn’t feel… right to her. Wessex winces as it goes up in flames, shrieking like a banshee, the sounds echoing off the high ceilings. “I think so?” she answers, though she’s not sure at all.
“It didn’t seem jolly at all though. Remember how it felt? The eyes were… not that.” The Wraith turns away and calls on her shadows to try and move anything that might also be flammable away from the firling. The smell of wintergreen mingles poorly with the smell of burning pine and ornaments, and she wrinkles her nose, trying to dislodge the combo somehow.
“If there are any Monsters here, it'd attract them in a heartbeat.” It’s meant to be wry, but as soon as she says it, she realizes the truth. Maybe they’ll know sooner rather than later if the Grounds are safe. If the fire is indeed successfully put out, she'll head back towards the Infirmary again.
The Wraith
Code blatantly stolen from the fantastical, wonderful Odd
