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!
Eating fire is your ambition to swallow the flame down
Notes sent and relayed, LongNight presents extended, and the youth took the time she had remaining before monsoons and sailing off on the Ark, to wander towards the Boondocks. Familiar with its essence, the bright lush fields, the beatific plumes and blooms, and the gentle, rolling, lull of the sea, it was only the roads and paths she traversed that differed. She meandered through jungles with her bag and weaponry on her shoulder, ghosting and coasting amidst the roll of King’s End – understanding how and why her uncles had chosen such a place.
To hide? To find peace? To snag at repose when they still could? The wildfire youth wasn’t going to begrudge them any of that – even if there were inklings in her mind of root causes.
Her note sent ahead had hopefully granted enough time. But she hopped merrily, excited, through the illustrious meadow, before spotting the house ahead. Half-expecting the promised, adopted rugrats to be sprawling along the void, she approached cautiously, head tilting in a variety of directions, intending to spot something. Fangorn grumbled at her heels, perhaps at her foolishness or eagerness, but in the end, she eventually only sidled up to the door, and knocked her knuckles against the frame. “I’m here!” erupted on a loud announcement a moment later, and then she stepped back, waiting, rocking back and forth on her feet.
to be lit up from within, vein by vein to be the sun
we're stars now, can't you see? the center of the world is lonely me
The note arrives and gives Nate just enough time to panic, preparing for Melita’s arrival fo days leading up to it, as if she’d expect perfection of some kind of them. They all know who they are, and Melita’s knows better than most, and yet.
Sunjata’s out for the afternoon, just to keep tensions from flaring, and the house is awash with the scent of baking and sweet smoke, warm puffs of it wafting out the windows as Melita approaches. The door she knocks at swings open before her greeting even has a chance to fully ring out, Nate’s smiling face waiting in the opened space.
“You found the place okay then?” He jokes immediately, reaching out to drag her into the house, so she can at least take a look around, meet her... nephews(?) and enjoy some of the treats he’s prepared.
every time i almost die i feel so alive why would i ever be more careful?
Eating fire is your ambition to swallow the flame down
It was likely for the best – but there was still some sentiment of rancor, of hurt, of bitterness curled along the back of her tongue at the notion of Sunjata not being there. The youth savagely stoked away the emotion with a brush of her mind, as if she could push it all aside. Melita had always known her worth. The lack of her other uncle’s sentiments weren’t going to stop her.
So instead, she turned her full attention to Nate at the door – swinging open and wide, senses inhaling the scents of something baking, and the general warmth the world exuded. “Obviously!” She snorted, permitting her frame to be dragged in – eyes widening and gazing in all directions without pretense. Nosey and curious to a fault, and with Fangorn following on a few bobs, leaps, and bounds, they were in the sanction within a matter of quick, swift motions. “This looks nice.” And she meant it, from the little amount she’d viewed – mouth not hanging open, but curled into a smile. “What first?”
to be lit up from within, vein by vein to be the sun
We'll get married or buried We'll have a baby or kill someone
No sooner does Nate release the fiery-haired girl than Pemota is upon her, resting her shimmering bulk across Melita's shoulders in a warm, contented pressure. "It's really not much yet." Nate can't help the grin that spreads across his features as he leads her through the basic sitting room towards the kitchen. "We're gonna put in real walls soon, but we just needed something to last the winter." He seems almost embarrassed of the state of the house, both the incompleteness and the messy, lived-in look, blankets and sweaters strewn about, random knick-knacks and trinkets piled up where they fit.
"This is gonna be the uh, the family room." Nate sweeps an arm out, gesturing loosely at the mess, before gesturing at a ladder. "Bedrooms are upstairs, but... I think we might make one of the rooms down here a spare." An easy shrug rolls over his shoulders, indecision stomping over his features before that stubborn grin pops up again. "You'll come visit again when it's actually done." It's not a question, but he doesn't linger on it either, not as they step into the kitchen properly, revealing a basket, and two generously bundled up babies laying helplessly on the table, a veritable fort of bumpers around the edge just in case they managed to roll in the few moments Nate was out of the room.
"I thought it might be nice if you, and me, and Romeo and Amadeus here went on a picnic."
Well, I can't decide what to try Commitment or a gun
Eating fire is your ambition to swallow the flame down
Even if it wasn’t much (which she’d consider a farce), the youth was full of fire and fervor, eagerness and ebullience pervading along her senses as she awaited the grand tour. In jovial cheer she snagged and scratched at Pemota’s presence, wearing her along her shoulders as she was guided along the depths of the house, listening all the while as they went from room to room. If Nate was embarrassed, the little smuggler hardly noticed, eyes wide, nosey endeavors remaining full-fledged and indulgent.
Because proportions were vastly similar – as if the only alterations had been location of the domicile. “Some things never change,” she murmured at the blankets and sweaters, the trinkets gathered around. But it was with insatiable fondness, rather than any scolding or derision. Her gaze went to the ladder, nodding in reply. “Probably a good idea, considering all your guests.” That they’d always extended hospitality to others – even if it wasn’t in their best interest. She smiled, nodding at the sudden demand, a snort billowing and following through to the kitchen.
And then there were some babies.
Melita had been fond of Aoife and the haphazard display of other youths before it all came crashing and tumbling down during Fiat Lux. But she’d also never been responsible for them either, so as she advanced with ample curiosity and arched brows, a careful demeanor attempted, strived, to take hold. If she seemed hesitant, it was only out of absolute caution – the honeybee was not a careful individual by any stretch of the imagination, and little babes were fragile. “Oh, okay.” She eyed the bundles, the bumpers, the moving and swinging feet of the children. “What do you want me to do?” was a low whisper.
to be lit up from within, vein by vein to be the sun
We'll get married or buried We'll have a baby or kill someone
"We managed to host two over Longnight." Nate admits, pausing for just a moment at the threshold of the kitchen so he can huff out a laugh, forcing it around the strange lump of guilt in his throat with only a little bit of effort. It's gone a moment later though, the reveal of the newest members of the family more than distracting away from whatever emotion tries to take root.
Stepping forward, Nate gathers both of the babies into his arms, a little head nestled in against each shoulder. "Well," his voice has dropped to a gentle rumble, a purr, "you can hold one of them if you want, or you can carry the basket." A sharp chin just towards a decently sized basket sitting on the counter, a blanket tucked in around whatever goodies Nate has prepared already. If Melita chooses to take one of the babies, Nate will offer a few good-natured, irritating bits of advice before they head out into the thawing wilds.
It's a bright, blustery day, the wind just cool enough to keep it from being truly nice, but it becomes more and more manageable the further from the sea they trek, Nate cheerfully talking about a spot he'd found that seemed like it would be nice to stop in, right near the top of a hill with the remnants of some stone wall jutting from the fresh grass. It's different than he remembers though, a tent set up, and a small area cleared out.
Well, I can't decide what to try Commitment or a gun
Eating fire is your ambition to swallow the flame down
Melita didn’t miss the sudden glint of emotion from Nate, but she had no way of parsing through its meaning or depths either. And then it was gone, and she wondered if that was an ache she didn’t need to press or pierce into. Perhaps it was for the best; leaving it to traverse through the air and settle elsewhere.
Besides, there were babies and directions and a tight feeling of overwhelming, careful proportions distracting her from everything else. “Maybe the basket would be a safer bet,” she conceded, swallowing hard – maybe she’d be braver about the notions later. But they seemed very fragile and Melita was not a mindful, meticulous being.
Leaving the infants to Nate, but peering closely at them anyway, she followed obediently with several skips and general frolicking through the portions of thickets. Undaunted by the bluster of wind, she swung the basket back and forth, listening to Fangorn rumble and grumble after her, picking up objects that happened to fly out. Glancing upwards, shielding her eyes from the sun so she can truly spot the area, she hummed to herself. “Oh, this is nice. I like the tent.”
to be lit up from within, vein by vein to be the sun
We'll get married or buried We'll have a baby or kill someone
Pemota drifts alongside them as they walk, lingering low with Fangorn and making a nuisance of herself as much as she can. It’s only when they arrive that she rises, hovering around Nate’s shoulders as he stiffens to look over the tent, a frown on his face. “It wasn’t here last time.” He mutters darkly, glancing to look at Melita before focusing my his eyes back on the tent.
While they watch, a handful of people in bright costumes exit the tent and start some kind of performance, a single one of them playing a complicated looking pipe while the rest juggle flowing scarves between them. It’s… interesting, and harmless enough that Nate feel comfortable settling down, static arms pulling the blanket out of the basket and laying it carefully on the ground so they can sit.
“I made sure to pack all your favourites.” Nate smiles, most of his attention on his niece, but the rest on the strange performance they stumbled upon. He balances a baby on each knee, making sure they’re comfortable before he gestured for Melita to dig in.
Well, I can't decide what to try Commitment or a gun
Eating fire is your ambition to swallow the flame down
Oh. So the tent hadn’t been his idea. This caused a furrowing of her brows, immediately suspect as his expression altered and changed, and the youth ceased swinging the basket back and forth. If anything, a semblance of a guard took over – brash, determined, and unafraid, the familiar, emboldened traces of her fire and embers as people moved about.
Her uncle’s ease moments after – since there seemed to be some kind of performance instead of any rowdy, dangerous, treacherous thing – permitted her to follow along, but Melita always had her eyes on them in some way. “Weird. I haven’t seen them before.” Maybe it was a King’s End thing, considering it really hadn’t been that long since it’d been opened up to the rest of their ilk.
Her attention deviated back and forth, side-eyeing the babies too as she sat along next to Nate, snagging at the basket. “All my favorites? It must be very full then!” And she snagged immediately at a pastry lodged within, fingers grabbing at it quickly, even if there was no fight for food. Fangorn bounded upon the edges, vines swinging out towards one of the children, dangling one as if to entice them to play. “Thank you,” she hummed as she bit into it. “I trust you’ve all settled in well?”
to be lit up from within, vein by vein to be the sun
We'll get married or buried We'll have a baby or kill someone
Now that he's opened himself to the idea, the impromptu performance little bit neat to watch. Not his usual cup of tea, but despite the strange appearance, it seems ultimately harmless. "Stranger things have happened, I guess." He concedes to Melita with a shrug. "I've heard about some other things happening in King's End too, but... I dunno, this is the first I've seen." His attention splits between the show and their picnic, a grin splitting his face as he watches his niece tear into the basket he'd brought.
"Why do you think the basket's so big?" Nate shakes his head in mock disbelief, glancing over his shoulder as Pemota catches up with them and settles over Fangorn, all but teasing the twins as they start to reach for vines and stars both. He reaches into the basket to grab a pastry for himself, sniffing at it and making a face before he took an aggressive bite. "It's been nice, actually. Hell of a lot quieter than Torchline was."
He glances back towards the show just in time to catch a particularly impressive feat of juggling — how many balls were they even at now, jesus — and lifts his hand to whistle loudly, immediately crumpling the faces of both babies. Nate notices just before the crying starts, a quiet "Fuck" leaving him as he scoops up one of the twins. "Sorry, can you grab Rom?"
Well, I can't decide what to try Commitment or a gun
Eating fire is your ambition to swallow the flame down
She echoed a response around her pastry – otherwise occupied with stuffing it in her face, she can only adequately encompass a muffled agreement. They’d all seen some weird shit, but this was tame in comparison. Enjoyable. The honeybee swallowed down another piece before attempting to speak again. “Yeah. It reminds me of the little Ludo play.” Amalia had once put it on – back before. Something in her heart lurched, face beginning to fall for a moment, permitting the babies to become a distraction, a deterrent, from the sudden aches. “Quiet is nice,” even if neither of the twins seemed to enjoy such a sentiment. She almost permitted you deserve it to drop from her thoughts, but the moment was shattered with piercing cries.
She did manage to grab Rom, gently, hesitantly, as if she might drop the poor thing and then there’d been even more crying – soothing and pacifying as best she could – Fangorn’s vines ensuring some quick work with maneuvering pieces.
Then they could settle once more, and enjoy these little peaceful blips within the world.
{FIN}
to be lit up from within, vein by vein to be the sun
