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 itch to start refurbishing the barracks was there, right in the lines of his spine and the pit of his soul. But with nothing official notched anywhere, he simply stoked the fringes and boundaries of the building itself, inspecting, drawing up notes and parchments for…reasons, before wandering further into the midst. He was half-inclined to stand along the roof as he’d done so often in earlier days, staring out over the expanse, eyes drawn to the eaves, streets, and walls below; surveillance of a world he enjoyed.
However, instead, he began lining up various targets. The training grounds were in fair use, arching a brow at several soldiers who were occupied with some of the bow and arrow bullseyes – biting his tongue when he felt the need to correct a few of their stances. Thereafter, instead of taking up his habitual blade, he went for a spear, attempting to mimic the movements from previous seasons, where Darkeye had given him some instruction. Not one to ignore education and sagacity, he hurled it at the first, watching it conform deeply into a makeshift shoulder wound along the effigy.
Being back in Halo was as strange as it was comforting. The cold settles in her lungs and bones, making everything somehow sharper, brighter and she wonders briefly if she'd been alive the whole time she was gone from here. She's not entirely sure where she's going, but her boots crunch through the snow, carrying her forward as she wanders the streets of her home. There had been thoughts and inclinations about going out to hunt, wanting to restore their supplies that were sorely lacking in preparation for Deepfrost, knowing how difficult it was to find game once that cold set in.
Yet she hadn't brought herself to wander outside of the Citadel. Perhaps fearing she'd be unable to make it back in if she did.
It's only the sound of training coming from the barracks that pulls her attention and she follows it easily, spotting those training with the bows and having to bite her own tongue to keep from correcting them, but they're saved from any scrutiny as she spots Deimos. Her head cocks to the side as he throws the spear, striking the target deep in the shoulder, calculating the movement. "Your grip is a little too far down and you need to bring your front foot up." The Attuned offers as she approaches the target, yanking the spear point out and bringing it back to him with a grin. "Noah showed me."
Cordelia Limore
'Cause they got the cages, they got the boxes and guns They are the hunters, we are the foxes and we run
Though it struck true, with enough force and precision in it to make a mark, he had more to learn. An easygoing snicker rallied in the corner of his mouth as Cordelia’s insinuations echoed along the hall, twisting his head over his shoulder to follow the track of movements, hand open to receive the weapon when she hastened it back. At the mention of her own skills and Noah’s attentions alongside, the Cheshire grin remained. “Of course he did.” There was probably a joke embedded in there, but Deimos was too much of a gentleman to continue that line. “Thank you.”
Thereafter, he lined back up, adjusting his grip, eyes upon the hilt, and altering his stance. “Better?” Integrating and gaining knowledge all the while, intending for sagacity in multitudes and marks, walks of life – then hurling the armament back towards the target. This time there was a far more audible thwack as it squared somewhere in the center of the target’s face.
The Sword waited, gaze on hers again, with a habitual, feline tilt to his skull. “How was your family?” Presuming she’d checked in with them as soon as she’d been able – the majority of them flicking off in different directions as soon as news traversed and traveled. Much to be done in a shorter length of time.
There was a joke and her eyes narrowed in response, a playful glare and daring spark in honey irises, lips twitching with the hint of a smile. However, the Attuned rolled back her shoulders, deciding to make it all the more awkward for the Sword. "He absolutely did. Very encouraging too. He kept saying 'just like that'." A pause as her lips started to curl into a smirk, "And 'you handle it so well'." This time her brow arched, daring him to say something else, "And 'you were made for this'." Cordelia had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing, shoulders lifting in a shrug as if she hadn't said all of those things loudly enough that the other soldiers faltered in their motions, daring to look back at her.
Cordelia shifted her attention back on the task at hand that wasn't messing with Deimos, head tilting to the side as she studied his stance before nodding, watching the spear fly through the air once more to sink into the target. "Much." She said in agreement, shifting to remove her bow from her back, drawing an arrow from her quiver as she lined up her own shot.
"They're well. Thankfully father has done well with hunting this last season. Mother and my sisters were able to do plenty of trading with outside merchants, too." A simple way of saying that they weren't hurting for food without her here. Something that had been a constant worry. Cordelia released the arrow, letting it sink into the chest of the target with a dull thunk, a breath escaping her as she dropped her arm. "It's strange being back. It almost doesn't feel like I'm meant to be here..." She wasn't the one who was exiled. She had left on her own volition, but somehow Halo felt as if it had turned its back on her too.
Cordelia Limore
'Cause they got the cages, they got the boxes and guns They are the hunters, we are the foxes and we run
Oh, goading was it? Perhaps Cordelia had thought he’d fall quietly into some awkward juxtaposition, but when a challenge was on, the Sword had a way of flickering straight into juvenile behavior. All diplomatic ease and dignified manners were forgotten in place of mischief and audacity. So he merely snickered as she carried on, permitting a rumble of laughter to exude and echo along the chambers of the training grounds – enough to set a few of the soldiers into a sudden jump. “Sounds like you found your rhythm,” persisted in response, lifting his jaw in a seditious, emboldened manner, the Cheshire grin not far behind.
Retrieving his spear, plucking it deftly out of the target’s nose, and shrugging at the hole left there, he wandered forward and out of the way, eyes tracing over Cordelia’s arrow. It sunk in just as nicely, and then he took up his stance once more. Practicing the execution from prior instruction, he ensured his grasp was the same, but flung it using his other arm, intending to ensure both were maintained in muscle memory. This particular line went for the target’s gut, spiraling directly into the center – an unfortunate wound.
But he listened as well, taking it all in. That her family was well, and then the other lines. Deimos’ brow furrowed slightly, then arched, uncertain. She hadn’t been amongst the banished or exiled, and had made the choice in loyalty to go with them on their meandering journey through Wilds, Torchline, and plots. Instead of giving in to all of his presumptions, the Sword took more of a blunt approach. “What do you mean?”
Cordelia can't help laughing along with him. Especially when the nearby soldiers jerk in response to his sudden outburst. She sometimes forgets that people aren't as privy to Deimos's lighter side as she is. "I certainly did. Not that it was ever a question." The hunter hums, still grinning as she knocks another arrow, releasing it to sink into the target with a thud.
The conversation turns, however, and she finds herself sighing. Dropping her stance as he approaches with the arrows, her shoulders lift in a shrug, taking one back and pressing the tip of her finger to the end of it. "I mean it doesn't feel like it used to. Maybe because I was gone for so long, but things don't feel the same." It's truly not too complicated. Simply put, it didn't feel like home yet despite the fact that it always had been.
Cordelia Limore
'Cause they got the cages, they got the boxes and guns They are the hunters, we are the foxes and we run
The Sword snorted once more, but when there wasn’t any rallying towards more jocular notions, he permitted the semblances to rest. The soldiers nearby eased back into their own tactics and diversions, while he concentrated on efforts with spears and arrows. The thud of Cordelia’s armament was enough to warrant his own persecution of the effigy once again, this time coming in from a different angle, persistent in study and scrutiny over the potential for vigilance and violence. Bringing his arm back, the volley rounded through muscle and mayhem, and upon release, rallied straight into the makeshift adversary’s shoulder.
His nose wrinkled, for it hadn’t been as precise as he’d wanted, but the power and strength had been there just the same – through and through the fabric.
Going forward to pull the weaponry out and hand it back to Cordelia again in a silent routine, he pondered over the wake of her words – brow remaining somewhat furrowed. “You will find your place again, if that is what concerns you.” They all would – fit right into the mold of their accord. “Or another one altogether.” New factions and filaments in the bends and hallows of what she’d learned in their time away.
Cordelia too the arrow from him once more. The flat of her thumb against the blunted tip, bottom lip catching between her teeth, teeth pulling at the chapped skin there. A few moments passed, tense and silent, but she let it go. Her breath leaving her in a rush as she found a slight smile to turn his way, "You're right. I'll settle in again, I'm sure." Once she knew what her role was here again. Where she was meant to fit.
The Attuned drew back the arrow once more, releasing it towards the thigh of the target instead, letting out a satisfied hum as it sunk straight through the other side. "Have there been any recent developments? With the investigation or anything else?"
Cordelia Limore
'Cause they got the cages, they got the boxes and guns They are the hunters, we are the foxes and we run
Reading her expression, he wasn’t certain how much deeper the ravine, the measures, the insecurities went. Knowing his own, it was probably safe to say Cordelia has more going on below the surface, and if she wasn’t going to share, then he wouldn’t pry. Instead, there only seemed to be a rounding of forced, forged acceptance, and he was forced to let the subject go.
Long, calloused fingers toyed with the spear in his hand for a moment, making some other adjustments, or merely allowing a semblance of restlessness to meander through his pulse. It was difficult to tell, while his mind worked and wiled away at other things – her inquiry gave him enough pause that he didn’t hurl the weapon at the object again, biding and mulling over the matter of the world outside their own. “I have not heard much more on the investigation.” Perhaps they were still finding evidence, or tracking portions down. He’d been sent to the funeral, after all, and not on clues or hunches. “But there was an assault on Stormbreak.”
The fact that there was still little about the investigation was frustrating, but she knew these things took time. Between Noah having to get things back in order and heading the investigation it couldn't be easy. She sighed, fingers running along the string of her bow, testing the tautness of it. Until he mentions Stormbreak, making her head snap up and her eyes widen, "On Stormbreak? By who? The Ascended? Wessex?"
She wouldn't be surprised. Especially not after the way they so ruthlessly attacked Halo. What could have been their motivations this time? Did they even need one? She wasn't so sure anymore. "Do you know what happened?" Unable to stay still, Cordelia strung another arrow, releasing it as her jaw feathered. It sinks into the target dummy's head through where one of the eyes would be.
Cordelia Limore
'Cause they got the cages, they got the boxes and guns They are the hunters, we are the foxes and we run
Fingers splayed on the spear until he began to maneuver it back and forth in his grasp, from hand to hand, by way of some restless movement. He watched a number of soldiers mulling about in their own formations, gesturing at targets, displaying their armaments, but none of the focus really honed in there. His mind was busy, unfurling, unwinding, all the pieces together, striving to find the beginning thread and to start there on the melding and molding. “Supposedly Samuel, an Ascended, and Gideon, a priest from Stormbreak, killed one another.” Whether or not the names mattered to her was unknown; he knew them both, though not equally. The former had been his brother-in-law for a time; shy, awkward, trying his best in a world that didn’t correspond to his gentleness. The latter had made no secrets about his sentiments towards the Ascended, and if Deimos were to guess, caused the entire thing to unfold.
He placed his spear down upon the floor though, using it as a grounding anchor, occasionally poking at the floor. “So rather than taking this as justice or an even field, Amun, Wessex, Edrei, and Nate attacked Stormbreak.” It spoke of vengeance and bloodshed, and how far one might go in the wake of loss – an understood machination in his mind, but the following cost far more potent. “They attacked the Tower – which held some of the Order, and a hospital.” Who knew what lingered in between either. “In the end, while Ronin defended the city, the Tower came down, killing a number of innocent people. Edrei and Nate died. Wessex and Amun escaped.” A breath unfurled, waiting, perhaps, for her reaction; his own mouth drawn back into a frown.
When you see something out of the corner of your eye, turn to look, and see nothing at all, what should you conclude? That you were having a hallucination? Or that your peripheral vision is perhaps not to be trusted. Ask yourself, are you tired? Drunk? Under the influence of something? Is the lighting good? Are there lots of moving shadows about? Are there reasons you have to think that your mind is playing tricks on you?
Because...well, because it would be absurd to think that out of the corner of your eye you had just seen a house. A house with a figure slamming its hands against one of the upper windows with enough force to shatter it, and then...
She paced, unable to sit still even after striking the target again, jaw feathering with the irritation of the situation getting to her. The Attuned shifted her eyes towards him, stopping in her tracks, brows knitting at the names. She didn’t know them. The names unfamiliar to her. Not that the deaths meant nothing, but was it really worth attacking an entire city? Killing innocents? ”What does that mean, then?” Was war at their doorstep already?
”And Nate… He’s one of the Voice’s demigods. Does that mean he can come back..?” Cordelia asked, looking up at him with concern in her eyes, worry settling in her bones. The woman moved towards the target, wrenching it from the dummy with more force than required just as she saw something from the corner of her eye, whipping around quickly towards where it was. ”Did you see that?”
Cordelia Limore
'Cause they got the cages, they got the boxes and guns They are the hunters, we are the foxes and we run
His stare went elsewhere; from her pacing to the floor, to the soldiers gathered along the sides, near the braziers, pondering how much longer it would be before they were all at arms. Sooner, rather than later, might have been an accurate prediction, but with everything else gnawing on the horizon, with ceasefires attempting to be maintained, and likely other things hovering just above the surface, all they would know was that time was a precious, fleeting providence. “I think we need to be prepared for the inevitable,” he sighed, mind and machinations going to the variety of sketches stored away. Plans. Plots.
While she wrenched out her arrow, he contemplated twisting the spear back into the target’s forefront. “Supposedly he is immortal. So yes, he would come back.” Not Edrei – though she’d committed those actions before too; desecrated by a landshark and then taken an oath for the Voice some years later.
Distracted, momentarily, from the nuances and nooses, something from the corner of his eye lingered – bizarrely, piercing at memories, factions, and fabrications. “Yes,” he murmured, brows furrowing in confusion. “What was it?” Perplexed, he rubbed his hand over one of the closest windows, as it to clear the fog from the glass. Hoping - maybe, in the back of his skull - if she'd seen it too, it didn't represent something still tangled and foiled in his blood (like the sickness within prior years - consuming them with hallucinations and fires).
