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!
"Then I will hunt alone as usual." Darkeye tried a grin that seemed rather forced. "You grow from your challenges." The smile disappeared. The look became slightly melancholic "I need to know how human they still are. If they lost all empathy, I don't know if I can still rescue them. But I can sleep better knowing that I have at least tried. I owe it to Bastien, I think. He and I were not friends, but he was someone I would have liked to call my friend." Darkeye rubbed his hands. The death of Bastien was harder for him than he thought."I plan to use large sets of weights made of iron. Tight as chainmail that helped keep a kite on the ground. I just don't know if I can get enough bait." Darkeye played with his beard again and thought about how best to handle the situation.
"Let's do it, then. After a siege, they need something for morale and something to lift their spirits. Baking is not my forte, but I'm happy to help where I can. I'm also happy to pass on that they are from you." Darkeye put his plate in the sink after he had finished eating. Washed his hands and cleaned the workplace that they can work.
the ocean does not apologize for its depth and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
Alone with landsharks was a risky endeavor – causing his nose to wrinkle slightly. Whether or not others would show depended on their willingness to assist, and not all Ascended were cut from the same cloth – just as much as everyone else. As for Bastien – he unfurled another sigh, partially out of habit, partially because that loss would probably sting later. “He was a good man,” and such a demise seemed unfitting for someone like him. “Just be careful.” Put value and stock in decisions. Calculate. Endeavor to be smart, not brazen.
Baking wasn’t Deimos’ forte either. It had been Amalia’s. Leaving that thought well behind him, he snagged at the chocolate, chipped and blocked. “You do not need to,” when noting they’d come from him - he wasn’t permitted in their land anyway. “I figure if I melt it within the mold, it will conform to it?” Easier and simpler – placing one of the bigger hunks of the sweet into the mold, and rendering the temperature so it contorted within the framework of a skull.
"He was a man who didn't deserve to die like that. He was like you said, a good man. I think with him at the helm, the attack on Stormbreak would never have happened. He was a man of his word. I would like to drink to him if you have something stronger. It was in my world to drink to the dead and leave something for the dead." Darkeye's face was difficult to read. He was usually very open, but on this subject, he always liked to withdraw. "I try to be careful. But I'm also a soldier and I still know that I can die doing this. If that's the case, Deimos, it was nice to meet you. As well as your friends." Darkeye smiled now and turned to the two companions of Deimos who were sitting on the carpet by the fireplace.
"Then I will deliver it as an anonymous donation" Darkeye smiled and helped as best he could. Metal was his thing but anything to do with cooking or baking he was never taught so he helped Deimos as best he could. "I think that's how it works at least with metal. But that can't burn,"Darkeye laughed out loud.
the ocean does not apologize for its depth and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
“You are probably right,” and he sighed – pondering over the likelihood of violence at Bastien’s command. He’d never held much of a penchant for furor and retribution, as far as Deimos had ever seen him – had yearned to protect his family, set up his artistic endeavors, and bring some manner of serenity to the Grounds at their height. He didn’t know how much of an emptiness the skilled man had left behind, but it must’ve felt vacant, desolate, in those reaches.
Reaching into his cabinets, the Sword pulled out a bottle of liquor, untouched, and a single glass per Darkeye’s request – snorting slightly at the insinuation of impending death. “Bastien would not have wanted you to leave this world on his account.” Then he slid the containers the warpriest’s way, tending to his molds and the confections within.
He shrugged his shoulders, waiting for the first, experimental, one to cool, before prying the form back, and plucking the skull out of its reaches. Holding it up to the light, the chocolate seemed to have been cast in the right designation, effective for the most part. “If you want to place the chocolate in, I can keep going with altering the temperatures.” He handed the bag over as well, after placing some more along a row.
"I plan to finish some of the things he started if the people at the Grounds will let me,"Darkeye said. "He had started replacing the gray stone with colorful ones." Darkeye smiled and shook his head at the same time. "They laughed at him for it, imagine that, and it made him so insecure that he stopped." He clenched his fist so that a short crack could be heard. "These fools spit on his cover."
Darkeye grabbed the glass and poured for himself and headed toward the fireplace. "I know that when I die he will be very angry with me, Deimos, but I think I can sleep better knowing that I tried. I still have so much to do in Caido." Then, standing by the fireplace, he raised the glass. "To you Bastien, you were a good man and I will miss you." Darkeye took a big gulp and poured half of it into the fire, which made the fire burn higher for a short time. "A gift to the dead."
Darkeye then came back to him and pulled up a chair to work better the counter was not designed for his size. "Let's do it this way." Darkeye set about putting the bags of chocolate into the mold, trying to assist Deimos as best he could.
the ocean does not apologize for its depth and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
Deimos had never believed Bastien to be insecure in his entire life, and the notions made his brows furrow, either with anger or irritation, probably somewhere in between. “Perhaps you can continue it then,” he offered instead, trying, with great difficulty, not to fall into disgruntled or peeved parallels again. It was easy to be sullen and brooding, to fall deep into those traps of emotions, and he strived to pour his concentration elsewhere.
While Darkeye tossed the liquor into the fire, with Zuriel snorting and Belial watching with the troubling combination of glee and mischief, the Sword tended to the chocolates. Thereafter, they could work almost like an assembly line, and he adhered to the temperatures, controlling, contorting, and bending the elements in a natural ease, as the others were placed into the frameworks.
Eventually, he began to pull them out, one by one, popping them from the vessel and container. Several became adorned in a makeshift pile, containing lanterns, skulls, and toys – but then he began on the ones created to represent those he’d lost. “I made some for those that match my lanterns too,” and he pointed out the sun, for the Penumbra, a cloud for Huyana’s rain showers, a deer for Kiada (even if she was alive), flames for his father, water for his mother, and scores of others that were gone. “Do you want any to represent yours?” Uncertain if the man had made any lanterns for the coming festival.
"If I have any time left, that's a destination on my list. That these philistines learn to appreciate his work." Darkeye became slightly indignant. "This man would have been the solution to so many problems. I've met others and I have to say there are still people I don't want to see in an elevated position anytime soon." He said, trying to calm himself down.
"Sorry Zuriel and Belial but it was necessary," he said, Darkeye smiled and was glad that the two of them were working so well together and that it was going so well and so fast. The sad mood was blown away as he could fully concentrate on the work. He gave himself a lot of effort that the work is as good as possible.
Darkeye watched the whole thing, for now, thinking and looking at the sweets. "That's a nice thought and a nice tradition I hope your ancestors are happy about it." He nodded to Deimos, "I know Bastien served Voice, but I don't know where his soul is and it might offend Ludo if I made the candy too. The lantern I made was for two people Bastien and Rexanna because they can finally be together. I would make a brush for Bastien and a crown for Rexanna if it is not too much to ask.
the ocean does not apologize for its depth and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
Hearing the remaining Grounders marked as ‘philistines’ made him laugh; though far less stifled, as the deep chuckle took him by surprise too. There were a number he’d agree with on not joining any council ranks, including Wessex remaining in such a high position, but it wasn’t his place to lead. “And who do you mean?”
His eyes went to the molds, contemplating, before he pointed to the sun he’d made for a friend for many years and lives. “I made this for Rexanna. She was called the Penumbra.” That Bastien would have matching confections made sense, so he applied his craft and technique to creation, instilling a little paint brush for the chocolate to meld into. And perhaps, for the pair of them, corresponding crowns.
Then he handed them to Darkeye, so he could place the chocolate in and repeat the process. “Their souls will be with the Voice.” Leaving the Sword to wonder if the efforts would be worth pulling the semblances from the New God – or if the matter was settled with them together again. If, in the grand scheme of things, those plots and machinations would be lost with the upcoming war – pushed aside for everything else.
Darkeye had to chuckle when he noticed Deimos' reaction and started to laugh. "I don't know if you know him, but he was also one of the attackers of Stormbreak. Amun is his name. I used to talk and train with him. He is downright consumed with hatred and shows no remorse for attacking the innocent. He said that he had only fought Ronin and that the Ascended had suffered so much. A little whining boy who thinks that just because others do it, it is okay to do the same to them. An eye for an eye principle if you know what I mean."Darkeye had to shake his head when he thought back to the conversation with Amun.
Darkeye just nodded in agreement. "She must have been a great person, right? Can you tell me something about her why was she called Penumbra? I've only heard a few statements from Melita, but not so much that I can imagine a complete person. Because if you honor her here, I think you knew her well." Darkeye looked at the new form and nodded appreciatively. He liked that Deimos helped him make the sweets.
"Then at least they'll be together again. Bastien had longed for her very much. His studio was full of pictures of her. I think that maybe it's even better that way, he wasn't a man for war and I think that the gods turn a blind eye to such things if not I have sweets to eat."Darkeye tried to smile, which seemed rather forced. The idea that Ludo would not grant them this made him slightly angry.
the ocean does not apologize for its depth and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
Ah, Amun. So much had changed since his time beyond the Hollowed Grounds – back then the metal manipulator had been kind, if a bit brash and brazen. It was unfortunate that the road now led his impulsive efforts into sieges and assaults, rather than any modicum of thought, and he had to snort at Darkeye’s depiction of him now. “He wasn’t always that way,” but the world changed and altered in different leagues and motions. “Some of the Ascendeds’ suffering is by their own making.”
Rexanna was a much better topic anyway, and while he chiseled away at molds or altering temperatures of chocolates, he remembered. Depictions of honor and favored memories, rather than the mourning, melancholic wakes he could easily fall within. “She was one of my best friends and like family to me. We worked together in a different world. She was an excellent thief, and knew exactly how to get information out of other leaders and spies.” The smile remained on his features while he deftly and swiftly popped more sweets out of their molds, continuing to add to the pile. “She had a good heart, and was willing to do whatever the Grounds asked of her. Bastien and her were a wonderful match.” Considering the amount of others she’d gone through to find someone like the artist. “The Penumbra was what she chose for herself. And she was certainly more than a shadow.”
Continuing the process, his eyes didn’t leave the casts or forms, concentrating and diligent. “Bastien might have prevented some of it though,” the war, and the casualties already lodged therein, simply by being of sound, stable mind in a flurry of impulsive candidates.
Darkeye looks at the ceiling to search for an answer there. "He blames everyone else and claims that they suffered so much. The more I hear, the more I know it's partly true and partly exaggerated. But everyone's perception of suffering is different, so it's difficult to judge. Amun is dangerous Deimos. He could be the reason that the war starts earlier. He is so full of hate that neither Isla nor Wessex can control him. You can't keep someone like that on a leash. It won't be long before he does something again that will raise many questions. Be careful with him. In my world, someone with that kind of behavior would have been sent to a priest and if it didn't help, actually killed. My world does not tolerate warmongers." Darkeye looked angry and wrinkles and other wrinkles appeared on his neck and forehead. "But I cannot kill him, nor do I want to. It is not my task" Darkeye considered first the innocent then the warmongers.
Darkeye considered, and dan had to smirk slightly. "Who you talk about her like that and she caught Bastien as his partners. I think I would have liked to have met her. She must have been an impressive person. I think we'll make some more sweet in her honor. Do you know why that name?" Darkeye smiled and lent a hand so they could make more sweets.
"Therefore, let us keep him thus in erring and honor him and your friends. I am glad that I can express my concerns to you. Grief counseling and all that. I didn't think his death would hit me like this. I'd hunt those sharks down and give anyone who spoke ill of him a piece of my mind." Darkeye works almost furiously. But then he calmed down quickly and tried to think about the time with Bastien and his Gremlin. "I start again sorry I just try to smile but I get angry whenever I think about this."
the ocean does not apologize for its depth and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
Considering the notions and precipice that was suddenly Amun, Deimos’ brows furrowed again, deep in either thought about the Ascended or concentration amongst the molds. Likely matters of both. Capable of adhering his notions in equal directions, and still meticulous to a fault, he pondered the argument of who’d start what – his cards pointing towards Wessex well before Amun, just by matters of power and seemingly no one on their side thinking to stop her. “Sometimes you allow those of such ilk to figure it out for themselves.” He sighed, popping another chocolate out, this one of the matching crown set, recalling many in his own wake who’d believed themselves infallible. “It is unfortunate when their actions cause others harm. But I have a feeling he will run into some event that is too big for him to handle.” Whether or not he’d take the cowardly approach and flee, or if someone would save him, would be determined later.
Deimos wasn’t wary of him. Not when he had multitudes of power at his own beck and call. “If he threatens any of mine, then we will have a problem.” And the Sword could bet not for long.
Rexanna was a far more pleasant topic anyway, and he could only smile briefly at the notions of her title. “It was what she chose. I cannot say.”
The Sword being a part of grief counseling should’ve made him laugh, considering the irony in rarely seeking out guidance for himself; but he nodded, understanding the implications of wanting to share in parts and portions of people they’d likely not see again. “You are welcome.”
"Possibly, but I fear that Amun does not know what path he is on. The way he is going leads to bloodshed on all sides. The path of revenge is hard to walk away from."Darkeye went over everything in his head. "He survived Ronin and I think he got stronger through it. Time will tell what else I find out but Amun shows up and there are so many dead is a very questionable coincidence possible but unlikely." Darkeye did not know how to see the whole thing. But if Amun would continue like this, he would have to stop him no matter how.
"I hope it won't happen Deimos. The situation with Stormbreak is dangerous enough. The death of Morgan is already too much. Now I'm investigating one thing then the other." Darkeye did not want to accuse Amun of murdering Morgan, but after the attack, he believed him to be capable of it.
He smiled at Deimos. "Do you like to tell more about her I plan to make a sculpture of her and want to incorporate some more of her personality your information can help me." Darkeye showed the drawings of her that he had made from Bastien's sketches. Sitting slightly sideways with a smile that depicted her friendly features.
Darkeye nodded again to Deimos, glad he hadn't resented him for that comment.
the ocean does not apologize for its depth and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
“Maybe some of his own will be able to rein him in.” But considering the implications behind this attack, and how many had become part of a goading, stupefying party, perhaps it wouldn’t be the case. Regardless, it wasn’t the Sword’s duty – but he’d keep the notions in the back of his mind if he ever came across the man again.
Hope, unfortunately, wouldn’t wrangle them out of any upcoming, foreboding measures – but defenses, measures, machinations, certainly could. That’d be how he applied himself – General of the snow and mountains and ice once more.
His head tilted at the notion of another Rexanna sculpture. “We have a memorial for her in the Grounds,” one he’d built with Bastien, after her demise. He could only imagine the amount of dedicated works the artist had made of his wife, from before and after.
Rendering another chocolate mold loose and eating it himself instead of adding it to the pile, he munched for a moment as she studied the depictions of the Penumbra. “A little more pride, I think.” In the eyes, or in the grin. The base of a smile remained along his own features, as he glanced over the woman he’d known for multiple lives. “She always knew exactly who she was, and was never ashamed of it.”
