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!
and sweetest in the gale is heard and sore must be the storm
She could have gone anywhere else for these moments, but the Caretaker stuck to the Celestine. Maybe in comfort. Maybe in companionship with the surrounding animals; listening to them slumber, sitting on stone, leaning against an enclosure, closing her eyes and picturing things the way they once were. Patterns she’d never have again.
An absence she couldn’t quite replace – and so her hands traced over the wood and metal pieces she’d selected for the lantern – visual semblances of what Sera could’ve made and whittled so easily. Instead, Lena had bartered for them in the markets, and they’d all glanced away from one another, understanding how many others would be made because of Towers falling and Ascended attacking.
Perhaps she should’ve worn hate or malice, instead of reserved grins and grief. Perhaps it would come eventually, when the hurt wasn’t so blinding. Perhaps it wouldn’t at all, because that wasn’t who she was.
Taking her paints, she dipped one of the finer brushes into ivory, and began to mark over the black enamel, in an outline of a dragon.
that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm
03-17-2022, 11:07 PM (This post was last modified: 03-17-2022, 11:07 PM by Darkeye.)
DARKEYE
Not the strongest win the battle —
Darkeye landed in Stormbreak with an airship and wanted to see the damage for himself. He had only heard from Amun about what had happened. But this was beyond anything. This was a place where gods had fought each other. Darkeye was furious when he saw the corpses and the blood. People had already started to clean up the mess, but it was still very bad. Darkeye gripped his spear tightly in his hand. "These fools Kor hammer them into understanding," he said quietly. Darkeye had to digest what he had seen and when he saw the corpses of children he knew he had to get out of the city and went to where it smelled like animals to get an impression of the damage. When he then saw the lady from him who was painting something. "Sorry to disturb you, I hope it's okay if I sit down here for a moment. It's my first time in Stormbreak and I don't know what the laws are here." He said calmly, hoping not to seem too threatening.
and sweetest in the gale is heard and sore must be the storm
Ink drop by ink drop, Lena solidified the dragon sketch. In between steadying breaths, she listened to the sounds of the blink hares behind her, practicing their instinctual running and sparking. It kept her grounded, in place, rather than floating off into her grief, and before long, the flying lizard’s shape rooted along the enamel. Sighing, concentrating, she hadn’t noticed the older man until she went to dip her paintbrush back into the water, swerving it around until it had lost its residual color.
Eyes widening for a moment, she immediately apologized. “My apologies, I was focusing on my lantern.” Pausing, brush still in the liquid and paints strewn about the bench, she moved some things to ensure he had adequate room and space. “That’s fine. I’m sorry you had to see the world in such a state.”
that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm
Darkeye bowed and leaned his spear against the stone. "I am Darkeye, and I am sorry that we meet under such circumstances. I heard about the attack and wanted to see the situation for myself. Are you all right? I know it's a stupid question under the circumstances. Who's leading the town now?" Darkeye had many questions for her. But when he saw her work, he grinned. "May I ask what you were painting?"
"I've seen worse but that doesn't mean it's easy to see. An attack is one thing but catching all the innocent people like that is another. Who were the attackers if you may ask and who defended them? But it's also okay if you don't want to talk about it."
and sweetest in the gale is heard and sore must be the storm
Her eyes flickered over the older man, mostly trying to commit him to some form of memory. As for the flurry of questions, her gaze widened substantially, trying to parse them through her mind, hands still clutching paintbrush and lantern accordingly. Physically, she was fine. Mentally? Likely traumatized and in varying bouts of grief depending on the day. She’d yet to go see Falke about anything; figuring he was very busy with the latest string of anguish and despair. “I lost my sister in the attack,” she mentioned, and perhaps that would signify where her headspace for the present instant. Stare lingered downward, before slanting towards the bench again. “Ronin is leading. And I am painting a dragon, for Sera.”
He might’ve seen worse, but there was no comparison for Lena. Not when she’d lived here all her life, amongst the gardens and stones, in the halls and parlors of education and sagacity, where the Tower stood, tall and sturdy, across the horizon. Where people weren’t just massacred because they’d been innocent. “I didn’t see the assault. I was here. I think only Ronin and Abraham had been able to defend things.” At the first sound of blasts and hellfire, she’d ran towards the cacophony, but had been ultimately too late. “I only helped pull rubble and people out.”
that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm
Darkeye gaze turned angry. He knew who was responsible for this and now that he had seen the battlefield he would clearly have to talk to Amun and Wessex again and they would have to hope that Voice would be merciful to them. Because he won't be. "I'm sorry for your loss. I see you're already working on a lantern and if there's anything I can do to help, let me know. Even if it's just companionship. I understand if you'd rather be alone. I apologize for all the questions." Darkeye had to learn to hold back.
Darkeye looked around and took a hearty gulp from his water pouch. He tried to assess the damage and thought about the cost of repair and the effort it would take. "What do I call you?"
and sweetest in the gale is heard and sore must be the storm
Her eyes went to the man, and then flickered downward. “Thank you. You’re very kind. You can stay if you’d like. The animals and the gardens are worth viewing.” She paused slightly, not realizing, in all the ensuing questions, she hadn’t introduced herself. “Sorry. I’m Lena. The Caretaker of the Celestine.”
With a slight smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and a level of exhaustion she hadn’t felt for some time, she returned to her painting – brushstrokes marking pieces of vines curlicuing around the dragon; a vivid green, outlined and marked upon the darker enamel and lacquer. Realizing it’d be rude to spin herself back into silence, she addressed the man in the ease of introductions, rather than diving into the trauma outside the enclosures and grounds. “Where are you from, Darkeye?”
that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm
Darkeye indicated a nod in agreement. "Thank you, but I won't until later. Celestine is a beautiful name. I don't think you should be alone right now unless you show me around and tell me about the animals later." Darkeye tried to smile. It was hard for him to put on this mask. He would have liked to run screaming through the area and hit a wall. He was so angry. He almost believed Wessex and Amun.
"I am new to this world and travel from place to place until I find a place to live. So far I have not decided where I will stay. But I will try to create a place where innocent people can live. I have been a cleric in my world, trying to bring peace." Darkeye watched as she painted. He had already offered his help. But since this lantern was for her sister, he would not force himself on her.
and sweetest in the gale is heard and sore must be the storm
“When I’m done with the lantern,” she promised, for she wasn’t forgoing the press of her sister’s wake along the enamel. She bowed her head gently for a moment, applying another coat to the ivory dragon, permitting the brush to glide over remnants and lines – stark and vivid, beautiful and defined.
Not sensing his anger, and likely too tired to adhere to it anyway, she tilted her head, listening all the while as he described the nuances of his travels. “Oh. I’m sorry you won’t have a chance to meet with our priest.” Strange how she hadn’t seen Gideon in some time – and that perturbed her too. Had something else gone awry? “Where will you have this place of innocence?”
that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm
"This is beautiful work I hope your lantern pleases Ludo. I also made one for someone important to me. I just heard that the winner gets to talk to the deceased again. My friend has earned his peace and this I think should not be disturbed. I hope you can have the talk." Darkeye now tried to look very friendly. He meant these words sincerely.
Darkeye didn't want to lie to the young lady. "I would have liked to have met him and talked with him." This statement was not a lie in Darkeye's eyes. "I don't know yet, but it must be a place that can be cultivated with fields or fish. I want people like you to have the opportunity to not have to see something like here. A place where everyone can live together who doesn't want to have anything to do with this war. A community that shows that it is possible to live together." Darkeye tried to smile, which was still difficult.
and sweetest in the gale is heard and sore must be the storm
Really, she was mostly doing it for herself and for Sera. Time-honed traditions marked their wake along Ludo and the upcoming festival of lights – she would’ve done this regardless. “It is meant to be an honor, to see them one last time. I can imagine they would like to see us too.” As they looked on from Mort’s realm. “Some didn’t have a chance to say goodbye either.” She took a deep, burdened breath, before fixing another brushstroke, and then turning the lantern over, setting it along her lap to dry for a moment or two.
As for the hopes and dreams of neutrality, she permitted a warm, amiable smile to curl along the fringes of her mouth, but it never quite reached her eyes. Eternally uncertain if such a dream could exist anymore – especially after the most recent perils. “Maybe something within the Wilds? I’ve heard of others settling there.”
that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm
Darkeye looked off into the distance as she said this and took one deep breath. "In my world, the dead are first examined and, depending on how they have acted, they go to hell or to the side of the god to whom they have dedicated their lives. They are asked which god they want to go to. Depending on that, they will be greeted by that god and their relatives will receive them with open arms. Death is only torment for the living because they can no longer see their loved ones. I think it would do you both good if you could say goodbye." Darkeye had often wished to communicate with the dead. Such a thing did not exist in his world. Except for the ghosts who could not find peace. All the friends he got never the chance to say goodbye.
Hearing this, He looked at her curiously. "Can you tell me where?" Darkeye pulled out a map of Caido where some notes were. Notes about temperature as well as hunting grounds he had scouted. There was still hope.
and sweetest in the gale is heard and sore must be the storm
“Mort treats our perished all the same. With love, compassion, and tenderness,” and she smiled, if a bit sadly. No judgements, no parallels, no binding at the end of a life – but allowed and permitted to go onto another realm of peace and serenity. “But yes, you’re probably right.” Only the living grieved the losses – especially without a chance, an opportunity, to do anything other than encounter sorrow alone. Touching over the paint with one finger, ensuring it had dried, she dipped her brush into a bright lavender hue, and began orchestrating tiny designs of hammers and tools on the sides.
Her eyes were drawn to his map though, and she hummed lightly, taking the paintbrush away from the metal and enamel for a moment, tracing a line upon some spots on the canvas. “The Oerwoud, while quite humid, would certainly have enough resources.” She thought of King’s End and its stretches of land, but the dead were honored there as well. “King’s End might be appealing too.” Pondering, because the notions didn’t seem grand, she continued. “Hak Etme is all desert and in the shadow of the Draig…if you don’t mind quite a bit of work. Or the swamps of the Feverlands.”
that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm
Darkeye nodded again. "I really hope you can still say goodbye." He dug into his backpack and set aside some water and food (maybe some chocolate). "You should eat and drink something. I always forget when I'm working how thirsty and hungry I am.
Darkeye looked at the whole thing for now and let it sink in."Anything would be a lot of work the question what is best? In the desert, it is difficult with the supply of water and food but there would be a lot of space. Kings End would be good because no one claims it and the earth there is very fertile. Oerwoud is a good building material, but I think you'd have to cut down a lot of trees before you could plant fields. I don't know what the soil is like there, I haven't been there yet." Darkeye bit his fingernail and looked at the whole thing with a lot of curiosity and a lot of ideas came to him.
