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!
03-13-2022, 10:59 PM (This post was last modified: 04-02-2022, 07:06 PM by Honey.)
this is the reckoning
He ran.
Freedom and liberation in the semblance of cold, frigid air billowing across fur – ferocious angles on glacier tips, ice melding and molding beneath paws, and it was the epitome of deliverance. A providential spree as long limbs gallivanted and Belial hooted somewhere nearby, Zuriel following close at hand, becoming bonded mercenaries on their plunge into independence. At some point it was purpose driven, but not initially, when the gales swept downward from the summits and he could be lost in the desolate thicket of memories – from years and lives ago – to now, heralding nothing more than a long, illustrious, triumphant howl.
Eventually they pressed and slowed upon the Sea of Glass, where his eyes ghosted over the range of frozen bubbles – delicate, fragile. He neared, but didn’t touch, nose drifting downward, instead opting for silent apologies to a shrine – a reason precise and clear but never vocalized, before threading his way towards where there must’ve been cracks months and seasons ago. Where an ancient creature had been mauled. Where a battle had taken place. Where a relic had been found – but now it was just endless white upon white, and his Stygian figure stood out along its surface.
But the dogs did, and Tal balanced on the sled's runners, leaning into the elegant curves of their trail as Bell's route took them around obstacles hidden beneath the snow and found the safest ground. It was a trip they'd taken many times before, and only the youngest pair of dogs on the team hadn't learned it yet. The wind blew through fur and layered scarves, cold as Halo was always cold, but not yet the murderous temperatures it would reach in a few more weeks.
They flew along above the white until they reached the ice, blue and green and dusted with the snow that slid across it unceasingly so long as the wind blew. Bell slowed without needing Tal's direction, and the team fell from their usual traveling speed down to a slower trot, allowing the courier to look around, studying the ice bubbles and the shapes that sometimes loomed up from the flat and frozen waste; ancient stones, once, now caked in ice and snow so thick that their hearts were hidden within their frozen tombs.
They weren't what he was looking for, but they marked a stretch that might once have been a shore, and Tal continued to follow them, hoping to find some irregularity this time, some hint of an ancient light house or tower that still poked above the layers of ice that had grown so thickly over the ancient ocean.
But when he finally saw something, it wasn't what he had expected. Far, far out on the ice in the distance: peryton he knew. A unicorn he didn't. And a fiery hound that had never known a collar or a harness, Tal was willing to bet.
He turned the team to head fully onto the ice, abandoning the shore, and when he was close enough to be heard--
"Deimos?" Tal called, a little uncertainty in his voice.
A casual inspection at first, nose down to the ground, despite knowing the remnants, the scents, would be long gone. Too many months and too many seasons swept away by the cold and the chill itself, discretely tucking away the nature of actions here. Perhaps from long ago as well, if the stories were anything to go by.
And then the notions were gone, as his ears pricked at the sound of another – massive head swinging upward and twisting back, muscles honed and still, predacious capabilities rising to the surface within the blink of an eye. Assessments of threats, of impending disasters, of doom and damnation swiftly molding to man and beast, until he realized it was the runner of a sled, the padding of canine feet, and the rambling of snow moving under their motions.
Oh. It was Tal.
He loosened one sharp bark to unveil that yes, it was him, and with Belial’s accompanying hoot (clearly looking for the dragon), perhaps that was enough of a welcome for now, not yet wanting to abandon the hound form. Zuriel, for her part, narrowed her eyes, snorting vaguely, until her dark form seemed encompassed by plumes of air pressing around muzzle and nostrils.
The team was on edge, and the hellhound they were approaching was a good bet as to why. Tal understood how they felt; if Deimos hadn't told him about the shift before, he would have been turning the sled around and hightailing it out of there, too. Instead he slowed the dogs a ways back and set the brake, sliding his feet off the runners and moving forward to rub heads and scratch shoulders, offering reassurance along the line until he reached Bell and knelt beside her to kiss her nose and give her the command to wait. She stood alert, hackles raised at the strange hound, but obedient to a fault.
The same could never be said of Boreal.
High in the sky, playing hide-and-seek amid the wispy Leafchange clouds, she turned her attention below with a flash of wicked mischief and folded her wings in a strafing dive towards the sneaky peryton. She wasn't the most aerodynamic of dragons and her passage was far from silent; but she massed enough to fall fast as she made her mock-flyby.
Tal waved as he trekked over, walking carefully on the ice until he could nod politely to the unicorn and admire Deimos's canine form up close, whistling in professional appreciation as he checked over the musculature and lines of the mythic beast from a respectful distance. "Nice day for a run," he greeted cheerfully, looking decidedly more confident and content now that he was outside of the city.
Only realizing now that the fellow canines were on edge, and not overjoyed with the massive and dangerous stance of his form, the man gave a half-hearted, ambiguous shrug, before shifting back into his still tall figure. Accompanied by pelts and furs of the clothing variety, rather than the natural coat of the hound, he stood amidst the ice and snow just as natural as before. Accustomed and attuned to the vibrancy of the frigid wakes, piercing eyes sliding away from the shoal and embankments, and back to the courier.
Which might have been just as well – considering the dragon’s mocking siege, and Belial’s high-shriek filling the air. Clearly offended by the affront (that she’d snuck up on him at all), he hissed and fumed, before taking off into the wind, intending to give rapid chase. Deimos closed his eyes for a second, maybe pretending not to see it (it was a pitiful sight from the peryton and an unfortunate lesson to be learned), before addressing Talyson in normal speech, rather than howls and barks. “Yes,” in accord and agreement. “I figured we all needed to get out.” Zuriel snorted something in response. Then he shrugged his shoulders, eyeing the sled for an instant, with the assemblage of dogs waiting and watching. “What brings you here today?” Unless he was granting a ramble amidst snow too – or making a delivery elsewhere.
Tal groaned and ran his hand over his face as Boreal teased Belial, his words muffled as he looked away from Deimos in embarrassment. "Sorry about that. She's..." he gestured helplessly towards his companion as the big dragon lumbered away from the smaller but much faster peryton. Steam rose from her nostrils in little puffs that were torn away by the wind of her passage, but Tal could feel her chortling in his mind, even as Belial swiftly caught up with her. "She plays with the dogs all the time," he continued lamely, cheeks burning more from mortification than cold. "Even the pups. She'll be gentle with him, even if he gets nippy." He'd found her under a blanket of rambunctious husky and malamute pups more than once as they happily used her as a chew toy and she lay there contentedly, their needle-like puppy teeth sliding harmlessly off her scales.
Tal shot Zuriel a surprised look at the eloquent snort, then snuck a glance to where dragon and peryton were playing - he hoped it was playing - and his wry grin returned as he gave an understanding nod. "Same, kind of. Being back in the city after the Longheat run... takes some getting used to." Living with his sisters again after so long in the solitude of the Tundra took some getting used to. "When I need to get away for a bit I come out here and..." He reached up to rub the back of his neck self-consciously as he nodded back towards the shore. "Well. I'm looking for... something. A legend maybe."
He waved off the apology. “It is fine. He likely deserves it.” For being a nuisance, ornery over nothing, and harassment of anyone else bearing wings. He watched for a moment as the peryton continued to give chase, wings swiftly unfurled back and forth until he’d caught up with her – only to try and nip at her leathery countenance. Deimos fully expected some manner of retaliation from the dragon, and permitted another sigh. “He has a lot to learn.” So he shrugged his shoulders again – waiting for some upheaval in a manner of decrees and actions, before turning back to the shoal and ice.
His head tilted back when Tal mentioned a legend - inquiring to a fault, the Sword persisted, boots edging along lines of frigid embankments. “And what tale is this?” He paused, striving to explain his own measures. “We came to the Sea of Glass before, when the portals had just opened up,” with some loved ones that were no longer with him, “and Safrin told us of the ancient creature that lived here. I have a feeling it was the same beast hunted down for the relic recently.” So there was a bit of half-regret chiseling its way into one corner of his mouth, before glancing downward. “Is that what you are seeking too?” Or were there more stories he’d yet to hear?
Tal hadn't really considered that the peryton might try to hurt the dragon, and he looked over at the pair in surprise as Belial did, in fact, try to take a bite out of Boreal's scaly hide. The dragon huffed as sharp fangs scored a shallow cut, and made a deceptively casual turned on a wingtip to bring her tail around for a gentle slap towards the deer's side in admonishment of the rough play. "Oh..." he managed eloquently, wincing at the two hooligans.
But there was nothing to do but let the companions sort it out themselves, and Tal's attention was drawn back to the mountain he had to stretch his legs to keep up with. "You mean the beastie is real?!" There was awe in his voice as he looked around at the ice that had been beneath their feet, eyes wide. "And somebody tried to hunt it?" He wasn't sure whether to admire their courage or be dismayed at their insanity, and didn't bother to hide it as his eyes turned back to Deimos, voice rising towards an undignified squeak. "And you talked with Safrin herself?"
For how few words went into the telling, Deimos had given him a lot to take in all at once. Tal drifted to a halt, shaking his head with a self-conscious uncertainty. "I... no, I had no idea about... any of that. It's just an old family legend about the days before the sea froze over for good..." he trailed off, still dazed by the rapidfire revelations Deimos had bestowed on him.
And there the consequences were. With a sharp yip, either in surprise or pain (potentially both) the peryton stared in abject dismay at what his actions had presided. The slap stunned him entirely, mostly because his bonded had never used violence on him nor had anyone else bothered, dared. His eyes widened, and then he seemed to visibly wilt within the skies, drifting lower. Deimos couldn’t tell if he was pouting or plotting; but likely some proportions of the same emotions finagling through. “Well, that will teach him something.” He shook his head again, another warning instilled somewhere in the bounds of their connection, before allowing his attention to wander back to Tal’s sudden bout of inquiries.
He hadn’t realized he’d opened another unleashing of questions and appeals, and he stood still for a moment, blinking, fathoming how to address them all. “Apparently. I was not there, but there was a battle for it between the Ascended and demigods.” As for the notions of Safrin, his brow arched slightly. “Yes. Many times. She attuned me.” Then he began to march onward, long limbs trekking easily over the bounds of snow.
But with the other notions, he tilted his head again. “I have not heard many of those. How does it go?”
The peryton began a downward trend, and Boreal floated a lazy spiral nearby, keeping a watchful eye on the winged deer. There was no ire or vengeance in her regard; the cervid pup had been warned about nipping too hard and that was all there was to it, but she wasn't about to turn her back on him just yet.
The description of the battle, succinct and unadorned, only begged more questions, but Tal swallowed them back - not without some difficulty. The divine revelation of an Abandoned being attuned by Safrin herself was more immediately awe-inspiring, and the courier had to hurry to pick his jaw off the ground before it got left behind by the General's long strides, trying to process it as he answered the return query almost on auto-pilot.
"It's... it's not told a lot outside my family, really. And it might not even be true," he admitted cautiously, clearly used to facing some ridicule as he slid the caveats in early. "But way, way back, before Lady Winter had collected so many bargains, the Sea of Glass wasn't so glassy. Ships sailed on it, an' it connected to the ocean, an' people could sail to Halo without having to go through the Climb..." He hesitated, sliding a glance at Deimos to try and see his reaction to the tale. "And the ships docked at a Port, here along the shore. An' that's how my family got the name 'Seawright', right? Because we had a couple merchant ships that took furs an' metals an' gems from the mines, and brought back exotic goods from the rest of Caido. But... it was so long ago there isn't really any proof anymore so... I come out here sometimes and try to find some sign of it. An old lighthouse or a mast poking through the ice where the docks used to be or... something."
He took a deep breath, then, attention resolutely forward as he kept up with the longer-legged man through force of will and faster steps. "Can I ask you a question? About what Safrin's like? Really like, I mean. Not just what the legends say."
If looks could kill, Belial’s prowess in the glare department would’ve been ample grounds for murder charges. No lack of subtlety, the peryton’s brows furrowed to such a degree that it looked almost humorous, if anyone dared to laugh at his current position. Continuing in his pouting disposition, he flapped his wings, charging from below, ensuring he was ahead by childish means, rather than anything else.
Unaware he’d been leaving the courier behind on his stride simply by the length of his limbs, he purposefully slowed down, mustering to something like a meander, tilting his head vaguely to indicate he was listening. A skill he’d snagged and held ever since childhood – capable of taking in grand stories, and adhering them to memory. This one was entirely new. Presuming Lady Winter meant the Eirachi, his eyes glanced out over the shoal of eternal ice, imagining a world that might’ve encompassed more than snow and bargaining chips: but greenery and verdure, a thriving port, ships docking in places where winds howled now.
Family ties afforded a small smile in the corners of his mouth, muffling a low laugh – not at the story, but at the sentiments around it. “How far would one have to dig or maneuver the earth to find such evidence?” An arch to his brow, and a look of goading, challenge, maybe, if he had the wherewithal and means. Then his gaze shifted again, out along the sea of glass itself. “This place always reminds me of the world I came from. We had a lake that never froze, just below the mountains.”
But other questions afforded a lack of melancholy, and his attention went to Zuriel for an instant, ensuring she was close at hand (sniffing at a few boulders and then snorting as if they’d offended her), before being designated for Safrin. “Beautiful, of course,” as if that was to be expected – muffling a snort. “Compassionate and forbearing, considering how often I have tried her patience.” Which reminded him that a visit would likely be in short order, but he kept that notion for after they’d firmly established defenses. “Capable of forgiveness, as long as you are forthright and honest.”
Boreal wasn't against playing, as long as no one was out to intentionally draw blood - and she was large enough to feel confident in comfortably absorbing any attempted tackles or charging from the disgruntled peryton, so she made no move to dodge. The dragon simply turned to keep an eye on him, chortling happy little rumbles to herself at the game.
Deimos's question had Tal scowling impersonally out at the expanse of white, dotted with ice bubbles and snow-wrapped stones. Who knew how deep the snow went anymore... "Dunno," he admitted reluctantly. "That's why I'm tryin' t'find something that sticks up high. Something that might still poke through to sky." A long shot, to say the least, and several years of fruitless searching to prove the difficulty of it.
He shot the General a curious look at the mention of distant worlds, and his scowl at the landscape lightened to a fading frown. "I think Hotaru said something like that, too..." he mused, remembering his first meeting with the older woman on this same sea not that long ago.
But his question on Safrin had drawn his attention, and he frowned as Deimos held forth, the expression one of intense memorization rather than any disagreement. "She sounds really nice," he admitted a little wistfully. "I've never had any luck with the gods before... Still seems kinda crazy that they've started answering after all these years." He shrugged, looking back over his shoulder at Bell as she gave a single concerned bark at how far away he was getting, and he gave her a reassuring wave. "What does she look like?" 'Beautiful' left a whole lot to the imagination, though it was one thing the old texts all agreed on.
Belial, by way of being an ornery, disgruntled brat, began launching into aerial acrobatics. Perhaps it was a taunt and a tease, a challenge and a goading towards the dragon, fluid and fast, quick and swift, until he gained lofty heights, not allowing himself to be churned or battered about by the wind. There were a few twirls, whirls, dips, and dives, before catching a bout of the sea breeze and flickering like a Stygian devil across the skyline.
Deimos nodded and arched a brow, resuming back into silence and a steady walking pace. A moment later though, based on the frown and statement, he started to stifle a round of laughter. It couldn’t be outdone though, and it came across as choked, before funneling back into the air – scattering the few ningos lingering along the water’s edge. “So you have met Ru. I hope you did not let her bully you.” Because Talyson seemed exactly like someone she’d torment for sheer amusement. “She and I came from the same world.”
As for luck with gods, the Sword was no expert on those particulars either. “It took a long time for any to answer,” rendered with little emotion, despite how disheartening it had once been; knowing full well it was because of his Abandoned status, and likely a plethora of other factors. Hearing the dog bark, the General arched a brow, but understood the signal from the dog – intentionally turning around and moderating his strides again. Following the lines of conversation, he wrinkled his nose for a moment. “Probably best to show you,” considering his ability at succinct descriptions wouldn’t do Safrin justice – and he’d probably hear about that at some point too.
With distinct clarity, he picked over pieces of snow, and rotating his incantations through water and creation, contorted an outline, an image, of the herald across the landscape – starry depicted, natural proportions in her preferred elements, meant to outshine and radiate in its serenity. With another shrug of his shoulders, figuring she’d appreciate the sentiments, he left it close to the shrine’s glassy baubles.
Boreal was strong and durable example of her kind, but swiftness was a virtue of her lighter, more streamlined kin. She watched Belial dash into the sky with bemusement, and snorted as he avoided her entirely. She continued her lazy circles above the humans and hounds and unicorn - at least until Tal gave a sharp whistle and she coasted close enough to hear him in her reptilian thoughts.
As Boreal glided towards the sled, Tal looked over to Deimos in surprise at the choked laughter. Wide eyes narrowed and the scowl returned at Deimos's next words, however, and Tal looked resolutely forward again. "I didn't let her do anything." he grumbled.
Translation: she absolutely bullied him, and he couldn't stop her.
There was some (petty) solace to be found in the gods not showering every outlander in attention and gifts. Tal glanced over to where Boreal had finally managed to dig up the brake and lean into it until it snapped back up, freeing the sled. Bell continued to watch the men, but the rest of the team had plopped down to rest or tussle within the confines of the harness, trusting to their leader.
"Show?" The courier's attention snapped back to Deimos, eagerness and trepidation in pale eyes at the implications of that word so near a shrine, but the General meant something a little safer - if still quite magical. Tal's face lit up in a grin of wonder as magic danced across the snow and brought a goddess down to earth, at least for a time. "Whoa..."
