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!
There was another level of irritation set along that obnoxious peryton’s brow – mostly because the dragon didn’t rise to his gallivanting or goading. Turning his hackles up in a rather childish display of fangs and stupefying youth, he pouted and frowned, circling overhead, as though she’d relinquished her title in the skies and he could remain resolute.
The resulting reaction from the courier caused another bout of laughter from the Sword, and an ensuing smirk to accompany it, reaching into the corners of his mouth in a widening grin. “Ah. Too late.” Ru had probably seen a welcome opportunity, and took it for every ample degree and moment. “The only way is to bully her in return.” A hallmark of Deimos and the Valkyrie’s usual system of events, anyway – sibling stupidity as they rounded and volleyed shots off one another. Contemplating for a moment, his eyes snagged at the horizon, watching the ice barely shift. “Catching her unawares is the best method. My favorite is throwing things at her.” Mud. Snowballs. Preferably at the back of her head.
At the appreciation for incantations, or the appeals of Safrin’s image, the General snorted. He’d let it remain anyway, for the goddess herself, or any other confused passerby. “Do you have any preference towards the gods?” New or Old, he supposed, getting that sanction and section out of the way.
As Deimos's grin widened, Tal's scowl deepened. He knew he was being teased, and he knew he'd earned it.
And he hated admitting it. So... he didn't. Not out loud, anyways.
The last thing he'd expected, however, was advice, and he shot a wary side eye at the General as Deimos offered a certain wisdom to his situation. The scowl lightened to a more thoughtful frown, and a flicker of mischief kindled in his pale eyes at the suggestion. "I'm pretty decent at throwing things..." he mused thoughtfully, mind already racing to what kinds of things. Snowballs, of course... or, one of his sisters' favorite pranks, a snowball packed around a center of sticky jam...
Plotting vengeance cheered him up considerably, and he was in a much better frame of mind to appreciate the General's artistry when Safrin's countenance graced the snow and ice before them. The question of religion brought an immediate shrug without much thought as Tal continued to study the sparkling lady in the snow. "Dunno... I've never been much for praying, and they've not been much for answerin' when I have." He glanced towards the shrine, lips tugging back into a frown. "I always give Lady Winter the respect she's due, but I don't pray to her. Her bargains are too high. An' fuckin' Neron went off and brought her anger down on us by cheatin' on her with that weird Voice." The scowl was back, and a growl of frustrated impotence at that old betrayal. "Frey... I guess they've been helpin' us out here a bit the past few years. They're probably alright." He shrugged again, looking back to Deimos. "The big ones feel too far away to care about anyone like me. Heard about a Tanow a year or two back but... well, I was out makin' a mercy run when things were happenin' and I missed all the excitement." Probably for the best, really. "I think that's about all of 'em?"
Shared mischief and devilry was only encouragement for the Sword – who, when comfortable and at ease, often resorted to impishness. The grin remained, even as Tal’s glance seemed wary, perturbed, and flickered back to some residual juvenility – all the prompting the General required. “Snowballs are always nearby. I used the spa mud on her once. Makes a mess.” The residual snicker coincided with another low chuckle, enough to make Zuriel snort from the boulder she was inspecting.
Deimos had only inquired on the deity situation due to incoming matters, but kept the notions brief and concise, never pushing, never prodding. Sometimes they were apprehensive matters – and those he could understand a bit better than most. Other moments were scattered in neutrality or indifference. And there were still more that were justified irritations. He carefully walked around the snowy and starry image of Safrin, nearing Zuriel to offer a pat and to check on his saddlebags.
“I have heard some things about the Eirachi, and Neron’s actions did not help.” A snort followed, tightening one of the straps on his satchels, and then giving the unicorn a treat as a result of her patience. He surveyed the younger man’s scowl, brow arching, as he mentioned others. “Tanau seems all right as well.” Though he couldn’t think of a reason to request the seasonal deity’s assistance – not when he held his own pinnacles of fire. Fighting off the leviathan towards the end of the sickness had put a damper on wandering towards the Falls at all; and the Climb always held a certain air of other nefarious tales. “The Mathair threatened to eat me once." He mentioned off-handedly, as if this was a normal. "There is also the one in the desert. Have you gone to aid it yet? And Ludo?” He suggested, by way of a shrug.
There was a touch of feral glee in the grin Tal shared with Deimos at the prospect of using Hotaru's spa mud against her, and from the sledge an evil chortle came from the dragon as she caught her bonded's mood. "Got it." An acknowledgment that bordered on the smugly overconfident, and likely heralded an unfortunate turning of the tables to come when he put his new plan into motion.
Hotaru, after all, had years of experience dealing with Deimos's tricks, traps, and ambushes.
The gods were no laughing matter, however, and Tal answered with his usual unfiltered honesty, wearing his opinions openly on his face. As they stood near the unicorn he looked over Zuriel's wickedly sharp horn with respect, listening to the General's own impressions. At the mention of the Mathair he slanted a look at Deimos that was almost suspicious. "What's a Mathair?" Something huge with sharp pointy teeth? He chewed at his lip and then gave an uncomfortable shrug at the next questions.
"Dunno about anything in the desert. Why does it need help? And Ludo..." He glanced away awkwardly. "I figure it's like Lady Winter. Respect it, but not something you want the attention of. Death's close enough out in the White as it is without it knowing you by name."
Between the sudden smugness, the dragon’s echoing chortle, and the potential for Ru to be terrorized, Deimos’ facial expressions rendered into widened eyes, Cheshire grins, and a multitude of laughter. It echoed and bounded with ease, sliding off frigid air, filling the wind with something other than its howls.
Ensuring Zuriel was settled and fine, his gaze flickered upwards to the pouting Belial, then gave another aloof shrug. To hear the inquiry from Talyson surprised him, but perhaps that was because the Sword had been used to receiving lectures from Naturals for years now. He didn’t expect to have to give information to any of them about the deities; but given locations, occupations, and series of events that cascaded and rippled through, perhaps these bits of recollections simply didn’t fit. He gave no judgment though, his voice reduced to its rumble again. “She is the seasonal goddess of Leafchange, now residing back in the Greatwood.” Who apparently didn’t mind munching on people.
The other press and guess of divine beings followed too. “Supposedly it wanted to help plant things in the desert, but now it is stuck there.” Ludo, with its own brand of distinctions, seemed to set the courier all the more in apprehension. “Perhaps. Though it is one thing we cannot avoid.” Death – and all the times they’d faced it.
It had been a long time since Tal had heard laughter on the Sea, and for a moment he looked a bit startled at the peals of mirth that rolled free from the General and brought a little more warmth to the chilly Halo day. His grin quickly widened in shared mischief, however, and he relaxed a little more around the legendary Sword.
Religion had never been one of Tal's strong points, lore and distant gods who used to never answer seemed like too much trouble to worry about when there more immediate tasks, like learning to make harnesses from leather scraps and repairing cracked sledge runners, or the best poultices for strained paws. Besides, there was only one seasonal deity who mattered in Halo in the days before portals and air ships, so he hadn't seen the point in trying to remember his childhood lessons.
Now... well, he didn't regret his younger self's decisions. But maybe it was time to relearn those lessons. He listened with a faint frown, brow furrowed as he pulled together the bits and pieces. "Wait, why'd she threaten to eat you?"
A Leafchange deity wanting to plant things made sense, but Tal's scowl showed what he thought of it's getting stuck. He might have asked another question, but instead just snorted at the grim statement of death with the overconfidence of youth. "Hey, I plan on avoiding it for a good long time, thanks!" He grinned as Boreal came trotting over to lean against him so he could scratch her wing joints while they talked.
“Probably because she could.” He gave a shrug, indifferent to the reasons. Why did the deities do anything? She’d been hungry. They’d been there, standing, apparently just as appetizing a meal as any other flora or fauna nearby. Clearly not bothered by the reasons, he motioned onwards, grabbing hold of some jerky from his packs and offering some out to Tal. “We fed her some gore crows and she seemed content with that.”
Deimos, having been very young when first encountering anything death-affiliated, could only snort. It had been rendered a great deal over his lives, blow by blow, and action by action, until ghosts were a natural part of his memories and actions. Intending to steer away from those precarious lines, he stared at the team of dogs, and the additional sled. Curious. Nosey. He jutted his jaw forward, indicating the courier’s likely assembly line of prized possessions. “How do you work such a thing?”
That wasn't the answer Tal had been hoping to hear, and he wrinkled his nose at it. It wrinkled harder at the thought of anything eating gore crows, his opinion of this goddess visibly dropping with every word Deimos spoke.
"Does the one in the desert want meat, too?" Not that Tal blamed them. Meat was delicious, and easier to come across than fresh veggies in Halo, at least until the greenhouse had gone up. He took the jerky with a nod of thanks and bit into it with gusto.
Ah, but then Deimos asked about the sled and team, and Tal lit up at being able to share his calling with the eminently capable General. "Balance, practice, and having the best damn team in the Citadel," Tal bragged proudly, a little swagger in his step as he headed over to the sled and knelt down to ruffle Bell's ears. She promptly sniffed at his gloved hand and he broke off a piece of jerky for her to wolf down as the other dogs in the line perked up and wagged tails at Deimos's approach. "Y'have to pick the right dogs for each position on the line, and make sure they work well as a team. An' train 'em for the commands, right, Bell?"
The red-furred hound barked brightly at the sound of her name and Tal grinned from her to Deimos. "The sled's simple enough. Anyone who means it makes their own, but you start out pushing behind it to help the dogs get it moving. Then once you get up to running speed you step off the snow and up onto the runners and balance it by leaning into the turns the leader makes." He ruffled Bell's ears again affectionately as Boreal ambled along the line of dogs laying or sitting on the snow, sniffing each one as if to check on them. "Gettin' the tightest turn out of the sled without tipping it, and stopping it an' the team safely are the hardest parts, really."
He hadn’t heard of anything else required for the visit, save for precious elements. “Water.” What most would need in the dry, hazy heat, unless they were accustomed, acclimated, and adapted to the climate.
Deimos watched the transformation from disgruntled juvenile to an eager youth, tilting his head vaguely as Tal began to step and pronounce each stride with a significant, confident semblance. He nearly snorted at the actions themselves, but promised himself to behave and listen – eyes following and tracking movements, and actions, his own pace careful and precise along the snow. He sensed Belial watching him from above, but broke off pieces of jerky for the dogs as he approached just the same, offering them out as Tal endeavored to explain.
It wasn’t that Deimos hadn’t seen a sled before – he used them throughout his tenure in Halo previously, for snagging at hunts, but never with a team. He usually just used himself. “Sounds more complicated than I realized,” and he studied the runners, contemplating something; a very innocent, reticent air about the impending question. “How fast can they go?”
Water? Tal shrugged and made a mental note. It didn't seem like he'd be heading out that way anytime soon, but he'd started getting some weird delivery requests lately...
The sled was something he could handle, something that put confidence and surety back into his spine as he settled down among the dogs and harness line and happily held forth on the tricks and techniques of his trade. Deimos's treats were met with eager snuffling and many licks to hands or gloves, and excited yips from those further down the line.
"Takes getting used to. I've got different runners I swap out for different temperatures, different conditions... and when we're out on the circuit it's the bigger pack sleds and the full team on the gangline, with a couple trainees runnin' alongside in case someone gets hurt and needs to ride for awhile." Tal reached over to rub the shoulders of the nearest swing dogs behind Bell, grinning affectionately at them. "How fast they go depends on how far you want 'em to run, and what weight they're pullin'. In good weather, we can make maybe ninety miles in a day, pulling a full load. They've outrun ursurs before, on a head start at a dead sprint, though." Barely, but they'd done it.
Except for the one time they hadn't, of course. Tal's grin faded a little and he gave a shrug. "The luxere racers might be able to go faster over a short course, but I'll take my dogs any day for endurance."
Tending to pats and scratches where they were warranted and wanted, he ended up crouching down closer to the dogs, listening as Tal’s descriptions went on. Deimos had never adjusted his runners, nor swapped them out. Just dragged it along and tended to it by sheer power. He contemplated the sled, shrugging along the considerations, figuring if his didn’t work out, he could always ask Tal what alterations needed to be made.
The Sword found the description of the dogs and their capabilities far more impressive – eyes widening a fraction and giving them firmer pats and Attuned glorifications. “Quite a feat,” especially for out here, and his deep rumble meant it – life or death could come quickly along the tundra, or drifting in and out of the Fangs. "Have you ever come across frost giants? I was hoping to add some information to the guild journals."
And with a cheeky grin, juvenile complexities solidifying on his features once again, he extended an offer. “And let me know if you want to race sometime.”
Tal had a bright and open enthusiasm for his vocation that pushed aside his often-disgruntled attitude, and he was happy to share that eagerness with someone willing to listen. If Deimos wanted to know more, he'd find a willing teacher half-buried under friendly hounds.
Those hounds were entirely happy to receive praise, pats, treats, and all manner of attention, and Tal grinned as he stood and moved to the small sled's basket, taking out a waxed canvas bag and retrieving a small handful of pressed meat kibble to present to the wheel dogs first, giving the team a small snack since they were resting at the moment. "Thanks. They're pretty impressive," Tal agreed proudly.
The question on frost giants brought the frown back to his face, but it was a thoughtful one before his eyes lit up suddenly. "Oh! Does that mean the Monster Hunter's Guild is coming back here, too?" He chewed his lip thoughtfully as he passed out more kibble; Boreal waded in at one point to shoulder a few of the more excitable dogs back to wait their turns. "Mm. Might have. T'be honest, I hid when I heard something big and heavy heading my way. I was up in the Fangs when it happened..." He scowled at the memory. "The prints in the snow looked more like giant feet than paws, though. So it was probably one of them."
Pale eyes gleamed at the sudden challenge, and a slow grin forced the scowl back as Tal met Deimos's eyes with all the pride of youth. "Yeah? Are you talkin' two legs or four?"
With the dogs distracted by their kibble, Deimos regained his standing position, watching the skies vaguely as Belial continued to hover in his petulant mood. Patting Zuriel on the muzzle, and with the unicorn lowering her head to grant further access for scratches under her forelock, the Sword was adequately distracted until the notions of frost giants and the guild returned. “I intend to. When I have the time…” and he gestured vaguely at everything in the direction of the Citadel itself – unfurling a long sigh, trying not to contemplate the level of work necessary to ensure the safety of the people. It was as if Morgan hadn’t cared at all. “I have some things to retrieve from Torchline,” but then thereafter – given opportunities, he could probably open the hall again.
Nodding thoughtfully at the creatures’ description, he pondered some more. “Are they quick to anger?” Not knowing, fundamentally, if they were temperamental things to be avoided at all costs, like the dragons lurking in the Fangs, or something dim, slow, and could be merely a case of happenstance if they came across such a beast.
At the semblances of racing though, his grin grew again. “Four.”
Time... Tal followed the sweep of the General's gesture back towards the Citadel and grimaced, jerking a nod of understanding. "Yeah, well. Y'need any help with it, let me know," he offered, trying to pretend a nonchalance that didn't quite hide the excitement in his voice. "Nothing else, I might be able to guide you to some trouble spots the team and I've learned to avoid."
Speaking of trouble... "That's what I've always heard," he agreed, an inelegant snort drawing an answering sneeze from the dog he was feeding and he couldn't help the grin that lit up his face. "Not bright, an' always looking for a fight. Or something to eat. A man's as good as a luxere when you're that big, I guess." He flashed Deimos that grin, now filled with mischief. "Easy to trick, though. But hardly anyone sees one... or at least, lives to tell it. They don't usually come near the Citadel, and y'don't really hear about them moving in groups." Probably something to do with not being able to keep more than two or three fed off Halo's meager resources in any one area.
Tal didn't know what the speed of an unladen hellhound was across the snow... but he wanted to find out. "Race back to the Citadel when we're done out here?" he challenged, refusing to back down in front of the General, or acknowledge the odds stacked against his team.
