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!
yes, yes, I am wild I am the wind that makes breathing hard
The shoreline abyss called to her along mid-morning, ignoring the potential for other mischief by skipping and frolicking towards the Miana Pool. Not there to make a wish, but to settle along the outer rim, withdrawing her favored staff from her toolbelt of weaponry, humming a little tune. Along the embankment, Sila and Fangorn settled (the former practicing billowing smoke rings, and the latter clearly taking on the role of babysitter).
Her bare feet pressed against the stone, and her breath unfurled, swinging the armament in a graceful arch through the air, practicing her warm-up stances, blow by blow, anchor by anchor, as if there was something there, a foreboding strike to the nature of her platitudes.
I am the ocean and the battered shore I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
A grey-steel head and a pair of green eyes emerged from the water and recognized the woman and gourd with pleasant surprise. The dragonling was a new addition, but his attention was soon pulled back to the way Melita swung her staff with fierce and fiery grace.
He waited until she had paused - for a breath, to set a new stance or begin a new sequence, the reason unknown - and then he lifted his head and shoulders fully from the water and swam close to the pool's edge, giving Fangorn and the new little one a nod in greeting. "Hello, Melita. Would you like something more challenging to hit?" Green eyes gleamed with amusement that remained well-hidden behind his stoic expression, but his whiplike tail switched in the water below, a lazy slash of approaching mischief.
yes, yes, I am wild I am the wind that makes breathing hard
Had she not been standing so close to the pool, or listening for any variety of factors or fractures along the water’s surface, she might’ve jumped at the voice. Instead, she tipped her head in a sudden greeting, a light smile adorning her features at the familiar face. Placing her staff back in the grasp of a singular hand, she paused momentarily to bestow more introduction facets, the gleam of a Cheshire adornment not lost. “Hello Hadama. Did the pastries survive?”
His inquiry was met with more devilish accord, and the youth, fiery, wild, and vicious in her own right, was not one to back away from a challenge – instinctively driven to the roots of each and every one like a moth to a flame. “What did you have in mind?”
I am the ocean and the battered shore I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
"Long enough to be set out. I did not stay to see who claimed them," he admitted. Green eyes gleamed as he added: "Perhaps we should get more. To be certain." And of course, some of those pastries would rightfully go to the purchasers once more.
It seemed the merman was developing a bit of a taste for human sweets.
But that could wait until after what they were about to embark on. Her question - tacit agreement, he took it for - brought the usual thoughtful tilt to his head as he admired the staff. Simple yet effective in the dry air, there might yet be some challenge left... "Would practice hitting small, fast targets be useful? I cannot come on land, but I can throw things for you to block or strike," he offered, eyes already casting about the shore and tidepool for suitable projectiles. There were some large seedpods floating at the edge that looked heavy enough to fly true, but not so dangerous as a stone would be if she missed.
yes, yes, I am wild I am the wind that makes breathing hard
The pilfered pastries were not a surprise, and she indulged the nuances again with a quick laugh and a promise of more. “You’re absolutely right. It would be safe to try some new kinds too.” Ones that didn’t have to be shared with spirits anyway.
As for how they’d be training or finding new targets – other than Melita’s fast, impulsive notions of trying to play some bizarre version of whack-a-mole (Hadama’s head popping above the surface, her staff swinging downwards to bop it, and so on) – she found his suggestion far better than the one settling on her tongue. “Sure! It might help you too.” In building up some strength and accuracy.
So she meandered around the pool, attempting to get into a suitable position; stance needing to be altered and changed, due to the different demands and commands. The honeybee was used to knocking out much larger targets than a seedpod or a stone; the surface area would be far, far, far more difficult to snag and regale.
I am the ocean and the battered shore I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
Hadama nodded acquiescence, green eyes gleaming avariciously at the thought of new flavors. It would be an educational and delicious afternoon to look forward to, but first--
Blissfully oblivious to Melita's impulse to bop him on the head, he swam over to the seed pods and hefted them thoughtfully. They were roughly softball sized and heavy with water; heavy and firm enough to make for a good throw but softened enough by their submersion to have a little give if he squeezed hard enough. "Are you ready?" he asked and waited for her signal before he swam back a short distance and lobbed the first one at her; neither too hard nor too fast, trying to gauge distance and aim for himself as much as giving her a warmup.
It was probably more of a surprise to him than her when the projectile went more or less where it was aimed - at the center of Mel's torso.
yes, yes, I am wild I am the wind that makes breathing hard
A nod of her head was given and granted, the notions of pastries going by the wayside for the thrill of action and motion. Figuring out how to hold her staff so that it assisted in what she was striving to achieve, her gilded gaze settled upon his movements, attempting to gauge how the throw would go –
Straight towards her chest, apparently.
She had to counter it rather awkwardly, maneuvering the staff in front of her torso and then flailing it outwards. She was surprised to find it connected, but was sorely lacking her usual power behind the motion; sneering, wrinkling her nose, at the foreign concept.
But it was lobbed back towards the merman all the same.
I am the ocean and the battered shore I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
Hadama hadn't been anticipating her to hit the seed right back at him, and he only barely managed to twist to the side as the projectile went past his shoulder, grazing skin but plopping harmlessly into the water a short distance back. He tilted his head at Melita in respect at her aim. "Impressive," he murmured. Amusement came easier when training meant no one was seriously hurt and only pride was in danger of wounding.
He considered a second seed pod for a moment, tossing it once to get a feel for its weight, and then lofted it towards the warrior woman with a bit more strength and speed behind it.
Perhaps he should have stuck with his slower start, however. The target was further off-base this time, not truly on target and decidedly high - though still well within reach of the staff's longer stretch.
yes, yes, I am wild I am the wind that makes breathing hard
Apparently the more difficult it was, the more the honeybee snatched onto the potential.
Locked in and honed on the target, her eyes dashed, watching, waiting, until the right moment to strike – the staff stretching, her arms plunging, the might surging, and the god damned seed pod was given an audible thwack. Maybe it was lucky it hadn’t been blown into hordes of pieces from the strike alone, but the artifact certainly carried all the way back to the merman with considerable speed and power behind it.
If it were anything more than the vegetation, Hadama might’ve been at risk for a serious blow.
For now, all he received was a very broad smirk and snicker for her efforts, an obvious semblance of pride.
I am the ocean and the battered shore I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
This time around Melita hadn't been in any real danger, but Hadama certainly was.
Perhaps if he'd been fully submerged he would have been more graceful and swift. Then again, his was not a form for darting motion or slender pirouettes. The large, broad-shouldered merman tried to lunge to the side once again, but this time the returned seed pod had far too much momentum for it to be that easy. He winced as it impacted a meaty pectoral with a bruising thud, glancing down at the offending pod with a calculating look.
He would not mind if this particular tree never sprouted.
"You have a talent for this," he rumbled, amused in spite of the soreness as he gathered the same projectile up again and rose a little higher out of the water, putting more muscle behind his throw in return.
This time it flew straight and true once more towards the center of Mel's torso, but with more speed than the previous two attempts.
yes, yes, I am wild I am the wind that makes breathing hard
Alas, even with all the confidence in the world, it was not to be on this round.
Her Cheshire grin remained in its devilish accord at his compliment, dipping her head and winking as a result. Perhaps that was enough of a distraction. Maybe she was already a bit too audacious and emboldened by her earlier attempts, might, and dominion. It could’ve even been Hadama’s burst of speed, and the honeybee couldn’t counter it.
Instead, it was an awkward misread, and while she’d been able to snag at the one towards her torso earlier, it wasn’t to be on this range. The seed pod only ended up hitting the edge of the staff, and bounced pathetically into the water. The smirk soon departed for a wrinkle of her nose. “All right, we can try that again,” not to be dismayed or discouraged; but bolder and swifter still.
I am the ocean and the battered shore I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
Hadama watched the projectile fly true with some pride and had braced himself to duck underwater this time. So it was that given Melita's earlier skill he was surprised when the seed plunked barely far enough to hit the pool where it bobbed, mocking them both.
He swam forward to collect it, nodding agreement to Mel's determination to give it another go. "Indeed." Throwing things in the air was a very different motion than anything he did underwater. A bit like stabbing with a spear, perhaps, but even then not quite...
Perhaps it was his distraction or his thoughts of another weapon, perhaps it was inexperience, or simply bad luck, but when he returned to his previous position and focused on the red-haired woman his release was too late and the seed pod dropped precipitously as it neared the shore until it was careening for Melita's ankles.
By the time Hadama realized his mistake it was already too late.
yes, yes, I am wild I am the wind that makes breathing hard
How the fuck Melita managed to hit this one as it plunged at her ankles was another bizarre twist of fate. Watching the way the pod was thrown, drifting, down, down, down, the girl shifted so that she too had her weapon poised and ready. Much like a golfer (was that a familiar game in Caido? Should we question this?), she swung the armament so that it struck the vegetation head on.
She couldn’t even hide the snort careening through her throat; mostly because it’d been so stupid and it still worked – the pod making a beeline in a strange, slow arch towards Hadama again.
I am the ocean and the battered shore I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
The crack of the staff hitting the seed was immensely satisfying - not least because it wasn't the crack of the seed hitting the human's ankles - and the merman had a fraction of a moment to relax as Melita successfully blocked the projectile and returned it.
This time instead of dodging Hadama readied himself. With his eye on the 'ball' he reached out to snag it out of the air with his hands. It squelched as he caught it, and he looked down with grim approval to see that the last strike had split the hard outer shell and the spongy inner pulp was beginning to ooze out.
"Perhaps that is enough for one day," he rumbled with quiet amusement, swimming close enough to show Melita the results of her repeated successful strikes. "At least until we find another ball."
