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!
Nodding to Darkeye as well, Amun watched the other man walk away. As Maea explained the origin of her lantern, the potter arched an eyebrow. He leaned forward to take a closer look at it. His eyes swept over it, taking in every detail. "That's rather unconventional of you. I have to say, I approve." Shooting her a smile, he felt his gaze slip past her.
"I'm not sure the gloominess is entirely from the area," he commented with a sigh. "I know this is supposed to be a party and all but...does it seem more somber than previous years?" He pointed at the small clumps of people ambling about.
Inclining his head, he lifted an invisible glass. "To Sam and to the safe return of my dearest sister." Dropping his hand, he scratched his chin. "Rather than waiting around and worrying about someone trying to start some trouble, wanna go hang out somewhere more private?"
"Why, thank you." Her own smile was just as fleeting, grateful for the approval; it might sound flippant and quirky, but there had been deep thought put behind the decision. Maea was glad he didn't make a joke about it.
Letting her gaze roam the participants and picking out familiar faces in the crowd - faces of people she knew in passing, some by name and some rather well but would not wish to approach - she hummed in acknowledgement of Amun's observation.
"I think it's the war," she murmured. "Isn't this the last, or at least one of the last Festivals before it all begins? Who knows when there will be another gathering like this. And when it comes - who can say which faces will be lost from the crowd. There might not be lanterns enough for all the names that need remembering, by then."
Emptying her glass, the girl tried to savor the taste but found that it was too faint to linger long on either tongue or in memory. Glancing around again, she nodded and set the cup aside on a gnarled root.
"Yeah, let's go. I'd rather not run into Remi again, if it can be avoided."
Gets so hard to steer Yet I go on
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
"You're very welcome," Amun replied. As Maea responded to his observation, he grimaced. "Yes, but in my experience, desperation tends to make people more likely to party with wild abandon when they have the opportunity to."
Frown deepening when she brought up Remi, the potter scratched his chin. "Maybe being Ludo's demi-god would keep him from making a scene at this particular Festival." Still, he scanned the crowd for any sign of the Lullaby, Huntsman, or any of their other numerous opponents. While Amun did that, he put a hand on her shoulder and began steering her even further away from the rest of the crowd that was assembling. "I'm not seeing anyone else I really want to talk to anyway," he admitted with a laugh.
The observation made her look around again with a soft frown. "That's true. I wonder..." Then she shook her head. "You know what, I dont want to know. Let's just get out of here."
She allowed herself to be steered away from the Festival, and slipped her arm around Amun's waist as they distanced themselves from the potential danger of the gathering crowd. If something happened they would likely remain near enough to hear it - just not enough for anything untowards to happen.
Wouldn't want to make the night unpleasant, now would they.
Gets so hard to steer Yet I go on
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
at another place in time, you were infinitely mine relatively alright, when berenstein was fine
He’s delayed, because of course he is. Its for a good reason though, Sunjata having spent a bit of time trying to find someone to watch the twins while he takes this little trek into the Feverlands. It appears, though, that he hasn’t missed the entire affair, luckily for him, and he arrives toward the gathering to spy the feast of treats, a few of them familiar enough that his stomach nearly aches with the memory of devouring far too many that night in Isla’s home.
It's the first one in years that he’s arrived at without Nate. It’s also the first one in a long while that he’s brought his original lantern. The firstsecond iteration of Lusea’s lantern, heaving a heavy sigh as he hooks it around his lightning scarred arm and finds some place to set it. Along the way there are those that he chooses to purposefully avoid – Deimos, for one. No sign of the Huntsman or the Lullaby thus far.
He grabs a drink and moves towards the outskirts, feeling a hint of whiplash back to the first time he’d been to this event, feeling more and more like the Outlander, outsider he was when he arrived. It’s with that thought that he toasts his little glass to the metallic bronze and fire emblazoned lantern before he takes a sip. “To yet another year, my vlam.”
at another place in time, only parallel to mine the universe was alright, when berenstein was fine
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Left to his own devices, and sometimes preferring it that way in the more melancholic notions, he was surprised to feel a tap on his shoulder. Turning, glancing over muscles, he noted Darkeye with a small smile, bowing his head in greeting. “I am all right with them,” protective of the ones he’d lost, even if the multitudes were obvious; intertwining his parents’ first, along a pair of branches, side by side, fire and water elementals designated, before Huyana’s, and then Rexanna’s.
His stare fell upon the warpriest’s collection though, gaze softening slightly at the images rendered there; unmistakable in their denizens and hues. His tones were a deeper rumble, a whisper not parsing very far. “Are they for Rex and Bastien?”
Darkeye watched curiously as Deimos hung all his lanterns, but he wanted to do it alone; it had become important to him how it looked. He did not want to leave him alone. He wondered who the man next to Maea was. He did not know him by sight. His gaze wandered to Sunjata to see if he would at least look at Maea.
Darkeye nodded. "Yes, this is the lantern for Rex and Bastien I didn't want to make them separate from each other. It was important to me that they be united like this." Darkeye was proud of the lantern, it reflected so much joy in his eyes. There was no trace of sadness, only enthusiasm for art and beauty.
And if the sky grows heavy wrap your arms around me tight; we'll be alright
Presently, Remi was trying to do his best to keep his eyes on the ground and away from catching sight of anyone—or anything—that might move him to anger. Would Ludo punish him from acting out at its festival? Very likely. Would that be enough to stop Remi? Here's hoping we don't find out.
"How about here?" The alchemist suggests in a low voice, nudging Ronin softly with one shoulder and inclining his head towards a tree branch whose gnarled bough looked more like a finger than anything else. Without necessarily waiting for his husband's approval, the alchemist begins to tether his creation over his head, already wary of the sounds of voices that linger farther into the marsh.
This feels like a very bad idea. Remi adds silently, pulsing a note of disquiet in the Huntsman's direction.
Gatherings like these are always precarious given her entanglements with some of these individuals. It’s not unlike navigating a minefield. Sliding past bodies and averting her gaze from those she wishes to remain at length from. Confident none of them will turn this into a bloodbath or a screaming match given the topics at hand.
In her own more literal hands are a twin pair of lanterns. Entirely different in aesthetic, but had her twins not been that way in life? She briefly touches her eyes on Deimos but he is already in conversation with another. A glance is all they need anyway. Hanging her lanterns with gentle hands. Touching her fingertips to the painted glass for a moment, the Valkyrie sends a prayer out into the ether, and then retreats to gaze upon them from a few steps away, arms around herself. She had wanted to bring Enzo and Flora, but the memories of Fiat Lux had stayed her hand. Safrin’s protections may be a comfort, but they were not enough of a guarantee for a mother who had already lost too many children.
- - -
Ru brings lanterns for Ru’in and Romina.
Feel the fear and swallow back the tears Let weakness disappear, there's nobody but me here
Hotaru has a passive magic that makes her glow with an internal golden light; it makes her appear youthful and her hair seems to look like moving sunlight. Can only subtly illuminate dark spaces.
Probably. We will stay to hang the lanterns and grab a snack, and then we can leave. Mateo is more interested in the rest of the swamp anyway. Ronin agrees, waiting for Remi to find a spot for his lantern before following suit with his own creation. Hanging it overhead, he steps back and slips an arm around his husband's waist, watching the soft glow emitting from overhead and letting out a sigh.
"Another year, another few gone," he murmurs, turning to press a gentle kiss against Remi's crown of curls. "You're still not rid of me, though." Perhaps he's making dark joke (given that he did die once) or maybe he's just trying to keep the Lullaby's attention on him. For Ronin's part, he's happy not to look around. These festivals feel more volatile than celebratory, these days.
Mateo is more interested in the swamp than the snacks. Or he is until his attention is drawn to a particularly macabre display, the boy circling towards a table where a fascinating stranger is eating candy from a raccoon skeleton. Popping up beside Chaele - and having little idea that this is his fathers' confection, though it wouldn't surprise him - Mateo reaches into the ribcage to try and get a slice of heart-cake.
"This is really good!" he pipes up, even as his fingers and mouth become coated in bright red icing. "Did you make it?" The latter question, of course, is directed up at Chaele. "I like your mask," he adds.
Unlike her siblings (and indeed, unlike herself to some extent), Isla keeps her head down as she sidles into the festival. With her lanterns aglow in her hands - one made carefully out of the pages of books, and the other flamboyantly decorated with splashes of paint - she quickly searches out a good place to hang them. Finding a suitable branch, she sets them up alongside the countless others and lets out a sigh that's entirely unnecessary.
"Sleep well brothers," she murmurs. Perhaps Samuel and Bastien were sleeping now. Properly sleeping, with dreams and everything. Regardless, Isla wishes them a good rest.
She'd almost made another lantern, one with pressed flowers and sketched constellations and a hawk's feathers, but she'd thought better of it. That man is technically still alive, she supposes, though Isla's version of him is gone for good.
Sah arrives a bit late but places his lantern down where some of the others have been dropped off. It's a simple thing this year. A classic cylinder shape with a candle in the center. Simple swirls and lines are drawn on the sides, representing wind and fire. It's a token to Soleil and Luka's mothers. With his pups back by his side, the Outlander has found himself missing them more and more. He knows his pups do too.
Lantern in its place, Sah heads over to one of the other tables and sits down. Grabbing a far too familiar cookie with a chuckle, he settles in to watch the festivities. He feels a little too melancholy to start up a conversation at the moment, content to simply observe and wait.
I can't wait for this no more,
My eyes have come undone
The world was ever churning and the Sentinel could feel tension rising in the air as the season of war approached. He ventured away from his home very little these days, trying to keep everyone organized and together. He couldn't afford any casualties of his people, and being away from them made the bile from his stomach rise in his throat as anticipation and anxiety floated through his veins. He kept silent as he ventured to the Feverlands, even with Cordelia alongside him. He held the lantern he had crafted with her the night before so tightly to his chest that his knuckles showed white.
Finally, upon arrival to the festival, Noah let his eyes wander. His face was stoic, his mind and heart shielded from the bond of those attuned around him, and he placed his lantern carefully, before tugging at Cordelia's sleeve and settling near Lena. "I'm glad to see you safe." He whispered to her, knowing what had happened in Stormbreak just recently.
