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!
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
To Deimos’ credit, and all the manners in which he’d sunk into his melancholies, that inquiry hadn’t been amongst the many lost along the way. He stood silently for a moment, mulling it over, amidst the experiences he’d held along this earth, and all the ones before, staring over the flies as they twisted and turned, intertwining along roots and limbs, some hues altering again (a vibrant green, an ashen brown). “Maybe they found peace in Mort’s Realm, and want to wait for their loved ones to join them.” Another pause, pondering over what so many others would’ve said; he could almost hear the weight of a Shield’s sagacity, pressing into his ears. “Or knew better, than to be tempted by the Voice.” Stronger, wiser, far more cunning than the goddess. “She keeps the Ascendeds’ souls.” And then his gaze flickered down, knowing there were some of his own that he’d never see again – simply for that reason alone. Unless –
And he cut that thought off with a shake of his head, because there were other matters on the horizon, and the semblances could come later.
Skyports were distracting enough anyway. “The cold and mountains may make an impact, but I do not see why not.” Some other considerations would likely have to be made in those boundaries; where the Greatwood and Torchline didn’t have those particular obstacles.
"Yeah... yeah. That sounds like dad," Tal admitted, perking up a little at the thread of silver lining that Deimos extended. "Too stubborn to let someone else's goddess tell him what to do." The pair of modilu flies that were spiralling lazily above his head lightened in hue to more of a teal shading into cyan. "An' he always trusted us to be able to take care of ourselves..." His parents had raised their litter well, after all. "And mom wouldn't go where we couldn't follow, someday." He reached up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly, giving Deimos a flash of a grateful smile. "...Thanks. I... it helps to hear that."
He wasn't good at talking out feelings, and the skyport was a lifeline of sorts. Tal nodded at the good points Deimos made, but his grin lifted higher at the possibilities now unfurling. "Maybe Frey or Safrin could give the ship some protection against the weather?" he suggested eagerly.
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
Deimos certainly wasn’t an individual known to make others feel better – especially with any regard to emotions. So he gave a slight smile, along the edges of his mouth, surprised by the notions but permitting the moment to pass without any additional embarrassment on either side. “They sound like good people,” considering what the courier had said to him in the past, at least about his father. And not the kind of individuals to fall victim to the Voice's whims and promises.
Modilu flies and skyports were welcome distractions anyway, away from rancor and deceased relatives. “Perhaps,” he shrugged his shoulders, incapable of speaking for the deities and requests, and the notions that he’d been avoiding the inevitable. “We need to talk to Frey about the previous defenses anyway,” and begin anew, again, in ensuring Halo was protected.
Tal nodded shyly, pleased to have the General's good opinion of his parents; especially since his father would have respected the man so greatly, the courier knew. It was enough, and more than he could have hoped for from anyone, and there was at least a momentary lifting of the frustration and grief that Neron's name had brought to their discussion - and all the fallout that had come with it.
Frey's name drew fresh interest from the younger man, and his eyes dropped from the colorful flies and back to Deimos's face. "They've really helped Halo out," he agreed. "If there's any way I could help..." His eyes dropped to the bag from which Deimos had drawn bits and bobs and minor miracles before, and an excited shine reflected from them. "Hey! Maybe if I had a bag like yours I could carry things better between th' groups workin' on bolstering the defenses?"
He rubbed at the back of his neck fiercely, trying not to scowl at his own eagerness as he realized how strong he was coming on. "Uh. I mean. I've been admirin' yours for awhile and... well. If you've got a spare that needs a good home, I'd like to trade you for it," he offered, hopefully a little more politely.
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
The flies landed on a few roots, colors altered once more into some kind of tranquil green, nearly blending in with the other hues surrounding them; away from the frustrations of Hailstorms and whims of deities. The flick of their wings distracted him for an instant, so he missed the courier’s excited efforts, until his voice changed in pitch and tone, enough for the Sword to turn and shift again, the residual arch to his brow there all the more.
There’d be plenty of opportunities to assist, and he nearly opened his mouth to say so, before the youth carried on about bags of holding. The General’s gaze went briefly to the satchel over his shoulder, there on each and every journey due to its usefulness, and snorted. “I do not have a spare,” leaving it on a long, purposeful pause, probably to be obnoxious and draw out the semblances. “But I can likely make you one.” Then he ceased entirely, waiting for some other statement or acceptance.
Tal swallowed at the pause, visibly steeling himself against the disappointment that followed Deimos's initial words. His hopes had only just risen and he hadn't had much time to get them very high, so the let down was a mild one--
The casual offer left him momentarily speechless, but the modilu flies dancing around his head lit up in bright emeralds and shining golden hues, spiraling dizzily around each other as light flooded the courier's pale eyes and a broad grin stretched as wide as his scowls usually did. "You could? I mean, you would? I mean--" He checked himself against the outpouring of excitement, but the grin remained, bright as noonday sun gleaming off the Tundra. If he'd had an Attuned shift to call on, his tail would have been wagging as hard as one of his hounds' banners. "Yes, please!"
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
The youthful excitement in response caused his brows to go upward, and then recede back into their residual prowess, followed by a snort. Stilling and steeling himself, he brought his palms forward – their calloused wake turning into one another, and began the process of orchestrating the incantations. From mind to magic, the details overlapped into infinite points, gilded prowess circumventing between upraised hands, until the bag began to form in between.
A different hue than his own, to ensure no confusion between the satchels, the bag already looked full when it transpired – a darker shade of ivory, a mixture of grey so it’d still be noticeable if left or fallen into the snow. When he was finished, he lifted it upwards, a casual inspection, before passing the item over to the courier, an inquiry made thereafter. “Will that work?” It’d likely be suitable for deliveries and whatever else the Accepted required.
--
Deimos has made:
Type: Grey | Style: Other | Level: Basic
Bag of Holding | A bag that can hold an infinite number of items, so long as they fit within the bag's 3ft x 3ft opening. The bag always feels nearly weightless, but always looks about 75% full.
A snort was as good as a 'yes', Tal was learning except when it was a no, and he held himself still through a great effort of will as he looked on. Pale eyes were wide with wonder as Deimos brought his hands up and began to draw cloth and leather into being. From empty air the bag began to take shape, pale and well-crafted above and beyond the magic inherent in its weave.
When it was finished Tal reached out with fingers that trembled with eagerness, cradling the bag as he peered inside it to try and find the bottom. "It's perfect!" he assured his friend with enthusiasm. Unable to wait, he unhooked his sheathed knife from his belt and slipped it into the bag before closing it. Barely a breath later he opened it again and pulled it out, grinning at the ease with which he found and retrieved the item from the infinite space. "Thanks!"
Seeing no reason to wait, he plopped down on a root and began to transfer the contents of his more unwieldy backpack into their new home. "I can fit everything in here! No more worrying about losing my winter clothes in the pass!" Happy as a ningo, he grinned up at Deimos. "An' you just made the dogs a lot happier, too! This'll be a lot less weight for them to pull on my deliveries. What's the biggest thing you ever put in yours?"
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
He remained still as a statue in the waves of enthusiasm and eagerness, watching the reel of action thereafter. At least the appreciation was noted, and he gave a nod, while the courier seemed fit to pile all the contents within the satchel. Eventually, his gaze peeled away, gazing upon the modilu flies as they circumvented around his head again; hues circulating in neutral tones and colors, something uncertain building in the back of his mind.
There’d been no place for him to hone in on a word during the chatter anyway, and soon thereafter, he took in the inquiry launched upon himself. Making no mention of his other bag which he’d crafted specifically to carry bodies silently and efficiently (and drop them in places they couldn’t be found quickly), the intonations came on another deep rumble, a keen tilt of his head. “Weapons.” And that leviathan scale that he should probably make some use of.
The flies near Tal were still glittering bright as christmas Deepfrost ornaments as they circled in a dizzy dervish above his head, reflecting the excitement he felt for the gift. His own pack was efficiently packed and light enough for the scrawny young man to carry, so it didn't take long to transfer everything into the new bag - including, after some creative folding, his old backpack.
Pale eyes glanced up and Tal's grin broadened momentarily before he ducked his head to trace a root as thick as his torso as it wended away from the shrine. "Yeah, I guess you could just stick a whole spear in here, huh? Maybe I should learn how to use one... they're better against ursurs than axes." The humor faded on the last words, a pained look coming into his eyes briefly. "Is that somethin' we could maybe do this Deepfrost? Except I don't really have any experience with 'em, so I'd be startin' from scratch." At least with the axe training he'd already had some basics to rely on. Though perhaps this way there'd be fewer bad habits to unlearn?
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
Still and quiet, eyes only glancing towards the shrine to ensure their offering remained suitably in place, they maneuvered back upon Talyson only when the chatter began again, a coiled sense of unease he couldn’t explain beginning to brew in the back of his mind. “Probably.” Because plans had a habit of altering, changing swiftly around Caido, and they were steadily headed into Deepfrost’s range. He’d learned long ago to be careful with his promises and convictions.
Admitting that particular weapon wasn’t one of his experienced ones might have smarted, but he couldn’t hold expertise in every single armament that had been crafted and created. “I have been learning how to use them properly as well.” Tending to rely heavily on the blade, staff, or bow, alongside his incantations, the spear utilized a certain range and potential that he’d found amusing. Especially when he could thrust it into a target’s shoulder and rip things apart.
05-06-2022, 05:35 AM (This post was last modified: 05-06-2022, 05:35 AM by Talyson.)
If Tal noticed the General's reticence to make promises on an uncertain future he gave no sign of it. The 'probably' was good enough for him; born and raised in Halo where the only certainty was a cold death, he knew in his bones that promises were never without the silent caveat of 'if we both survive that long.'
Dark brows rose in surprise to hear that Deimos - warrior, war-leader, survivor - was not already a master of every weapon.
Then again, repeated exposure had been wearing away the pedestal that the Resurrected Sword had once stood upon, revealing beneath the mythical veneer a man of far more complexity than a single legendary title could encompass - and a friend Tal would rather have at his side than any fairy tale hero.
"Then maybe we can practice together," Tal altered with a firm nod. "I mean, poking holes in things can't be too much harder than chopping them down, right?" Ah, youthful optimism.
"Got any plans for the Barracks or Guild for Deepfrost?"
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
Deimos, ever the lifelong learner, bore no shame in remaining ignorant of some armaments. There was only so much time before battlefields, wars, and crusades; and they were often reliant on key, already-developed skills, when the cataclysms started plunging. He figured this one would be no different – but there were still moments where he could gain some wisdom and sagacity, instead of being the constant instructor. “Sure.” An easy agreement and accord, and there were enough targets in decent shape to carry on the brutality, and the blunt force of might. “But there are always different techniques for poking holes in things,” he conducted with a modest grin; as if he hadn’t done it a thousand times over.
Unaware of any pending horizons heading in his direction with the upcoming season, his eyes went to the ground for an instant, pondering over the circumstances. “There is plenty of work to be done within the guild itself. Sah and I opened it up, but there is much to be sorted and stored.” And not enough instances in the day for the General to do it – occupied by fellow warriors, routines, schedules, and dictated duties. As for the barracks? He gave another slight grin. “Continued training, though I was thinking of holding some other exercises for anyone interested.”
"Sure, there's stabbing, an' jabbing, an' perforatin', an' punching," Tal listed confidently, grinning back with the joke. Maybe they all meant the same thing, but at least they all sounded slightly different!
Tal listened to the tasks ahead, scuffing thoughtfully at the dirt with his boot as he heard Sah's name. He managed not to scowl - barely - and instead found a nod of acknowledgment for the Guild chores. "I'm usually not very busy in Deepfrost. Just running local mail within the Citadel. I could probably help with sortin' stuff," he offered. "An' the climbing training is startin' to pay off! Maybe some new exercises would make me even stronger!" His eagerness didn't quite match the modest gains in muscle mass over the past season, but when one had so little to begin with, even small improvements made a big difference.
