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
His gaze went to the flies again, watching as they spiraled around the canopies, branches, brambles, and undergrowth; changing hues to reflect the ferns and vines, the jungle abyss and vast void. A mood lifted, perhaps, from any darker or all-encompassing fixtures; at least giving the Sword a moment not eternally impacted by trepidation or trauma. “And then there is decapitating, puncturing, piercing…,” traces of his dry humor manifesting in between the leaves and boughs; a few snorts to punctuate the notions.
The offer to sort extended in modest surprise in the raising of a brow – mostly because it was usually a default mannerism to the Sword to extend assistance – having it in return altered and skewed things. “If you want. The library may intrigue you anyways.” Plenty to be distracted amidst, and were Deimos not constantly occupied by one thing or another, he might have meandered there in front of the fire, scholarly intrigue and curiosity taking over.
As for the other exercises, the half-grin notched its way back to his features again. “I tend to use these exercises for the mind, and a bit of amusement. One year we did capture the flag. Other times I have used a version of hide and seek.” How to outwit one’s adversary, utilizing familiar, childhood diversions – allowing the rest of the public to coincide and join in the merriment and strengthening.
It was a list of mayhem that the courier was all too happy to indulge in. He was a fighter by nature: against the elements, the Halo fauna, and anything else that sought to prevent the timely delivery of his cargo. He might not have been very good at the sort of combat that warriors specialized in, but it wasn't for lack of trying these days.
Tal shrugged a little self-consciously at the raised brow to his offer. "Not so different from what I help my sisters with around the store, anyways. Sortin' and storin' the inventory the most efficient way for the space," he explained. "Mal's the brains, but I've probably picked up a few things from her over the years." He wasn't sure how he felt about a library... but then again, if it was filled with stories of the Guild's adventures he could probably sit still for a while.
The games the General mentioned had a certain martial flair - but they were still games, and Tal's grin mirrored his friend's. "I can definitely get behind that kind of training!" A confident declaration, and something fun to look forward to when Deepfrost locked him close to home and all the stress his tight-knit family could come under. "Hey, if you need any help settin' stuff up, just give me a shout. Least I can do, after all you've been teachin' me," he added, reaching up to rub the back of his neck with the awkward shyness of a young man getting to hang out with his hero.
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
Considering the courier’s experience, Deimos’s mind meandered along the inclinations of delegating tasks – enough on his plate at the moment, and he likely didn’t need to wholeheartedly supervise and hover over documents and information. “There are a number of journal entries, books, and loose papers to be sorted,” as if a majority of them had been placed there in a rush, or slid inside pages to be dealt with later. Very much an Aisha action, if he pondered it further.
The games were probably more tempting anyway, and he snorted at the reflected grin. “Perhaps we will use a variant of tag,” involving magic, shifts, items, and any other traces of offensive and defensive measures, while still delving into a team element. As for the second offer, another residual raise of his brow followed, but not for long – ending on a slight smile. “If you want. Though most of it will be dependent on what others do.”
Tal might have been hoping for weapons, trophies, or some specialized gear that befitted hunters of monsters and quellers of mayhem, and the mention of dusty books and musty journals dampened some of his enthusiasm. It was a slightly more glum courier who nodded understanding of the task ahead...
And he perked up a little at remembering that the journals and papers might contain accounts of the guild's previous exploits and drawings of the monsters in question. "I can do that," he agreed again.
For a young, active man who preferred to be outside, martial training in the form of tag was much more interesting, and Tal gave an eager nod, already beginning to plot how he might make up for his lack of magic against the likes of Sah. Maybe Boreal...
"I'm just glad to have you back," he admitted candidly, looking up from the ground with a flicker of a rueful grin. "You an' Noah. Especially with the world goin' tits up. If I can do somethin' to make your job a little easier, just let me know."
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
Unaware the courier had other expectations when dealing with guild assortments (though, he wouldn’t be surprised if the youth meandered down into exploring the armory – another thing on the General’s long list of necessities), he accepted the agreement for what it was – nodding in turn on the acceptance. With that out of the way, more of his time could be freed up between the assemblage of other notions.
Watching the flies once more, the Sword didn’t expect the sudden, forthright honesty – his shock on display with his widened eyes and swift movements, the speculation and confusion imminent. It took him even longer to register the vague compliment – mostly because after years upon years of diminished self-worth, and striving to ensure he did deserve things, it was still difficult to establish in his mind. Momentarily stunned, he let the comment parse away, not like a piercing thing, but a sentiment to be understood, remembered. “Thank you,” with a vague smile curling in the corners of his mouth. “We will try to do our best.” And he’d continue to uphold those semblances for as long as he could; amidst everyone else.
Tilting his head, at those thoughts, at those notions, he reflected the insight back the courier’s way. “What else do you want to see for Halo?” Movements, advancements, assistance from the deities…because while he and Noah might have had their own ideals, they likely weren’t the same as other citizens.
Of all the things he might have seen on Deimos's face, surprise - genuine, sincere - had not been something Tal could have expected. His own eyes widened in an unconscious mirror and he quickly dropped his gaze with an awkward embarrassment he didn't know how to process.
But there was still a flicker of a smile on his face at having surprised the General. It was a pretty nice feeling, earning a smile from a friend. Traveling as much as he did, he'd never had many of those before.
The question brought his head back up and he stopped scrubbing his neck, distracted at the new train of thought. Pale eyes followed a dancing insect as it glittered blue and bronze, and his brows furrowed in thought. "Um. Well. It would be good if Lady Deepfrost had less of a grip on Halo. Maybe if we could... I dunno... balance her out with some of the other nature spirits? Or Frey? Something like that." He'd mentioned it before, but after a little thought... "Maybe... make some altars for them? Someplace they can feel welcome there?"
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
Another surprise rendered upon his features, though this one was far more calculating and musing than the previous one – the arch to his brow, the vague tilt to his head, the way his eyes flickered along branches and brambles in thought. He’d expected something along the lines of other quests they’d measured for Halo: the greenhouse, the way the Citadel remained hospitable year-round. “Do you mean shrines? Could be something to ask Frey,” the Sword pondered, standing at the threshold of the same deity. He couldn’t be certain on how that being would face such an inquiry; not like Safrin, who craved worship. “And we have enough space in Whitebrim.” Gods knew that mess could still be honed into something beyond cannibal ruins and the recent waystation.
But with time becoming something so paramount, and with other factions hovering in the distance, he wondered about the ramifications of it all, eventually turning his gaze back to the courier. “Perhaps after the war?”
"Uh. Yeah. Shrines," Tal agreed, scowling down at his toes in embarrassment at having forgotten the word. The suggestion of Whitebrim eased the uncomfortable awkwardness from his features a little and he gave a tentative nod. "Yeah, or maybe something for Tanau in the Fangs near the Climb?" he suggested.
The mention of war did nothing to lighten the glum air and the courier nodded reluctant agreement. "Guess I'm jumpin' ahead of myself," he agreed ruefully. "War..." He shook his head. "Who decided it, anyways? That there had to be one? I mean, I know the gods are pretty pissed off with each other, but did one side just... announce it one day?"
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
Tanau had seemed like a decent sort; far better than his encounter with the Mathair. “Potentially,” he added to the notions of the ideas, shrugging his shoulders. It was all something that would take some discussions with deities, and Deimos certainly wasn’t going to speak for them.
The declarations of war, that it was coming, looming, beyond their capacity of ceasing it altogether, felt long ago and then not at all; a ritualistic passing of time that skimmed on nothingness and everything. “There was an announcement one day, out in the Wilds,” he murmured, when some had been hidden, some had been wandering, some had been simply there. Had there ever been an identification of the voice? Probably not – they’d all been immediately consumed by the ramifications. “But perhaps it had been building for a while.” And they just hadn’t noticed it – or had chosen to ignore the potential brewing, brimming tension.
A red flower had drawn some of the flies, and Tal stepped towards it, leaning down to admire the broad, fleshy petals while they spoke. He shot a confused glance over to his friend at his explanation, no closer to understanding than he had been before. "Sure, but who made it?" he tried again, seeking something more concrete to wrap his brain around. "It's not just some... some horrible practical joke, right?"
Though maybe it had already been too late. The Voice, the Ascended, the Old Gods and all the demigods popping up in recent years... it had all been gathering speed, like a few pebbles rolling downhill that grew into an avalanche. He'd been able to focus on his job, on Halo, on surviving... but he couldn't keep his head in the snow any longer. "You've met her, right? The Voice? What's she really like?"
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
“They did not introduce themselves.” But Deimos figured the courier had learned enough about spirits, counterparts, enigmatic quandaries, and other hosts of mysterious elements out amidst the world. The fact that no one challenged those directions and proclamations probably ensured most of them had seen it coming in one way or another. “I doubt it.” Not with the manner of actions, death, and demise already instilled.
The Sword had no high opinion on the Voice anyway, as the question turned to such a subject matter. The fly closest to him instantly went a shade darker, matching with his furrowed brow. “Secretive. The only time I was near her was when I was helping a friend,” carrying Rexanna’s crafted items and necessities for her healing, mending, or…repair work, as it might’ve been detailed. He wouldn’t know, considering the implications around it. “She forced my head down,” a manner of pride that he still found irritating. “I presume it was so I could not see what she was doing.”
But there were other circumstances surrounding the goddess, and his head tilted, trying to weight the frustrations downward. “What have you heard of her?”
The scowl resurfaced at the lack of answer; at not knowing who or what had decreed something that would affect them all so irreversibly. He glared at the flower as if holding it personally responsible for the mysterious announcer's lack of courtesy in providing introductions or explanations.
The Old Gods he knew something about, having grown up on the texts and stories and prayers, whether or not he'd been particularly devout until recently. But the New... he listened keenly to what the General said. His scowl deepened at the disrespect offered to Halo's General, and the flies nearest to him burned a deepening maroon.
the question turned back on him unexpectedly and he had to pause, unable to answer right away as he mentally scrambled to piece together thoughts in a coherent sequence. "Uh... Just general stuff, I guess? That she made the Ascended. An' the Old Gods trapped her in the Hollowed Grounds for some centuries to cool her off. An' there were some big sicknesses recently that were her fault." He shrugged uncomfortably. "Not really a fan of the whole blood-drinkin' angle she went with, either."
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength
“Sicknesses. Experiments that killed people during LongNight.” He nodded along, the modilu flies near him clearly trying to go into a more neutral color, but the hues were furnished into brighter beacons of irritation and frustration. That it had been so widely, and seemingly…accepted for so long baffled him. The Hollowed Grounds might not have had a choice, given their circumstances for three hundred years, but thereafter…there was another wrinkle to his nose that gave away some multitude of rancor. Not all of the deep, burdening rage though.
The blood drinking thing had never been something he found grand either – which was likely why none had ever approached, or asked, him for his incantations, his shifts. He wouldn’t have agreed or relented. “It is a bizarre dependency upon her,” and others, in truth; an act of manipulation on the goddess’s part. For as many had said – without the Voice, the Ascended would be gone. Unable to function.
Tal winced at the mention of LongNight and the reminder of the monster that had rampaged through the Citadel last year. And there were other 'experiments,' too? "I guess I can kinda understand what you said about people getting lured by her for a chance to come back and see their loved ones. And that whole 'living forever' thing she promises. But..." He shivered. "I dunno. There's just something creepy about it all. Like some kind of weird cult." And Halovians knew a thing or two about cults.
"Maybe we should start heading back?" he suggested, sliding an uneasy glance at the Shrine and the reminder that not all the gods who might attend it were Old. "It's a long walk..." Longer still, for those who weren't too keen on using the portals these days.
