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!
"How exactly do you plan on figuring out where it is?" Nate's voice grows quieter in the bar, his first few thudding steps nearly drowning it out. His tongue finds a place between his teeth as he steps towards the counter and starts setting things down, his gaze focused on things twisting in the lichtenburg scars in the wood.
A smile finds his face somewhere on the meandering trail up towards Isla's features, Nate flopping over the counter as soon as his arms are empty. "No, I mean it." Bright blue eyes burn with a sudden intensity, at odds with the looseness of his body. "Point me in a direction and I'll go, but uh... I'm not much for plans. Someone else has to do that."
Do you read fuck-up in my walk?
Do you see fuck-up on my face?
"Trial and error, mostly," Isla admits with a soft sigh, the Remedy shrugging as if in acceptance that it's not the best plan in the world. "Wessex has her Knowtbook so we'll be keeping a close eye on that for any developments. The implication is that it's somewhere old in Stormbreak, but..." She shakes her head. "In a city that old, it doesn't really narrow it down."
Unable not to let out a laugh to see him slump so unceremoniously across the bar, Isla feels like she ought to offer him some water, not that he'd need it. "Oh," she says with a soft raise of her eyebrows, surprised to hear him double down, but feeling a pulse of reassurance that he knows his own mind so well. "Luckily for you, I am one for planning. So you'll always be able to count on that."
"I'd think the church." Nate hums, more to himself than as a genuine suggestion. Surely there's better minds than him working on it, minds that have already considered and looked into such an obvious place. "Just let me know when someone figures it out, eh? We'll do it right this time." He laughs, reaching out with a fake arm to rearrange something blindly.
There's a long stretch of silence, Nate working his jaw before letting his eyes roll up to take in Isla. "I know I can count on you." He offers, staring with an intense focus at her face, making sure his words sink in fully. Once he's sure, whatever metric he'd needed met in his head, he pushes himself upright again. "If you don't want me to put you to work, you better get out of here." He warns with a laugh, stepping back to start going over his supplies.
Do you read fuck-up in my walk?
Do you see fuck-up on my face?
"The church. I'll make sure that's on the list, if Wessex doesn't already have it in hand," Isla agrees with a soft nod, tucking a wisp of blonde hair behind her ear. "And I'll come knocking as soon as we know what's going on, don't you worry." He isn't the only one who wants to do things right this time, but Isla is no powerhouse. She knows her strengths, and they lie in helping the Nates of the world operate.
Catching his gaze is like being pulled into a sudden riptide, Isla raising her eyebrows seeming unable not to offer him a small smile for his trouble. "And I you," she says softly, before stepping back as well to look over all the supplies he's gathered.
"And if I want to be put to work?" she challenges with mischief in her voice, spreading her hands as if to tell Nate where he needs her. Even if that's unpacking and stacking supplies, the medic will be sure to make the most of it.
