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!
The meeting with Safrin didn't give her much to go on. It leaves her a bit frustrated, but there isn't anything to be done for it. Except to move forward. Maeve ends word to Melita to meet her at the temple. Her initial thoughts were to check the Trinity Temple. Except, if it was there, Maeve can't help feeling someone would have found it by now. Even if it was tucked away. The Knowtbook would have known, right?
Aidon trills as Melita enters the temple and Maeve nods her head to her with a faint smile, "Thank you for coming..." She murmurs, keeping her voice quiet as she speaks. "There is a gate that's locked... Only members of the clergy can get down there. I feel like we should start there." Surely an important relic would be locked behind a gate that's only for the clergy of the gods that made it, right?
'Cause it's too cold for you here and now so let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater
It’d taken Melita a little bit longer – by way of curiosity, mouth open at the sights and sounds around her. Mostly the massive and old buildings, that seemingly had a way of towering over everyone and everything – she’d only seen mountains, hills, like that. More than once her eyes followed and traced them upward, from the gothic, archaic structure of the Temple, to the Needle, to the gates – everything seemingly symbolic. But perhaps she was too numb, too young, too ignorant to understand.
Tracing after Maeve, and entering the Temple with Sila on her shoulder and Fangorn at her heels, the youth’s gaze widened yet again, striving to take it all in. The quiet scorched at the notches of her spine, causing her to shift, restless, listening to the queen’s murmurs as they threaded their way through – not to inspect the structure itself, but the outskirts. Light footsteps and whispers followed suit, hand clutching at her bag, armed to the teeth. “Okay. How do you plan to get past that?”
Any other time, Maeve might have stopped to take it all in too. To look about in wonder and see, but they didn’t have the time. The Nightshade slips through the back door, into the start of the graveyard, steps echoing slightly on the stones. ”I’m not sure. I feel like between us we can probably strong arm it open.” Maeve whispers, voice carrying slightly in the dusky twilight that surrounds them. She doesn’t wander from the path that leads them further down, sending Aidon ahead to scout for them, unwilling to run in to anyone as they go.
”Worst case scenario, I wrote to Ronin and get a clearance from him.” Given his ability to teleport, it wouldn’t be too difficult to get him there and back.
'Cause it's too cold for you here and now so let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater
A part of her wished they’d stayed longer in the temple, and the other proportions was glad to be out of its stuffy, overwhelming distinctions. Threading her way down the steps, she glanced at the stones, at the graves, as they trailed by – nothing like the gigantic hills and hollows carved into King’s End. Coiled, serpentine, and sinuous, they were notched and needled in neat layers and rows – perfected, she imagined, by someone with either way too much time on their hands or the belief this was the only way the dead could be honored. She was quiet, but her nose wrinkled.
Quite willing to set anything on fire, or beat it into submission, Melita shrugged her shoulders at the insinuation. “Sure.” She would probably enjoy that option far more than merely asking for permission. Fangorn bumbled down the stairs after her, and Sila trilled something quiet in her ear, leaving her to ponder and wonder. “Should we poke around here then? Before we try to go further?” Pausing, presuming this artifact would not be on the surface or easy to spot, the honeybee realized she didn’t have the slightest clue what they’d be looking for. “Have you ever seen a relic? Would it be buried somewhere?”
Maeve chews on her bottom lip, hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket, breath puffing out in white mists ahead of her. She hadn’t actually seen a relic. Not in person, but she’s heard about them. Knows that they don’t tend to be overly large. Weapons, wearable, portable… It could be buried out here, but why would it be so out in the open even if it was in a grave? Maeve imagines it would only take one person robbing the wrong grave to stumble upon it. Doesn’t seem like the best move. ”I don’t think it’ll be out here. I- I haven’t gotten my hands on one, but Locke had one. A doll made by Ludo.”
Her shoulders lift in a slight shrug, slowing her steps slightly, ”We can check the names on the graves. There could be some important people buried here.” It was a suggestion, a possibility to explore before diving straight down for whatever was behind the gate.
'Cause it's too cold for you here and now so let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater
That Locke had managed to procure one caused the slightest arch of her brow, before that too descended back into her narrowed proportions, not bothering to ponder over that complexity much further. He was gone. And with those notions came many other things – insinuations Melita wouldn’t be uttering in front of Maeve.
Instead, she nodded, ascertaining some semblances best left unsaid, and turning her gilded gaze towards a row of graves. “Okay. Do you…know of any?” She could play the ignorant Outlander card, for it was true – enough legends of the world behind the barrier, and why had unfolded many times, but not about what the rest of Caido was doing during that interim of three hundred years.
Keeping her footsteps light, airy, almost intangible threads of movement, she started on no tier in particular, while companions followed suit – crouching down briefly to read names imprinted into stone.
Maeve pauses, brows drawing together and she realizes that she actually doesn't know of anyone despite being a natural to these lands. She shakes her head, huffing out a breath that could be considered a laugh, "I don't actually." The words finally come and she shakes her head, reaching out to Aidon where he trots ahead of them, making sure that there isn't anyone else out here too. "Let's just see what's at the bottom of the stairs. Then when can decide if we want to keep looking here or inside the temple."
She says softly, glancing back at Melita as they continue down the steps towards their destination, hoping that they'll at least get some idea of what to do from this. They were blind right now.
'Cause it's too cold for you here and now so let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater
So much for that portion of the plan – the names rounding out in front of her, but no meaning glossed from their once-existence. Something like an annoyed huff flickered through her chest, not at anyone or anything in particular, but the wild goose chase they’d begun. A world of secrets, enigmatic twist and turns, where to go and what to find, but never quite certain where.
Summoned from her crouch, patting the nearest headstone for good measure, the youth retreated from the inscriptions. Companions followed suit, though Fangorn seemed just as lost and confused as she was, and Sila could only simmer a grumble under her breath. “Okay,” was another agreement, with a vehement promise and conviction to follow – probably only for the sake of amusements. “Do you want me to beat the gate down?”
The Nightshade is tempted to tell her yes. Just break down the damn gate, but Ronin's words flash in her mind. A reminder to treat things down here with respect. With a sigh, she shakes her head, "No, we better not. Let's see if we can find someone... I have that letter Ronin sent me." Maeve pulls the carefully folded letter from the pocket of her trousers, holding it up so Melita can see, Ronin's seal clear on the front. Thankfully, they don't have to go too far before they run in to someone tending the graves at the bottom of the steps near the gate.
She clears her throat, holding the letter up and offering a small smile, "Good evening, I'm Maeve Ansel and I've been sent on behalf of the Commander." Maeve extends the letter to him so he might read it over, hands clasped in front of her expectantly, waiting for the entrance that was sure to come.
'Cause it's too cold for you here and now so let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater
The disappointment was a tangible thing, the frown immediately evident. Some welling and brimming of frustration mounted across her shoulders, as if the only thing keeping her tethered and tied there had been the hope of demolition and destruction. Her eyes went to the letter, in a haphazard, leisurely shrug, before there were others. “Fiiiiine,” was a long-drawn out distinction.
She held the huff of a sigh threatening to curl along her lungs, hands reaching down to snag at Fangorn so he was in her arms, scratching the top of his head. Sila, insightful and curious, remained silent during the exchange, while Melita’s eyes narrowed, coming to Maeve’s side as she interacted with the stranger.
There seemed to be little trial or tribulation over the matter, and the man gave them a solemn nod, though one could probably see he was a bit confused by the whole thing. The gate swung open – and the honeybee gave zero hesitation, nodding an affirmation to the sovereign, before stepping through.
The gate is opened and Melita storms ahead. A move that the Nightshade has come to expect from the Honeybee. With her own sure steps, she surges after her, ignoring the path that leads towards the water. She has a feeling that won't do them any good. Whistling for Aidon, her attention instead turns towards the mausoleums that line the path, each one adorned with a name of a different important figure. "Do we think that we should start with the clergy or dragoons? Members of the Order?" She poses the question, glancing towards her travel companion with an arched brow.
All they have to go on is a hunch at this point and Maeve isn't sure where to start. Not that she knew what to do in the first place. This was all new to her and all she could hope was that they were on the right track. If Safrin hadn't already told her she didn't know anything about it, the Nightshade might considered asking for help from the herald.
'Cause it's too cold for you here and now so let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater
Melita paused long enough in her hasty rush to regard the directions in pathways – one with a distinction towards the water, the rush and lull of the waves crashing down below a signature pinpoint. The other resolved along cliffsides, though she had no idea about the mausoleums and crypts up ahead.
Maeve seemed to make the decision for them anyway, and she was left to meander close behind, companions in pursuit. “Let’s look at the Order members.” Wouldn’t they be important to the cause, so long ago? Hadn’t that been what surrounded the mythos and legend of previous wars? “Then we can circle back around.” A shrug of her shoulders ensued – about as lost as anything else out here, but an idea, a notion, nonetheless.
Their search is fruitless. Neither of them have enough knowledge of those of importance who used to reside in Stormbreak, making it incredibly difficult to decide what is worth looking at and what isn't. Both the Nightshade and the Honeybee girl spend hours wandering through the crypt. Each one pausing to look at the different tombs, searching for any clues that might tell them something, anything to narrow the search. By the third hour, their frustrations are running high and Maeve heaves out a sigh, running a hand through her hair.
"I think we need Ronin for this. I really don't know where else to look." Maeve finally admits, bracing her hands on her hips as she turns her attention to Melita, sure that the other woman would likely agree with her.
'Cause it's too cold for you here and now so let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater
The honeybee was eternally willing to try, even when the efforts seemed a bit hopeless. Perhaps she was still full of those measures, rather than relying solely on gut instinct, determination, stubbornness, and an unrelenting, piercing volley of spirit. But the names signified nothing to her – the dirt around the graves remained the same, and the cast of the die didn’t seem to be in their favor for this go-around.
Not wanting to simply give up, she regained her stature from her crouch, hand tightening over whatever object remained in her hand. Fangorn grumbled something, low, striving to remain unaware in the midst of the evening, and Sila clambered back to her arm, tail twisting over muscles and skin. “Okay,” was uttered reluctantly, not even bothering to hide her sigh. “Do we want to wait for him? Maybe at the Celestine?” Or the Temple? Or any other places?
