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!
LongNight draws near again. It always does; time has no intention of stopping for them. And though she has no need to collect snow moss to dampen footsteps or block out stray beams of light, there is something both morbidly comforting in doing it again. Besides… the Barracks could probably use something to plug the bits that mortar missed, or has since been chipped away. Surely some other houses might need some repairing - or warming - too.
With a large basket and several knives in tow, the General heads out into the Woodlands to seek the old places she knows well. She makes clear tracks across a cover of newly fallen snow, the crunching of her boots becoming more muffled the deeper into the trees she goes. For the most part, she thinks she’s alone - and that’s just fine with her - that is, until she comes across another pair of footprints.
Huh. Curious...
there was a time that we were kind, but now don't write me, you're not fooling anyone
The bark was tougher than she thought. Shaking out her fingers that had been groaning in protest over the way she squeezed the handle of the knife, Maea shifted her weight and put some more force behind it as she tried again. A long vertical cut down the aspen tree, followed by two horizontal at top and bottom; then the trick was to pry the tip of a dagger in beneath and slowly roll the bark back from the wood until it came off in a single sheet.
Several rolls of peppermint bark already lay by her feet, and a few other trees had been unceremoniously stripped. Now they stood stark and naked in the cold, left to shiver in the biting wind. If trees ever felt cold - the girl never paused to consider that.
With a final grunt of mingled effort and satisfaction the bark came off, and she huffed out a breath that fogged slightly in the air. Tucking the knife away, Maea gazed down at the result of her labor, and considered.
"Maybe I overdid a little... Oh." Her head shot up as the sound of chirping snow reached her ears. A wary tension came over the slight figure, until her gaze caught on a figure in the distance. Not quite able to distinguish who it was yet, she waited to see who - or maybe what - it was, whether the figure would approach or leave.
It could be another Banshee.
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 ♦
Unable to decide quite yet if she’d like any company, Wessex decides to give the tracks some space and walk parallel to them. The trees grow thick here, and she doesn’t put much effort into seeing if anyone is on the horizon - such are the perks of being a demigod, she muses dryly to herself. Only a few she needs to watch her back for, and if they’re lurking in the Woods, then she’s got a much bigger problem.
Ah, and there’s some snow moss. Squatting down in the snow, the natural brushes away the detritus and takes her knife’s edge to the ground. Scraping up the green-white plant, she eventually pulls up a long strip and deposits it into the waiting basket. Pushing herself up, her mind seems to remember the task she’s originally set out to do, and turns most of her attention to the ground again, with only half an ear paying attention to whatever other was out there with her.
there was a time that we were kind, but now don't write me, you're not fooling anyone
Was snow moss still a necessity, after all was said and done? The young girl, certainly old enough to remember days when it was, might have committed to the movements by habit. Or her parents sending her outside, intending to snag at it by the bushel. Her sack was fairly empty at the moment, either by distraction or lack of finding some altogether.
But seeing someone nearby, the little Natural skittered around, side-eyeing the General’s amount. “Um,” she made by a quiet mouse like announcement. “Can I pick here too?”
The small, tentative and high-pitched voice immediately draws Wessex’s attention. She swivels to the side, visibly surprised to find a younger girl a few feet away. Her presence prompts a smile, though, warm and welcoming despite the tips of her fangs showing a bit (that’s usually how one knew it was a genuine expression and not some political or half-assed attempt). “Of course,” the General steps, gesturing for her to come and collect as much as she’d like. “Plenty to go around.”
And for now, the other person and the set of footprints are forgotten. “Is your home warm enough?” she asks with a concerned tilt of her head. The monsters may be gone, but the moss was still great insulation until patchwork can be done in Flowerbirth.
there was a time that we were kind, but now don't write me, you're not fooling anyone
Her eyes flickered back and forth between the snow moss and the General, waiting for either rebuttal or acceptance. When it was the latter, an obvious bout of repose filtered over her small form, and she wiggled over towards the snow moss, beginning to grab it in clumps. Quick, much like a rabbit, a hare, or some other miniscule rodent, the youth snagged and pulled and tugged, placing it within the bag.
Not expecting to be addressed thereafter, her head raised rapidly too. “Oh. Um. Yes.” Sort of. For the most part. “We have enough wood.” If that’s what the Wraith meant.
It isn’t what she’s asking about, but perhaps Wessex oughtto have been more direct. “Okay. Good. Just checking. I heard this LongNight was going to be extra chilly.” Part of her anticipates Eirachi spreading her hand across the world now that she has so many shrines. She wouldn’t put it past the sharp-toothed spirit. Shifting to the outer edges of this particular snow moss garden, the Wraith slowly picks at smaller pieces, leaving most of it for the girl. And when it seems like her bag is starting to bulge, she offers a quiet, “How ‘bout I walk you home? There may not be any Monsters left, but the Woods can still be a little dangerous.”
And even if there are protests, Wessex will hear none of it. Back to her house they both go.
{Fin}
there was a time that we were kind, but now don't write me, you're not fooling anyone
