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!
They must look ridiculous, grinning like mean children as they amble down the pathway, but Evie relishes in the fact that she is wholly unknown here. No generations of nosy neighbors to pry into their business, giving conspicuous glances and making hushed comments. Well, they might about Deimos given the man’s general stoicism, but for once Evie is free to tease and be teased without feeling like her entire life is on display for the public to gawk at.
She cuts a sideways look at him, eyes squinted playfully, grin twisting into something both coy and reprimanding. “Never boring, in my experience, if I must stroke your ego. But you jump extremes straight into brutality. Do you have no mercy on my underwhelming physique?” Lifting an arm she pinches woefully at her bicep through her clothes. Aware it is toned and entirely free of fat beneath the heavy coat, but willing to try anything to worm her way out of the cruelty of his exercises.
Her chest warms at the incredibly subtle implication that he’s willing to take his eagle eye off the soldiers to do something as mundane as escort her around a greenhouse. It softens her smile, though she turns to look at the greenhouse glinting in the sunlight so she might hide that particular part. Deimos’ laughter is familiar despite seasons apart, and his graceful maneuvering around delicate topics - something he has always displayed, with her - makes her unfairly emotional. Sparing a moment of disgust for that, Evie is delayed in her reply. “It sounds like a promising opportunity, but even if they answered me and deigned to Attune me - can you imagine me fuzzy? Knowing my luck the Gods would find it funny to give me forms related to my hair. A fox, can you imagine? How cliché!” She despairs playfully as they approach the greenhouse, already eagerly eyeing the vague greenery through the glass panels.
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
Considering the local public had seen the man rampage down the streets as a hellhound on multiple occasions, unfold a rampant hide and seek game in the middle of the market, create a sledding hill and skating rink, the citizens had probably long since decided the Sword was more than a stoic figure. Protective and guarding, but certainly juvenile and impish when the mood struck him, and so he gave no bother to anyone glancing their way – though a majority would probably be to Evie regardless, considering she hadn’t been here long.
He gave a flattened look in response to her attempts at inflating his ego, which had never flickered into arrogance, but mostly the pathetic, meager venture at discrediting her capabilities. “None,” proclaimed on a rumble, and a follow-up snicker, before opening the door to the greenhouse.
They were met with the humid rush of air that Deimos had often distinguished with the Oerwoud. If he wrinkled his nose at the tropical adherence, it was only because it was well below his favored climate. Immediately shrugging off furs, and then another outer layer, he offered to take hers and placed them along hooks near the doorframe. On another notion, he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms, and then corded off long hair into its residual bun formation, before tilting his head, listening all the while.
Hybrid contortions he could well understand, shrugging his shoulders, giving chase to amusements rather than the underlying intonations. “Or a parrot.” Leaving those implications to her machinations, he eased forward with another devilish grin, strides going towards no fauna in particular, waiting for her to pick and choose along the unwinding paths.
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
Oh, if only she’d been around to see it all. To join in the devilry and disarray. For now she is blissfully unaware, but the future holds nothing but opportunity for the two of them to claim the joy and childhood neither had gotten to experience enough of in their proper times. Even now she bumps shoulders with him, blue eyes rolling above a fond smile at his denial. “Such a gentleman,” is her sarcastic drawl, which makes it all the more ironic when he holds the door for her.
Stripping out of her own layers with a far more sincere smile as he extends his hands for them, Evie trusts he will take care of the garments, already distracted by the wonderful world he has brought her into. Head turning this way and that in a desperate bid to see it all, she heads for the closest planting box and reaches for the sprouts inside with gentle, practiced hands. It nearly distracts her enough to not register his sly comment - though when she does she squawks in offense, “Hey!” and then slaps a hand over her mouth immediately in horror that dissolved into helpless laughter. “Okay, we aren’t going to talk about that ever, but I will say it proves my point,” she laughs. Plus were feathers any better than fur? Evie’s not sure she would pull off either.
Turning back to the plants she taps fingers along ones that seem particularly sad, and with a touch of magic has them straightening and brightening. Coming to the edibles, she pauses and lets her hand rest on the strawberries, encouraging it to grow and ripen within moments. Plucking it, she extends it to Deimos with a lopsided smile. “Here,” she encourages, hoping it was the right choice given her memory of his sweet tooth and what was available. Immeasurably content to be able to use her magic so freely, as she has always been able to since the day she told him what she was. Like stretching a muscle cramped from the tight spaces of confinement.
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
He offered nothing more than an ambivalent snort at the retort, watching as she decided amongst the lush and dense foliage, and opting to follow so he didn’t feel so lost in its quarters. For all his earthen incantations, he rarely used them as anything more than sieges or defensive measures – twisted vines, caves left intact, earthquakes rooting into the ground and abolishing an enemy. Soldier through and through, rarely capable of mending or curating something other than protective shields or life-saving machinations for another, his gaze witnessed the sprouts beginning to curl and grow from her touch, and he crouched nearby to witness leaves unfurl.
The resounding squawk instigated a very wide smirk, but he was careful not to mention it again, or let the laughter fall and echo, disturb the peace and tranquility of the place. Already bribed with strawberries, he plucked several out of her fingers. “Thank you,” before munching, considering, allowing the delectable and divine taste flicker along his mouth and across his tongue. Reminded of something, and fighting the urge to wrinkle his nose at the complexities, his hands reached for a nearby patch of blueberries, concocting the same measures as Evie, watching them bloom to life with richer fervor and deeper hues. “Supposedly another festival sprung up. Liat Fux.” This time he did laugh, but only because of the name.
Snagging at the proportions he’d melded within, proffering some to her on a flattened palm and silent gestures, his gaze wandered outside the glassy construct, watching as Belial sauntered and fluttered, and Zuriel picked at weeds growing underneath. “Though it is in the swamps.”
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
As they crouch together, side-by-side in the shadows of the foliage they help sustain, Evie finds her cheeks ache. The seasons alone in the Wilds has ensured interaction with other humans was a rarity, and her return to the Grounds bad heralded nothing but grief and loss. It had been ages since she had last smiled this consistently and earnestly, and it only proves that she made the right choice. Even the fact that Halo is practically a haven for Abandoned makes it all seem like fate.
His thanks is met with a warm hum of answer, swallowed by the strawberry she plucks for herself. Sweet, translucent pink juice drips off the corner of her mouth, ignored for the moment as she holds the half-eaten fruit by the stem, intending to savor it with multiple small bites. She is distracted from that by what he says, a wrinkle of confusion forming between her brows. It’s a ridiculous name change, too ridiculous for him to have concocted it as a joke, and she can’t help the bubbling of laughter that quietly builds in her chest. “Do you think the fact it’s in the swamp is tied to the equally stupid naming?” Her free hand opens, palm cupped slightly, for him to deposit the blueberries into. Popping them into her mouth instead of returning to the strawberry, eyes close in appreciation for a moment as the taste rolls over her tongue. When they open again, they seek out Deimos’. “But you said supposedly. Have you not gone to investigate yet?” Twirling the strawberry stem idly between her fingers and watching the pale inner flesh spin, she smirks. “Because if you haven’t, maybe we should go together and check it out.” And maybe cause a little mischief.
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
Nosey and inquisitive as he was, the questions lingering from her time in the Wilds, about when and where she’d gone, were left into the dissipating torrents and ghosts. It’d been around the same happenstance of his losses and subsequent illness, and considering how poorly everything had gone, there’d be no judgement from him about her ventures. Instead, comradery and silence persevered, persistent in the edges of wraiths and phantoms; better, in lacking the clustered, coiled specters.
As she took the blueberries, he increased the breadth and span of another set, content with snagging a few more for himself and her, and then leaving the rest for the Citadels’ other occupants. The response, because he’d wondered if she’d be mired in all the trauma and snaggings of the original Fiat Lux too, was met with the lightest of smirks, causing a dimple in one cheek. “Could be,” pondering, really, if it was just leftover vestiges from the Festival of Lights. “I have not.” The last intervals in investigating the marshlands had been with Ru, hurling mud at her as was his right, and conversing with Mildew about fortunes – which, had come out decently in the end.
“We could,” he managed on a rumble, with an air of mischief brewing behind teeth and tongue. “Probably ought to bring something though.” Much like they’d done before; uncertain just how much this festivity would vary.
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
This time she plucks the berries directly from his palm to feed herself, standing from their shared crouch to pull on his elbow distractedly until he joins her on her new path to the herbs. Even the shock of touching his skin when she expected cloth where his sleeves are rolled up is a reminder of how long she has gone without human contact. It helps rationalize the need for him to be close, even if it does nothing to stop her disgruntlement over what she perceives as girlish weakness. But for all her fire, her life had always been full of touch. Amalia’s hugs and handholding, chaste kisses and less chaste hookups with various fancies, Deimos’ steady hands hauling her from the dirt during sparring, even the rare and convoluted emotions spurred by proud claps of a hand across her shoulders from her father or her mother’s hesitant cupping of her lightly freckled cheeks.
Here and now she’s grateful that Deimos has never done more than lightly tease her for her inclinations to touch. It had taken them seasons to get here, but it was well worth the effort of building that closeness.
“Bring something as in a weapon or a gift?” she can’t help but snort, leaning on that Caido brand of dark humor. Her hands bury themselves in soil to keep them safely busied, shamelessly moving a bundle of rosemary away from the neighboring plant that she knows would discourage its natural growth. Whoever tends to the greenhouse could take up the decision with Evie if they didn’t like it. “I still use the throwing knives you taught me to use, but anything else I left in the Grounds. Figured they were all weapons I could find here, and better quality at that.” It’s a tangle of things, that sentence; memories, loyalty to all he has done for her by continuing his lessons, revelation of all she has given up to be here so short notice. But also, more humorously, a revelation that she is woefully under-armed these days. Dusting the soil idly off her hands (badly, leaving stains behind) the Evergreen turns and smiles beatifically up at Deimos. “Also - I am never leaving this place.” Even just standing within its walls she feels like she’s actively healing.
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
Tugged away from the berries with a quiet huff, the ignorance of plant-life and its foibles, unaware of her inner workings (because he’d have a lot to say about touch – coming from a man who had an entire lifetime where he couldn’t), distracted him from much else. He could only identify bits and pieces he’d seen before – like snow moss, or peppermint bark, and naught here resembled the poisons Ray had helped him concoct. Made to preserve the constituents and citizens of Halo, rather than embark on noxious, nefarious qualities.
“Food,” he snorted. “Like we used to.” However, the Sword had no intention of leaning into bread, marking it across with fineries of different times and different measures, or embarking too far down into those memories. Perhaps there would be altered traditions along with the namesake, rather than blunted ends of mud monsters or tragic fringes, or maybe the rest of the world would stay away, too hesitant, too apprehensive, from the measures of the past. “Should we bring back the flower crowns?” A joke; competitive means ensuring he’d had more than necessary in the peaceful, intermittent years.
He arched a brow at the movement of the rosemary, but didn’t question it – presuming she’d know better. Eyes widened instead at the semblances of her throwing knives, of skills still utilized from years and seasons before, before falling into their residual stoicism, the quiet, piercing glance. “We have a good selection in the armory,” all made and crafted by him, with carved perfection and serrated semblances, no blade out of place. “You can look later.”
Tilting his head, very canine and feline all at once – predator motions perhaps, in the calm and stillness, he snorted at her insinuation. “Going to live in the greenhouse?”
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
Even without mentioning it aloud, she knows they both mentally have marked off all notions of breadmaking and other pursuits that remind them too heavily of Amalia. Evie’s conviction is like steel, determined to not let the woman’s oppressive ghost ruin what would surely be a delightful time. So she grins instead, eager for a chance to make new memories untainted by their shared grief. “Oh, absolutely. And we have all the necessities for any recipes we could want at our fingertips now!” she gestures her dirtied hands in a vibrant flourish gesturing at all the plants before them, sunlight practically shining through her face. Food insecurity had only just begun to taper away in the Grounds, aided by men like Deimos who could hunt and provide once the barrier shattered. The greenhouse was something Evie had desperately wanted to build herself, but it had been a dead-end dream. Here, however, there was practically a paradise of food and greenery. They would never have to settle for the simplest of desserts or grain-heavy breads again.
Flowers, however, were another matter. Laughter - yet more laughter, and how strange it is, but with each new peal of it she feels more like herself - sneaks between her teeth, trying to keep quiet in case others are in the greenhouse. “You did look quite dashing in them,” she allows, cheekily encouraging a bloom from the nearest herb even though it amounts to a size no bigger than her pinky nail so she can pluck it and turn towards Deimos with it in hand. Stretching onto her toes she aims to quickly place it in his hair, aided by the bun he wears that holds it tightly on the sides for the stem to be held between. “But if it’s in the swamp we have to fit the theme. I’m thinking brambles, ivy? Twigs are the cutting edge of headwear fashion for Liat Fux I hear.” Amusement is a deep pool in her tone as she returns to the flat of her feet, internally damning him for turning her average height into a laughing matter. He deserves the mockery of the flower just for that.
It’s the only reason she catches the change to his expression, which spurs her own in a slight pink that crests her cheeks even as her smile softens away from mischief and further into fondness. “Oh I’m sure you have everything imaginable. Maybe we can even find a secondary weapon I like enough to keep.” It would be difficult to convince her to use anything aside from her throwing knives though. It had taken them enough time training together to find even those to suit her strange fighting style.
His predatory tilt registers, but she has only the figurative nature to meet it with. Tilting her own with coy and playful manifestations. “It’s what I did in the Wilds, why not? You’ll just have to knock on the leaves to be let inside whenever you visit me.” She trails through the last few rows, reluctant to leave but becoming more aware of the public nature of the greenhouse as they occupy it longer. They have a lot to talk about, and she doesn’t know when he’ll finally ask, but Evie too heavily guards her emotions to talk about or indulge in them in public.
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
It would be disappointing, maybe, to fall back into old traditions, when there were new ones to embark upon. While the Sword didn’t display any excitement over the thought of impending festivals, silly, amusing food tangents were a better die to cast, and he shook his head as her hands went outward, copper and sunlight flickering in the humid vestiges. “Or cookies,” he reminded, ignoring the instinctual rumble to his stomach.
Not expecting the compliment over flower crown prestige, his cheeks reddened slightly, stare immediately going elsewhere, as if to remark upon the particular spike of a leaf. That seemed to only encourage the additional application to his hair, and he snorted, bending his head slightly to allow the bloom to settle in amongst long locks, straightening when she was finished. “Is it my color?” came with a wrinkle to his nose, juvenile and boyish glint to his smile, bounding a quick recovery from earlier statements, eyes eventually winding their way back to her at the swamp details. “Plenty of that here,” and he gestured to several of the thicker brambles of ivy, vines, or any stray twigs on the ground – though he’d already begun maneuvering along another section, long limbs carrying him down the path of fruit trees.
Gazing upwards at apple blossoms, Deimos indulged momentarily at the weapon exposition, pressing more mischief rather than expose inquiries, at least for the second. “You may want another one simply for a different range,” because while throwing knives could certainly indulge in distances, there were only so many. Pinpointing one set of petals, he experimented with incantations again, and without touch, turned and altered the singular speck into a green bulb, watching for a few more seconds as it began to change hues, blotched, reddish. Only thereafter did he extend the question that had been settling in, waiting, presenting it with lightness, entangled curiosity, rather than anything else. “Where did you end up?”
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
Her laugh is warm and bright, unburdened by old memories and connotations. His suggestion was so simple and yet boyishly charming enough to surprise her into further chuckles. “Definitely cookies. Though you might have to make the mighty sacrifice of eating the lions share; I’m not giving you more reason to drag me to the barracks for training.” As if she’d ever really deny him anyway, but half the fun is in appearing so reluctant. She’s certainly not out of shape, but that doesn’t mean she rolls out of bed eager to get sweaty like some people.
The flush of his cheeks makes her melt, and she’s glad his eyes dart away so that he won’t see the matching color in her own, or the fond smile she can’t suppress as she places the flower in his hair. Though she’s caught nearly moments later as he turns and poses his question; sarcastic, it seems, but Evie’s eyes move from the tiny flower to his gaze and back before she smiles. Sincere in contrast to his irony. “Absolutely. It brings out your eyes.” The little blossom is pale with tones of lilac, and it draws the warmer shades of blue from his eyes beautifully. Eyes she is beyond grateful to see no longer look so tired and sad. Caido - and her sister, damn her - had done a number on him over the years. Evie is nonetheless glad to see him healing despite it all.
“I’m half-tempted to sell ivy crowns for the festival - but the poisonous kind that itches like hell,” she smirks, happily diverting away from the sincerity of the moment prior. “And then I can sell my remedies to cure it. Great way to get established, don’t you think?” Though she’d have to have someone else sell the crowns lest she lose her customers, it’s a humorous con to envision.
As they pause beneath the smaller, domestic boughs of the apple tree, Evie marvels at his mastery and tries not to make a face at the idea of starting training anew with another weapon, humming innocently instead to try and throw him off the scent. And though it was only a matter of time before he asked, the Evergreen is grateful for the absence of accusation in his tone when the question of her isolation comes around. Sighing, she moves closer to the tree to lean her back against it, staring up into the branches and the sunlight beyond, arms hugging herself around her middle. “The farthest northern reaches of King’s End, just before it turns to the sands of Hak Etme’s borders. The temperature was easier to bear, and my magic made sure I had more reliable food that dissuaded others from settling there. If I needed anything I couldn’t get from the wilds, I simply went to King’s End.” Far from the biggest city or settlement, yes, but it had done the job. Especially once the townspeople warmed up to her after testing the quality of her medicines.
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
If he was being honest, most of the cookies probably wouldn’t make it past the dough stage, but he had no intention of giving that away. “I suppose,” with a sigh indicating he was making a massive sacrifice. If they ended up with too many, he could hand them out to fellow soldiers anyway. They’d likely take to that more readily than the latest barked order.
Meant to be a self-deprecation, he wasn’t sure what to do with the honesty – letting it dissipate in the angles of his snort and subsequent grin. In accord and silence, he plucked the now-ripened apple off the branch, tossing it her way, before starting on another one for himself.
There were more curiosities intermingled there anyway, tilting his head to listen as she began detailing some orchestrated plot. He laughed again, not giving chase to that rampant mischief, mostly because he didn’t relish seeing anyone, save for his adversaries, suffering, even under the guise of a crown. “That is a bit diabolical. What if they trace it back to you?” Eyes locked back upon the fruit, watching the process again, he snagged this one as well, sank his teeth in with a crunch. Content and musing, he swallowed the piece down before responding, the singular air of mischief remaining. “Or you could just give those particular ones to people you do not like.” Little bit of spite and pettiness to inspire business ventures.
Then he listened – gaze going from the apple and back to her. Deimos didn’t ask why, and probably knew better. The reasons could’ve been the same as his own; feeling abandoned, forsaken, dissipated, gone from the notions of what had given them understanding, safety, and serenity. No need to relive those aspects; the where was easier, supplemental, to a story she’d only briefly conveyed. King’s End seemed to take all sorts on exile, half a smile indenting along his mouth at the thought. And she’d survived, as she so often had. “Supposedly there are plans to make a neutral area there. For the war.”
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
She didn’t anticipate a response to the compliment; if he’d done the same to her, she likely would have had the same reaction. So instead she easily catches the apple he throws her, twisting it in her hand to admire the even color all around before biting into it, letting the latest snack chase away the rare fluster they’d stumbled into.
“Don’t intrude on my dreams of a medical empire with your unwelcome logic,” she answers loftily, though the corner of her mouth twitches betrayingly. Evie does not have nearly the poker face Deimos does; she may have kept serious matters like her magic hidden impeccably, but emotions, thoughts and feelings? No, Evie felt things too strongly and sincerely to hide those well. It’s why the brief flash of gratitude when he doesn’t pry is plainly visible, as is the slight downturn of her lips at the news he shares.
“I had seen notices about it in Torchline, but the news seems pretty tentative by word of mouth.” Everyone unwilling to hope or place stock in the idea until it was built and functioning. Remaining careful, cautious and mildly distrusting of everything was the Caido way. “What do you think of it?” Crystalline blues slide sideways to look at Deimos. Wanting his thoughts before sharing her own, even if the crinkle of doubt in her brow is a preemptive tell.
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
The first response caused a subsequent eyeroll, snort muffled by another bite of the apple. “I think you would be successful if you gained the trust of the people here,” supplying another round of logic even if it wasn’t warranted or wanted, as Halo was an overall suspicious lot. Intended torment wouldn’t get quite so many citizens on board. Starting with the greenhouse upkeep, perhaps, and wiling away her hours with the public – gods knew the barracks had a litany of injuries every day, keeping Zuriel busy as she made her rounds amongst the training atmosphere. Continuing with the train of rationality and sagacity, machinations and calculations, the Sword eased back into the notions and schemes, habitual and routine as breathing. “And you can always set up nearby,” pinpointing towards the glassy fixtures itself.
His shoulders shrugged at the other implications – he wondered if they’d be done completing the work before war settled in as well, but the Flood always found some way. There might’ve been a great number clambering for the area, for all he knew, not yearning to be pulled or consumed one way or another, desperate to not be involved. His stare flickered down to her, nestled beneath boughs, hiding the makeshift frown yearning to settle there, whenever the subject reached pinpoints of the great oaf. “I do not trust Sunjata, but I hope it is helpful for those that need it.” He wouldn’t be among them.
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
