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!
She can see the purple dragon coming for her but here, in their land, there’s little she can do to avoid it. With an arm up to ward off whatever’s coming and half-formed electrical orb in her hand, the Wraith is whisked elsewhere - thrown a loop with her own power - and ends up in a dark back alley. Regardless of where she is (and it isn’t The Grounds or Halo, that much is immediately obvious), Wessex snuffs out the orb and shifts into her kitsune form, eager to find out where she is before anything goes down.
A little cautious probing into the darkness and a little nose-twitching go a long way. Seems like Stormbreak, in which case, she ought to be doubly careful, but since she’s here… might as well investigate another area.
She’s drawn back to the Tower and the buildings around it, choosing another dark corner to shift back into a human figure - this one being another middle aged woman, but a hawkish one, with sharp eyes, a skinny frame, and an aqualine nose. Entering the Collegium, she studies the stacks directory with a slight frown before trying to find the oldest section. If they even had one.
Ever, young as he is, is well versed in the layout of Archives. This is mostly due to his father working here, but also because he has a penchant for research and study. Which...come to think of it, directly comes from his father, so perhaps it's entirely to do with Finn. Ahem, anyways.
With a book on ThirdEye and Mountain Weather Patterns tucked under his arm, it's with his nose buried in a third book about Puberty And You that has him bumping directly into Wessex an old woman who feels like she's made entirely of bones. "!!!" Ever mewls, dropping his books and flinching back a step or two as his cheeks redden. "Sorry!" His voice cracks on the -rY! making him sound more like a strangled dinosaur than a young boy. "Sorry, sorry." He repeats again nervously, dropping to his knees to scoop up his books.
The old woman has her own nose pressed up against books on the shelves, trying to speed-read a couple to get a sense of where she is, and doesn’t notice the kid until he’s right on top of her. No pain on the collision, of course, but she is a bit taken aback, putting her hands in the air in a very I didn’t touch him way. Or perhaps, in an Ew, a walking germbomb, don’t touch me way.
Taking his apology with a brusque ”Hmph,” and nod of her head, Wessex is about to turn and head on her way when she catches one of the titles. “What’s ThirdEye?” Lifting a thin, greying brow, she hovers a bit over his head.
It sounds suspiciously like something to do with Darkeye. And another one - or thing - like him is the last thing she needs.
07-15-2022, 04:00 PM (This post was last modified: 07-15-2022, 04:01 PM by Everest.)
Everest
"It's..." Polite to a fault and compelled to answer such a direct question, the boy hardly has time to think up a lie were he so inclined. "...about the hallucinogenic properties of ThirdEye." Ever replies, peering up at Wessex the old woman with a startled and guilty expression. "But I don't do drugs and am not planning to. Unless you count some of the pills my mom has me take sometimes. And if you do count those then I suppose I should correct myself and say that I only take drugs prescribed by a doctor, which my mom is, and—" Sweeping the books into his arms and making his way to his feet, Ever gulps.
"And I'm very sorry for bumping into you. I wasn't looking where I was going and that's very rude of me."
His word vomit is… almost endearing. Wessex isn’t a kid person, but the boy’s earnest defense of his research prompts an amused look somewhere around mom. Once he’s on his feet again, she waves off the apology. “You’re fine. No harm done.” No rebuke, no watch where you’re going next time, just the air of someone who should get back to what they’re doing, and yet -
With a pause where a breath might have been, she holds a finger up to keep his attention, in case he’s in a hurry. This won’t take long. “Although - do you know the Archives well? I’m looking for where the oldest books are kept.”
Nervously, as if the airy way this woman absolved him of his wrong-doing was something to be skeptical of, Ever bobs his head. Clutching his things to his chest and wondering at what speed he could walk out of here that was quick without being rude, Wessex's finger stays his movement as efficiently as if she'd bound him in chains.
"I know them...a bit." Ever mumbles, not wanting to seem like a know-it-all. "There are some really old books on display in those cases over there—" Turning, he gestures with his shoulder if only so that he could keep his books clutched to his chest. The books in question were laid flat in glass cases the way you might display fossils or the like. "All the religious books are in the Temple, but there are some really cool ones about architecture and science in the back corner." Ever's voice grew slightly louder with enthusiasm to mention these, but quickly he covered it with a feigned cough. "If...you're into that sort of thing."
Glancing dutifully towards where Ever points, Wessex does indeed note some glass cases - and then immediately dismisses them. The Order - or whomever now runs the Archives - wouldn’t allow sekrit info out in the open like that. Nodding at each place he names, she has a bit of a far-off look in her eye as the disguised demigod also dismisses the Temple. Been there, done that. Could have missed something, but it isn’t worth going there again.
Which leaves… architecture and science. A light in her eyes slowly brightens, and Wessex actually grins, thought it’s a careful, close-lipped, pinched kind of thing. “That might actually be helpful. Can you show me real quick?”
"Yes." Ever answers immediately before his mind completes the following conversational arithmetic. Can is not a question of ability in this case. It's a request for action. Can you show me actually means will you show me right now. "But not too quick. If you run in here you'll get yelled at." Ever adds, ever the literaralist even when he's trying hard not to be.
So saying, he walks with slow but efficient steps towards the back corner. The pair wind through the shelves and go up a few half-flights of stairs. By the time they reach their destination the smell of dust is overwhelming and almost no one else is around. This section is rarely used.
"It's all here. I don't know much about it, but my dad Finn does if you ever want to know more." The boy offers in an attempt to be helpful.
This disguise wasn’t planning on running anywhere. Running draws attention, and that’s the last thing the demigod wants to do. Nodding amicably at the warning, she agrees with a short, “Naturally,” as if she, too, stodgy school-marm type that she is, would also have scolded Everest for running in the stacks of this hallowed place of learning and research.
Turning her nose up a little, Wessex follows primly behind the boy, taking note of the path while also occasionally giving the other patrons a quick side-eye once-over. No one she recognizes. Good enough for now. When they arrive at the section, she glides forward and starts to look at the row above her head, absent-mindedly replying, “Oh? What does your dad do? Is he here with you?” It would be uncharacteristically lucky to have someone to ask a quick question or two.
"He used to be the Spyglass." Ever replied politely. "Now he's...well. Ever since the Tower fell he's sort of out of a job. We moved to Halo and then came back here because we didn't like it there." He continues. "I'm not sure if he's in his office, but we can walk by and see if you want?"
Although Ever desperately wants to go home and devour the books in his arms, if someone asks you for help and you're Everest Hart, you're damned well going to stay and help them.
The woman freezes, reaching up to tilt the spine of a book towards her. Gods, if it wasn’t for her very firm resolution not to stoop to using kids as pawns, Wessex would probably have kidnapped Everest right then and there. Just woosh, wisk him out of the Archives to somewhere they wouldn’t expect. “Oh,” she manages to choke out, trying to turn it into a cough (all that dust, you see).
“Well, Halo is awfully cold and a lot less cultured,” she offers weakly, inching away from him and back into the corner as if to avoid temptation. “I’ll, ah, stop by after this, thank you though. Where’s his office now?” So she can know where to avoid - or perhaps, where to target.
Ever blinks, fully believing her reaction was to the dust. 'Would you like some water?' He offers helpfully.
"It is very cold." He agrees, and though insulting the Halovian culture wasn't something he was apt to do, he does flash a guilty smile up at the old woman. "It's on the first. His office says Finn Rosencrantz on it. Sometimes you have to knock really hard. If he's reading he sometimes gets really distracted."
Twitching his lips, Ever takes the awkward silence as an indication his responsibilities to this woman were concluded. "Okay well...good luck." He mumbles. "Sorry again about bumping into you." As if to reinforce his apology, Ever walks very, very carefully away from Wessex, making sure to look where he was going.
