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!
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be
It had been a long while since he’s bowed his head at the altar. Not since laying offerings, or sending out silent oaths and apologies, for those had been done frequently throughout the latter part of seasons and changes, but to press the words lurking and waiting behind his teeth had taken a stretch, a span. The notions of impulse were rare and fleeting in the man, and it’d shown why when everything spun out into debacles.
Because there’d been multitudes of failures to fix, broken barrages and paths laid bare and started anew, growth lacquered and stuck fast to circumstances he’d altered and mishandled. Nothing was perfect, but the Sword had certainly taken the time to strive, to try, to show his loyalties in the midst of the deity’s certain disappointment.
So he took an unwinding breath, permitting it to fill his lungs and filter out into the Citadel air, and placed his offering along the mantle. A glass bottle, filled to the brim with starlit flowers, made to reflect poignant hues and colors of constellations, of the skies above. Thereafter, the deep intonations of his rumble began. “Safrin, I was hoping to speak with you.” But if she didn’t want to, or laid a curse down at his feet, he’d understand that as well. “I would like to use this scale,” and he reached into his bag, pulling out the leviathan piece, holding it in his grasp, “for armor, to guard against any magic attacks.”
DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Appearing in a puff of lilac smoke as if some great and vast creature had sighed out a breath into the chilly air, Safrin appears poised on top of the altar. Dressed far more conservatively than is her norm, it's with a reserved smile that she acknowledged Deimos as she reaches for the makeshift vase of flowers. Trickling her fingertips over the multi-toned petals, Safrin flicks her galactic gaze through their stems and towards the Sword.
"It has been some time since you have come to see me." She notes, though nothing in her tone or expression suggests she thinks he is unaware of this. "But I suppose it is still nice to be needed." This is of course clearly in reference to the scale that he holds, though with her hands full of flowers she makes no effort to take it from him.
"Defense against magic fullstop is not possible, but you can lessen the effects of a particular kind of magic." She says, her gaze returning to the flowers again. "But you should know this. You have made items like these before."
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be
His eyes went to her immediately along the vestiges of lilac smoke, and her words inspired a nod, fully aware of the length of time it had taken him to come back here. A part of him was still ashamed for it. “I know. I needed to fix some things first.” Torchline and its burnt buildings, Halo and its allegiances, defenses, and modicums of power. “I apologize for taking so long.”
As for the rest, the Sword was not ignorant either. But he knew his skills couldn’t and wouldn’t match hers, no matter how much of a creative proportion he placed within, with limitations ensconced and understood. “Yes, but your abilities far exceed my own,” and he paused, gaze going down towards the scale, pondering what he’d likely see in the shades of looming war. “A resistance to dark magic.”
DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
'Well, at least you're here now." Whether Deimos knew how fortunate he was, even Safrin couldn't rightly judge. She needed him just now, that he might fight alongside Ronin and Noah (who, was perhaps not her demigod, but over whom she felt partially protective). In other days and years she might have taunted him or given him unfair tasks, but in the here and now? Oh yes. He was fortunate indeed.
Smiling at his words—she took them as a compliment, whether he intended them that way or not—Safrin nods. "Dark magic..." She muses, before stilling. "Dark magic it is." Nodding towards the scale he holds, Safrin sits slightly straighter. "You must temper the scale with the magic you want it to resist. Then, bring it back to me."
Deimos must
1. Complete 1 training thread with someone who has dark magic (they have to use it on him)
2. Have his scale struck by three different kinds of dark magic (doesn't have to be in combat/a fight).
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be
Deimos was always eternally aware of just how close he skimmed over damage of some nature; so while he was ignorant of Safrin’s thoughts, the Sword certainly knew how much he lingered on edges and fringes. Thereafter, at her smile, he unfurled a long, slow, steady breath, and did so in return.
Tempering the scale with dark magic wouldn’t be terribly difficult; he had enough friends, and his own machinations, to see the distinction through. He nodded, understanding the assignment, and placing the scale back into his bag for future purposes and endeavors. “Thank you,” and he bowed his head once more, respectful of her patience and contemplation. “I will not take as long this time,” meant to be somewhat jocular in his self-deprecating measures, before heading out, and away from the Citadel – notions of incantations firmly on his mind.
{FIN <3}
DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
