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!
you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
The boyish grin made its zealous return at her admittance of the book’s plot devices, unleashing another quick bark of a laugh that sent Belial scurrying across other rocky surfaces above. He swerved away at the nudge to his ribs, almost thinking of retaliation, before simply contorting more of the droplets into features – tiny scaled landscapes, binding together in plains of elements and fixtures; first mountains, rising into peaks and summits, sinking and slinking into caves. Something the quiet musings could afford, when they weren’t rallying and riling one another up in childish antics and upheavals.
“It is not,” he snorted. “But noted.” Perhaps broken bones and bloodied wounds made them all less appealing anyway.
Concentration honed in more serious accords as she spoke in hums and fortitude, listening with a vague tilt to his head, feline and canine combined. Confidence in her magic earned another grin, glancing back her way with some fixture of pride for all the things she’d had to overcome just for that singular note of might. “And that will grow too,” the more she utilized, tried, and strived. Morals and ethics were all bound in winding leagues now, with war pending, but he meandered into the latter instead. “There are different kinds of faith.” And it didn’t have to be oriented towards gods, but individuals – in their capabilities, power, and precision.
So he reached for her, giving her a pat on the shoulder – pretending it wasn’t a juvenile push. “As long as you do not lose yourself in it either.” He’d know; stern advice he’d have to listen to more than once.
Glancing up automatically upon hearing Belial’s hooves upon stone, she gasps quietly at the vision she finds upon looking back down; leaning closer to admire the artistic inclination of his prowess. Far more enchanting than the idea of naked soldiers on her doorstep, she lets his comment slide in favor of utilizing her hands to scoot a little closer, taking in each detail with plain admiration.
It distracts her from his face, which she normally watches when they speak, but his words bring her back around within moments. Warmth blooming in the pit of her stomach and growing upwards into her chest, fueled by his pride in her. She rocks with the playful push of his hand, a noise of objection tangled with laughter in her throat as she sways back into proper place. But her face is open, guileless and sincere as it gazes down at him once she’s settled again. Her own hand coming to touch his shoulder in turn, but lingering gently where his had not. “I know. I have faith - in you.” And Evie, with her always-open heart, has no qualms in being so forthright with her emotions. He is the radiant light that stands above everything else, the one thing that matters most in the small handful of things she has left. It shines plainly in her eyes, even as they crinkle slightly with a smile, edging on playful tones.
“I won’t turn your words against you, only because I know you’re already aware.” Gently squeezing his shoulder under her hand, she lifts the leg closest to him out of the water to prop on the ledge, and rests her chin on that knee to look down on him fondly. “And I’m proud of you for that.” For taking days like today, for trying to put himself first.
you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
The motions of the droplets rippled and undulated to form minor mirrors and complexities of the Fangs, with myriad pathways and icy surfaces, jagged and edged, or smooth and perfected in their glassy haze. They rapidly twisted and turned, knowing he had his audience’s attention, into the blank canvas of the Sea of Glass, between baubles of spheres and a long, winding road of stark tundra.
When his gaze broke away from the watery exhibition, it flickered back to hers, blushing slightly but snorting just the same, at the mention of faith in him. “I meant in yourself,” and he quickly looked back to the creations, binding them back into angled portions of the Climb – wondering if he’d ever amount to the things people saw him as. He could be a paragon of strength and a bastion of brutality, but certainly not fixtures and features of light. He blended too naturally into shadow. “But thank you.”
Deimos had known the callout was coming, alleviating and rupturing the moment with a tactical eye roll. “I am familiar with the notions, yes,” and he sighed, partitioning a portion of the watery Climb for a more bejeweled cavern. The Sword made no mention of having drawn himself into such parallels that he’d met his demise – believing somehow, despite everything, he was stronger here. Maybe it was the people.
Not one to get too sentimental, his piercing gaze flickered back. “Did you want to practice swimming?” And not by being dragged around by him – which didn’t count.
What’s more impressive than his control is the ability to clearly translate each land into recognizable forms, and Evie makes soft noises of surprise and admiration with each change, happy to encourage and compliment to keep the show going. Even when she has to laugh and pull her hand back, resting her cheek on her chin as her nose wrinkles habitually as she rolls her eyes.
“I meant faith that would replace what one might have in the Gods,” she clarifies fondly. Faith in your fellow man, in your loved ones, in your leaders. But her eyes are soft when they refocus on Deimos. “But I didn’t have faith in my magic until you showed me there was a different way. It was still you, even if you were only the spark.” She’d had to do the rest of the work it’s true, and she wouldn’t discredit herself there, but he had been the one unapologetic about his powers. At one with them. He was the catalyst she’d needed, the proof that Abandoned were not cursed, that they - she - did not have to hide away.
Aware he wouldn’t be able to handle much more sentimentality, she takes the opportunity for distraction easily, sliding her leg back into the water. “Absolutely,” she confirms confidently, far from anxious. She would surely be bad at it at first, but her mind was already satisfied with having proven the pools were shallow and thus safe. With Deimos’ mastery of water also having been plainly shown, what was there to fear? Pausing as she slips into the pool, she holds out the Sword’s shorts with a grin. “Want these back first?”
you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
A swift and sharp turn brought the droplets to scale as falls; a mountain’s roar in the distance, shelter beneath the height of the dominion and the looming strength of enigmas, flowing into a pool where leviathans slept. All the while, he responded with his inherent rumble, eyes fixated between incantations and her. “Magic was as natural to us as breathing. I would never be ashamed of it,” nor should any of the Abandoned, for they weren’t the Voice, they weren’t revolting against the cosmos or the deities; just striving to live like everyone else. Their impacts had been numerous, largely beneficial, and had maneuvered things amidst Caido onward, where perhaps whims would still be stagnant, complacent, and capricious. In turn, maybe he’d assisted in ensuring the rest of them gained the same confidence; simply by existing and not caring about what others thought of him.
As she accepted the semblances and suggestions, the images faded, drifting and dropping back into the pools. He relinquished his seat against the rock as well, muscles eager and ready and fervent, relishing the bite of warmth and dominion of mending. Arching a singular brow, he snorted before taking the shorts back. “Would probably make things less distracting,” settling for an indulgent wink, and before she could smack him for the wayward comment, he waded further into the midst again.
Just like in training with incantations, weaponry, or the climbing wall, the General settled into primordial routines. “All right. Show me what you know first.”
To him it’s as easy as that, and she admires him for it. Strives to be the same with each day she lives as her true self, refusing to hide what she’d been born with; gifts, as she was coming to see them, instead of curses. “I hope everyone can begin to feel that way,” she agrees quietly, the acoustics of the cavern ensuring she’s heard regardless. It’s why she endeavors to open the magic school again, no matter how far in the future that might be. Nobody deserved to hide away in shame the way Evie had for so much of her life. Years wasted trying to live a lie.
A part of her feels remorse for her choice in activity, if only because his artistry was so enchanting to watch, but he sufficiently distracts her with the curl of his lips and the teasing rumble of his tone. The wink has color suffusing her cheeks, which plump into round peaks with her small, returned smirk. “Shame, I love to be distracted,” she volleys in return as she hands over the cloth. Going with her instincts instead of despairing over whether she is reading boundaries correctly.
Wading out to meet him after a moment, she obligingly begins to run through what she knows. “I can float on my stomach and back,” she explains as she leans backwards and lets the water buoy her, keeping her lungs inflated to keep her at the surface as the bubbles rock her about, “and do a basic stroke, but it’s not very graceful.” She turns over to show him what she means; a doggy paddle at best, the easiest thing to teach children in the Grounds by having their parent’s hand beneath their bellies as they floated along. Turning again, she keeps her knees bent to avoid touching the bottom of the springs, and treads water. “Treading water is the only other thing I know. Basically, if it prevented you from drowning a few moments longer, that’s all anyone bothered teaching.” Evie’s wry grin says it all as she awaits the plan he surely is crafting in mind to patch the gaps of her knowledge.
you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
Even if it was rhetorical in the quiet, the monolith answered just the same, a confident roll of shoulders brimming and brewing. “We will see,” he supposed, in light of everything else, that the way Abandoneds had been treated might have been placed by the wayside, for what loomed in the distance. And even if things didn’t alter significantly, he’d still be there, confident and self-assured and capable of wielding, teaching, and ensuring those that wanted to learn and grow would be welcomed.
“Later then,” he teased and taunted about distractions, before listening as they waded, and Evie demonstrated her skills. While Deimos had been taught from a very early age to respect the water, and then hone every arch of fundamentals within it (for there’d been no other option save for drowning in the Tides’ outer reaches), the Hollowed Grounds Naturals didn’t seem to hold the Glade in the same regard. Understandable, with its thickened weeds and indifferent haze, with other provisions to be made. Shelter to be kept. Food to be gathered. Monsters to hide from – both human and Voice-made.
Deimos watched, free of judgement, arms crossing over his chest as he would within the midst of the barracks, witnessing his soldiers go through their routines. The healer had the very basics, and so after a moment (and he prided himself on not laughing at her doggy paddle), his eyes flickered along to the wall. Eventually, he turned back towards her, obviously calculating and plotting. “Maybe we can start with pushing and gliding then,” and he moved closer to the stony barrier, beckoning her closer with a single arm wave.
Ensuring she was listening, his explanations began, placing his frame against the wall. “This is to help you figure out the streamlined shape you need, and get you ready for kicking.” For demonstration, he stretched out his arms, face in the water, before using his powerful legs to push off the smoother portions of rock, pointing his toes, only relegating a singular launch of motion in the pool. “I can catch you if need be,” he smirked, a fair distance away, waiting for her to try.
Later? “Tease,” she volleys at his retreating back, following him deeper into the curls of steam and churning water. It’s an atypical location for learning to swim, but easier than fighting the waves of the ocean she surmises. He estimates properly about the swimming knowledge of the Grounds, and after his own time living there and experiencing their lifestyle firsthand within the barrier, Evie knows he won’t judge her for her ineptitude. Laugh? Maybe, but he manages not to, which is impressive considering how silly she feels herself looking.
At his beckoning she pushes off the bottom of the springs, enjoying the weightlessness that carries her over to the wall with him. Bright eyes focus on him, ginger hair dark and slicked back to reveal her keenly attentive face, not dissimilar from the expression adopted during throwing knife lessons and sparring sessions long shared. He only demonstrates once, so she tries hard to commit each small piece of the coordinated move together. Considering the distance between them now, she smiles uncertainly. “You might need to,” she warns, but gamely turns to press her feet to the wall and hang to the lip with her arms stretched behind her, reluctant to let go entirely. When she kicks off it’s not a bad attempt at all; toes pointed, relatively streamlined, but she struggles nervously to keep her face in the water, tilted more to the side to keep breathing freely. Not nearly as strong as Deimos, Evie’s momentum dwindles and she flails right at the end, not quite making the full distance and reaching blindly for him.
you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
Deimos kept his word, through convictions and actions, and stood still, waiting for the inevitable. The General had his instructor notions keened and primed, studious eyes watching carefully, not to pick apart, but to ensure there were some successes and where to grow and gain from thereafter. A small smile meandered along his mouth at her warning, dissipating into a snort, before a nod of weighted measure and encouragement unfurled through.
She didn’t do badly, really, given the improvised space, pushing off the barrier, maintaining streamlined precision. Where she faltered was the unease in features being plastered against the water – common, when one hadn’t practiced breathing, or holding such measures, amongst ominous potency. These elements meant danger and trepidation. A natural, inborn fear to overcome – much like battle and wars and fields full of enemies.
So he walked forward, wading a few more steps to meet her, arms open wide so she didn’t crash into him. “You did well,” he rumbled. A silly inquiry ensued, but something they’d done as children – pondering comfort levels, a way to ease into the idea of being surrounded by channels of dominions they couldn’t conquer, but certainly survive within. “Did you ever try to blow bubbles?”
Blind, searching arms find and brush against skin, and she emerges from the water within moments, the barest flutters of nerves calmed by the easy solution of finding purchase along the stone floor and standing. Blinking water out of her eyes, she turns like a flower to the sun, waiting for his decree and ensuing advice. Not that she expected blowing bubbles to be amidst those suggestions and inquiries, but she certainly isn’t going to complain about it.
“Only with hollow reeds, given the quality of the water.” Getting your face anywhere near it wasn’t exactly the highlight of the summer. Her nose wrinkles slightly remembering the clouds of gnats and mosquitoes, the algae and slime on its worst days when even the hottest of swimmers hesitated to dive in. “Show me?” Just as entrenched in the role of student as he was in one of mentorship.
you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
As soon as she found purchase amongst the floor, he released her, tilting his head vaguely as she answered. “Fair enough,” though the mention of the quality made his nose wrinkle. He figured the springs were all right, given how they’d drank large portions of it in haste, and it’d mended and assuaged rather than mauled and marred. But he’d give her an explanation too, just as he did with the motions of blades and edges, of movements and motions – reasons for why these were necessities. “Supposed to be a way of getting people comfortable with water on their face,” and he shrugged his shoulders – for they’d done the same as children, winding their way along the sea, salt always on their tongues.
Deimos laughed at her question, but followed suit on the demonstration – positively juvenile – as he lowered himself almost to his knees beneath the surface, so his lips hovered along the top. Utterly composed in the water, with no trace of fear or apprehension, he permitted the liquid to glean along beard, jaw, and chin. Thereafter, he blew a long proportion of air from his lungs, allowing it to brim over the facets and planes, adding small, billowing bubbles to the rest of the proportions.
Though she would unquestioningly complete any task he put before her so long as it was in the guise of learning, the time he takes to explain the reasoning behind each lesson is appreciated. It’s why he is such an amazing teacher; and why Evie has gone to scarcely anyone else when it comes to taking instruction.
She hadn’t made the connections between what he said and what it would inevitably look like, which forces her to bite her lip to withhold her amusement upon seeing him sink down into the water to begin blowing bubbles. Evie follows his lead, sinking down into the steaming spring until the water graces her chin, long hair billowing out around her like a pool of lava. The bubbles occasionally tickle against her nose, making her flinch back at first, but keeping her eyes on Deimos she breathes slowly and inches lower bit by bit until her lips are encased in the same way. Finding that despite the strange feeling, the water as it bubbles isn’t enough to impede her breathing. From there she blows out - in more of a sputter at first that makes her laugh, closed-lipped and girlish as her mouth tingles and tickles with the failure. After a few tries she’s managing a steady stream of bubbles in between slow, concentrated breaths. Only pausing once she feels comfortable, rising just enough to speak with a smile. “Okay that definitely helps. But I feel like my lips are numb now,” she laughs, the vibrations still tickling at her mouth in the aftermath.
you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
They probably looked utterly ridiculous, but no more so than earlier attempts at foolishness, with swim trunks flying through the air or hurled streams of water dashed against one another. Deimos took it all as a learning curve, watching patiently, though it didn’t stop him from laughing, then sputtering out more bubbles amidst the churning foam. He rolled his eyes at her declaration, because there were multiple things he could pick apart there, but opted to leave them alone. Serious matters first and foremost.
“If you are comfortable then, go try again,” he uttered, while rising above the surface and jutting his jawline towards the wall once more. “As you get better, I can make the goal farther.” It’d be a careful balance of gaining confidence over loss of strength as time maneuvered on; but the Sword figured she’d be able to mend herself through healing incantations, or they could simply take breaks in between.
Then he positioned himself a few yards away from the stone fixtures again, one arm outreached as the makeshift target.
Rising is a difficult thing, if only because the steam and the easy, slow-breathing fun of the bubbles was so relaxing. But there’s a different but no less valuable joy in learning, especially such a vital skill as swimming. So she braves the slight chill as she stands and moves back to the wall at his direction, gauging the space between them visually.
This time is far more successfully, though she’s still not quite sure what to do with her arms by time momentum is lost. Kicking off with more strength this time, she’s able to touch Deimos’ arm with her own outstretched to cut through the water, lifting her head as soon as she feels his skin with her fingertips. Grinning, the Evergreen squeezes his forearm in brief, thoughtless celebration. “That was better!” Less of an arrogant declaration than a confirmation that the bubble blowing had helped on her side. Already assuming he would direct her back to the wall, she goes back once more, already preparing to go again before pausing. “What else should I change this time?”
