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!
Evie sends a wink Belial’s way, already engineering ways to sneak him scraps without Deimos finding out. It was her job to spoil and endear, his to discipline. Evie was content to be the fun one, even if it earned her his temporary judgment and disapproval. Laughing softly as he hip-checks her, she hums a soft measure of gratitude for the provided ingredients, and puts her own hair up to begin cutting the ends off the beans and slicing them in half.
A soft laugh escapes her at the unexpected question. What had started as an innocent game has now become a faithfully returned-to measure of getting to know the smaller details of one another, brought back at nearly every reunion. “Hide and seek, as a child. I was never afraid to cover myself in dirt and sticks to hide.” A necessity given her bright hair and fair skin. “And tag, of course, since I love to run. But now as an adult, I really enjoy puzzles. Though I’m not sure it entirely counts as a game,” she concedes, but finds she can’t think of an alternative. Most games required additional players, and Evie didn’t have the luxury of that, nor the desire to go to the bar to try and find some. Too often inebriated and rowdier than she liked.
Smiling fondly, she aims her own question over her shoulder without turning to see him. “I know you’re skilled in nearly everything, but do you have any useless talents?” Such as wiggling ears, or an inability to experience brain freeze.
08-26-2022, 12:26 AM (This post was last modified: 08-26-2022, 12:43 AM by Deimos.)
you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
The peryton positively gloated, a tail wag extended in good faith. The Sword was too occupied by cooking and inquiring to notice the spiteful little gleam, snorting at the first response. He could imagine a tinier Evie, not unlike earlier antics, leaves adorned and mud-streaked, nestled within the outskirts of the Grounds. Probably blending in naturally beneath the cover of favored earthen proportions. With another grin sent her way, and then attention wandering back to the tenderloins dropped in amongst oil, the rumble in his chest loomed again. “I could see that.” Turning over the pieces once they established a decent sear on the side, he tilted his head vaguely, studious and precise. “We used to play a lot of capture the flag,” a fond favorite – reeling along in strategy and sedition, which was why he used it as a war game so often with his constituents.
The notion about riddles, conundrums, and the like wandered deeper into his calculations though, meandering into other purposes. “When we looked for mageglass, there were puzzles. Quite a few of them.”
Her own question earned an abrupt snort – because Deimos didn’t frequent in uselessness and a lack of purpose when it came to many things. And while not truly futile or pointless, because they had their value, he permitted the partial shift of tiger ears to perch directly along the top of his head, swiveling back and forth.
He would be right to envision that; a wild-child with crimson hair, looking more like a girl of the forest than the well-respected, stiff-lipped parents she hailed from. Not much had changed aside from keeping most of the soil to her hands now. Her own chuff of amusement escapes her at his admission, equally unsurprised. “At least yours is more fitting for trainings, it doesn’t sound nearly so childish as saying ‘today we’ll be playing tag’,” she chuckles, taking on an exaggerated gruffness at the end.
Mageglass perks her interest, enough to have her turning to throw an intrigued glance over her shoulder. “Really? Maybe I can come with you next time.” How good she would be would have to be seen, her enjoyment of puzzles mostly stayed in the realm of wooden and metal toys, picture puzzles, and a few riddle and puzzle books. Mageglass was a far more vital resource, she wouldn’t want to mess anything up.
She turns when he doesn’t speak immediately, only to strangle a gasp at the sight of ears protruding from dark, tied up hair. “Gods that’s cute,” she whispers vehemently, wishing her hands weren’t soiled with starches so she might convince him to let her touch them. “I don’t think I’ve seen that shift of yours before, you should show me all of them someday.” So she might ooh and aah over each one appropriately, and commit them to memory in case he ever approaches her as one unexpectedly. Best not to shoot the man she’s dating accidentally because he looks like a predator.
you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
His eyes narrowed at the attempts at an impression of him, turning his head over his shoulder to regard her with another wily snort. “We have done hide and seek before. As long as we have an opportunity to practice tactics and skills they would need to defend the place…,” he shrugged, unbothered. Sometimes chasing was all they required anyway – minds roaming to parse through correct maneuvers, potential calculations, and ways they could experience chaos without being too entangled and immersed in danger.
A smirk curled back along his mouth though as her intrigue was snagged – he’d figured notions of mageglass, as with many Abandoned, might spark interest. “I am not certain when we will be going next. There were some skyport things we needed to work out too, and who knows if we will snag some for it.” And if not, obtaining another boon for someone in Halo didn’t concern him at all; strength for strength.
But at the curve and swivel of tiger ears, he could hear the answering whisper, wrinkling his nose in response. “Cute?” Hands moved to sprinkle some more reasoning into the skillet, listening to the oil as the heat stoked, and another measure of speculations ran through the General’s mind. “Have a number of them now – eagle, bear, tiger, seal,” beginning to rattle them off on his fingers. “Hellhound and thunderbird.” Unaware of another one pending through his blood, latent and untapped for the instant, he relinquished another smile in her direction. “And what about your other talents?”
08-26-2022, 10:54 PM (This post was last modified: 08-26-2022, 10:55 PM by Evie.)
EVIE
I want your midnights
His response garners a small laugh from her side of the kitchen, trailing after her as she puts the potatoes in water in a pot and steps beside him to set them to boiling. The closeness affording her the ability to gaze up at him with a small, impish smile. “I’m sure anything you say sounds very official and presentable, I couldn’t manage that.” She’d be too busy trying to keep a straight face. While she’s adept at concealment after a lifetime hiding magical talents and lack of godly attention, Evie is deplorable at hiding anything she doesn’t consider life-threatening.
She is the one to hip bump him this time as she returns to the counter to begin making the gravy. “A skyport? Here in Halo? That’s incredible.” And difficult to envision. The terrain and weather will surely make it difficult, but if they could pull it off it would vastly improve the lives of the citizens and the economy of the land as a whole.
Each shift is committed to memory, which means she can’t press the issue of cuteness, but her eyes widen where he can’t see them at the mythical forms he shares. Her hand waves listless and humbly embarrassed at his own question, grateful she is turned away where he can’t see the color in her cheeks - though the tips of her ears unknowingly betray her. “Ah, nothing you haven’t already seen. I don’t have anything too special magically, and all my talents are with plants.” No animal shapes attuned to her soul, no interesting items or specialty magic. Just Evie and her unassuming, unexciting self, making do with creativity and dogged determination. Hoping he doesn’t take it as her putting herself down (too much), she aims another question his way as she begins to whisk the gravy ingredients together. “Beyond the war and outside of being General, so you have any long term goals or dreams?” Spoken slightly softer with the heavier, but no less hopeful question.
you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
He glanced down, taking her in with his usual arched brow, intending to circumvent the spelled-out notions. “Are you not official when lecturing about plants? Or healing?” Perhaps not the same as specifying war games, but certainly the hows, the whys, and the importance of their efforts, the reasons behind some manner of fauna, and mending. His gaze turned away for a moment, concentrating on the skillet, rotating it once or twice so the oil’s heat was dispersed throughout.
Pretending not to be put out by the sudden loss of closeness, but eyes on the boiling pot of water nearby, he nodded. “Likely going to take some effort and work, but it would be a beneficial change.” Citizens no longer under the mercy of the Voice and her portal, or cast out in isolation during the bitter Deepfrost. They had already had multitudes more of independence with the greenhouse, but with enhanced mobility, they might be able to gain greater platitudes.
But the piercing stare flickered back and forth, from the pan to her, noticing the tip of her ears blending in amongst the other crimson locks. “And painting. And mischief.” As partly a reminder, and because something felt like he’d stepped in amongst a portion he shouldn’t have.
So maybe the last inquiry took him by surprise – or shame, because he didn’t have a good answer for her. The Sword’s voice dulled to a muted rumble, above a whisper, but brows furrowed, the uncertainty curling along shoulders that routinely bore weights of a kingdom. “I have not had time to think about that. It seems to always be about survival here.” Yearning and craving to protect, to shield, to shelter; and with the way the horizon loomed and dared, he couldn’t be certain about the future. “Wanted to ensure Halo was adequately defended and safe. Its citizens too.” That’s all he’d had for the longest time. “Be certain everyone was stronger. Could collaborate.” And never desiring anything for himself – save for their persistence. "Maybe after the war it will be easier. Could explore more. What about you?"
He’s far too good at pointing out things she doesn’t consider strengths, and while the unspoken, unintentional compliments warm her from within, they also make her puff her cheeks a little, nose wrinkling with playful objection as they share a moment at the stove. “I don’t get to use my teacher voice nearly as often as you must, but it is pretty good,” she concedes playfully, expression warm before she must turn away, lamenting the lack of space beside him where she desires to linger. In time, she tells herself. When the meal is ready and they can sit down together to enjoy it.
Beneficial indeed, and Evie is eager to see its construction. “You can always call on me if extra hands are needed. I’m happy to close the shop for a day or two.” It had only just opened, and was nothing as grand as the palace infirmary had been, but because of the closure of said infirmary it was already becoming rather popular. Especially as many of the natives remembered Evie’s tenure with Loren as the Grand Healer.
She smiles into the bowl she’s working with, pleased and touched in equal measure. “You haven’t even seen one of my paintings yet,” she points out teasingly, shifting the mood back to something more lighthearted. “Which reminds me, I did finish a small one for you. Remind me to give it to you.” Because speaking of mischief, he will undoubtedly be dismayed to see what she’d created for him, and Evie can’t wait to see his reaction firsthand.
His answer is so much less than she expected, and it breaks her heart. Glad that the gravy is ready, she turns back to the stove - to tend to the potatoes, yes, but also to gently align their shoulders. “I’ve lived in Caido my whole life. A blur of over thirty years of LongNight’s monsters, barren crops, and sick people just getting sicker. And when you all started arriving, and The Voice and the Heralds were released, I had to adjust to a new normal that included a lot more uncertainty - and our lives already had so much of it before.” She lifts a hand to gently lay it on his forearm, hoping to pause him in his preparations for a moment so he might listen. “Us Grounders, we couldn’t put our dreams on hold just because the future was uncertain. Lack of hope kills faster than any wound - generations before us would have died out if they’d never let themselves have families and children and jobs amidst the horrors we lived with.” Some had, she knows. People who’d simply laid down and let death take them because they couldn’t see an end, and couldn’t live with the idea of not. Others had come to terms with that possibility, and continued on regardless. “We prepared for the things we had to face, but we never stopped thinking of what we wanted to see and do after the sun rose again, because it was the only hope we had. Preparing endlessly, even with honorable motivations, isn’t living. And I don’t want that for you.” Blue eyes turn up at him, a small encouraging smile on her lips. Gods, how she wants him to be happy. “If we let The Voice - and the war - take that from us, it’s no better than dying anyway. So we’ll have to plan a lot more adventures, hm?” Winking, she bumps his hip once more with her own, giving him an out with the way she ends it, so he doesn’t have to reply to any of it if he doesn’t want to. In the meantime she takes the potatoes off the stove and drains them, then returns to mash them over the still-warm burner. Determined to remain close this time.
Beginning to salt and mash the potatoes, she responds on her own. “I’d like an official infirmary. Maybe reopen the one in the Palace. And opening the magic school, if the Wardens approve - if not, perhaps small classes out of my shop?” So the dream wouldn’t die with her. Informal perhaps, but not forgotten. “Meet a herald again. Heal the Grounds soil so farmers can plant crops reliably again. Maybe have children someday.” The last part is said in a rush, not wanting him to feel any pressure from a vague, distant dream. Shrugging, she laughs, feeling bright with the swell of hope in her chest. “I don’t know, I just want to finally live as myself. Not hide my magic anymore. Pursue what I want instead of what my parents forced us into for so long. Whatever shape that takes, I’d be happy with that much.”
you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
“If you do not scare them a little, then what is the point?” Rhetorical, but with a slight Cheshire grin that encompassed he might use that deep rumble to intimidate purposefully, if his physical form and stature didn’t make them quake in their boots. Deimos permitted a snort to rally over the top of her head, watching as a few strands of crimson billowed out of place.
But then there were discussions about the potential work involved, and he nodded along, maneuvering the chicken around amidst the seasonings, spreading a little salt into the concoction. “All right.”
As far as paintings, he tilted his head at the mentions of a gift, pondering if he should be concerned or amused. Maybe both. “You did not have to do that,” an offhand comment, but a true statement. “But I am curious. After we eat.” Agreement and accord settled, the other conversation rallied more to the forefront.
And he did listen, turning his gaze entirely on her, absorbing the notions of what it meant to not be meandered and mired in bleakness. Striving not to flinch, or blink away something pulsing in the back of his eyes, jaw clenching, feathering, tongue unmoving behind his teeth. A multitude came to mind – about how some days had never been filled with hope because they didn’t know if they were going to survive the next hour, much less see the sun peek over the horizon, about how sometimes all he’d done for an entire afternoon was bury his friends in the ground, about how once he’d done exactly that – outside the damned Citadel, laid down in the snow, sick and done with what life had tossed him again and again and again. “It has taken me a long time to learn how to hope,” he eventually answered, swallowing down remnants and ghosts. “But I will keep trying,” he smiled, a little forced, before his hands wrapped around the skillet once more, grounding him in some abyss.
Evie’s dreams sounded like tangible things, reminders of her convictions, pride, and prowess, and he encouraged them with a grin – allowing a light laugh to filter through, and then a long sigh, as if peeling away the sorrows and sentiments. “Those sound nice,” not balking, not backing away, but forging onward. It was what he’d done – but only with his head above the water, sometimes incapable of seeing the embankment. With more thought and more silence, he persisted, down into the roots. “I would like to learn how to make more efficient weapons. Defenses. Pick up tactics I have never used from other skilled instructors. Assist with the guild more. Ensure people do not look down upon Abandoned any longer.” Stormbreak was an eyeroll, but a construct that should’ve been broken apart, piece by piece. For now though, as war blistered, that might be enough.
All other discussion seems less important than what she tries so desperately to impart. Not a forced lesson, but a seed; something she can help him nurture, can guide his hands in the soil and teach him the best times to water and weed, and watch as he grows it himself. She knows there is history in his past that she can never relate to, just as she has her own of the same. But hope, patience, faith - in something more than heralds and gods - those are things Evie can share with him, and hopes to. Perhaps there are still a few small things of good that she can impart upon him, things she can arm him with instead of her general goal of simply making him happy.
"It's a skill like any other, it has to be trained," she agrees, voice delicate and hushed even as she smiles encouragingly, glad he had not taken offense to her good intentions and spirited opinion. "By doing things exactly like this; planning what we might do in the days after." Things both grand and meaningless. Feeding ducks or changing opinions on an entire race. What could they not achieve together?
His answers this time are more detailed, more long-term, and Evie brightens to hear them. Only just barely remembering that she has a task at hand, and turning back to mash the potatoes with stubborn force and hard-won muscle in her arms. "I'd like to change Abandoned sentiment too, but if I can't in my lifetime, I'd at least like to teach people how to use it. Maybe create a buddy system with Accepted, so that the heralds have less choice in seeing us," she admits, somewhat blasphemously, and can't help but stifle a laugh into her own shoulder at the idea. Envisioning Safrin arriving in a shower of dramatics and light or Ludo in playful pitches and games, summoned by an Accepted's prayer, only to wither and glare at the sight of an accompanying Abandoned beside them like a particularly stubborn parasite. It would be like a symbiotic relationship in the wilds, would it not?
you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
The Sword furrowed his brows, lost in that train of thought – for he’d never would have pushed hope and faith into semblances of skills. Expertise in tactical maneuvers, in how to undermine one’s opponent, in how to calculate and orchestrate sieges, had been drilled into him since he was young – and the former not so much instilled. Not rooted like armaments. Not grounded like shields. He gave a nod in turn, portioning and partitioning it into a newer, vaguer understanding, another modicum he had to try every day.
Smile not dimmed, but different, perhaps with an angle of satisfaction, rather than pretenses or mischief, piercing eyes given over to the skillet, but mind taking it all in, still listening. “Sometimes I think it might be in action too. Those have always spoken louder.” How often they’d helped and assisted, how often they’d saved and preserved, how often all those intermingling enchantments and incantations had driven back monsters or mended broken souls. Not everyone could choose to become Hybrids as he’d done. Not everyone would want to bow their heads to deities or heralds. “Acceptance could start with more people, and then we go from there.” But he laughed at her plan – images and pictures coming to mind of discontent; even if more pain had seemingly come from being ignored. “Or Attuned,” already favored.
The furrow of his brows makes amusement dance on her lips. She’s not surprised by his consternation. From someone who had lost her faith, perhaps it seems weird for her to compare it to a skill, but she’d had to practice it day after day as an Abandoned; she knows that it’s exactly that. Whatever he takes from it, the rest is up to him.
The potatoes are perfectly mashed, the gravy is made, and now she simply leans companionably against his side as she waits for his portion of the meal to come to fruition. Feeling hopeful not only for their future together as two individuals, but the general future for all Abandoned. She relishes in its glow. Laughing a little she turns her cheek to rest on the crest of his shoulder, unable to reach much higher. “They can be like emotional support animals; and in their Attuned forms, they can hold their tongues easier.” Not that it would stop the heralds from thunderously asking for an explanation, able to take the answer from their minds, but at least the spotlight would remain mostly on the Abandoned.
“Since the portals have slowed to nearly nothing, Abandoned seem so few now. Most are here in Halo; and birth rates of Abandoned have always been lower. All we can do is try to set examples as magic users ourselves.” Until the new generation gets a little older, a little wiser, and can follow in their footsteps.
08-31-2022, 12:11 AM (This post was last modified: 08-31-2022, 12:21 AM by Deimos.)
you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
With Evie tucked comfortably against his side, the Sword continued working, searing the opposing sides, snorting and rolling his eyes at the notions of an emotional support animal. “We will see,” because there were so many things underlying and before all these other steps, and who knew what lingered along the horizon, quelling on symbols of after. Tipping the pan once more, he shrugged his shoulders, maybe purposefully maneuvering the Evergreen along the roll of muscle for amusements sake. "And to think, years ago, most of you did not want Outlanders around." With a cheeky grin to suit the rumbling statement.
As for examples – hopefully (there was that word again) they could be at the forefront, beacons and symbols and signals of what could be, rather than all the tarnished notions. He’d always thought that would come to pass, based on the events prior to the present. But these were plans, nuances, nothing quite set in stone; a motion to tread upon, maybe, when the timing was right.
Taking another moment to snag at the chicken, cutting into one small piece to ensure it was fully cooked, he tilted his head back towards her. “Ready?” Placing the pan along an unused portion of the stove, Deimos reached into the cupboard for more plates, yielding the seasoned poultry away from the skillet and along the dish, beginning to snag other necessities, and bringing them to the table.
Must he always ruin her fun, gallivanting, humor-filled dreams with his rumbling voice and vagueness? Yes, but it never stops making her smile fondly every time, endeared by his firmly rooted he is to the present and all its entanglements. It makes them a good pair; Evie stretching for the sky, growing branches to widen their reach, and Deimos rooted into the earth, protecting and ensuring the safety of their breadth.
A small noise of objection escapes as he rolls his shoulder to jostle her from her perch, but it fades quickly into something softer as she lifts her eyes from the pan to his face. “Certain ones have a way of growing on you,” she murmurs, and turns her lips against his shoulder in a facsimile of a kiss. Lingering there until she has to step away so they can actually plate their food. “Ready,” she assures as soon as the gravy and vegetables are in hand, carrying both over to the table to set in the middle so they can grab as they need.
Evie doesn’t let herself overthink it when she grabs her chair to move it closer to Deimos’, preferring to sit more side-by-side than across. She begins to set up her own plate, eager to try their joint efforts - and upon her first forkful, makes a pleased noise as the still hot food touches her tongue. Swallowing, she bumps her elbow against Deimos’ with a smile. “We did a pretty great job, hm?” Of a high enough quality to satisfy two very food-oriented individuals.
you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
Considering the Sword’s amusements were usually at the expense of others, it would’ve been a solidified yes - but only in his knotted and gnarled sedition and defiance of the world. Safety and protection interwove between the devilry and mischief, so despite antics and pranks, he’d never put his loved ones in danger. Even if it was always firmly placed in reality, rooted, grounded, and sheltered as best he could from the surrounding storms.
With great fondness he rolled his eyes at the response, wrinkling his nose in the intrepid, boyish, juvenile complexity, missing the opportunity of a physical reaction with his hands full of plates and food, opting to settle for verbal, regardless. “I suppose some Naturals do too,” shrugging the roll of muscles, snickering while they became immersed in movement and motion.
And while Evie seemed determined not to overthink, Deimos did none at all – save for immersing another small grin as he sat back into his own chair, reaching one foot out to snag at the legs of hers, dragging her closer. Thereafter, when they’d both settled, he finally took a bite, snagging at the potatoes first, a distinct, satisfied rumble beginning in his chest. “Very well.”
