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!
The Sword has always looked for others. Even if he hadn’t wanted to readily admit it, even if it only to ensure safety, protection, and the residual shelter he presided and offered just in his presence alone. So he did the same for Evie, casting glances from the corner of his eyes to ensure she was still there, still whole, still enduring, before presiding in his wake again. Perhaps too-used to the way the Caido worked; one moment fine, the next unraveling into something dangerous, believing one blink would eradicate the entire structure, and parts would come crumbling down –
But a breath instilled, and they’d felled more, until it seemed like a collapse of sanctums and refuges, meant to embody more as the timber became re-used for another purpose. Just as he turned his head over his shoulder, tones echoing over the fringes, “Think we have enou-,” the bombardment of a snowball hit him fully in the cheek.
It dripped down his face as he shook the residuals off, much like his hound shift, with a snort and gloves to his beard. Seeking vengeance immediately, his eyes narrowed, and face broke into a completely feral grin, snagging at multiple mounds of snow, and sending them streaking towards her.
we exhume our enemy's bones we are battling, hungry beasts
Gloved hands fly to cover her mouth as Deimos turns at exactly the wrong time, ensuring the snowball she’d aimed for his shoulder explodes across his cheek. Giggles escape moments later despite herself, but Evie knows she has precious little time now, and already she is turning and leaping over the closest tree trunk in a scramble to get away from the retaliation she’s sure is promised.
Her laughter trails behind her as she weaves through the few remaining trees, a snowball hitting her calf and skirting past her bicep as she runs. “That was your own fault!” she laughs, halfway to breathless already with the force of her mirth. Hoping the downed trees would impede Deimos from chasing after her, she ducks behind a tree and plasters herself to its trunk, listening intently for signs of his pursuit.
With the mischief already barreling onward, the Sword barely gave much thought to the felled trees at the moment, save for how they’d made foundational obstacles in the sudden onslaught of another game. “How so?” He hadn’t even started this escalating semblance (but he fully intended to finish it), stalking a few paces away, watching as she plastered herself against a trunk of one of the few trees still standing.
An inward snort rendered through his chest, and then he glanced up, up, up, towards the boughs heavily laden in wet snow and powder. It was almost too easy. Without any need to give chase (though he would, if given the right circumstances), he simply stood nearby, amidst the outcroppings of their collapsed timber, arms folded over his chest. A pretense, perhaps, to look as though he were considering and weighing out his options, biding his time, when all the machinations were already angled and devised. Within a moment, the brandished combination of water and air layered through the elements, dropping the snow towards her.
we exhume our enemy's bones we are battling, hungry beasts
His voice is far too calm as it emanates from the other side of the tree, and her stomach twists with that giddy, prey-like feeling that most forget after their childhood years of tag and hide-and-seek. The desire to run aches up her legs, but she is at a terminal disadvantage when it comes to speed. Hiding is merely a temporary solution, and even she knows it. “I was aiming for your shoulder until you turned,” she argues for her case, even though her tone is strangled with the force it takes to squash her laughter. It’s a poor defense given she’d thrown the snowball regardless, but she’s just trying to buy herself some time.
Just as Deimos dumps the boughs-worth of snow onto her head, Evie’s own grasp on the earth below his feet lurches and buckles, hoping to send him to the ground in whichever direction she can. It’s difficult to hold the magic when she’s busy shrieking (though it’s hilariously muffled) at the snow that topples her to the ground and works its way into her coat, but revenge is a great focusing agent.
The rush of snow and the shrieking were enough to cause his own bout of vengeful laughter, echoing over the boughs and probably causing more snow to fall if they hadn’t already relinquished their hold. Even as the attempt of rumbling and maneuvering beneath his feet contorted, he simply snagged and controlled within a moment, calming the erupting surface as though it hadn’t moved at all. Belial, on the other hand, completely enthralled with the motions, snagged at some of the snow in a breeze-by over Evie’s head, hooting loudly, delighted.
His eyes flickered back over to the now makeshift mound of Evergreen, powder, and whatever else was contained in the pile, chuckling again in a quieter stead as he began to pick off smaller branches from the nearest felled timber. She should’ve known better, but with the combined restlessness, dull proportions of the work, and diligent goading propositions, he’d grant her a moment to yield. Even nicely, politely, declining to undermine into another round. “Are you done?”
we exhume our enemy's bones we are battling, hungry beasts
It takes a little digging and wriggling, but she emerges from her snowy prison flushed all over with cold, but smiling. Juvenile as these distractions are, they’d granted her the reprieve from boredom she’d sought. Losing, so to speak, wouldn’t dampen that. Which is why when she turns - stumbling like a newborn fawn as she tries to exit the freshly fallen snow which resists compaction - it’s with a refreshed countenance and renewed perk to her presence. Or maybe that was just the wake up of the cold.
She’s not surprised to see him still standing, but never let it be said that Evie doesn’t try. “I got what I wanted,” she breezily responds, as if she didn’t just take a dive beneath a mountain of snow. Regret will set in shortly as the dampness does in turn, but for now they have to refocus. “Time for dissection?” Ginger brows furrow the moment it comes out of her mouth, accustomed to biological phrases and finding it sounds strange now. “Erm, sectioning?”
He watched her from the corner of his eye, mostly to ensure there weren’t any other swift actions he’d have to immediately undermine; but when it was just teetering and bumbling about, he saved a snort from billowing all the way through his chest. Picking at more of the smaller twigs, and then cutting away at the larger bramble, he began to make another pile simply for them, to add along Zuriel’s saddlebags before they left.
The line had him refraining from saying anything in particular, but a noticeable grin curled along his lips, and instead, regaining his stature from the latest crouch. A bow arched at the semblances of “dissection”, not unlike when they all cut apart deer, ursur, and other finds after a hunt. “Been cutting other things up lately?” A tease, considering her work as a healer and apothecarist, but a quick nod followed suit. “We can cut them to about this length,” indicating the size with his arms, placing a hand along portions of the log and following it along a on a singular system.
Grabbing at an ax, he started at the far end of the log he’d been working on, and began.
we exhume our enemy's bones we are battling, hungry beasts
As Evie ambles over she grabs an armful of snow and tosses it towards Belial in a dispersed, harmless shower, fond smile teasing at her lips. His unmistakable excitement had been heard loud and clear even in the depths of the snowy mound.
Picking the tree closest to the one Deimos is working on out of a desire for both closeness and ease of conversation, Evie follows his lead in determining the right size sections and which branches were suitable for fires and which were mere tinder scraps not worth hauling. Her chagrined grin is half hidden by her loose, newly wetted hair. It hides the slight worry in the crinkling of her eyes, because she has been dissecting the bloodless creatures found en masse recently. Always divvying up the meat after, but until she has an answer there’s no need to darken the mood. “Patient confidentially I’m afraid, can’t discuss the entrails with you,” she sasses instead, wielding the play on words like a gleeful baton. Which is why she conveniently retrieves her own axe in case Deimos retaliates, returning to begin de-limbing the tree with gusto.
09-26-2022, 09:21 PM (This post was last modified: 10-04-2022, 09:27 PM by Deimos.)
Deimos
The peryton responded immediately with another surge of delight, careening as the snow hit him along his flanks as if he might die – somersaulting in a dramatic death roll, until he unfurled his wings and rushed back up on whims and antics. Deimos nearly hastened an eye roll, except then he figured he would’ve done the same as an eagle simply for the fun of it, and so shook his head instead, lifting the ax and hastening it downward into rapid strikes.
The decrepit bark and timber peeled away easily, until he moved on to the next section, perhaps purposefully bumping into Evie’s shoulders in the process. All he received in return was a pun that caused a grimace – not for the entrails, but the joke itself. For her efforts he tossed a bunch of pine needles nearby at her, in hopes that maybe they’d stick in her hair. “That was awful,” uttered on another wrinkle of his nose, before rolling the portions of his cut log away and towards the sled.
we exhume our enemy's bones we are battling, hungry beasts
Evie’s laughter choruses with the thump and shuffle of snow as Belial flings himself around dramatically, sending snow flying in far greater quantities than what she’d done for him. It makes her consider a companion of her own sometimes, interacting with Deimos’. They are both so endearing in such different ways after all.
Her laughter is interrupted by the bump of his shoulder, but it only causes a hiccup of interruption before she continues under her breath, inspired by his wrinkled nose and groaned distaste. “It was, I’m sorry,” she chuckles, though it’s unclear whether she’s truly repentant. The crack of branches and bark is the backing of their work, until the trunks lie bare and ready for transport. “I can bundle and load the branches if you want to get those secured?” It makes more sense given their strength disparity, though it’s far more tedious to gather the branches given their prickliness. Luckily Evie is quite experienced with that particular state of being - in both plants and people, if her present company is any indication. It makes her snort to herself, amused.
Belial took the next opportunity to secure himself another place on the sled while they set about their work. Unaware of the other sudden amusements (he’d probably argue about being called prickly), he gave her a sidelong glance, and then snorted off, snagging at a longer log, lifting it along his shoulders with undaunted ease. Jerking his head once towards the unicorn listlessly drifting around (and probably avoiding physical labor), the rumble persisted as he dropped the timber into the vessel, and then repeated the motions. “You can put some on Zuriel too,” motioning to the saddlebags along the mare’s side, empty, as she grazed and picked along the leftover brambles and nettles.
Before long, through the use of either incantations, muscle, or invocations of such powers, the sled would be loaded up, ready to return to Halo. “I can shift when you are ready,” he called from the front, the draw of the wilderness contorting through his veins again.
we exhume our enemy's bones we are battling, hungry beasts
Evie eyes the proud, beautiful creature, and nods to Deimos - but as she passes Zuriel in her quest for the hacked off branches, she whispers conspiratorially, “I’ll try to make sure you don’t need to.” It just encourages Evie to tie each bundle as tight as she can, ensuring as much space is saved for when they’re bundled together for transport.
It means she has to sit on one of the bundles by time everything is loaded up, but Evie doesn’t mind the minor discomfort. Her leggings are thick, and the excitement for the return trip is enough to distract her from her less than perfect perch. “Ready when you are,” she calls over the wind to Deimos. As they make their way back over the tundra with sled freshly laden with timber, Evie smiles, hopeful. They’ll finish their quest swiftly, she’s sure.
