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!
Any further objections, emotional outbursts, or tears are quieted by the touch of his brow to hers. Like the snuffing of a candle, his closeness turns the rest of the world to meaningless dark, leaving her staring entranced by the flicker of his light and warmth. Her eyes close, and she slows her breathing if only to hold the scent of him in her lungs a moment longer. Funny how her heart used to race around him, used to beat and pound and rabbit when his skin would touch hers, and how now his touch calms and quiets her in the worst of her storms. The hand over his heart curls lightly into his shirt, and as she opens her eyes her ginger lashes kiss his skin like hellos even as he withdraws.
The weight of jewelry on her ear is foreign, but she embraces it, reciting his name in her mind as if she could ever forget it even in the heat of battle. “You’ve given me a terrible power,” she jokes, a little shaky and wet around the edges, but taking strength from the kindred lightness in Deimos’ expression. “What’s to stop me from calling you in the middle of the night now?”
a golden cage, for all its worth and beauty is still just a cage
On sparse occasions the Sword found the ability to comfort and ease; rarer moments still when they weren’t amid danger or demolition. By contrast, the trepidation within his soul remained, but granting manners of communication and sanctity were far better achievements than settling the apprehension into his chest again. A subtle smirk shifted along his features, watching her from the corner of his eyes as they began to walk once more, the earthen incantations flickering down, intentions not forgotten during the rise and swell of emotions.
Though he had to laugh at other insinuations, his hand reaching for hers to drag her along muck and bog. Not a thundering boom, but a more collected and conducted sound, as if meant to be shared only in this sanction, and nowhere else. The innuendo alone had him snickering thereafter. “I certainly have not stopped you before,” watching and waiting to see her reaction, before his gaze rested on warped trees and wiry branches. “Though I could do the same to you.”
She is reluctant to move and refocus on her original goal, but Deimos remains at her side, and right now - especially with the news he has shared - what more could she ask for?
His laughter is a balm she wishes she could bottle, though she’d never have the heart to sell it. Selfish and possessive, unwilling to let it go as others so foolishly did. Her own dimples pop as he grabs and tugs on her hand, muck sucking at her boots and making her stumble laughing after him, skull in one hand and his own hand in the other.
The insinuations catch up to her late, but she spares him a roguish smirk, grasping them heartily. “I wouldn’t object to that either,” she counters, an open invitation of varying implications. She’s interrupted by the sudden awareness of a clustered deposit in the earth as they venture towards it, and Evie turns her head to see - sure enough, a collection of bones all in a mound, with a variety of colors from age and exposure. Lichen grows on each hoarded piece, concealing it. “Oh! Think it’s home?” she asks, unsure how they’d even determine that without simply approaching and hoping for the best.
a golden cage, for all its worth and beauty is still just a cage
There were other notions to express, other news to share, but in lieu of the latest conversation, he opted to refrain. The future held other moments too, and he found no need in shattering her from one emotion to the next – not when they’d already been mired and rooted in the first. Rather than descend into points of no return, he simply grasped hold of her hand tighter, committing those figments to memory, and disposing of the detrimental ones.
Or absorbing the rogue smirks, intermingling a response with one of his own – before contentedly conforming his features into a seditious gaze, defiant senses rapidly contorted into the area. Were she Attuned, he might’ve teased her further with mental images; but saved those for his own bemusements and future alignments, the taunting ending as they grew closer to the clustered proportions of what they’d sought.
Releasing her, he arched a brow. “Worth a shot,” though by efficiency’s sake, were it up to Deimos, he would’ve just blasted the entire construction with the darker filaments of his magic and called it a day – hoisting up necessary skulls and departing thereafter. Presuming Evie’s approach would be significantly different, he wandered alongside, waiting to see if there was a requirement of violence.
Ignorant to both unshared news and roguish teasing desires alike, the Evergreen focuses only on the swamp and the warm strength of his hand - which already dangerously distracts her, given her own prior words. But no, today his hands are needed in only the most innocent of ways. Except perhaps butchering, if the situation calls for it. Was that still considered innocent?
The parting of his touch makes her ache, still tender from the news he’d shared. It only inspires her to end this quickly, and while Evie had brought the skull with the intent of coaxing the creature into an exchange, she uncharitably considers taking it by force if only for her own selfish desire to use the time better. “Think Frey would be upset if we ate it?” she asks idly as she unhooks the skull from her belt and calls a branch to her from the swamp, perching it on the end for safety’s sake. As she moves closer to the pile, she sees it shudder. Promising. Still, she’s distracted by her own rabbiting train of thought, and aims another question over her shoulder as she edges slowly closer. “Is it edible?” Questions the Monster Hunters Guild should really be concerning themselves with, honestly.
a golden cage, for all its worth and beauty is still just a cage
His gaze took on a piercing edge, veins humming a decree of vehemence beneath the surface of his skin; readily accessible within a moment’s notice – blood for blood, and sometimes not even that. The inquiry made his brow arch, considering the implications. “Doubt it,” given how many animals they ate that Frey or Rae would’ve had hands in contorting and creating, but not something he really wanted for his palate. A wrinkle to his nose followed suit, with a vague head tilt that gave him a very boyish decree, despite the lifetimes’ worth of violence under the features. “You can try it.”
He hadn’t heard otherwise.
Something seemed to be making its way up through the earth though – maybe an errant set of claws or pincers, abruptly maneuvering several inches away from Evie’s feet. “Watch yourself,” by way of warning – because if she didn’t he’d do it for her and it’d be less of a show and more of a brief extermination.
The first response is a subtle encouragement that Evie reads into the words of her own volition, but the second is blatant enough to make her huff a laugh even through her focus. “This isn’t exactly the best place for culinary endeavors though,” she points out playfully. What spices would one use on a bone-wearing crab? Especially one that has a flavor profile you’ve never encountered before?
So distracted by her considerations, only Deimos’ warning makes her bounce backwards, light on her feet as the Penolaeth tunnels up into the open air, snapping claws menacingly before its eyes - or what Evie thinks are the eyes - are above ground. Quick-stepping backwards, Evie lowers the stick with the Ursur skull on it, holding her breath. Was this all she could really do? Wait and see if it would take the trade, or if she’d be forced to kill it?
a golden cage, for all its worth and beauty is still just a cage
“Probably not.” Deimos gave zero credibility to any swamp ventures in cuisine – certain the flavors would be unappealing – given his predilections towards the nature of the area. “Could always take another one home,” by way of suggestion, if she truly wanted to strive and try. There’d be more of a variety of things to parse through it, at any rate.
But then he watched, fervent and eager to decimate for any reason – as the snapping claws rose, flickering back and forth in schisms and short breadths. Were he in a note-taking mood, he might’ve snagged at a piece of parchment, but the Sword was on high alert, gaze narrowed, incantations pinpointed –
As it snagged, tugged, and pulled on the offering of the ursur skull. Maybe it’d been enticed. Maybe it was an avaricious thing. But for what it was worth, his eyes widened at the sight, having expected some marginal reason of destruction. A breath huffed thereafter, in a otherwise silent gesture of now what towards the Evergreen.
Rolling the idea around in her head only lasts as long as it takes for the Penolaeth to emerge, as by then it’s hard to even remember to breathe. Evie has a hilarious history with fighting various monsters and beasts, so she’s not exactly adept at courting one with kindness and offerings. In fact it’s difficult to keep her leg from twitching with the instinctive desire to kick the creepy thing away when it scuttles closer.
She glances at Deimos from the corner of her eyes, the both of them shrugging uncertainly. Evie lowers the stick more, until the tip of the Ursur skull touches the ground, enough to slide it off the stick slowly. The Penolaeth clicks threateningly at her, but seems to appreciate examining the skull on its own terms. It’s much larger than anything in the swamp, which seems to entice it. Evie holds her breath the entire time it begins taking off its current shell, and tries to commit to memory the appearance of the creature beneath for the Guild. Only once it has donned the Ursur skull does she use her telekinesis to summon the old shell, not daring to so much as twitch her feet closer. Once it is in her hand she scampers back to Deimos, lifting the skull triumphantly with a grin. “Well that was easier than I thought!” Which she is admittedly grateful for.
a golden cage, for all its worth and beauty is still just a cage
The Sword waited for any excuse to obliterate the creature – but with inching pincers and threatening clicks, naught else was determined but a trade. He didn’t bother hiding his bewildered features as he glanced back at Evie – far too used to the upheaval of Caido’s creatures, the fact that this action transpired neatly left him mildly confused. “Huh,” he murmured, shrugging and rolling his shoulders, stance less rigid and taut and unyielding now that the moment had passed.
His gaze went to the skull, then back to the Evergreen, huffing a mild laugh. “Suppose we can go home then,” and document that whole bizarre exchange in the Guild journals too.
